A/N: I'm afraid there's not so much about Chase in this chapter but that will come in the next. Mostly this is House and Cameron, along with Thirteen's father.

…

"In each family a story is playing itself out, and each family's story embodies its hope and despair."

- Auguste Napier

House stared at the young blonde girl who was currently sitting comfortably on Cameron's lap. Taub had opted to show Thirteen's brother and father to her room and, since the little girl had firmly refused to go with them, Cameron had offered to stay behind and keep an eye on her. House had, of course, stated that he was more than capable of looking after the 'little dear' to which the blonde had only replied with a, "I know. That's why I'm staying," which House thought to be rather assumptive on her part. Just because he had plans to interrogate the kid didn't mean that he was unreliable, just that he had ulterior motives.

Chase and Foreman were both very quiet, each lost in their own personal worlds of torment. The Australian had his gaze firmly focused on the back of his wife's head and his expression seemed to be having trouble deciding on whether to look suspicious, pissed off or just plain confused. Eventually it decided on something completely different all together: stupefaction. It seemed to suit him very well.

"What's your name, kid?" House asked since it looked like nobody else was going to.

The little blonde girl gazed at him out of narrowed eyes. She seemed very suspicious of him which made House wonder just what Cameron had told her about him. Hopefully only good things. "Claire."

House nodded as if that meant something and his head turned to Cameron who was also watching him suspiciously. "She yours?"

All heads shot up at that one and she blushed. "Don't be ridiculous, House. You know she isn't mine."

"Fine," House sighed before continuing after a pause, "Is she Thirteen's?"

"House!" the three other adults chided while the kid just chose to glare at him balefully.

"Hey, it's an honest question. You look like her." Alarmingly so, even. He cocked his head to the side, taking in the gray eyes and cute little button nose. She was either Thirteen's kid or possibly the spawn of one of those elves from Lord of the Rings; he was having difficulty deciding.

"I'm her sister," Claire told him. She didn't seem too happy about the fact and House understood her plight; he wouldn't want to be Thirteen's sister either – after all, being around someone that hot and not being allowed to sleep with them? That was just the purest form of torture.

"You're too young to be her sister," the doctor pointed out. "Your mother would have been dead before you were born."

Here, Cameron decided to intervene. "Her father remarried about two years after Thirteen's mother's death. Claire was the result."

Nope; something was still very fishy about this and House was determined to find out what. "I didn't see a wife."

"She died," Claire told him simply, looking very much like she didn't like him.

"You don't sound very upset about that."

"I don't even remember her."

House continued to study her. It was a likely explanation but there was still something . . .

Her eyes.

Before he could voice his new discovery however Cameron was already herding Claire out of the room with the excuse of getting her lunch. She didn't even spare a glance back at Chase who by now was looking like something that resembled a kicked puppy.

House frowned, mulling this new development over; interesting.

. . .

12 Years Ago

It was 10:30 when Remy finally drifted off to sleep, her small hands fisted around his work shirt, the stethoscope still in her ears. She was peaceful in her sleep, the way she never was when awake. Her chest rose and fell with every breath, each heave evidence of the life within her, of her body's continued fighting.

Mind wandering, he turned over slightly and gazed at her bedside table. There was a thought that had been nagging at him ever since returning home from the principal's office. It was a traitorous thought but maybe . . .

He reached out a hand and opened the drawer. Instantly his insides deflated. There, resting on the bottom, was a golden cross.

John found no relief in the knowledge that it hadn't been lost after all.

. . .

John Hadley gazed at his daughter with expressionless eyes after stepping into her room. It had been so long since the last time he had laid eyes on her and this was how they met again? He couldn't wrap his head around it. His beautiful daughter, his Remy, was this pale and sick looking young woman in a hospital bed right in front of him. This was his daughter.

He couldn't believe it.

Glancing back at his son, it seemed he didn't quite believe it either. Benny was staring at his little sister in uncomprehending disbelief, fingers clenching around the bible in his hands, the one he'd refused to let go of ever since Allison had told them about what had happened. Mr. Hadley wondered bitterly what answers God held for his son in those pages when it came to this. Had their Lord not already taken enough from them that he had to send sickness down on his daughter, too?

There was a time when John had been a faithful Christian boy, one who always tied his shoelaces and said his prayers before bed, but so much had happened since he was a boy, too much, and Mr. Hadley was running out of forgiveness when it came to his God.

Sighing, John reached out a firm hand and grasped onto Remy's warm one. It was still so smooth and small compared to his own. It felt just like the last time he had held it, the only thing that hadn't changed since then.

"I'll leave you alone now," the doctor – Taub, he thought his name was – excused himself, before backing out of the room.

That was another thing – his Remy was now a doctor. Just like his Anne had been. Mr. Hadley didn't feel pride at this knowledge, merely concern. It was yet another thing that the two most important women in his life had in common. He could only hope it was the last thing.

Feeling a chill run down his back at the still ever present question mark hanging over whether his daughter had inherited the terrible disease that had taken apart his wife, John forced himself to take a seat in the visitor's chair beside the brunette's bedside.

He looked at her face which seemed far too peaceful given the circumstances and ran a thumb across her hand. He wasn't worried; he couldn't allow himself to worry. His Remy was strong and she would get past this.

…

Cameron sighed, watching Claire as the little girl picked and prodded at her canteen food but still refused to eat any of it. Being back at TPPH was difficult enough for the young doctor without having to worry about how this whole situation was affecting the nine-year-old. Of course, House hadn't helped matters.

"Are you going to eat that, sweetie?" she asked gently.

Claire didn't respond and Allison sighed. She loved kids and perhaps even considered herself good with them but Claire was no ordinary child and these were no ordinary circumstances. For a moment she wished either Benny or Mr. Hadley was present – at least one of them would know how to handle the little girl – but remembered that right now they had quite enough on their plate. When Cameron had told them that not only did she know where Remy was but that she was also sick, it had been shock enough, but arriving at the hospital only to find out that she was in a coma had certainly tipped the scale.

"I need to go to the bathroom," the girl finally stated, looking up emotionlessly from her meal.

Cameron nodded slowly before pointing at a door over in the distance. "It's right over there. Do you need me to come with you?"

Claire shook her head and rose from her seat. Allison watched her go with mournful eyes, wondering what in the world had possessed her to offer to baby sit.

"Can I take this seat?" a sarcastic and familiar voice asked, appearing beside Claire's vacant chair.

Cameron closed her eyes and prayed for strength before opening them again. House was already seated. "What do you want, House?"

"You knew Thirteen," he stated, taking one of Claire's fries. "The whole time she was working for me, you were holding out on valuable information."

The blonde shook her head. "I knew Thirteen's brother. I knew her father. I don't think I ever knew Thirteen."

"How?"

"What?"

"How did you know her family?"

Cameron frowned, wondering what this had to do with anything. "I went out with her brother in college. Why?"

"You went out with a priest? I think that might just be more shocking than the fact that you married a dying man. You sure know how to pick them." He smirked but continued when Cameron sent him a look. "If you went out with her brother, means you have to have known things. Like, say, the fact that Thirteen's mother died of Huntington's. That your boyfriend's sister was bisexual, maybe?"

"Not necessarily but you're right, I knew those things. But only because Benny adores his sister and talked about her constantly when we were together. I really only met Thirteen what must have been four times, and then only briefly." Internally, she was muttering a string of silent pleas for her former boss to go away; she did not want to get into this now, or ever for that matter.

"I still can't believe you held out information on me about her. Why didn't you tell?" Despite his words, House seemed very much like he could believe it and believe it well. He also appeared almost gleeful at the fact as though the idea of goody-two-shoes Allison Cameron keeping such a big secret and lying to everyone was something to be treasured; typical House.

Cameron shrugged her shoulders. "She didn't want me to, not that I would ever tell you anything about anyone anyway."

House seemed to be thinking of his next interrogation question and the blonde sighed, wondering what she had done to deserve this. "Cuddy said she didn't want to contact her family – why?"

Cameron remained tight-lipped. She didn't feel at all comfortable about spilling information about Thirteen, a woman who had made very clear the fact that she wanted to keep her private life private. Not that that had ever deterred House, of course.

"You know if you don't tell me I'll just find out eventually anyway. At least if you tell me now, you'll save her family from being rudely interrupted from their mourning time and henceforth interrogated."

She rolled her eyes at his antics, knowing that she should have expected such an answer. For a moment, Allison imagined setting loose this monster on the Hadley family and immediately shuddered away from the thought. "She ran away from home when she was seventeen. She hasn't seen her family since," Cameron told him simply. "The thirst thing she did upon arriving here was ask me not to tell her family where she was. I accepted. Other than that, we've barely spoken to each other."

House frowned, puzzling over that. "Your loyalty should have been to her brother because you went out with him, not her. So why didn't you tell?"

"Because it's none of my business," she pointed out, clearly saying with her eyes that she thought it was none of his either.

"Never stopped you from interfering in things before. You interfere with patient's lives because you care. You knew her, you knew her family – you had even more reason to care. Surmise to say, you should have been interfering all over the place. So why didn't you?" He was gazing at her suspiciously and not for the first time she imagined herself reaching out and slapping him across the face. If she wasn't so afraid of causing a scene and being chucked out of the hospital she might have done more than imagine it.

"I wanted to. I thought they should know. I thought she needed them. Especially when it went around the hospital that she had Huntington's. But she wasn't ready and I couldn't make her ready. After that psycho held you up in the E.R. and she almost died, I got in the car and drove to their house. I was in the car for two hours debating whether or not to go in. I kept thinking, 'What if she had died and they never got to see her again?' Eventually, I ended up turning around and going home." She took a sip out of her drink. "It's not my place to interfere. And it's not yours either."

"Who says I was going to interfere?" House asked, trying to look his best picture of innocence. Needless to say, he failed miserably.

Cameron sent him a look over the rim of her coffee cup. "You always interfere."

"You said she ran away when she was seventeen," he began, ignoring her comment. "That'd be round about the time little lady Claire was born. What are the odds that she had the kid, dumped the kid and took off into the sunset afterwards?"

Cameron smiled thinly. "Wrong again. Claire was born at least six months before Thirteen ran away, so how do you explain that?" She resisted the urge to smirk when she saw him frown, obviously trying to figure out a way around her words. Giving up, he changed the subject.

"You know, you left the differential room with Chase looking like a kicked puppy," her former boss started slyly. "I guess you're not planning on talking things out with him."

Cameron scowled at the mention of her husband and she felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. "I don't want to talk about Chase." If she got on the topic of Chase no doubt she would soon become a blubbering mess as she started to think over the many problems she still hadn't dealt with. Then she would wonder whether she had done the right thing in leaving him and then the divorce papers in the back of her car would make an appearance and she would start stressing over whether or not to give them to him. Nope, better to stay off the subject of Robert Chase.

Coming back to the hospital had been a very hard decision for her and certainly not one she had wanted to go through with. If it wasn't for the Hadley family, practically pleading for her support, she would have turned tail and run the moment they pulled into the parking lot.

Someone cleared their throat nearby and the both turned to see Claire standing not too far away, glaring at House. "I think that's my chair."

"Aw, isn't she adorable," House commented. "Not only does she look just like Thirteen but she acts like her too."

"House!" Cameron cried in exasperation, wondering how best to get it through his thick head that Claire was not Thirteen's daughter.

Claire, for her part, seemed rather insulted by his comment."I'm not anything like her! And my hair is blonde."

House, however, didn't look convinced and cocked his head to the side, studying her face. "You have her eyes."

Cameron sighed. "House, she's Thirteen's sister. Of course she looks like her. Most siblings do, even half ones."

The doctor shrugged his shoulders and snatched another chip. "The only thing is," he began, rising from his seat. "She doesn't look like Thirteen's father. She looks like Thirteen's mother, who, according to your little story, she isn't related to at all." He grinned at them, clearly finding the whole situation very amusing. "I'll talk to you kids later."

Allison groaned and buried her head in her hands, wondering when on earth this day would end.

. . .

"We are threatened with suffering from three directions: from our own body, which is doomed to decay and dissolution and which cannot even do without pain and anxiety as warning signals; from the external world, which may rage against us with overwhelming and merciless forces of destruction; and finally from our relations to other men. The suffering which comes from this last source is perhaps more painful than any other."

- Sigmund Freud