A/N: So sorry for the long update. This chapter is reasonably long so I hope it makes up for it. Also, thankyou so much for the reviews, without which I wouldn't have the confidence to post this story.

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"The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves. We live in denial of what we do, even what we think. We do this because we're afraid."

- RICHARD BACH

Thirteen gasped, blinking furiously, as she came back into the land of consciousness. Her mind echoed with the screams of her nightmare and her hand instinctively went to the scar on her right cheek, chest heaving with the effort it took to regain her breath. For a moment, she struggled to remember how to even breathe.

The experience was made all that worse by the fact that House was sitting beside her bedside, idly twirling his signature cane between his fingers. Remy debated whether anyone would really blame her if she was to take that cane and hit him over the head with it. Really, she'd be doing the world a favour.

"Nice sleep? Did you have a nightmare?" her boss asked with false concern and she grimaced.

She groaned, closing her eyes and resting back against the pillows. "When can I get out of here?"

"About now, well, after we've had this little chat." There was a pause. "Foreman knows by the way."

Remy's eyes snapped open and she looked at him in alarm. "How would he – Oh, no, House, you didn't?"

House's gaze flickered towards the ceiling guiltily, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I may have let something slip. You wouldn't believe how hard that guy is to lie to."

Thirteen stared at him in angry disbelief. "I can't believe you! How could you do that?"

He just shrugged his shoulders and the brunette really wanted to hit him with that cane. Really, it was a very strong urge. She might even have to start taking anger management classes just so she could continue working with the man.

"It really wasn't that hard," was his only response and Thirteen let out a sigh, falling back onto her pillow and gazing up at the ceiling with an expression that clearly said, 'Kill me now.' Or possibly, 'Kill House now.' Both had their perks.

She thought vaguely about Foreman and what she should do. Should she apologise? She had aborted his kid without telling him, it seemed to warrant an apology, if he would even talk to her that was. Remy closed her eyes at the memory of what she'd experienced just mere days before. It wasn't something she ever hoped to repeat and she remembered with startling clarity the ultrasound machine that had been used to find the exact position of her ba – the fetus. The young doctor had very nearly backed out there and then when she caught a glimpse of the thing that wasn't just a clump of cells swimming on screen.

She wouldn't blame Foreman for hating her. She was doing a pretty good job of it herself.

"Where'd you get that scar?"

A muffled voice asked and Thirteen was disgusted upon looking over to see House munching quite contentedly on a egg and bacon sandwich, evidence of his meal very much apparent in his open mouth ; any appetite she might have had beforehand was immediately lost.

"What?"

House rolled his eyes. "The scar on your cheek. Where did you get it?"

Remy's eyes widened in disbelief. "I've worked with you for over two years now and you're just asking about it today?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's a scar, it doesn't matter. Unless of course one pays as much attention to it as you have these past few weeks. Then it matters."

Thirteen frowned, thinking hard. She hadn't realized it but she probably had been running her fingers along it a lot more lately, the mark a constant reminder of something she'd much rather forget, and House was just obsessive enough to notice. "I fell off my bike in Stanley Park. We went there for a holiday when I was sixteen."

House stared at her for a moment and Thirteen tried desperately to hold his gaze. After a moment he smirked, eyes glinting. "Liar."

Remy bit her lip and tried to think of a comeback but before she could even try, the other doctor's eyes narrowed considerably and he leaned in closer, inspecting her face. "You're sweating."

"What?"

He reached out a hand and, before she could even protest, placed the back of it against her forehead. A frown creased his face. "And your fever's gone up even higher. You're also paler than usual and your heart monitors been hammering away for the past hour. I just thought it was trying to annoy me."

"So?" she asked, too caught up in her other problems to follow along with his abnormally big brain. Vaguely, she remembered a time a couple of years ago when she had done the same thing to him. She also remembered how he had put caffeine in her coffee not long beforehand and once again had to resist the powerful urge to hit him with his cane. The brunette really was quite impressed with her self-control.

"So the idiot nurses were wrong. Whatever's making you sick, it's not septic abortion."

. . .

Chase frowned in his seat at the table in the differential room. Foreman and Taub had gone to inform the patient that he did indeed have Addison's disease and House was currently in his office, juggling his ball with half-hearted focus.

The blonde couldn't stop thinking about what had been revealed earlier. Thirteen had been pregnant – it was an idea he couldn't quite wrap his head around – and although Foreman had mentioned that House had told him the baby was his, House didn't know everything. For instance, he didn't know that Chase and Thirteen had been involved in a strictly no-strings-attatched series of one-night stands and, to be honest, Robert would be an idiot if he didn't consider the possibility that the baby Remy had aborted had been his.

He didn't know how he felt about that, if it was true. Kind of stunned, really.

There was the sound of footsteps but Chase barely noticed, too consumed in his own thoughts to even raise his head.

"You're not the father," a voice told him nonchalantly and the blonde's head shot up in surprise just in time to catch House coming out of his office.

"How did you – Thirteen and I haven't been sleeping together!" he quickly caught a hold of himself just in time to deny whatever his boss was implying.

House merely rolled his eyes. "Next time you want to keep a secret affair secret don't make out in Wilson's office while he's out getting me lunch. You know he tells me everything."

The Aussie tried not to blush, remembering that particular episode House was referring to. It wasn't like it had been planned or anything. It was just . . . they'd both been through a particular stressful day at work and had rather spontaneously decided that the best way to fix this issue was to have sex. It seemed simple enough and, since they were both standing outside Wilson's vacant office at the time, even simpler to do it in there – he had blinds. It wasn't like they hadn't already been using the same coping method for two weeks already and it seemed to work fine, they just hadn't brought it into the work place yet. This had probably been a very smart idea on their part, seeing as, apparently, they'd been spotted as soon as they'd gone against it, and by House's best friend no less.

He allowed that to sink in for a moment before House's earlier words finally caught up with him. "You said I wasn't the father?"

"The dates don't match," House informed hi,. "Unless of course you were having an affair with Thirteen a month before her relationship with Foreman ended. Which would just have been really bad of you as a friend." Judging from the look on the older doctor's face, it seemed as though he was almost hoping that Chase would indeed admit to that, if only to evoke more drama in the workplace.

The blonde's shoulders sagged as he was overcome with a wave of relief. He didn't know what he would have done if that baby had been his, especially when his best friend was under the impression that it was his. Chase had a feeling their relationship would have been damaged beyond repair and Thirteen certainly wouldn't have gotten off Scott-free.

He also was nowhere near the emotional state prepared for such a blow. Chase had always wanted kids and while now would have been the most horrible of all times for one it still would have hurt to lose it like that.

He didn't envy Foreman's position and made and a mental note to make sure his friend was doing OK a little later. He almost made another note one to check up on Thirteen but stopped himself – that wasn't his job.

"We're not having an affair," Chase sighed. "It's really just . . . sex." He knew most people would feel uncomfortable discussing such a subject with their boss but this was House and as it was, the blonde only found himself uneasy and worrying about the fact of whether House would spread this around the hospital in the next fortnight.

House gazed at him for a moment, studying his honesty before finally responding with a decided, "You're an idiot."

Now Chase was confused. "What?"

"It's Cameron and you all over again. You're saying that it's just meaningless but you're really only deluding yourself. You and Cameron both did the same thing," he responded simply.

The blonde scowled. "This is nothing like Allison and I. I was in love with Allison, I'm not in love with Thirteen."

"There are about hundred different women you could have chosen for a bed partner in the last few weeks, instead you chose her, your colleague – your dying collegue. You must have known there would be complications, especially since she's your friend's ex, and yet you chose her anyway. It means you care about her, which means the sex is not meaningless and you're doing the same thing you did with Cameron. You're going to fall in love with her because you're Chase and she's going to deny you because, well, because she's Thirteen. Then you're both going to be miserable. Doesn't matter when it happens, next month, next year, after you're married. It's still going to end the same way," House insisted and Chase sat back in his seat, not wanting to believe a word coming out of his boss's mouth but knowing the logic behind it nonetheless. "So, I'll say it again: you're an idiot."

The blonde thought back to the night before, the feelings that had arisen in him upon seeing Remy in such a devastated state, and knew, as much as he hated to admit it, that House was right. And he couldn't afford for him to be right.

It had barely been two months since Cameron had left and he still felt the sting of her departure, still spent countless nights awake on the couch, waiting hopefully for her to walk in through the door. It was pathetic really, when he knew she wasn't coming back, but he still hoped. Then on the side he was having an affair with Thirteen who, as much as he tried to deny it, he did care about. Last night had proved as much.

The idea of falling into another relationship so soon, though, made him queasy and he was even more terrified by the idea that, if they did ever get together, House would be right and it would all just fall apart. He couldn't go through what he had been through with Cameron a second time and it would be inevitable if they got together because, whether or not she left him, she was still dying.

The blonde felt a sudden wave of empathy for Foreman and wondered how the man had managed to hold it together whilst he was together with Thirteen. He knew Eric had loved her and Chase couldn't begin to understand what it would be like to know that the person you loved was dying and ignore the fact anyway. Suddenly, the decision Foreman had made whilst doing the drug trial to swap Thirteen off the placebo made a lot more sense and wasn't nearly as stupid as Chase had first thought it was.

What was stupid, though, was that, right now, the blonde didn't know that, if given the same option, he would choose to do any differently. The knowledge of this made it even harder to convince himself that he wasn't falling for Thirteen.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he sighed, agreeing with House's earlier statement. It seemed like a logical one.

Burying his head in his hands, Chase sighed; crap.

. . .

That Morning

Thirteen blinked, slowly coming into awareness. The scenery around her blurred and she pressed her eyes together to ward off the strange sensation of shapes. To make matters worse, what appeared to be a sledgehammer was making itself at home in her head. Groaning, she reached up and cupped her forehead, grimacing in the process. Something behind the young doctor shifted and it was then she noticed the arm, slung protectively over her waist, and the hot breath on the back of her neck. Blinking once more, this time in confusion, she gazed down at the arm, determining from close inspection that it was of masculine form. That was about all she could find out just by looking.

Carefully, the brunette reached out a hand and clasped onto the arm, unwinding it gently from around her. There was a snort behind her and she froze, thinking she had been caught, but after a pause of long stretching silence she allowed herself to relax once again.

Head aching, she slid out from the man's grip and rose to her feet, wobbling slightly. Turning around, she was confronted by the sight of Chase, snoring away on her bed above the sheets. He was fully clothed, something that proved to unnerve Thirteen. The knowledge that they'd had a quick screw she could deal with, they'd been doing that exact thing for the past few weeks after all, but knowing that they had actually slept together, completely clothed and without any funny business, was something else entirely.

The fact that her body was practically itching to return to those arms wasn't helping matters either.

What the hell had happened last night?

All she could remember was showing up at the nightclub and then . . . nothing.

Biting her lip, Remy inserted her hands in her jacket pockets, searching for something. She found it in the form of a small plastic satchel; she fingered it between her fingers and felt the grainy powder within. That certainly explained a lot.

Shaking her head and deeming it a problem she would have to deal with another time, the brunette turned away from the bed and headed towards the bathroom. If she skipped the shower and changed her clothes quickly enough, she might be able to make it to work before Chase woke up.

Thirteen wasn't exactly eager to find out what she had done the night before, especially what she had done in front of him. So, head pounding and stomach aching, along with a desperate urge to throw up that wasn't about to go away any time soon, she snatched whatever she could find off the dresser and opened the bathroom door.

Today was going to be one hell of day; she could just tell.

. . .

House made his way into the differential room, ignoring the ducklings seated at the table, and limping over to the white board. Taking up the black marker, he wrote in large letters across the top, 'JANE DOE,' and then, underneath that, 'Nausea, vomiting, fainting, high fever, anemia, vaginal bleeding and discharge, abdominal pain, hot.' He then put a little smiley face next to the last part to accentuate the point.

He turned around to face three frowning fellows and . . . he gave a mock startle upon noticing Thirteen, curled up in the farthest chair. "What are you doing here? I readmitted you." Somehow, she'd changed out of her hospital gown and into her clothes from that morning. She was pale, pasty and looking, overall, awful. But still surprisingly hot; there was something sinister about that.

"I convinced one of the nurses to let me come up," she replied easily, sounding only half as sick as she looked. Considering how she looked, though, that wasn't much of a compliment.

House leaned in towards the guys and said, in a voice loud enough for the young woman to hear, "That's code for: she slept with one of them." He winked informatively and the three men rolled their eyes. Thirteen glared.

"Who's Jane Doe?" she demanded, instead of denying his words. He took this to mean they were true.

"Why, you are," he responded as if it was obvious. "And I got all these lovely symptoms from the nurses. They were surprisingly eager to help." After all, he'd needed to get it from them since Thirteen had made a point of ignoring all his 'medically' orientated questions.

Her frown deepened. "I'm your case?" she asked at the same time Taub questioned, "You're sick?"

Chase just chose to look at the brunette in concern, obviously worried by her pallid colour, while Forman stared quite fiercely at the table top.

House sighed in exasperation as if he had been confronted by two incredibly dumb children. "Yes and yes. Can we get on with the case now?"

"Which is me. I don't want to be your case," Thirteen protested to which House only ignored her.

"It's obviously Endometritis," Taub commented, staring thoughtfully at the board. Just like House, he didn't seem to care about what Thirteen did or didn't want.

"Fine, let's treat for that," Thirteen said, quickly giving up on trying to convince everyone that she wasn't the case. Now she seemed to be working the angle the-quicker-we-solve-this-the-quicker-it-will-be-over.

House considered this for a moment. In all likelihood Big Nose was correct but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something worse going on and he had never been wrong before. Still, it wouldn't do any harm to treat her for it anyway.

Suddenly, something caught his attention – a thin trail of crimson making its way down the front of Thirteen's face. "Your nose is bleeding."

She frowned, reaching up to cup her nose and stem the blood flow. Quickly, Chase rose from his seat and grabbed the tissue box off House's desk. Smiling sympathetically, he handed it to the young doctor who nodded in thanks – her own knight in shining armour; how cute.

House scowled. "Endometritis doesn't cause nosebleeds."

"Thousands of things cause nosebleeds," Chase denied, taking a seat once more. "It doesn't necessarily mean an underlying medical condition."

House opened his mouth to protest (mostly just for the sake of protesting) but stopped. There was something beckoning to him on the top of Thirteen's wrist as her shirt sleeve rolled back and she held a tissue to her nose. "You have a fresh nightclub stamp on your wrist."

Immediately, she froze. Everyone (though Chase's expression seemed relatively forged) glanced at her in shock, even Foreman looked up from the table long enough to stare at her in disbelief. She lowered her hand slowly from her nose, the bleeding by now having lessened.

"What's your point?"

"You know, generally when you take a sick day after getting an abortion you don't go out clubbing. Kind of defeats the purpose of the sick day," he commented nonchalantly, causing her eyes to widen slightly. As interesting as he found her bad habits, he couldn't deny that he had been relieved when they had ended, considering her self-destructive nature had very nearly gotten her killed.

"What I do in my private life is none of your business."

Taub gazed at her, clearly confused by the whole thing. "'abortion'?"

House ignored this. "Did you have sex? Do any drugs? And, yes, that last one is medically relevant."

She remained tight-lipped which House took to mean as a 'yes', on both accounts. He didn't realize that the fact that she didn't answer was more because she couldn't rather than any real show of stubbornness – Thirteen had no idea what she had done last night.

"Can we get back to the diagnosis?" Foreman spoke up, not looking at them. His eyes were narrowed angrily at the table top once more, though, and House, mercifully, dropped the subject; for now anyway.

"She's just had an abortion," Chase stated and Thirteen flinched slightly at the word, almost imperceptibly. Nevertheless, he noticed and sent her a sorry look. "The vaginal bleeding isn't even abnormal."

"It is if it lasts," House denied.

"Which means we have to wait and see if it does."

"Great idea, except for the fact that waiting usually gets the patient killed," the old doctor snarked earning a scowl from the 'patient' in question. "No offense, Hot Mama." Nevertheless, he moved over and crossed out the 'bleeding' next to 'discharge' and added below, 'nose bleed'.

"Why has 'hot' been added as a symptom?" Taub questioned, choosing to give up on trying to figure out what was going on. He looked to be getting quite a head ache from the effort.

"Well, no-one sick should look that hot. Obviously it's a symptom."

"You're a pig," she stated with a scowl.

"Yet, surprisingly, I'm the pig you chose to confide in. It just makes me feel so honoured," he replied, touching a hand mockingly to the place where his supposedly heart was. She rolled her eyes, obviously coming to the conclusion that it would be a waste of time to point out that she hadn't confided in him – he'd gone through her handbag. "Next diagnosis, please?"

A/N: Now, I know I said earlier on that it would be a while before Chase and Thirteen started their relationship, and that still holds. To me, what they've been doing so far doesn't really count as any kind of healthy relationship.

Also, I am not a doctor, I haven't been to med school, I basically suck at science and I haven't even finished the 9th grade yet so any medical facts in this chapter and future ones I am basically getting off the internet, after many long hours of research. So, if something is wrong, please blame the internet.

Last but not least, there's a fanvid I made of Thirteen at: .com/watch?v=H69WKuE0adU if anyone wants to watch it.