Lucky chapter 13! It's short, but the next one definitely won't be. I'm a little nervous about this part. House and Cuddy make appearances and they're tough to nail, so let me know how I did. I'm glad you're all liking Evan. I'm not sure how many more appearances he'll make, but he will be around. Thanks to all my reviewers. You guys are great!
Rachel was buried in paperwork. She had only been at the hospital for a few hours and she was already drowning in the day. Intake evaluations, patient histories, insurance forms; they all swarmed her desk and demanded attention. She was buzzing back and forth between her desk and filing cabinet when her assistant walked in.
"Rachel, Dr. Cuddy wants to see you. Something about budget reports."
"Thanks, Amy," Rachel said. "I'm on it."
Rachel grabbed a handful of files and rushed out of her office. As she headed to see Cuddy, she felt like she had been sent to the principal's office. A sense of dread began to fill her and she knocked quickly before walking in.
"You needed to see me?" she asked. When Cuddy turned to face her, Rachel's eyes bugged out. The sweater she was wearing scooped far beyond the normal standards of low cut. Carefully redirecting her sightline, Rachel locked eyes with her boss.
"I need to review your budget reports before I leave for the conference."
"Here you go," Rachel said. She dropped her gaze to the floor as she laid the files on Cuddy's desk. "Did you need anything else?"
"How are you feeling?" Cuddy asked.
"Great. I got a lot of rest."
"Maybe I should send you for a physical. You're almost never sick. In five years you've never been out more than a few days due to illness."
"I was just a little under the weather. I'm fine now," Rachel insisted.
"I need to be sure you're okay, Dr. Galvin," Cuddy said reassuringly. "Now you can either tell me or spend the rest of the day undergoing tests."
Rachel sighed, "There were some difficult things going on in my personal life and I was feeling a little depressed. But, I honestly feel better now."
"Okay," Cuddy nodded. "See you next week."
Rachel released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and rushed from Cuddy's office. She tried to ignore the thoughts of Thirteen that had stirred during her questioning. For the time being they were too distracting. As if to prove the point, Rachel knocked harshly into someone while rounding the corner.
"I'm so sorry, Dr. House," Rachel apologized. She looked him over, concerned that she might have jarred his bad leg, but he seemed fine.
"Dr. Galvin," House boomed. "Haven't seen you around the halls lately."
"I took a short vacation," Rachel said.
"Good. I was beginning to think this hospital had lost both of its resident bisexuals. Then what reason would I have to come to work?"
"There's always Cuddy," Rachel smiled slightly and raised an eyebrow salaciously. "She discovered an entirely new level of low cut today."
"You've always been my favorite," House said, leaning towards Rachel. "Don't tell Thirteen."
Rachel recoiled a bit at the mention of Thirteen. Certain that House had noticed, she tried her best to sound casual, "Dr. Hadley's no longer my patient."
"Course not," House shrugged. "It's probably for the best, though. Fondling a friend that looks like that is bound to get confusing. Although, she is single now, so–"
"Do you have a point, House, or are you simply indulging your own fantasies?" When she tried to continue her way to her office, House stuck his cane in her path, effectively herding her back to where she stood.
"Try any Som tam on your trip?" House asked.
Rachel understood the reference immediately and House was beginning to tread on topics that were too close for her liking. "You're confusing your bisexuals. Thirteen's the one visiting Thailand."
"And you knew that."
"She's my friend," Rachel shrugged. "Of course I knew that."
"And you left shortly after Thirteen did. Now either you met her there and suddenly got homesick, or you stayed here and suddenly got Thirteen-sick."
"Or I went to Brooklyn to visit my brother," Rachel interjected.
"The first would mean she's gotten over Foreman and under you. In which case Thirteen moves a lot faster than I thought," House said, ignoring Rachel. "The second would mean you're depressed because she won't get under you. In which case I'm much less impressed by your mojo."
"My mojo is fine."
House studied Rachel for a moment, "So, you had nothing to do with her leaving?"
Rachel looked House in the eye surely. "We're just friends," she said sadly.
House nodded and moved his cane out of her way. Wasting no time, Rachel darted back to her department. She quickly retreated to the haven of her office, shut her door and leaned against it heavily. Things had to get easier. She had to do something before she crumbled under the weight of her own emotions.
That night Rachel drove to Thirteen's apartment. Once inside, she hovered by the door for a few moments. Her nerves had gotten the best of her. She wasn't sure if Thirteen had returned from her trip, or if she'd want to see her if she had. When she had finally screwed up her courage, Rachel knocked on the door timidly. With no response, she tried again more forcefully. After waiting a few more moments, she began to knock a third time, but a gruff voice behind her caused her to stop.
"You can quit your knocking. She's not home."
Rachel turned to see an older man standing by the stairwell. "Are you sure?"
The man nodded, "She suspended her utilities. She said she'd call when she was coming back."
Rachel quickly fished into her purse and retrieved a scrap of paper. She scribbled her name and phone number down and handed it to the man. "Could you call me when she gets back? I'd really appreciate it."
The man stared sternly at Rachel, "I don't think my tenants would appreciate me giving out their whereabouts."
Rachel pulled out her wallet and grabbed a twenty-dollar bill. Along with the scrap of paper, she pressed it into his hand. "This is important. Like I said, I'd really appreciate it."
The man nodded and walked off and Rachel turned back to the door. She took out the letter she had written for Thirteen and slipped it under the door. Having done all she could for the moment, she walked off solemnly.
Days later, Rachel was amidst a sea of papers again. She was finally beginning to make headway, but her phone had been ringing off the hook all afternoon. She was just returning from a meeting when her cell phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Is this Miss Galvin?" a man asked.
Rachel quickly recognized the voice of Thirteen's landlord. "It is," she replied eagerly.
"Thought you'd want to know Miss Hadley's just returned home."
"Thank you, so much," Rachel said before hanging up. Without thinking, she dialed Thirteen's number. She nervously ran her hands through her hair as the other line rang. She wasn't at all surprised when it went to voicemail. "Remy, it's me. I–I, uh–welcome home. I was hoping I could see you. I thought maybe–just give me a call, please."
Rachel hung up the phone quickly. There was a tense, tight sort of sickness swirling around her stomach. Suddenly she felt nauseous. Her neck felt stiff, her throat went dry, and there was a fit of fidgetiness spreading over her body. She had never felt so nervous.
The next morning as she readied herself for work, the nauseous, antsy feeling was creeping over Rachel again. She checked her phone but there were no calls or messages. After a debating a while, she called Thirteen once more.
"Remy, it's me again," Rachel said, trying hard to sound cheery. "I don't know if I said it before, but I'm sorry. All the things I said before you left–I was being unbelievably stupid. I'd like to make it up to you if you'll let me. Please, please call me back."
Disappointed, Rachel went off to work. She went through the day distractedly. She didn't hear questions, she missed phone calls, and she was utterly disorganized. Hearing from Thirteen was all she could think about. The waiting was driving her crazy. If she could only see Thirteen or hear her voice she might be able to put her mind at ease. Rachel's usual confidence was shaken. For the first time in a long while she didn't know how to get what she wanted.
The next couple of days passed Rachel by in a dull hum. She holed herself up in her office, hiding out and tapping a pen anxiously while she prepared to meet with a patient. Rachel looked at her cell phone. She had called Thirteen a few more times but still received no response. Without hesitation, she dialed Thirteen's number again. After ringing a few times the familiar sound of her voicemail came on the line. Used to the drill by now, Rachel took a deep breath and began to leave her message.
"Remy… I just–I don't know what to say anymore. I don't know if you're even listening to these messages or if you're ignoring my calls completely. I suppose continuing to call isn't going to get me anywhere, but I understand. If this is what it takes to make up for all the fucked up things I did, then I will wear my mistakes. I will wait as long as it takes for you to forgive me. If you can forgive me. And if I hurt you, then I'm sorry. I just hope you'll call me. Please, please call me."
Rachel hung up with a sigh and left to meet her patient. She approached the therapy suite after what seemed like ages. Waiting for her was a middle-aged man and his wife. "Mr. and Mrs. Adler, how are you?" she greeted them dully. "How are you feeling today, Mr. Adler." Rachel was vaguely aware of the man responding as she checked his chart. She heard him speaking and knew how she should respond, but she couldn't really process what he was saying. She smiled faintly and tried to look present. "You seem to be making steady progress. I'm going to order some medication for you, then one of the physiotherapists will take over." Rachel darted to the pharmacy, grabbed a prescription, and headed back to her patient. She made sure he took the pills, then went over the procedure with him. As soon as the physiotherapist walked in, she excused herself and retreated to her office.
Rachel was still having a hard time sleeping. She had spent the last few nights tossing in bed fitfully. She quickly slipped into her office and locked the door. She turned off the lights before laying her weary head on her desk and falling into a light slumber. Barely an hour passed before her phone rang, breaking her uncomfortable sleep. Rachel picked up the phone, answering the person on the line with a sleepy grumble of acknowledgement.
"What is it?"
"Dr. Galvin, we have a problem."
Rachel stood in Cuddy's office staring stubbornly at the floor. Her hands were stuffed in her pockets and her jaw was tightly clenched. She didn't say a word as Cuddy berated her.
"You said you were fine. I can't have you practicing like this. You're distracted. Now your mistake has not only put the hospital at risk, but you put the patient at risk. I want you to have a psych consult," Cuddy demanded.
"You can't make me do that. I won't consent."
"You will unless you want to be suspended."
"I made a mistake, Lisa. No one got hurt."
"You gave Mr. Adler muscle relaxants before a massage. He can't move his arm!"
"Mr. Adler is a forty-year-old tennis player with a torn rotator cuff. He'll be fine," Rachel insisted. "Are House's screw ups the only ones you can forgive?"
"You are out of line, Dr. Galvin," Cuddy warned.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not. You have made all kinds of concessions for House and his team. The rest of us make bad calls, too. I made a huge mistake. I know. I'll take my suspension, I'll apologize to the patient, I'll do whatever you want, but I will not talk about my personal life with any of your doctors."
Cuddy sighed and rubbed her temples, "Ten days suspension and no patient contact for a month after that. Before you return to work I want documentation from a psychiatrist saying you are fit to practice medicine."
Rachel nodded and quietly left Cuddy's office. With her head hung low she walked to the elevator and slipped inside. She wedged herself into the corner of the car, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. When the elevator stopped at the next floor and someone joined her, she snuck a glance.
"Hey," Foreman offered. He was standing opposite her and looking more frustrated than usual.
"Hi," Rachel replied, straightening up. He was the last person she wanted to see right now. She took a deep breath and tried not to let her anger overwhelm her.
"Have you heard from Remy?" Foreman blurted. "I heard she went on a trip, I was just wondering…" He sighed as Rachel glared at him harshly. "I know I have no right to ask, I just wanted to know how she was doing."
"Honestly, I haven't heard from her," Rachel said. "But if I had, I wouldn't tell you. That shouldn't be an issue, though. When I see her again she probably won't want to speak to me either."
"Why not?"
"Because you're not the only idiot in her life."
"Excuse me?" Foreman asked resentfully.
"I said you're an idiot. And so am I. You screwed up as her boyfriend, I screwed up as whatever the hell I was supposed to be, and now she's trying to move on."
"So, you're just going to accept that she refuses to talk to either of us? You're going to let her walk out of your life?"
"You know as well as I do that you can't force Remy to do anything she doesn't want to do. There's only one thing for it," Rachel said, stepping off the elevator as it reached her floor. "We have to move on, too."
By the next day Rachel had resumed her old routine. With her blinds drawn against the afternoon sun, she was lying in bed staring at the ceiling again. Her chest was tight with frustration and nausea was swimming in her empty stomach. She checked her phone again. No missed calls, no new messages, and no word from Thirteen. She sat up and quickly called her brother, tapping her foot anxiously while it rang. Her frustration began to build as his answering machine picked up.
"Don't put me through this esoteric 'where's my phone?' bullshit. Pick up!" she yelled at the machine.
There was a brief clatter as Evan finally picked up. "I'm here, I'm here," he mumbled.
"Tell me not to give up," Rachel demanded.
"What?"
"I've called her five times in the last three days and still nothing."
"You got the letter to her?"
"Yeah, but I don't know if she read it. I don't know what to do. I'm losing it. I was so distracted over this I got suspended from work."
"Don't give up," Evan told her. "Go see her and resolve this. All you have to lose is her, right?"
"Right," Rachel agreed.
Ending the call quickly, Rachel got dressed and headed out. She drove to Thirteen's, charged to the door, and knocked before she could talk herself out of it. She knocked again and again, but after ten minutes, she was fairly certain Thirteen wasn't home. Rachel thought to herself for a moment before realizing where she might be. She set out on foot, walking briskly towards one of Thirteen's usual haunts.