A/N: I had a momentary reprieve in my homework and since I had already started writing this chapter a while ago I decided to finish it. Hope you like.
And, as always, thanks for the reviews; love 'em.
. . .
"Truth makes many appeals, not the least of which is its power to shock."
Jules Renard quotes (French Writer, 1864-1910)
"Thirteen's kidneys are failing," House announced, stepping into the differential room. Ah, another day, another soap.
Foreman frowned in confusion and opened up his patient file. After rereading what it said a couple of times he finally replied. "No they're not."
"No. They're not," House agreed. Chase and Taub both sat back in their seats, relieved. "I just thought it would be funny to see how everyone would react. Plus, Chase looked half asleep."
The blonde doctor frowned. "I had a late night."
"Did you go out clubbing? Have sex with strange women?" House enquired mockingly.
Chase frowned. "No."
"Good. Your boobs aren't nearly perky enough to qualify you for taking over as Thirteen. Honest, it would just be weird."
The Australian didn't look impressed but didn't say anything either. Whether that was because he knew House's words to be true or was just thoroughly disappointed in the fact that he couldn't be the new Thirteen was open for debate.
"The antibiotics we prescribed are working. The bleeding has reduced and there's no longer any discharge," Taub commented, reading from his own file. It was clear he wasn't interested in the conversation they were currently having.
"She doesn't have Endometritis," House stated loudly, rubbing the bridge of his nose and wondering how many more times he would have to point this out before he got it through their thick heads.
Taub frowned. "The treatment's working."
"And yet she's still sick. Seems a little odd, don't you think?" he retorted.
Foreman made an unimpressed face. "She hasn't even been on it for two days. It's going to be a while yet before she fully recovers."
"Endometritis doesn't cause fainting," House pointed out reasonably.
Now it was Chase's turn to get in on the fun. "Which can be easily explained by dehydration. She had a lot on her mind – I doubt she was thinking very much about her daily fluid intake. Other than that, all her other symptoms can be easily explained by Endometritis." Satisfied, he placed his own file back on the table and leant back in his seat. "Which means, we need a new case."
House stared at him for a moment. "You're an idiot." Something caught his eye outside the room and, without turning, he called out, "Cuddy! Wilson!"
The Dean and his friend shared matching grimaces and halted in their walking strides. For a moment it looked like they were still going to make a run for it before, upon letting out sighs of resignation, they made their way inside the office.
"House, this better be good," Cuddy warned. "Lucas just called up and Rachel's sick. I'm supposed to be on my way home."
"And I have to deliver some unfortunate news to a patient," Wilson added solemnly.
House resisted the urge to roll his eyes; everyone thought their problems were so huge. "Are they dying?"
"Uh, yes, actually," his friend stumbled.
The diagnostician paused. "Well, they can still wait. We need a fifth and sixth opinion," he stated, snatching Taub and Chase's files and handing it to them. "And it's not Endometritis."
Cuddy frowned at her file. "Who's Jane Doe?"
"I couldn't figure out a last name for Thirteen. Thirty, perhaps?" House shrugged his shoulders. "I thought Jane Doe sounded way cooler. Then again, Thirteen Thirty has a ring to it . . ."
Cuddy stared at him incredulously. "You're treating Dr. Hadley? Since when are you treating Dr. Hadley?"
House pretended to look confused. "Dr. Who?"
Cuddy sighed and would have crossed her arms if not for the file she had in hand. "House."
"Yes?" he asked innocently, causing Cuddy to scowl.
"House, it's Endometritis," Wilson, who had been focused on his own file, not paying attention to the others in the room, said looking up.
The doctor shook his head in frustration, wondering how everybody could be such idiots. "It's not Endometritis."
"The treatment for Endometritis is working, what other proof do you need?" his boss asked. "Do you want her to be sicker than she already is?"
"What? Of course not. That would just be mean," he responded easily, taking out a piece of paper and pen from his pocket. "Now, I need you to sign this."
Cuddy frowned, taking it and looking it over. "This says that I agree to have Thirteen strapped down to her bed." Chase and Foreman's eyebrows rose and Taub shook his head in exasperation.
"Well, sure, how else am I supposed to get her to stay in bed?" he retorted. "That girl's fast for a sick person."
Cuddy didn't look impressed. "It also says that I agree to do a porn tape with her next week and stream it on the web."
"I think the wordings a little more delicate than that but, yes, that would be the drift."
She sighed and pressed the file and piece of paper back into his hands. "Send her home, House. Let her get some rest and she'll be back here ready for you to start annoying her again before you know it." With that, the brunette turned and walked out the door, Wilson hot on her heels.
"So, no porn tape then?" House called. He received no answer.
. . .
12 years (or so) Ago
"Mr. Hadley, thankyou, for coming in today," the principle greeted, rising from his seat behind his desk to shake John's hand. Benny had been right in saying that the school would call him after the biology incident and the next day he found himself scheduling an appointment to take place in a week's time with the principle.
"Not a problem," Mr. Hadley replied, letting go of the other man's hand and taking a seat at a vacant chair. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous about the coming task. Somehow, being in the principal's office made him feel like he was somehow being judged for his parenting, like all his misgivings about whether or not he was a good parent were being confirmed.
"First of all, I want to apologise for my error of judgement," Principle Flanders (not to be confused with Ned Flanders from Simpsons, though he students often did just that) started off.
"Excuse me?" Mr. Hadley questioned, confused.
"Teaching that topic to Remy was inconsiderate of the school. It seems like a feeble excuse but her mother's illness, I'm afraid, did slip both my mind and the biology teacher's."
"Oh." He wondered how anyone could be lucky enough to have it slip their mind; it certainly hadn't slipped his. Should he ask how Flanders had managed it, perhaps get some tips? He sorely needed them.
"Now, I know that Remy is in a delicate situation at the moment but I'm sure you understand that we can't just let this slide. Shouting at a teacher is a serious offense and normally I would give the student a Saturday's detention. However, I think we've surpassed that."
"Surpassed?"
The principle looked uncomfortable for a moment. "I want Remy to start seeing the school councillor."
John thought about that and inwardly groaned at how hard it was going to be to convince his daughter to do such a thing. "Surely, one incident doesn't warrant such an action."
"I'm afraid it isn't just one incident," Flanders sighed, folding his hands on top of the desk and leaning forward. "Did you know that Remy has renounced God?"
Both his children attended a Christian school and he was not surprised that something like this would have caught the principle's attention. He was surprised, however, by the simple fact. The idea of his daughter denying God had never entered his mind. "No. How do you know this?"
"As you know we have morning prayers on Mondays down at the church. "For the past few months, Remy has simply been refusing to pray. She won't even enter the church. I'm sure you realize how serious this is."
No more serious than everything else but someone as heavily Christian was unlikely to see it that way. John himself was struggling to keep his faith after Anne's death and couldn't blame his daughter for being in the same boat. Regardless, he nodded his head as he knew was expected of him.
"Now, it is not uncommon for people, after suffering a traumatic event, like the loss of a loved one, to question God. But we need to make sure that it doesn't advance beyond that. Remy is a brilliant girl, it would be a tragedy if she were to turn away from God and tarnish her soul."
"Yes, of course." Though, he didn't know whether he really believed the words. He had bigger things to worry about than what God thought of his daughter.
Flanders nodded, apparently satisfied. "Talk to your daughter, Mr. Hadley. And I'll see about scheduling an appointment with the councillor."
…
(PRESENT) One Week Later
Chase sighed as he moved his little silver shoe forward on the Monopoly board. He really didn't see the point of having to come into work if all they were going to do was play games. The last three were backgammon, hangmen and poker (they'd given up on poker shortly after it appeared House was going to send them all home broke).
It wasn't that he wanted someone to be sick; he just . . . wanted someone to be sick. As he should, as well; he had a job, he was allowed to want to actually do that job. Besides, he sucked at monopoly.
"Seriously, wombat, did they not have Monopoly down under?" House asked, looking at Chase's meagre pile of fake money with something crossed between disgust and childish glee. "You suck."
"Of course they had Monopoly back home," Chase protested before finishing feebly, "We just . . . never had it in our home."
"That's very interesting," his boss replied in a tone that clearly suggested the opposite. "Has anyone checked up on Thirteen lately?"
No-one was surprised by the question. House brought up the topic of Thirteen at least once a day, still thoroughly convinced that he was right in his opinion that it wasn't Endometritis. As of yet, no-one was sharing his point of view but that didn't seem to put a dent in his determination.
"I brought her over some soup on the weekend," Foreman responded casually, frowning down at the Monopoly board in an effort to plan his next move. "Looks like she might have the flu or a cold." Chase resisted the urge to bristle at the mention of Remy and her ex (who was also his friend, can't forget that) spending time alone together. Great, now he had moved onto the jealousy part of his and Thirteen's non-relationship. He was stupid for believing that, if he pretended that nothing had ever happened, the entire problem would just go away.
House gazed at Foreman with mock incredulity. "You brought soup over to your ex? That's just weird."
The other man scowled but didn't deny the fact, probably well aware of just how 'weird' the situation was. House brushed it aside.
"It's Wednesday. Chase, go check on her."
Now the Australian was confused. "Why me?" OK, maybe he wasn't so confused. He knew why House wanted him to go check on Thirteen, he just wished he didn't. It was going to be extremely hard to avoid someone when you were in the same room as them.
The older doctor rolled his eyes. "Because if I send Foreman they'll probably just get into a fight. And, well, Taub doesn't care." Taub, himself, looked like he was going to protest that statement but seemed to eventually decide that it wasn't worth the effort.
"We're not going to fight," Foreman denied. "We're on good terms."
"You're on good terms because you're both feel sickeningly guilty," House corrected. "She feels guilty because she aborted your kid and didn't tell you about it. You feel guilty because you feel like you should have been there for her and you weren't. You're also still angry with her but you won't admit it. Add in the unresolved issues of your breakup and sooner or later you're going to get in an argument," he explained. "That's fine. I just want to be there to witness it."
"And I'm off," Chase decided, not wanting this to go any further.
"If she's making out with a hot girl be sure to bring me back a picture," House called after him as he exited out the door.
. . .
Chase knocked on the door to Thirteen's apartment. After waiting and receiving no reply, he reached into his pocket and brought out the keys that he still had from last time he'd broken in with the rest of the team. He couldn't deny he felt a little bad for doing a repeat performance, as he inserted the key in the lock and turned, but, with House as his boss, he really didn't have any other option.
The door opened soundlessly and he stepped in with a sigh, looking around. Thirteen's apartment was neat; it had been the initial thing he'd noticed upon the first time he'd been there. The blonde wondered how someone could have the time to keep their apartment so neat when they worked for House, especially when they were sick as well. Chase's own apartment looked like it had been ransacked, not that he didn't like it that way; it added a sense of character to the place.
As soon as Cameron had gone, the first thing he'd done was mess up his apartment. Call it a coping method but it was something he had wanted to do for a while.
Thinking of Allison made his heart clench and he quickly tried to distract himself.
There were pictures on a shelf near the door, most seeming to be taken from years ago. There was a middle aged man in a lot of them, along with a young boy who grew steadily older as Chase went from frame to frame. Only a couple had a young brunette girl in them, as if Thirteen had somehow tried to cut herself out from that part of her life.
None of them showed her mother.
His gaze flickered over a few photos of her and the team at gatherings like hospital Christmas parties and charity balls. There was even one of her, Foreman, him and Taub at his bachelor party (they looked very drunk). Chase's eyes landed on a picture of her and Kutner. It was taken at the park which must have meant they used to get together out of hospital hours before his death. Chase had never known they were so close.
The blonde's eyes caught sight of a crack going up the side of the photo frame, as if somebody had thrown it against a wall in a fit of anger but had hastily patched it up with some glue later.
He didn't know who had taken the photo (Foreman, perhaps?) but Thirteen was scowling at Kutner while he smiled bashfully back. Chase wondered what the young man had done to warrant such a reaction and found himself smiling along in amusement.
He hadn't known the man that well but he still kind of missed him. It was ironic that, to Chase, Kutner had always seemed the most happy and cheerful fellow. And yet he had committed suicide. That was just proof that you could never really know a person and what went on inside their head.
Sighing, he moved on into the living room, stopping short at the sight before him.
"Shit!" he cursed, racing forward and kneeling beside Thirteen's limp form. She was face down on the floor and there was shattered glass spread out around her. Gently, trying not to let his panic show through, he turned her over, hoping to get a better look at how she was.
Blood streamed slowly from her nose and ran in endless rivulets down her chin and onto her neck, colouring her newly pale skin red. Her eyes were shut so she was obviously unconscious and Chase's eyes narrowed in concern. "Thirteen!" he called, trying to get her to come around.
The thing that really caught his concern was the blood emanating from her abdomen, though. Lifting up her shirt slightly, he could see traces of glass jutting out of her skin and realized with sudden clarity that she must have fainted and fallen on the broken class. "Come on, Thirteen, wake up," he urged, taking off his jacket and pressing it to the wound. The cuts, from what he could tell, weren't that deep but she was still losing more blood than he would have liked.
Reaching for his cell phone, the blonde dialled 911 (he had to stop himself from entering in 000 after years of having the Australian emergency number drilled into his head during primary school) and raised it to his ear.
"This is 911, what is your emergency?"
"This is Dr. Chase. I need an ambulance for . . ." He muttered off the required details on autopilot whilst checking her over for any other complications. A touch to her forehead proved she had an extremely high fever that would need attention as soon as they got to the hospital and Chase gnawed at his bottom lip, worried.
It was just after he'd hung up that Thirteen began to rouse. Her eyes blinked groggily at him, trying to take everything into focus and failing miserably.
The blonde was instantly on the alert. "Thirteen, can you hear me?" Realizing that if it was him who was just awaking from a bout of unconsciousness, he certainly wouldn't respond to some stupid nickname, Chase tried again. "Remy?"
She blinked again, confused. "Chase?"
"Yeah," he breathed, relieved. "Yeah, it's me. How do you feel?"
Thirteen squinted, trying to make sense out of her surroundings. "Cold. I feel cold," she responded shakily, obviously still dazed.
Chase nodded and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, being sure to keep the other firmly over her stomach, still applying pressure. "You have a high fever, which means you're probably experiencing chills. The ambulance is on its way so don't worry. Can you remember what happened?"
Thirteen blinked and her head lolled to the side slightly, groggily. She was no longer looking at him but at the opposite wall, like it held some interest, though, he had a feeling she wasn't really seeing it either. The blonde pleaded internally for her to look at him again – It was so much more reassuring than the blank stare she had on at the moment. "I was getting a drink and . . . I don't know."
Chase nodded his head, expecting as much. "I think you must have fainted."
She nodded slightly and winced. "My stomach hurts."
"Yeah, you fell on some broken glass. Don't worry, it's not so bad."
"Mm." She murmured, eyes closing once more. There was a moment's silence in which the blonde was afraid she'd passed out again but to his relief she spoke up after a pause, voice slightly cracked. "I hate it when House is right."
Yeah, Chase kind of hated it to.