"Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we often might win, by fearing to attempt."

- Jane Addams

Thirteen sighed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as the team shouted off random conditions that she couldn't be bothered paying attention to. Their patient was a thirty-something-year-old American male who looked like he had swallowed a yoga ball sometime in his life – that had been Chase's description – other than that she didn't actually know anything else about him. The man's file blurred in front of her eyes and she blinked.

Last night, the young doctor had been kept up by plaguing thoughts and internal dilemma's (not to mention morning sickness that couldn't tell time) and she was a walking zombie because of it. There was also the minor fact that she hadn't had much in the way of food for the last three days (unless sun flower seeds counted) because anything she ate always ended coming back up anyway. She was currently a mixture of exhausted, hungry and nauseas; though, thank god, she wasn't as hungry as she should've been after that long. That would just be torturous.

If the team noticed any of this, though, they didn't say anything; although, Foreman and House both seemed in a race to see who could burn a hole through her with their stare first. It would be unsettling if she wasn't too tired to give it more than a moment's thought.

In an instant, they were up and bustling out the door, leaving poor Thirteen behind to watch them go in confusion, wondering whether she was supposed to be doing the same thing as well. Judging by the exasperated and, perhaps, slightly amused look House was sending her that was indeed the case.

Remy opened her mouth to ask what she was supposed to be doing (and praying that he wouldn't make a big deal out of it) but the bitter old man beat her to the punch.

"Idiot and Racer have gone to search the patient's apartment. Big Nose has gone to run tests, which, technically since I told you to, you are supposed to be doing as well," he snarked.

She blinked as her tired brain tried to catch up to the nicknames he had just spouted out and who they belonged to. Remy blinked again, her mind coming up blank. "What?"

He narrowed his eyes at her in irritation. "How much sleep did you get last night? Ten seconds?"

That sounded about right, though she wasn't about to tell him that. "Three hours." It was a white lie, a small lie, he wouldn't notice, especially since three hours wasn't that great either.

The doctor's eyes narrowed further and she knew she was busted. Before either of them could say anything, however, an agitated Cuddy came bursting into the room. This was a fairly normal occurrence; though, the toddler settled on her hip was anything but. Both House's and Thirteen's eyes zeroed comically in on Rachel, widening in the process.

"Oh, thank god, you're not busy," Cuddy gushed, her loud tone setting off the headache Remy just now realized she had. The younger brunette resisted the urge to wince and crawl beneath the table in a bundle of self-pity. She would save that for after House did his routine 'let's-embarrass-Thirteen' performance.

The dean completely ignored House, who was eyeing the front of her chest suggestively, and continued on. "The baby sitter called in sick and Lucas has work. I need someone to watch Rachel."

Thirteen's mouth opened and closed like a fish while House smirked in the background. It took a few attempts but she eventually managed to close it and bring it once again to working order. She swallowed. "House can watch Rachel."

Both of her elders sent her incredulous looks, clearly deeming her idea insane. In her mind, however, it sounded a lot more rational than handing her the baby. What was Cuddy thinking? And was the world really operating to destroy her and make her life miserable like it seemed to be? It certainly was out to get her.

She was currently struggling with the huge dilemma of whether or not to kill her baby and the last thing she wanted to do right now was hold some kid and play happy mother to it.

House, apparently, didn't see the problem with it (or, perhaps he did and just wanted to screw with her) and spoke up. "Thirteen has the morning off. She'd be glad to look after your little bundle of joy."

"I do?" she questioned in a monotone, still in a state of shock. It took a while for the rest of his words to catch up to her but by then Cuddy was already heading towards her with the baby of doom. For this, Thirteen was so going to sabotage her boss's cane and delete his porn . . . among other things.

"Thankyou so much, Dr. Hadley, it won't be for long. I just have to hold a short conference with the surgical department and then I can have her in my office while I do paper work. I won't even be an hour."

"Really?" Because she'd been hoping it would be more like a five minute thing. Obviously not.

Cuddy smiled warmly at her for a moment before bending over and placing Rachel in her lap. Remy's hands instinctively reached up to support the toddler who smiled dumbly up at her mother.

"Bye, Rachel," she said before placing a gentle kiss on baby's forehead and, after sending Thirteen another grateful smile, exciting the room.

"B'Mummy," Rachael gurgled and Thirteen looked down at her, wondering what in the world she had just gotten herself into.

. . .

House stared at Thirteen and Rachel for a moment, taking in the care with which the younger doctor held the content baby, as if she was a fragile ornament that could break at any moment. There was clear discomfort and panic in the brunette's posture and eyes but at the same time she was absentmindedly tracing small circles on the baby's back.

At the risk of sounding too sappy, House had to admit that, despite her obvious unhappiness with the situation, having a baby on her lap seemed to suit her. It softened her normally sharp features and gave her a kind of warm presence that hadn't been there before.

All in all, he didn't think he'd be too upset if Thirteen decided to keep her baby. He frowned, limping over to the seat behind his desk; time to catch up on that porn.

. . .

Thirteen exhaled, trying desperately to slow her rapid breathing and beating heart. It was just a baby. It shouldn't frighten her. God, she was dying from an incurable disease and this was what she chose to be afraid of in comparison at the moment? It was weak and pathetic . . . and still fucking true!

Rachel glanced up at her, as if reading her thoughts, and she tried to smile, she really did, but it came out kind of wobbly. The toddler reached up and caught a hold of her hair and the brunette resisted the urge to tear it away. That was too close; it was too close.

Nausea rose in her stomach and she was reminded of her impending fate. She licked her lips, fighting it back, and the baby smiled.

She was a beautiful baby, she really was; all big brown eyes and smiles. It made her wonder what her own would look like–could look like, if she had it. Obviously it would have Foreman's dark skin, though it would be lighter, perhaps more of a mocha shade? She wondered whether it would have her eyes, everyone seemed to love them, her father especially.

Remy winced, wondering where that had come from. She hadn't thought about her father in years. He was a taboo subject; her whole family was, but him especially.

She sighed, shaking her head.

It wasn't doing her any good to think about this, to wonder, because in the end it would all boil down to one thing. No matter how her baby looked, how beautiful it was, it was going to die prematurely; whether by artificial means very soon or by a horrible debilitating disease was still up for debate. One of her hands left Rachel and trailed to her stomach.

Could she really put her baby through that? Could she really sentence it to such a fate?

No, no she couldn't . . . but, God, she wanted it so badly, Remy realized suddenly, she really did. Holding Rachel in her arms was bringing about all kinds of maternal instincts and her mind was racing with the thousands of images and possibilities of what could be if only she didn't get that abortion.

But, no.

Suddenly feeling impossibly overwhelmed, Thirteen rose from her seat, House doing the same when he noticed her panicked expression. She walked quickly over to him, not sparing him a glance as she handed him the toddler and muttered a quick but shaky, "I have to go."

The brunette was off in a flash, House staring after her looking uncharacteristically flabbergasted, and it wasn't until she'd made her way downstairs, out the hospital doors to her car and looked in the rear-view mirror, that she realized she was crying.

"I have learned over the years that when one's mind is made up, this diminishes fear; knowing what must be done does away with fear."

- Rosa Parks