Hi all! Big thanks to all those who sent reviews. You're great! I've finally figured out how to use FFs formatting, so I hope that will make reading easier from now on.

Late the next morning Thirteen breezed through the clinic. She alternated with Foreman between seeing patients and searching through files for a new case. She was flipping through another uninteresting file from the nurse's station when Foreman nudged her arm.

"Cuddy," he whispered. "Wonder what she wants."

Thirteen watched Cuddy cross the clinic. She laughed to herself when she remembered what Rachel had said the night before. Suddenly, her boss didn't seem quite as daunting as she usually did. As Cuddy approached the nurse's station Thirteen couldn't help but smile. "Headmistress Cuddy," she greeted.

"Dr. Hadley, Dr. Foreman." Cuddy eyed Thirteen and Foreman strangely before leaving.

"What was that about?" Foreman asked.

"Just an inside joke," Thirteen replied, eyeing the clock. "I've got to go."

Thirteen went to one of the patient rooms and grabbed a caddy, filling it with a suture kit and other supplies. With everything in hand, she bounded off to the physiotherapy department. When she reached Rachel's office Thirteen knocked quickly before entering as Rachel waved her in.

"How's your hand?" Thirteen asked donning gloves.

"Good morning to you too, Remy. I'm fine, thank you," Rachel ragged sarcastically. As she received a serious glare from Thirteen she offered up her hand. "It feels fine, but you probably should suture it." Rachel flinched as Thirteen quickly cleaned the cut and applied anesthetic. As her skin was pierced by the suture needle Rachel looked away. "Damn, I hate stitches," she mumbled.

"How many times have you had to have doctors sew you back up?"

Rachel cringed, "Please don't put it that way. It makes it sound like I'm a ragdoll coming apart at the seams."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I hope I didn't scare you last night."

Thirteen hesitated, "I don't know how to answer that without upsetting you."

"Just be honest."

"You made me think of Kutner."

"Wow," Rachel replied. "That was really honest."

"It's just… you smile like he did. All the time, this warm, reassuring smile. But it's a lie."

"It's not a lie."

"It is. You don't feel it. It's just this incredible show to hide that you're in pain." Thirteen stopped what she was doing and looked at Rachel. "I'm sorry. I know I'm the last person to lecture anybody on being open with people, but I… I don't want to see you like that again. You did scare me."

"It's not a lie," Rachel insisted. "Being reassuring isn't an attempt to convince people that you're okay, it's an attempt to make them feel okay. It is possible to feel concern for others while you feel like shit."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

Thirteen quietly finished suturing Rachel's hand while a concern tumbled over in her mind. "How often do you hurt yourself like this?"

"I haven't cut myself in almost two years. I haven't even felt the urge to do it in a year."

"What do you do when you want to cut yourself?"

"Why are you asking me these questions?"

"I'm not sure," Thirteen admitted. "I hear myself asking these things and I think of how I'd tell someone off if they questioned me like this."

"I can't tell you off, you're stitching up my hand," Rachel joked. "It depends. If I need the pain or the endorphins I grab a fistful of ice until it burns, or eat Vietnamese chili sauce by the spoonful. I had to stop punching walls, though, I ran out of spackle." She smiled as Thirteen chuckled at the last part, "Mostly I run. It calms me down, helps me sleep. What do you do when you want to sleep with strangers or do drugs?"

Thirteen shrugged, "I remember I have a boyfriend and a boss who's a hypocrite when it comes to narcotics."

"And that stops you?"

Thirteen shook her head. "That makes me find another way to cope. I run tests, do paperwork… hope it's Thursday." Thirteen cleared her throat awkwardly before looking back at Rachel. "You're almost done, I just have to bandage you up."

"Okay," Rachel said. She would let herself ignore what had been said if that was what Thirteen wanted.

"You'll have to keep this dry until tomorrow. Think you can do that?"

"Yes," Rachel nodded. "I'm only doing paperwork today. My staffers don't even know I'm here."

Thirteen smiled, "I'm the only one you told?"

"You and Cuddy," Rachel smirked. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but if I don't tell her I don't get paid."

"Stop smiling at me like that," Thirteen demanded as her cheeks burned.

"Stop making me enjoy your company."

Feeling bashful, Thirteen looked away. "I'm going to go see if I can grab an early lunch. You look hungry."

Down in the cafeteria Thirteen narrowly missed her chance at slipping in and out unnoticed. As soon as she had made her purchase Foreman waved her over to the table he shared with Chase and Cameron. When she sat down Foreman grabbed hold of her hand under the table.

"Two sandwiches, Remy?" Foreman asked looking at the food she held.

"I need the calories to keep up with my workouts," Thirteen lied.

"Whatever you've been doing, keep it up." Cameron started. "You look great."

"Thanks," Thirteen muttered quickly. "I'm going to go catch up on some paperwork, so I'll see you all later."

She jumped up before Foreman had a chance to say anything and made her way back to Rachel's office.

Thirteen quickly slipped through the door and pulled a chair to Rachel's desk. She handed Rachel her sandwich before digging into her own. While she settled herself she noticed Rachel fidgeting with her bandage.

"Don't make me put you in a cast," Thirteen teased. "Eat your lunch."

"Thank you, Remy. For the sandwich, the stitches."

"Don't mention it," Thirteen said, thinking for a moment about how to continue the conversation. "Why do you cut yourself? I mean, what made you start?"

"Why are you so interested in asking me questions today?" Rachel asked.

"Am I bothering you?"

"No. I'm just curious about your motives."

"I want to get to know you."

"Now I'm bothered," Rachel said sternly. "Why now? Before last night you showed no interest in getting to know me."

Thirteen paused for a moment. She played with her sandwich while she considered her admission, "You weren't approachable then."

"How's that?"

"You were perfect. You were supportive, patient, and kind. Not to mention smart, funny, hyper-successful, attractive-"

"I get it, Remy," Rachel laughed.

"You're a great therapist, but you're a little intimidating on the social side of things."

"I'm far from perfect. I'm a mess."

"You're not a mess," Thirteen said softly. "At least not any more than anyone else. You're just more honest about it."

"What's so appealing about admitting I'm screwed up?"

"I spend most of my time holding things back," Thirteen sighed. "Making a connection with someone without feeling the need to do that is freeing."

Rachel looked at Thirteen hesitantly, "It's hard not to tell you things when you're so candid."

"You started it," Thirteen joked.

"My parents were… Well, my mom died in a car accident," Rachel finally answered.

Thirteen looked at her solemnly, "I'm sorry. I know how hard that is."

Not being able to face Thirteen, Rachel stared into her desk. "It wasn't her death that was hard, really. It was after. My father didn't deal with it well. I think when my mom died, things got too real for him."

"What do you mean?"

"Having to be there everyday and care for us, I think it was too much for him. He moved us to New York about a month after the funeral. Then he totally immersed himself in his work. He was never really home."

"That must have been hard. I know I wouldn't have made it without my dad."

Rachel shook her head, "It was probably best. I started hurting myself after the funeral and the more my father was home, the more I would do it."

Thirteen didn't understand. She had often fought with her own father while growing up, but he had never made her feel like hurting herself. "Having your father around made you cut yourself?" she chanced.

"In a way. Having him there was weird; he was practically a stranger. He couldn't deal with our grief so he ignored us. When grief turned to anger, we started yelling at each other, he and my brother got in a fight. There was just so much going on that I didn't know how to handle. Translating it into physical pain was the only way I could make it make sense."

"But it didn't help?"

"Not really, it was just a stopgap. It relieved some pressure, but there was always more."

"From your dad?" Thirteen asked.

"Always. He's a high profile businessman. He was so concerned about his career and his image. He was always taking us to office parties, or showing us off at country clubs. If it wasn't that, it was pressure to do well in school, or to be involved in the community, or to be socialites. We had to be the perfect family. Trying to be perfect takes it toll. I'd rather be a mess," Rachel huffed.

"What did you do then?" Thirteen asked.

"For a while I tried so hard to fuck it all up. I went clubbing, did drugs. I'd come home drunk with dates, but none of it worked. Then I really got angry, and started trying to see how much of his money I had to blow through to get to him."

"Did it work?"

"Nope," Rachel sighed. "He didn't get upset until I was caught in a country club steam room with a client's daughter."

"I take it that did the trick?"

"Too well. He sent me to a Catholic boarding school." Rachel quickly started to feel on edge. Thirteen's questions were beginning to hit too close to home. "Can we change the subject? Anything but parents or self-harm."

Thirteen nodded, quickly trying to think of something to ease Rachel's mind.

"Does Catholic school have anything to do with your attraction to Cuddy?"

Rachel laughed hard, nearly choking on the drink she had been sipping. "I suppose it might," she said giggling.

Feeling pleased with herself, Thirteen smiled broadly. "That must've put a damper on your partying."

"Hardly. That school was like a nightclub with books. The boys were easy and the girls were either gay or really, really curious."

"Sounds like a bisexual playground."

Rachel smiled coyly, "I only used a few bodies like jungle gyms. It gets old very quickly, though. Things move faster in that kind of environment. All of a sudden, people want to move into your dorm and have a serious relationship."

"What do you have against relationships?"

"Nothing, I just don't think they're for me," Rachel explained. "I'm a mess, and I like it that way, but I wouldn't want to rub off on anyone else."

Thirteen smiled at how much she related to Rachel's position. "They find you, though. No matter how screwed up you are, sooner or later you find someone you fit with."

"Is that how things are with you and Foreman? You fit?"

"I don't know. We've only been together a couple of months," Thirteen hedged. "So, where were you from before you moved to New York?"

"Belmont, Massachusetts," Rachel answered.

"Really? I'm from Newton. You only lived twenty minutes from me."

"So if I had ever gone to a football game I'd have seen you hanging off the quarterback's arm?"

"Please," Thirteen scoffed. "The closest I got to a football game was using them as a cover so I could sneak off to clubs."

Rachel laughed, "You sound like me and my brother."

"What's he like?"

"You want to know about my brother?" Rachel asked, furrowing her brow. When Thirteen nodded eagerly she tried her best to summarize her sibling. "He's great; he's everything an older brother should be. He's always looking out for me, always there for me."

"I always wished I had an older brother."

"I'll give you his number," Rachel replied. "I'm sure he'd enjoy spreading his brotherly love."

Thirteen laughed whole-heartedly for a moment before her pager interrupted. "Recess is over," she said, reading the page. "We must have a new case. I'll see you?"

"Sure thing," Rachel agreed. She smiled fondly as she watched Thirteen leave, already looking forward to the next time they would see each other.