A/N: Thankyou so much for pointing that out 2Monk4 (slaps forehead), can't believe I got Wilson's and Foreman's jobs mixed up. Also, I am sorry for the slow update and I chalk it up to a week full of assignments, tests and bucketfuls of homework which, by the way, I am drowning in at the moment. I am also sorry to tell you that I might not be updating much, or at all, for the next few weeks because I have exams coming up.

And did I mention I love everyone's reviews? Because I do, so thankyou, thankyou, thankyou.

"There is a great deal of pain in life

and perhaps the only pain that can

be avoided is the pain that comes

from trying to avoid pain."

- R. D. Laing

Chase paced the hallway outside Thirteen's room, his mind debating back and forth whether to go in. He wanted to know she was alright but at the same time he didn't want to want to know whether she was alright. Because it wasn't just the kind of she's-your-friend concern he was feeling at the moment it was the someone-you-love-is-in-trouble kind, and, as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he couldn't deal with that.

Going into the room would be crossing a line for him, maybe even for both of them, and although it could hardly be seen it was there, he knew it was. And he couldn't do that.

This had to stop, whatever was going on between them, it had to stop now. Because he was still suffering from Allison's departure and . . . she was dying.

She was dying. And he didn't want to get any closer to that.

Sighing, the blonde shook his head and turned away, intent on returning to the differential room. He stopped short however when he caught sight of Foreman approaching. The man seemed to be having a very similar debate to the one Chase had been having beforehand and looked about ready to bolt at the slightest signal that this was all just a disaster waiting to happen.

The Aussie took in a breath and exhaled, remembering his promise to himself earlier that day to see how his friend was doing. Whatever was going on in his own life at the moment, Foreman's problems were slightly worse. Time to put his own feelings aside and be the friend he was supposed to be. Not the friend that was screwing his friend's ex-girlfriend on the side and not telling him about it.

"You haven't talked to her yet, have you?" Chase guessed and Foreman glanced over, noticing him. Taking in his words, the man's shoulders slumped and he sighed. That was answer enough.

"I've thought about it," he responded. "Haven't got much past thinking."

"You're still angry." It was an assumption but Chase figured it would be the right one.

There was a pause and the other doctor glanced towards Thirteen's room before looking back at the blonde. "I know I should talk to her first, should try and find out why she did it before, well, before condemning her . . . but I can't help what I feel. And if I go in there now, then I'm going to get even angrier and I'm going to yell at her. And that's not going to accomplish anything." He frowned, contemplating that. "I just need a little time."

Chase nodded. "Understandable." He didn't however point out that maybe the former couple needed to have a good yelling at each other, just to get things out in the open. Surely, sitting back and letting things stew wasn't going to accomplish anymore than actually confronting the problem head on would?

But, then again, he'd just gotten out of a failed marriage that had arisen from a rather dysfunctional relationship so what did he know? It was better to just go with Foreman on this one, at least that way Chase couldn't be blame if thing went horribly south, or at least more so than they already had.

There was a prominent snort of disbelief in the distance and they both looked to see House limping towards them. Apparently, Thirteen's room had become the new meeting point. Chase wouldn't have been surprised if his boss had taken it upon himself to send out a flyer's saying, 'free beer and sandwiches at room 213, bring your friends,' just in an effort to annoy Thirteen. It was maybe a little unlikely but the blonde still found himself looking around anyway for the telltale signs of a hospital-staff-stampede coming their way, just in case.

Foreman sighed and seemed to be willing himself not to reach out and trip the older man up. If his friend so asked, Chase vowed he would do it for him. "I suppose you have something you'd like to add, House?"

"Am I really becoming that predictable?" House asked, face a mask of false horror. Chase's leg twitched, begging to be extended and used as an obstacle for the doctor to topple over. The horrified looked disappeared to be replaced with seriousness. "You're both idiots." He turned to Foreman. "You're not staying away from her because you're afraid of yelling at her, you're staying away because you're angry and you know that when you finally get up the guts to talk to her she'll present some reasonable explanation and you won't be angry anymore." He made no mention as to why he considered the blonde an idiot though the talk the two had had earlier probably had something to do with his reasoning for the statement.

Both Foreman and Chase shared a look, the Aussie speaking up, "And Foreman wants to be angry because . . .?" Really, he was beginning to think House had lost his marbles.

House rolled his eyes as if he was talking to a couple of imbeciles. "Because it's easier to be angry than be in pain." Not giving them time to mull that over, he started walking again, pushing past them. "Now, if you two ladies will excuse me, I'm going to go check on our patient since neither of you seem to be brave enough to do so yourselves. Cowards."

Foreman and Chase stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment as House left them to their own devices. There was something deeply wrong and unsettling about a man like that having so much knowledge and intuition about the lives of others around him, especially when it had become known years before that he wasn't going to use his power for good.

"I'm going to . . ." Chase made a vague gesture in the opposite direction to Foreman, not quite sure what he was going to do. Maybe see Cuddy about getting a restraining order put on House for the sake of Thirteen's sanity or perhaps he would go check with everyone to make sure that the older doctor really hadn't sent that that invitation out about her room.

"Yeah. I have to . . ." Foreman pointed somewhere down the hall, possibly indicating the old janitor, Garry, who was currently grinning at them in a rather sadistic manner. Probably not, though.

They parted ways almost instantly.

. . .

Foreman looked back as Chase disappeared down the hallway, fingering the slight bulge in his coat pocket. House was right, he hated to admit it, but he was. Being angry with Thirteen was far easier than having to allow himself the time of really considering what had happened. If he did that then he would start to think about what he had really lost and then the pain would kick in.

Eric was an expert in avoiding pain, being 'boring', as House had so fondly called him many times, was a key instrument in that. When you were boring you didn't take risks and it was when you took those risks that you really laid yourself out on the line, right in the way of the chopping axe. Sure, some people somehow managed to get their hides off of the chopping block but just as many didn't. He could remember the few times he had taken a risk, none of them had ended well.

Being with Thirteen was a major risk, not only because it meant opening up to someone in such an intimate way but also because she was dying. Foreman still wasn't sure yet, after the way things had turned out, whether it was a risk he'd found worth taking.

On the one hand, his time with Thirteen had been great and he really had loved her. On the other . . . well, all you had to do was look at the situation they were in now and draw up the conclusion that maybe it might have been a bad idea.

He sighed and reached into his coat pocket. Whether or not it had been a bad idea didn't matter, he still had to deal with the consequences and that meant accepting whatever pain was to come.

. . .

"We found coke and ecstasy in your apartment," a voice announced, coming into the room and taking up a stand beside Thirteen's bed. She glanced over at House absentmindedly, eyes clouded from her earlier thoughts. At that moment, her hand traced across her stomach – just like it had been doing most of that day – and she tore it away, angry with herself. Even though there was no longer a baby in there, her body still remembered the countless nights when she had splayed a hand across there, reaching for something she could not have.

Remy knew she shouldn't have let herself get so close but it was hard not to when, deep down, it was what she really wanted. Now she was paying the price.

"You broke into my apartment?" she asked in outrage, her boss's words finally catching up with her.

"Well, yeah," House responded, as if it was the obvious thing to do. "How else am I going to find out your dirty little secrets?"

She sighed and shook her head. The brunette realized that she could fight him on this, perhaps tell him off a bit more, but knew deep down that she had not a hope of really accomplishing anything. House was, well, House and he always would be. "You said you found ecstasy and cocaine?" she asked, instantly on the defensive. She was so sure she'd hid them well enough.

"This as well," he informed her, pulling a pair of panties out from inside his coat. They dangled daringly in front of her incredulous face. Horrified, she snatched them hastily out of his hand and glared accusingly at him.

"I can't believe you!"

House looked at her innocently. "It really shouldn't be that hard."

The brunette closed her eyes and exhaled. I mustn't kill my boss. I mustn't kill my boss. I mustn't kill my boss. "What do you want?"

His face transformed into a mask of seriousness, or what might pass for seriousness in conjunction with House. "You're falling back into bad habits."

She shook her head, exasperated. "It was one night. I needed a distraction."

"Yet you brought enough supplies home to last you more than one night. That says one of two things. The first being: you're an idiot. And the second being: you're also an idiot but one who plans on making one night into one week and then one week into one month and so on."

She couldn't deny him there. Sure, Thirteen had only planned on one night but even now she could feel an itch for that coke, just a chance to get away from reality; a reality which, quite frankly, sucked right now. Nonetheless, she pursed her lips and lied through her teeth. "I'm fine."

"Please," House scoffed. "You're no more fine than you are straight. And I'm not just referring to the fact that you're currently in a hospital bed."

"Is there a particular point to this conversation?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment before replying, "Nope. I'm just here to say, 'thank goodness, you've gone back to your old ways – you were starting to get boring.'"

Remy gazed at him in disbelief. "You're an ass."

"But a sexy one, right?"

"Get out."

"I also found SSRI under the sink. Didn't know you suffered from anxiety. Interesting."

I will not kill my boss. I will not kill my boss. I will not kill my boss. "What part of 'get out' didn't you understand?" she asked, to which he only shrugged his shoulders.

"The part where I get out." He stated, clearly having no intent on leaving and finally, she sighed, giving in. If answering his questions was the only way she was going to get him out then so be it. She could always take a leaf out of Cuddy's book and swap his Vicoden for laxatives later.

"Yes, I suffer from anxiety. A lot of people do. Now can you get out?"

"It pains me that you dislike my company so. Perhaps you could consider stripping to make me feel better?" he responded hopefully.

She really shouldn't have been surprised. This was House, after all. Silly of her to think that, whilst she was currently ill and everything but strapped down to a hospital bed, that he would show some sense of decency. Silly, silly her. "House!"

"I promise I won't tell Foreman. It'll just be between us," he bargained with a wink.

Whilst Thirteen was caught up staring at him with an incredulous face there was a knock on the door and an inquisitive Foreman appeared. "Tell Foreman what?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" House responded without pause, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Remy resisted the urge to bury her head in her hands and instead focused all her attention on glaring a hole through House's head. Despite her best efforts, though, he didn't seem to notice.

"I'll leave you two lovebird to yourselves," House decided before leaning in and whispering in Thirteen's ear, "Try to let him down easy. I still need him to be reasonably functional after your little chat." She retracted in disgust at having him so close to her and the doctor smirked before rising to his feet. "Be gentle on her," House added, patting Foreman on the shoulder as he walked past. "Remember, she's dying."

Foreman shook his head in exasperation and closed the door behind House. He sighed, turning to face Remy who became immediately apprehensive. This was a discussion she had wanted to avoid. She knew now that House had spilled the beans about what had happened and she didn't know what to expect from her ex. She also didn't want to talk about what had happened, at all.

Regardless, Eric seemed to be thinking along different lines. "I think we need to talk." She didn't respond and he took that as an invitation to pull up a chair at her bedside and sit down. Thirteen closed her eyes, preparing herself for the coming task. "I also wanted to return this," he added, retrieving a black journal from inside his coat and placing it down on the bed. "I rescued it from House."

The brunette fingered the journal for a moment, contemplating. She was grateful he had returned it but confused at the strange generosity after what had happened. "He's never going to stop, is he?" she asked absentmindedly, referring to House's endless vendetta to figure out every little aspect of her life.

Foreman shook his head.

They remained in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Remy tried to think of something to say, anything that would make what she had done any better, but there was nothing. She had done wrong by him, she knew that, but she didn't regret it. "I'm sorry, Eric."

He nodded his head and looked down. "I know you are. Trust me, I do. And I know why you did it." At her confused expression, a slightly guilty one came upon his own face. "I have a confession to make. I opened it," he told her, nodding towards the journal.

Thirteen should have been angry at the invasion of privacy, she really should have, but it was such a small thing piled up on top of everything else that she could hardly bring herself to care. "You wanted to know why I did it," she guessed. "I understand. And I don't blame you. As long as the recent entries were the only ones you read."

"Oh, believe me, they were. I hardly even read more than a page. Didn't really feel right," he responded, a small, relieved smile forming on his face. "There's still one thing I don't understand, though."

Thirteen shook her head, confused. "What?" All of her reasons, as far as she knew, had been written down in that journal. And when she said 'all' of them she meant 'all' – the young brunette had needed an outlet for her raging thoughts.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Eric asked, eyes wide and at a loss.

Remy's face softened and she bit her lip, cocking her head to the side. "Because I didn't want to hurt you. Because I loved you." She wasn't afraid to admit that last part. While she may not love him anymore there had certainly been a time when she had and when he had loved her in return. Foreman nodded his head, taking that in. "Because I knew you would have been able to talk me out of it." And that was the real reason. It wasn't just because she didn't want to hurt him, it never had been, it was because she knew deep down, if anyone else had the ability to want this baby as much as she did it would be Foreman. And Remy didn't have the strength to shatter both their hearts, it was hard enough to put a knife through hers.

There was another stretch of silence, during which Thirteen looked over to see House standing outside her room, giving them the thumbs up. She frowned and Foreman followed her gaze, raising his eyebrows at what he saw.

"I still can't believe you told him." He didn't sound angry about the fact, just confused.

"I didn't. I would never tell House," she denied, inwardly horrified by the idea. The day she would willingly tell House something of that magnitude would be the day that she would admit herself to an insane asylum. "He went through my handbag."

"Ah," he responded, light dawning in his eyes, still continuing to look at House as the older doctor began making crude hand gestures through the glass. "That does sound like House." He frowned, a thought suddenly occurring to him, and he turned back to face Thirteen. "How are you feeling by the way?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "A little cold. Other than that, I'm fine," Remy told him with a small smile. "I think House is overreacting. It's obviously Endometritis, like Taub said." To be honest, she wished her boss wasn't making such a big fuss out of this. So she'd fainted and so she had a fever. She could narrow all those down to simple problems like dehydration and the flu. The rest of her problems, like mentioned before, were being caused by Endometritis. Yet, House, the top diagnostician perhaps in the country, thought otherwise.

That was actually pretty unnerving. And if she wasn't so tired she would think on it a little more. As it was, she just wanted to get some sleep. Even if it was only 5:00 in the afternoon. As if on cue, Remy let out a yawn. Her hand reached up to hide it but failed miserably.

Foreman smirked in amusement. "And I think that's my cue to leave. You get some rest," he ordered gently, rising from the chair. "And don't go convincing any more nurses to set you free."

Thirteen resisted the urge to roll her eyes; overprotective much? "Yes, mother."

Her ex just smiled and turned towards the door. He was almost out of the room when Remy, chewing anxiously on her bottom lip, called out to him. "Hey, Eric." He turned back and she immediately regretted her words. She didn't want to do this, didn't even want to think about it, but he deserved to know. After everything, he deserved that much. "It was a boy."

He frowned, confused for a moment, before comprehension dawned in his eyes. "A boy?"

"Yeah." The brunette nodded her head slowly, offering a weak smile. "I just . . . thought you should know."

After a pause he nodded his head, sent her his own small, obviously forced, smile back, and headed out the door. Things weren't right between them, she knew that, after everything she doubted things ever could be, but they weren't awful either. And that she could live with that.

"I don't even need soaps when I have you," House announced, poking his head back inside.

She groaned and rolled over, closing her eyes. Maybe if she dreamed about it really hard, he would disappear.

"Sweet dreams, Mama Bear," he let out in a singsong tone of voice before, like Foreman, disappearing.

A/N: I'm not that great at writing Foreman, he just doesn't come easily to me, so I hope this chapter didn't suck too much.