It turns out December is the busiest month of the year. Sorry. But you all get rewarded with a super long chapter. It's a little heavy on the hospital scenes, but Thirteen had a lot of them this episode. I hope you like it. Also, thanks for all the great reviews, favorites, and subscriptions!

Thirteen trailed her way down Rachel's body. She rolled her tongue over Rachel's nipple, quickly garnering a moan in reward. Rachel arched her back lithely, pressing her body harder into Thirteen's. Thirteen had long passed the point of making Rachel squirm. She had already begun to quiver and tremble with need as Thirteen placed achingly slow kisses on her stomach. Thirteen ran her tongue over Rachel's navel while her hands played at the inside of her thighs. Just as Thirteen began to lower herself to her ultimate destination, her phone rang. She and Rachel both let out sighs of disgust.

"Ignore it," Rachel said. She pulled Thirteen closer and kissed her urgently.

"I can't."

"You can. It's only seven." Rachel continued to assail Thirteen's mouth and neck with kisses, trying to make it difficult for her to concentrate.

"That's the third time they've called," Thirteen insisted. "They'll just keep trying."

"Forget about them. Just fuck me."

Rachel kissed Thirteen again, and nearly thought she had her convinced, before Thirteen broke away and grabbed her phone. "Hello?" she answered. Rachel promptly flopped her head back and groaned loudly. She shook her head in disbelief and pulled herself from under Thirteen. Thirteen looked at her with knitted brows and mouthed "I'm sorry." She nodded and muttered a few answers before reluctantly mumbling, "I'll be in as soon as I can, Foreman."

At the mention of Foreman's name Rachel launched herself from the bed and headed for the bathroom.

"What?" Thirteen asked following her.

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing. You can't get angry every time I talk to Foreman."

"I'm not angry."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not," Rachel insisted. "I'm frustrated. We can't even have an hour together before work."

"This is my job, Rachel. It's unpredictable and whenever we get a case I have to go."

"I know," Rachel sighed. "I know you do. I'm not trying to be an ass. I'm just –"

"Frustrated."

"Yeah," Rachel nodded. "I'm sorry. Between my cases and your cases, I feel like I've barely seen you this week. Foreman being the one to call was just the goddamn icing on the cake."

"So, you hate him because he's my ex?"

"No, I hate him because he's an asshole."

"Where was all this when I was pissed at him?"

"I was trying to reassure you. You were slamming doors and screaming at the top of your lungs, but you weren't wrong."

"Huh," Thirteen muttered.

"What?"

"It's just kind of nice to have you commiserating with my anger."

Rachel gave a small smile and rolled her eyes. "Watch me commiserate my way into a cold shower." As she stepped under the spray of frigid water, she saw Thirteen move to join her. "It doesn't work if you share," she said, shooing Thirteen away with her hand.

The couple rode to the hospital together without any further argument. As she drove, Thirteen let her gaze flicker over to Rachel. She studied her for a moment, watching as Rachel sat with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Thirteen parked quickly and turned to Rachel.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asked.

"I'll be fine."

"I don't like sending you off to work sexually frustrated."

Rachel laughed and met Thirteen with a smile. "It's okay. I'm still restricted to paperwork, so I've got plenty of time to sneak down for a run and burn off some energy."

"Okay," Thirteen said. She leaned in for what would be their last display of affection until they were behind closed doors. She kissed Rachel quickly and asked, "Grab some coffee with me before you go?" Rachel nodded and they headed into the building.

As they entered the cafeteria, the rustle of newspaper caught their attention. Thirteen and Rachel turned to see House sitting by the carafes.

"I just read the most interesting article," House said. "It seems that in some occupations employees actually arrive in a reasonable amount of time when their employers call them."

"It's only been twenty minutes since Foreman called me," Thirteen said. "Besides, I'm more than an hour earlier than usual, which is more than two hours earlier than you usually get here."

"And yet I'm the one waiting on you," House said. He took notice of Rachel as she quietly handed Thirteen her coffee. "Living together already?"

"We don't live together," Thirteen said quickly.

"Right," House nodded.

"Back off, House. We're just friends," Rachel shot. "I had car trouble and Remy gave me a ride. That's why she's ten seconds late."

"You do realize lesbians are the angry ones, right?" House quipped. "At most you should be cranky."

"After the way my morning started, I deserve to be more than cranky," Rachel said. She turned to Thirteen before heading off, "I'll see you later, Remy."

As Rachel left the cafeteria, House watched her walk away, looking her from top to bottom. Thirteen nudged him with her elbow when she noticed.

"If you really aren't sleeping with her," House started, "you are so much dumber than I have ever said you were." He watched Thirteen carefully as she shook her head and rolled her eyes at him. "Go meet Taub and Chase in the lab."

Thirteen unhurriedly headed off to join her fellow teammates. When she walked into the lab Chase was peering into a microscope while Taub took samples and prepared slides.

"What are we doing?" Thirteen asked.

"We need to find a reason for lung infiltrates," Chase said. "We're looking for environmental or toxic causes."

"And that takes three of us?"

"It does when you have to sort through all of that," Taub answered. He pointed to a nearby table filled with items they had gathered from the patient's home.

"So, where's Foreman?"

"He didn't feel the need to stay and help, so he's delegating," Taub muttered in annoyance.

"Great. He's not done making my morning miserable," Thirteen said under her breath.

"What?" Taub and Chase asked in unison.

"Nothing," Thirteen said quickly. "He really needs to be reminded that he's not in charge."

Taub stopped what he was doing and Chase looked up curiously. "What did you have in mind?" Chase asked.

"I'll think of something," she said eagerly.

It was early afternoon when Thirteen finally tracked down Foreman. He sat in the team office poring over the case file. Thirteen paused outside the door, hesitant to have another encounter with him. After a moment she shrugged off her uncertainty and walked into the office.

"We ruled out environmental and toxic causes. The patient just developed severe muscle weakness in his arms. I'm thinking Lambert-Eaton."

Foreman glanced up briefly before returning to the file, "You think he's got lung cancer? He's not even hypercalcaemic."

"Hypercalcaemia isn't always present. Lambert-Eaton is a much stronger indicator."

"Alright. Get a CT and biopsy anything you find," Foreman said dismissively.

"Uh-huh, or you could do that while I consult Wilson, which is where I was heading."

"Is there a problem?"

"Yeah, while the rest of us are doing all the legwork, you're in here reading."

"I'm reading the patient's file," Foreman said, raising his voice slightly. "You make it sound like I'm sitting on my ass doing nothing."

Thirteen was starting to get frustrated. "You don't get to delegate responsibilities to us."

"That's what this is about? You can't handle me supervising you?"

"You're not House. You're not our boss," she blurted. Before either of them could respond, Thirteen's phone rang. She answered it and hung it up as quickly as she had received the call. "The patient just attacked Chase before having a seizure. Are you going to help us now?"

Thirteen and Foreman joined the rest of the team in the MRI suite. When they had a clear image of his brain the answer became obvious.

"Limbic encephalitis," Foreman muttered. He was somewhat slack-jawed as he turned to Thirteen. "You were right. It's got to be lung cancer."

"I'll go get Wilson," Thirteen said. She wore the slightest smile of satisfaction as she headed off. When she reached Wilson's office, she quickly knocked and entered his office.

"Got a minute?"

"What do you need?" Wilson asked.

"Thirty-eight year-old male presented with lung infiltrates, then developed Lambert-Eaton syndrome and limbic encephalitis. He just went into a rage and had a seizure. We X-rayed his lungs but didn't find anything. The guys are running a CT scan now."

"You should do a bronchoscopy and sputum cytology as well," Wilson said. "I'll help."

Minutes later, Thirteen was helping Wilson prepare the patient for the procedure. They carefully began to lower the bronchoscope into his mouth and down to his lungs. No sooner had they begun the procedure than the patient began to seize again. He was quickly taking a turn for the worse.

That afternoon, after stabilizing her patient, Thirteen slunk away to Rachel's office. She plodded into the office and flung herself into a chair with a heavy sigh.

"Everything okay?" Rachel asked.

"My patient is dying."

"What happened?"

"He developed limbic encephalitis secondary to lung cancer. It's putting pressure on his brain stem, which is lowering his respiration and heart rate. We don't think he'll make it through the day," Thirteen groaned.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said softly. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Have lunch with me?"

"Of course. Where would you like to go?"

"The cafeteria's good with me."

"Seriously? I know we have better than average hospital food, but still." Rachel stopped railing against the cafeteria as she noticed Thirteen simply staring at her. "Okay, hospital food it is."

Rachel rose from her desk and wrapped her arms around Thirteen. She held her tightly for a few moments before letting go and leading her through the door.

When they reached the cafeteria it was crowded. Thirteen and Rachel waded through the mass of people as they made their way to the line.

"Why don't you find a table," Rachel suggested. "I'll grab us something."

Thirteen nodded and headed off quickly. Rachel groaned and took her place in the long line. She only had a moment to herself before Foreman lined up next to her.

"Rachel," he opened. "I've never seen you down here for lunch."

"Long lines, mediocre food, communal tables with people you see way too much anyway. I had to see what I was missing."

"Could I ask you a question?"

"I guess," Rachel shrugged.

"Does Remy talk about me at all?"

"She called you an asshole last week, does that count?" Rachel smirked as a dejected look flashed over Foreman's face. "No, she doesn't talk about you."

"How's she doing?"

"Fine."

"She's been a little short-tempered with me lately."

"You've given her some pretty good reasons to act that way," Rachel replied. She counted the number of people left before she could grab her lunch and go. There were only a few more, but time seemed to be passing very slowly.

"I just want us to be able to work together in a civil environment," Foreman said.

"If I know Remy, she's being as civil as can be expected. What you want is to be able to work in a comfortable environment, and I don't think that's possible with someone you used to date."

"I was just hoping you could –"

"Let me stop you right there. It's not going to happen," Rachel said shortly.

"Did I do something to upset you?"

"Yes," Rachel answered. "You fired Remy."

"So, because your friend is pissed at me, you're going to carry on her grudge?"

"That's right," Rachel nodded. "But rest assured, I have a special sort of loathing for you that is all my own." She quickly paid for her lunch and met Thirteen at a table. "Now I remember why I eat in my office. This like fucking high school."

"What was that about with Foreman?"

"I'm cranky because I didn't get to have sex this morning," Rachel said with an irritated smirk.

"Be serious," Thirteen said. "I mean, I'm sure that's a factor and I'm really sorry, but stop deflecting."

"He wanted me to help smooth things over between the two of you. Or so I assume. I cut him off before he could finish."

"What did he say before you cut him off?" Thirteen asked.

"He said wants a more civil working environment."

"And you said?"

"I told him I thought he was just trying to make himself more comfortable. He's such an ass," Rachel scoffed.

"I'm pretty sure I said those exact words not too long ago."

"But he's so fucking arrogant. He just walks up with this self-important look on his face and thinks everyone else will bend to his will."

"I thought you said to let that go."

"Yeah, I said you should let it go. I'm just getting started."

Rachel folded her arms across her chest in a huff. Under the table Thirteen nudged her gently with her knee. "Let it go. Why are you getting so worked up over this?"

"He still has feelings for you."

Thirteen sighed loudly, "What did he say."

"Nothing," Rachel muttered irritably. "There was just something in the way he spoke."

Thirteen rolled her eyes dramatically. "Please don't tell me you're the jealous type," she groaned.

"I'm not. Not even a little," Rachel replied, shaking her head. "I am, however, the territorial type."

"And the difference would be?"

"Jealousy means I feel threatened and want to run him down before he has the chance to make a move on you. Territoriality means I want to outline the boundaries of our relationship in bright yellow runway paint and do everything I can to make sure he knows you're mine."

"I'm yours? I'm not sure whether I should find that romantic or possessive."

"Neither," Rachel shrugged. She quickly donned a lopsided smile and eyed Thirteen from under her lashes. "But I hope it leans towards romantic. It's a statement of fact. We belong to each other. I'm yours and you're mine."

Thirteen smiled and bit her lip bashfully, "Do me a favor and forget about the paint. I think it's best if we fly under the radar. I'd really like to get back to having a private zone. Then again, Taub knows, so either he's learned to keep his mouth shut or everyone will find out soon enough."

Rachel raised an eyebrow, "Who do you work for? I doubt Taub's the one we have to worry about. If anyone is going to out us it'll be House. He's already seen us together."

"I never thought privacy could be this hard," Thirteen mused.

"It's kind of fun," Rachel said, smirking. "Surreptitious meetings in my office, secret dates. I like it being just you and me."

"So, you want to keep things secret?"

"No," Rachel replied, shaking her head. "People will find out eventually. I just mean that right now it's nice not to have others looking in."

Thirteen nodded understandingly, "Well, now that you've calmed down, how would you go about knocking Foreman down a peg?"

"Money," Rachel answered simply.

"What do you mean?"

"Foreman is excessively concerned with status, and money is a concrete indicator of one's status. So, if he thought he made less money than you, he'd get completely bent out of shape."

"That's brilliant."

"And so simple. Flash a little bling, maybe buy a new outfit. He'll completely fall for it."

"You'll find any excuse to shop, won't you?" Thirteen asked. She chuckled slightly as Rachel nodded. "There's just one problem. I don't own any bling."

"Leave that to me. I've got just the thing to get into Foreman's head."

The next morning Thirteen prepared for work at Rachel's apartment. She was dressed and ready, sipping coffee while she typed away on her laptop. When she was finished, she printed out what she'd been working on and examined it carefully. Feeling satisfied with her work, she smiled and took it to Rachel.

"Look at this," Thirteen said.

Rachel took the paper from her and looked it over. "Your paystub? What about it?"

"Look carefully," Thirteen said.

"Your middle name is Beauregard?" Rachel said, laughing a little.

Thirteen lightly slapped Rachel's arm, "Look at the amount."

"This is almost as much as I make," Rachel noticed. "House can't possibly be this generous."

"Unfortunately not, but it's a pretty convincing fake isn't it?"

"Sure is. So, what's the plan? You leave this somewhere Foreman can conveniently find it and watch his world view crumble?"

"Yes," Thirteen nodded. "And I get Taub and Chase in on it, too."

"Very nice," Rachel said. She kissed Thirteen deeply while she skimmed her hands under her shirt.

"Mm-mmm," Thirteen mumbled into the kiss. She swatted Rachel's hands away and stepped back. "Don't start. We both have to get to work and I have to put my evil plan in motion."

"Fine," Rachel sighed, holding her hands up in defeat. She kissed Thirteen briefly and headed for the door. "I'll see you at lunch."

When Thirteen arrived at the hospital, she hurried to the cafeteria. Taub and Chase were already sitting together at a table when she walked in. She grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down with them.

"What's got you so excited?" Chase asked noticing the smile on Thirteen's face.

"I have the perfect prank to put Foreman in his place," Thirteen said. She pulled out the forged paystub and laid it on the table.

"That looks perfect," Taub said.

A crafty smile crossed Thirteen's lips, "I leave this somewhere Foreman will find it, you two pretend you make the same amount, and we wait for the meltdown."

"You're enjoying this a little too much," Chase noted.

"So, you're out?" Thirteen asked.

"No, I'm in. Just dial back the excitement. You'll give us away."

The three of them finished their coffee and headed for the team office. It was empty when they arrived, allowing Thirteen to put the pieces of her plan into place. She placed the paystub carefully by the trash bin and returned to her seat. It was only a few minutes before Foreman arrived and took his usual seat at the head of the table.

Soon after the team had assembled, House appeared. He walked in eagerly and began tossing out copies of the team's latest case file.

"Thirty-two year-old man," House announced. "Recently developed loud noise-induced vertigo. CT was clean, no internal bleeding, no edema. Everything else is in the file," he said as he turned to Chase. "Cameron get you hair in the divorce?"

"This guy strained his back three years ago and that's it. All the rest of these pages are blank," Taub said.

"Yes, he won't tell us anything," House replied. "Understandable since he's a drug dealer."

Thirteen's eyes widened at House's apparent excitement, "So, he's dangerous and withholding, which you find irresistible. But guys like that, they never call." Thirteen quickly buried her own excitement as she noticed Foreman grab his empty coffee cup and head for the trash bin.

"He actually said he was a drug dealer?" Chase asked.

"Not out loud," House said. "But he was wearing a solid gold Patek Philippe, his friend had a Rolex. Their phones were prepaid burners, they could toss them as soon as they're done."

"It doesn't matter if this guy's a drug dealer or not," Foreman said returning to the table. "Noise-induced vertigo means ear or brain. Head CT was clean, so I'm thinking acoustic neuroma. We need to do an ABR to test his hearing."

"Acoustic neuroma fits," House nodded. "So does lidocaine toxicity. Or benzocaine. Depends on what he's cutting the coke with."

"So, now he's not just a drug dealer, he's a cocaine dealer?" Thirteen asked.

"He seemed peppy," House replied. He stood and began to head for the door. "You test his ears, I'm going to go test his cocaine."

"You think this guy's just going to hand over a briefcase full of illegal drugs because you ask nicely?" Taub asked.

"I hope not," House answered.

The team shook their heads at House for a few moments before Foreman and Taub left to test the patient. When they were out of sight Chase turned to Thirteen. "He took the bait."

"Won't be long now," Thirteen said with a smirk. "I'm going to go draw blood before they get started. Might as well rule out the boring stuff."

Thirteen followed Foreman and Taub's trail to the testing suite. When Foreman noticed her, he shot her an awkward look of annoyance. He couldn't get out of her way fast enough. Thirteen quickly collected a few vials of blood from their patient and continued on her way. She only stopped long enough to give Taub a look that said everything was going according to plan.

That following morning Thirteen sat with Rachel, enjoying a leisurely breakfast at one of their favorite diners. Thirteen kept reaching for Rachel's plate with her fork no matter how many times Rachel would knock it away with her own. When she grew tired of defending her breakfast Rachel pulled her plate from the table and wrapped her arms around it protectively.

"Leave my waffles alone!"

"But you have blueberries," Thirteen said.

"If you wanted blueberries, you should have ordered them."

"I didn't want any until I saw you with them." Thirteen pushed her lips into a pout and batted her eyelashes at Rachel.

"Don't look at me like that. You wanted pancakes, so eat your own food," Rachel fussed. As Thirteen rolled her eyes and finally went back to her breakfast, Rachel placed her plate back on the table and started eating again. "By the way," she said after a while. "How's the Foreman freak-out going?"

"Good," Thirteen said with a smile. "He found the paystub and Taub said he was obsessing over it all day."

"Nice. I brought you this," Rachel said, pulling a watch from her purse and handing it to Thirteen. "I thought it might help."

"It's gorgeous," Thirteen said.

"Platinum band, flashy face, diamond on the twelve. It should really throw him for a loop."

"And when this is all over with, it'll make a lovely addition to my jewelry box," Thirteen added. Rachel promptly began to shake her head and Thirteen shrugged. "It was worth a try."

"Sorry, it was a graduation gift from Evan. If you like, I could get you one."

Thirteen smiled, "There is a line between being thoughtful and generous and spoiling me."

"Can't I do it all?" Rachel asked.

"You're making me look bad. I've got to come up with some romantic gestures of my own."

"It'll have to wait," Rachel said, glancing at her watch. "We've got to get to work."

The two of them split the bill and walked to the parking lot. They shared a brief kiss then pulled away in separate cars.

Thirteen wrung her hands anxiously. She sat around the glass table with the rest of the team. The afternoon was wearing on and they were fruitlessly trying to solve their case. While she brainstormed, Thirteen pulled her sleeves back and gestured emphatically as she tried to draw Foreman's attention to Rachel's watch. House paced back and forth as the team carried on with their differential.

"What happened after the seizure?" he asked.

"They put the patient on vasodilators and got his hypertension under control," Taub said.

"He got worse here at the hospital," Thirteen said. "Means thug life probably isn't what's making him sick."

"Which means we can stop the bloodhound gang routine and go back to being doctors," Foreman added.

"But we're doctors all the time. It's so boring," House whined. The rest of the team simply glared at him unsympathetically. "Fine."

"Could be sick sinus syndrome," Chase offered.

"No chest pain, shortness of breath," Taub said. "Brain aneurism secondary to polycystic kidney disease?"

"Normal urinalysis, kidney's impalpable," Foreman added. Thirteen called attention to her wrist again, finally getting Foreman's attention. "Is that a new watch?" he asked.

Thirteen looked at the watch nonchalantly, "Thought I'd get myself a little treat. What if it's not his brain, but it's on the way to his brain? Carotid stenosis."

House nodded, "Get an ultrasound of his carotids. See if his arteries are clogged."

Thirteen rose from her seat and went for the door with Taub close behind her. They wheeled the patient from his room to the imaging suite. It took less than ten minutes for them to view his heart and return to House.

When they entered House's office, Thirteen and Taub found him tuning what seemed to be an elaborate radio transmitter.

"Ultrasound showed no narrowing or obstruction in the patient's carotid," Thirteen announced.

"Not that he's worried," Taub said. "Keeps asking when he can leave."

Voices suddenly crackled over the receiver. For a few moments they could hear the patient complaining about the cafeteria food before the conversation disintegrated into static.

"You bugged his room?" Thirteen asked.

"The patient sleeps in the building where they keep their stash," House explained. "Eventually he'll say something that gives away where that is. Then we'll find out what's making him sick."

"But we ruled out environmental causes," Thirteen said.

"You ruled out environmental causes," House quipped.

"And you pretended to agree just so we'd take him out of his room, so you could plant a bug," Taub added.

"Carotid stenosis was a decent idea," House said as he continued tuning. "But an even decenter idea is that he has toxins stored in his fat cells and every calorie he burns makes him sicker."

"If we're going with toxic exposure we should just start testing for the most likely suspects," Taub suggested.

"Bug's a better idea than blindly running tests for days," Thirteen said.

The receiver emitted a loud screech of feedback and House turned it off in frustration. "Tell him it'll take weeks. It'll be faster."

While Taub set off to lie to the patient, Thirteen took a break for lunch. She dashed to the lobby to retrieve her food from the delivery person, then quickly returned to the team office to grab a few more things. She made her way towards Rachel's office, stopping halfway and ducking into an empty room. She picked up the phone and connected to the front desk. "Could you have Dr. Galvin come to the clinic, please?" she requested. Thirteen peered from the room and watched Rachel round the corner. As soon as the coast was clear, she sprang into action. She let herself into Rachel's office and began to hurriedly set things out. When she had finished laying out the food, Thirteen placed two small pillar candles on the table and lit them. Within moments, she heard the door open behind her as Rachel returned.

"What's all this?" Rachel asked. A surprised smile teased her face as she took stock of everything.

"I thought I'd try my hand at being romantic. Not too bad if I say so myself," Thirteen said.

Rachel closed the gap between herself and Thirteen, meeting her with a kiss, "Not bad at all." Thirteen lead Rachel around the desk and pulled the chair out for her. When she was seated, Thirteen returned to the other side and retrieved a bottle. "You know, my patients sort of complain when I work with a buzz on," Rachel joked as Thirteen opened the bottle.

"You're not seeing patients."

"Good point. Bring on the booze."

Thirteen tried not to spill as she laughed at Rachel's comment while she poured. "This happens to be the finest in non-alcoholic sparkling beverages." She offered Rachel a glass and finally settled into her seat.

"So, tell me," Rachel said as she dug into her lunch. "When did you plan all this?"

"Yesterday. It became abundantly clear that this case was going to take forever."

"How so?"

"The only history we have on him is an old back injury."

"He won't tell you anything?"

Thirteen shook her head, "House got so desperate he bugged the patient's room."

"I keep thinking that I'll eventually get used to House's antics, but he never ceases to shock me."

"It's when he doesn't bother you that you have to worry," Thirteen said. "By the way, your watch worked like a charm."

Rachel pressed her fingertips together and drummed her fingers deviously, "Phase one is complete. What's next in your evil plan?"

"Phase two is pretty much continue with phase one until Foreman cracks."

"Just don't get too carried away with it. Please," Rachel said.

"I won't," Thirteen insisted. Her phone suddenly began to vibrate, causing her to fish through her lab coat for it. When she finally retrieved it, she could only grimace at the message it had for her. "Is this still romantic if I leave?"

"Yes. It's strange, but I'm starting to get used to sharing you with a bunch of guys."

"At least I can say I've mastered the five minute date," Thirteen said drolly. She chocked down another few bites and gave Rachel a kiss goodbye. "I'll try to finish early. Enjoy your lunch." Thirteen quickly sped from Rachel's office and back to her own department. In the team office Chase sat waiting for her, casually leafing through a newspaper as he did. "You did not just send me a text saying House wants us to tail the patient. Are you serious?"

"I'm serious," Chase said. "We'd better get going, he's just about ready to leave."

Thirteen sped along in pursuit of her patient. As irritating as it was to be sent out to track a mobster, the excitement of the moment was getting to her. She ignored Chase as he complained like a backseat driver, yelling, "Not so close!"

"Relax, Chase. I've driven a car once or twice before," Thirteen groaned.

"This is ridiculous."

"It beats sitting in a lab all day."

"In a lab there is significantly less chance of getting killed," Chase grumbled. "You're too close, slow down."

Thirteen glared at Chase, "We're in a car in broad daylight. What's going to happen?"

"You honestly think he doesn't have a gun in that car?"

"That he's going to use to shoot doctors?" Thirteen snapped. Chase's nagging was beginning to frustrate her.

"Just back off," Chase urged quietly. He let out a sigh of relief as Thirteen finally slowed down a bit. "Very well played with the watch by the way."

"Borrowed it from a friend," Thirteen said with a pleased smile.

"How long are we going to keep lying to him?"

"Until it's no longer fun," Thirteen said. She rolled her eyes as Chase shot her a stern look. "We all thought he needed to be taken down a few notches."

"So, we're just having fun, not getting even?"

"Oh, crap," Thirteen mumbled. The traffic light ahead of her suddenly turned red, leaving their patient driving along on the other side of the intersection. More than happy for an excuse not to answer Chase's last question, Thirteen stepped on the gas.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," Chase muttered as the engine growled heavily.

"He's going to get away!" Thirteen insisted as she sped through the light. As soon as she did, a police siren sounded behind her. Chase turned to look out the rearview mirror, a cocky smirk crossing his face as he snickered at her. "Shut up," she snapped.

Thirteen pulled over quickly and the police car parked behind her. She pulled out all the documents she would need to present to the officer and began the excruciating wait for him to walk from his car to hers. After five minutes, the officer slowly sauntered to her window.

"License, registration, and proof of insurance," the officer said flatly. Thirteen offered the items quickly and the officer reviewed them. He walked back to his car and didn't return for another few minutes. As he returned to Thirteen's car, writing out what was no doubt a ticket, a tow truck arrived. "Ma'am, can you step out of the car, please?" the officer asked.

"Sir, I just–"

"Ma'am, you were doing forty-five in a thirty, and you ran through a red light," the officer explained. "I'm going to have to write you ticket and confiscate your vehicle. Both of you step out of the car."

The officer led Thirteen and Chase to his car. Once they were loaded into the back, he signaled the tow operator to hitch Thirteen's car to his rig. As Thirteen watched her car being towed away she began lightly banging her head against the window.

"You're going to wind up with a headache," Chase whispered.

"Thanks so much," Thirteen mumbled.

Nearly an hour later, Thirteen and Chase stepped from the police department and into a cab. By the time they returned to the hospital it was nearly time for them to go home. They slowly headed to office, far less than eager to have House chew them out. When they reached the team office, they found Foreman and Taub sitting alone, reviewing the patient's file.

Foreman's head shot up as they walked through the door. "What happened?" he asked.

"We lost him," Chase admitted.

"Well, the ER found him," Taub said. "His friend brought him back in with fever and delirium."

"I can't believe it took you three hours to get nothing. What is House paying you two for?" Foreman scoffed.

"It's not our fault we're not skilled in the fine art of tailing," Thirteen objected. "We're doctors, not private investigators. I've got to go."

"Go where?" Foreman demanded. "We're not done."

"I don't answer to you," Thirteen snapped.

"There's not much more we can do for him tonight," Taub said. "We put him on steroids and antipyretics and go home." Taub headed for the door and Foreman followed him heatedly.

"Still, think it's a good idea to keep messing with him?" Chase murmured as they disappeared.

"Not now, Chase." Thirteen gathered her things and began to make her exit.

"Do you want me to take you to pick up your car?" Chase asked.

"No, I have a friend who'll take me," Thirteen answered. "Thanks for the offer." Thirteen slunk to Rachel's office, the stress of her day weighing her down. She slipped into the office and leaned heavily against the door.

"I'll be damned," Rachel said. "You actually did finish early."

"I wouldn't get too excited about that. I need you to help me bail my car out," Thirteen said sheepishly.

"What happened?"

Thirteen hesitated for a moment, "House sent Chase and I to check the patient's home and the police towed my car and gave me a ticket. I parked illegally or something."

"Sounds like you've had a really crappy day," Rachel said. She grabbed her things and met Thirteen by the door, drawing her into a quick hug before they ducked out. "Let's go get your car."

The next couple of days were relatively uneventful for Thirteen. She was beginning to feel guilty about lying to Rachel and it nagged at her conscience. At work, she tried to keep herself out of trouble. She sat at House's desk, fiddling with the receiver to the bug he had planted. She was determinedly searching for an open channel when House burst into the office. He eyed her curiously before joining the rest of the team by the whiteboard. The guys quickly briefed him on the latest updates of the case. Having discovered and ruled out the patient's use of beta-blockers, they were trying to narrow down where he might have driven after they lost him, but House seemed more interested in Thirteen.

"That receiver doesn't respond to manual stimulation," he said to Thirteen. "Maybe if you took off your shirt."

Thirteen rolled her eyes dramatically, "Actually, I resorted to something more exotic. I call it reading the instructions. Turns out if you screw the antennae into the wrong sockets it doesn't actually work." Thirteen smiled to herself, feeling smug, until the loud screech of feedback caused her to rip the headphones from her ears. She cleared her throat sheepishly as the rest of the team stared at her. "It's supposed to search for an open frequency."

Chase continued talking as Thirteen tried to resist the reddening of her cheeks. House stared vacantly in her direction, thinking something over. "There's got to be at least one open frequency," he muttered absently. He scrambled suddenly from the room as the team hurried behind him. House hobbled down to the patient's room, barging in on him and his friend. Thirteen followed him in cautiously, staying quiet while House worked his deceptive magic.

"I need a few minutes with your friend," he said. The patient's companion simply shot him a suspicious look. "Or stay if you want," House offered. He pulled a latex glove from the counter and waved it around. "Rectal exam."

"I'll check out the cafeteria," the man said quickly.

As soon as the man left, Thirteen slid the door closed and began shutting the blinds.

"Why the beta-blockers?" House asked the patient.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

To the patient's confusion, House began rooting around under his mattress. "Valium and Xanax actually reduce stress. Beta-blockers just control the symptoms of stress," House explained. The patient jumped in his bed as House began to lift up the mattress and search directly beneath him. "Keep the heart from racing, hands from shaking, all those stage fright issues. That's why some people take them when they perform." House pulled a pin-sized transmitter from the bed and the patient's face dropped in shock.

"What the hell is that?" he asked.

"This is my bug," House said proudly. He began searching behind the pillows, gaining a few tentative objections from the patient. He quickly found another transmitter hiding amongst the down and pulled it free. "And this, this is yours."

Thirteen stepped forward to examine the transmitter, pulling it from House's hand curiously. "You bugged your own room? Are you an informant?"

"An informant would have sold his pals out to us at the first sign of a sniffle," House said. "This guy is a cop."

House and Thirteen left the patient to himself and stepped outside. Out in the hallway, House called the whole team together and held a brief conference. After quickly telling the others what he had discovered and distributing a few witty quips, he sent Thirteen and Chase in to convince the patient to give them more information.

"If you won't talk to us, we'll find someone who will," Thirteen opened forcefully. "I mean, you must have a supervisor, a handler."

The patient smiled smugly, "Good luck with that. You don't know my real name. You don't know if I'm local, or state, FBI, DEA. But, by all means, get on the phone."

"I get it," Chase cut in. "These guys are lowlifes, you want them off the street."

"They're not just lowlifes," the patient scoffed. "Eddie killed a snitch three weeks ago. Boss's orders." Until this point, Thirteen had been fidgeting out of frustration, but she stopped suddenly and shot Chase a nervous look. "The boss, he's one of the biggest cocaine importers in the entire state, and he wants to expand down to Philly. Tomorrow night, he and Eddie are meeting the big fish, and the cops are going to bust it. But, if you guys get caught poking around there, the whole thing gets called off."

"That's noble," Thirteen said. "But you can't put your life at risk."

"I've been undercover for sixteen months. I haven't seen my wife, my house, my dog," the patient said. "I have put far too much into this and I will not let it fail. So, just keep me alive for another twenty-four hours and I will tell you everything you need to know."

Thirteen looked at the patient with a new understanding. She felt a mixture of respect and sympathy welling inside her before a sharp knocking interrupted them. Eddie stepped back into the room and the patient suddenly put his guard back up. Before too much could be said, the patient clutched his stomach and began to scream in pain.

The team was gathered in the office. Chase sat in his green scrubs, fresh from surgery. The patient had started forming clots, which were obstructing blood flow in his bowel. Chase had needed to remove an entire foot of dead tissue.

Thirteen sat wringing her hands and rerunning the differential in her head, trying desperately to think of a solution. They simply didn't have enough information to make any headway.

"So, vertigo, fever, and thrombosis," Foreman recounted. "We already ruled out cancer and infection. He got worse on steroids, which suggests it's not autoimmune, so we're stuck with environmental."

"But what kind of environmentals?" Taub asked. "Toxins, parasites, allergens?"

"We should just pick the top ten possibilities and treat for all of them," Foreman suggested.

"Except that treating for everything could kill him faster than whatever's killing him," Thirteen said.

"Got a better idea?" House asked.

"Sort of," she said. "Chase is right, our patient's holding out for noble reasons, protecting his bust. Anybody else in that crew got sick I'm guessing they'd be a little more self-serving."

Once she had the go-ahead from House, Thirteen set off eagerly to implement her plan. She grabbed two cups of coffee from the cafeteria, treating one with a small dose of benzodiazepines, then went to the waiting room to sit with Eddie. She watched him for a moment from the hallway, remembering what her patient had said about him. After a while she approached him cautiously, handing him the coffee before taking a seat by his side.

"Surgery went well. You should be able to see him soon," Thirteen said. She watched carefully as Eddie took a long swig of the coffee.

"It used to be all about Ferberizing your kids, now they're saying it could mess them up," Eddie mumbled, referring to a parenting magazine he was reading. "Mine's six and a half."

Thirteen looked at Eddie strangely. While she was focused on thinking of him as the heartless, drug-peddling murderer her patient had described him as, that wasn't what she saw now. At the moment, he was a man concerned about the best way to raise a child while holding a constant vigil over his sick friend. The contradiction between these two versions of Eddie threw Thirteen, but she pressed forward. "Mickey's getting worse. A clot is a very bad sign. We really need you to tell us where he's been."

Eddie chuckled as he took another drink, "If I do that there's a good chance I could end up John Doe at the county ME."

"Look, Mickey got sick because he had the most exposure. Other guys are at risk too. You don't want to–" Thirteen paused as Eddie began breathing heavily. "You okay?"

"I feel dizzy," Eddie muttered.

"Are you diabetic?"

"No."

"When was the last time you were at your office?" Thirteen asked, pressing her fingers to Eddie's throat to take his pulse.

"Whoa. Did you drug me?"

"What?"

"You're trying to make me think that I'm sick so I'll take you to the stash."

"Of course not," Thirteen insisted. "But if you are sick–"

"I don't feel sick, I feel drugged. Trust me, I know the difference."

Frustrated by the failure of her plan, Thirteen stared off angrily for a moment. "You didn't even drink half of it. You'll be fine in an hour," she huffed. She quickly got up to leave but Eddie called after her.

"You think Mickey could die?" he asked. Thirteen spun around, but simply stared at him wordlessly. "It's just a deal. I'll take you."

Thirteen looked at Eddie hesitantly. She had gotten what she wanted, but now she actually had to accompany a murderer to his office.

Rachel quickly made her way to House's team office. Inside, she found only Taub intently reviewing a patient file.

"Have you seen Remy?" Rachel asked. Taub looked up and met her with a bewildered look. "Dr. Hadley? She also goes by Thirteen. You do realize she has an actual name, right?"

"Of course. I've just never actually heard it," Taub admitted sheepishly.

"Well, I don't generally use titles or cryptic nicknames to refer to friends or patients."

"Friends?" Taub asked. "You do know that I–"

"Shh-shh," Rachel interrupted. "I know you and Remy talk, but let's assume the walls have ears. So, have you seen her? She missed her appointment today."

Taub looked away from Rachel while he considered what to tell her. "She's searching the patient's office," he finally said.

Rachel looked at him squarely, "How much are you lying to me right now?"

Taub laughed a little and flashed a flustered smile. "Not at all," he said.

"You look guilty as hell, which I'm guessing means there's something unsavory about where she is or what she's doing, so which is it?"

Taub hesitated again before he spoke, "Everything's fine, Rachel. She's at a dry cleaner's. She should be back soon."

Rachel narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance. "Let me put this another way," she said to Taub. "As a department head and board member, I have influence over the distribution of things like raises and vacation pay. It would really help if you told me the truth right now."

"She's searching a dry cleaner's," Taub said, clearing his throat nervously. "With a drug-dealing mobster."

"Excuse me?" Rachel asked loudly. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw was set angrily. She quickly turned to leave, but did a sudden about-face and returned to Taub. "Yesterday when her car was impounded while checking the patient's home?"

"She ran a red light while tailing the patient, who we thought was a drug-dealing mobster."

Rachel nodded, "Thanks. Send her to my office when she gets back, please."

Rachel made a hasty exit and returned to her office to seethe. She picked up her phone half a dozen times only to place it back on the hook. She was too angry to speak and on her life she couldn't think of anything coherent to say. After hanging up the phone a few more times she decided it was best to wait until Thirteen returned to the hospital.

When Thirteen got back to the office, Taub met her anxiously. He started to pull her aside, but Chase and Foreman followed closely behind her.

"Dr. Galvin stopped by," he started, choosing his words carefully. "She wants to see you in her office. Something about your appointment."

Thirteen glanced at her watch, "Okay, I'll be right back."

"I'll walk with you," Taub blurted. He grabbed a few files from the table, "I've got to hand these off to Cuddy."

Thirteen eyed Taub strangely as they walked. She waited until they were halfway to Rachel's office before saying anything. "What's with you? Cuddy's office is in the opposite direction."

"I told Rachel where you were."

Thirteen abruptly stopped walking and glared at Taub. "Why would you do that? What the hell were you thinking?"

"She knew I was lying," Taub answered. "Then she said being a board member gave her pull over raises. I'm sorry."

"How much did you tell her?"

"Everything. Including how your car got impounded."

"Great," Thirteen muttered under her breath. She continued on to Rachel's office, but turned back to Taub briefly. "By the way, she's not on the board. She's just a better liar than you are."

Thirteen approached Rachel's door cautiously. She knocked lightly and waited for Rachel to beckon her in.

"Come in," Rachel called through the door.

Thirteen slowly entered and stood in front of Rachel's desk. "Taub said you were looking for me."

"Yeah, I was going to ask you to pick up my dry cleaning," Rachel said looking up. "But I guess I was too late."

"Rachel–"

"You lied to me. Twice."

"I'm sorry. I just didn't want you to worry."

"That doesn't make it better," Rachel said. "Why would you put yourself at risk like that?"

"It wasn't a risk. It's not like they were going to hurt any of us. We're trying to save this guy's life."

"And what about anyone else who might have been at the drug den? What were you thinking?"

"I was doing my job. This is what we do! Someone had to do the search."

"It didn't have to be you. You didn't even take one of the guys with you. I am so close to calling you a psych consult."

Thirteen rolled her eyes, "Don't be so dramatic."

"Don't shrug this off, Remy. I'm being serious."

"I know," Thirteen sighed. "I'm sorry."

"I don't know what crazy things House makes you do, and I really don't want to. I just want to know that you're safe. I'm not trying to make you to feel like you have to change your life now that you're with me, but stuff like this freaks me out."

Thirteen nodded, "If it bothers you that much, I won't volunteer for anymore risky outings. I'll only go if House makes me."

"Thank you," Rachel said solemnly. "Can you meet Dr. Lawson in the therapy suite? She's waiting for you."

"Can't you handle my appointment like always? I know you're still on probation, but it's not like I'm going to sue the hospital."

Rachel shook her head, "You should get used to Lawson anyway. She'll be handling your appointments from now on."

"So, I piss you off and you don't want to be my doctor anymore."

"No, I'm your girlfriend, so I can't be your doctor anymore. At least not directly. I'll still be the overseeing physician."

"What difference does it make that you're my girlfriend?" Thirteen asked.

"It makes a big difference to my boss. It's a conflict of interest. Plus, it makes things like ordering psych evaluations very complicated."

"It's not that big a deal."

"It is to me," Rachel insisted. "You do things for your job, I do things for mine. I'll still supervise your treatment plan and do your checkups, but I won't actually be there for therapy."

"I don't like this," Thirteen protested. "I don't want another doctor, Rachel. I want you."

"Look, I know it's weird getting used to a new doctor, but this is the way it has to be."

"So, that's it? We have to hash out my indiscretions, but you get the final say on yours."

"It's not an indiscretion, it's hospital policy. It's AMA policy," Rachel said angrily. "Why are you being so stubborn about this, Remy? I can't be your girlfriend and be your doctor."

"If you have a problem with the way I live my life then maybe you shouldn't be either," Thirteen shot.

"Remy–"

"Just don't, okay. You've made your feelings perfectly clear. I'll start seeing Lawson and you won't have to worry about me anymore." Thirteen flung the door to Rachel's office open harshly and stormed out. She headed down to the locker room, pulling out her workout clothes frantically. As she moved to pull her shirt on, her hand went rigid and began to jerk erratically. The spasm lasted only a few seconds but it was enough to push Thirteen's temper to a new level. She ripped her things from her locker and threw them across the room. She began punching and kicking the locker with all she had until her fists throbbed. As her fit subsided, Thirteen sank to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest. She held herself tightly and began to sob.

Days later, Thirteen sat in a dark restaurant booth with the rest of the team. They each solemnly sipped at drinks and picked over food they weren't hungry for. They stared off vaguely in different directions, not paying each other much attention. They had lost their patient.

Thirteen stared down at the table while the guys chatted idly. She was having more trouble with this than usual. Losing patients was always hard, but this patient had roused something in her. He had pulled something to the forefront of her mind that had been buried for a long while. She pushed her drink aside and hurriedly said goodbye to the guys.

Outside a heavy snow had begun to fall. Thirteen made her way to her car and slipped in. She drove slowly through the thickly flocked streets and shortly found herself outside of Rachel's building. She hesitated for a few minutes before the cold and her loneliness forced her inside. Thirteen pulled herself up the few flights to Rachel's door and knocked uncertainly. After a few minutes the door opened slowly.

"It's late, Rem. Can we skip the yelling and–" Rachel paused suddenly as she noticed Thirteen's demeanor. She stepped aside and let her enter. "What's going on?"

"He wasn't a drug-dealer," Thirteen muttered as she stared at the floor.

"What?"

"The patient he wasn't a drug-dealer, he was a cop."

"Was? You lost him?" Rachel asked.

Thirteen nodded, "He spent sixteen months of his life trying to put a bunch of mobsters in prison."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand why you're telling me this."

"He put over a year of his life into this bust. I thought that if I could find what was making him sick and get him back out there, I don't know, I thought that something would be different because of me. But it's not. He's dead and I'm…"

"You're what?"

Thirteen shook her head and let out a heavy sigh. "I lied to you again," she said softly. "Before, when I apologized for going to the dry cleaner's, I didn't mean it. It was stupid and reckless, and it scared the shit out of me, but I wouldn't take it back."

"So, you came all the way over here to tell me that you're going to keep on taking crazy risks. Thanks."

"No, that's not what I meant. I said I wouldn't take anymore unnecessary risks and I promise you that I won't. I just–the patient made me feel–"

"What? What could he have possibly made you feel that would justify sneaking around with a murderer?" Rachel demanded.

Thirteen looked at her feet sheepishly and her voice nearly became a whisper, "He reminded me…"

"Reminded you of what?" Rachel asked, her voice softening.

"He reminded me of how short it all is. I don't have a lot of time left–"

"Remy…"

"No, just listen. I want to help people. I want to make a difference. I told the patient he shouldn't risk his own life, but why not? This is the only life we get and if we have a chance to change something, then why not take it?"

"You make a difference to me," Rachel said quietly. "And you don't have to put your life on the line to do it. If you want to take risks, you should, but take risks that won't end you. Make a difference by living as well and as long as you can."

Thirteen shook her head harshly, "But that's just it, Rachel. I don't have long. It doesn't matter if I risk my life because it's going to end soon anyway."

"It does matter!" Rachel yelled. Tears stung at her eyes as she glared at Thirteen. Thirteen was furiously blinking back tears of her own as Rachel pulled her tightly into her arms. "It always matters."

Thirteen sobbed heavily in Rachel's arms before Rachel lead her to bed. They settled in together, with Thirteen curling into Rachel as her body trembled. Rachel continued to hold her tightly as she tried desperately to calm her.

"You can't give up," Rachel whispered as she stroked Thirteen's back soothingly. "Not again. I won't let you. I won't lose you."