Thanks so much to Wonderlandbaby and SexyMuppet. Now's the time when I ask my readers for some input. The plan here was to introduce Rachel and her relationship w/13, then go back to the "present." But now I'm loving this so much, I could write this ship forever. So, what would you guys like to read? This chapter is a little short, but I promise the next is longer. Fair warning: this one deals with some sensitive issues.
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Thursday evening Thirteen was again on her way to see Rachel. She hurried from the hospital, thankful to be leaving at a decent hour for once. When she reached her destination Thirteen parked quickly and pulled herself from her car, anxiously raking through her hair and grabbing a bottle of wine before she went.

As she climbed the stairs to Rachel's apartment she could already discern the smell of their dinner wafting through the air. When Rachel opened the door she wore the same warm smile Thirteen had come to expect.

"It smells great in here."

Rachel took her coat and shrugged humbly. "It's just pasta and Puttanesca sauce. Nothing fancy."

"I brought you this," Thirteen said, handing Rachel the wine. "Nothing fancy." Rachel laughed and reached for the bottle. As she did, Thirteen noticed a bandage covering her left hand. "What happened?"

Rachel snatched her hand to her chest. "I had an accident with the bread knife. It's nothing, really."

"You're bleeding," Thirteen grabbed Rachel by the arm and pulled her into the kitchen. As she unwrapped the bandage Rachel became noticeably agitated.

"Remy, it's fine. I can do it myself."

With her hand exposed, Rachel tried harder to pull her arm back. The more she wriggled, the tighter Thirteen's hold became until she had cleaned the cut enough to examine it. There was a small gouge between Rachel's thumb and forefinger.

"You cut yourself with a bread knife?" Thirteen asked.

"Yeah, I did."

"The edges are clean. A bread knife would make a jagged cut." Thirteen applied pressure to Rachel's hand as she waited for an answer. "You're not going to say anything?"

"Let go of my hand," Rachel insisted.

"I'm not letting go, so you might as well-"

"I did it, okay? I cut my hand," Rachel said tersely.

"Why would you-?"

"I lost a patient. He had ALS, his lungs failed, and today I just couldn't handle it."

"I'm sorry," Thirteen said. She turned her attention back to Rachel's hand. "This might need stitches, you cut yourself pretty deep."

"I didn't, I just…"

"What?" Thirteen asked.

"I got overzealous, I must have torn it," she said sheepishly. When she saw the confused look on Thirteen's face, Rachel attempted to explain. "I do the webbing between my fingers so that if things get overwhelming I can stretch my hand instead of making a new cut. Refreshing the pain helps bring things back into focus." Rachel cast her gaze to the floor and bit her lip. "Fuck, I can't believe I just told you that."

Thirteen watched Rachel for a moment. She was staring intently at the floor, avoiding eye contact. Her injured hand was cold and shaky. Still, she didn't shrink away. After her confession, Thirteen had expected Rachel to look small and delicate, but all she saw was someone brave enough to admit she was hurting. "I understand," she told Rachel quietly. "Before I got help for my Huntington's I was out every night. I would drink, do drugs, sleep around. It was stupid, but it made me feel in control." Thirteen was silent as she finished bandaging Rachel's hand. She didn't want to be a nuisance, but there were still questions plaguing her mind. "Why did you invite me here? With everything going on why would you want me and my problems around?"

"Selfish reasons, really. Partly because having someone or something else to focus on helps. But, also because I'm attracted to you." As Thirteen's eyebrows perked she reconsidered her wording, "I don't mean to say I want you or anything, just that I'm drawn to you. I just hoped that I could help."

Thirteen rolled her eyes, "I wish everyone would stop trying to help. I'm not some fragile little thing that needs to be cared for. I can get along fine without everyone's pity."

"I don't pity you, not by any means. I just think you're in a position where it might be nice to have a shoulder to lean on."

"What about you?" Thirteen asked. "Don't you ever need support?"

"I get along. Same as you."

"Maybe we should help each other get along."

"Remy," Rachel started, shaking her head. "Why are you doing this? Because of my hand?"

"I just hoped that I could help," Thirteen said, repeating Rachel's words.

"That's not necessary."

"I know. I'm just saying I'd like to be there for you. You were there for me," Thirteen hesitated. "I mean, unless you have someone you'd rather-"

"It's not that," Rachel blurted. "Can we just eat? We can worry about everything else another time."

Thirteen nodded and released Rachel's hand. She helped Rachel serve the pasta and get it to the table. "Did you want some wine?"

"Please," Rachel replied. Thirteen filled their glasses and watched while Rachel tasted the wine thoughtfully. "This is great. Thank you, Remy."

Thirteen smiled as she tore into her dinner hungrily. Having subsisted mainly on hospital food and take out, she ate with gusto. She paused only for a moment when she noticed Rachel chuckling to herself.

"What?" Thirteen asked, swallowing a mouthful of pasta.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"It's not that," Thirteen mumbled. "It's just been a while since I've had anything home cooked."

"You don't cook?" Rachel asked.

"I do. Just not when I'm at the hospital until the wee hours of the morning. So, it's been a while."

"If you're not going to eat right therapy will do little good. I'm not going to have give you a crash course in nutrition am I?" Rachel chided.

"No, Dr. Galvin," Thirteen teased. "We should do this every week. Except I should cook. It's the least I can do to repay you for my weekly massage."

"That's kind of absurd since you pay for therapy."

"We can alternate."

Rachel nodded, "Sounds good. For a second, I thought you were going to suggest double dating."

"Not an exciting prospect for you?"

"No," Rachel said emphatically. "Ignoring the fact that my dating life is strictly confined to Friday and Saturday nights, seeing my colleagues with their dates just seems weird."

"Foreman and I went out with Chase and Cameron once."

"Terrifying?"

Thirteen laughed, "It was the most awkward experience of my life."

They laughed together, enjoying the levity for a while. As the two of them finished their meal they talked about every frivolous thing they could think of, strange cases, bad dates, anything that would keep them laughing.

"I'm serious," Rachel said, straightening up. "I think Cuddy is totally hot."

"What are talking about?" Thirteen blurted.

"Come on. She acts so professional and buttoned down, but she never covers her cleavage. She's like a hot headmistress or the Jewish equivalent of a catholic school girl."

"Thanks so much for the images you've left in my brain," Thirteen glanced at her watch regretfully. "Shit, I've got to go, it's late." Thirteen helped Rachel clear the table before she gathered her things. "Dinner was great. I wish I could stay longer."

Rachel shrugged, "Don't worry about it. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You're coming back?"

"Yeah, I think it's best. The sooner the better, right?"

"Good," Thirteen nodded firmly. Before she slipped out the door, she placed a hand firmly on Rachel's shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."