They went out a couple of times. On the inevitable third date; it was awkward. Every kiss was rushed, every touch was fumbling. Soon after, they smiled and had a mutual breakup.
At work, people knew their story, and no one thought that they would actually be friends. Yet, they were. They often fought during differentials, but they would go out for drinks with Kutner and Taub afterward. Occasionally, House would make them do procedures or break and enter together, just to tease. They never let it get to them.
Two years later, Taub, Kutner, and Thirteen left the fellowship. They went on to other hospitals, and other positions. Foreman got a job in neurology at the Cleveland Clinic.
--
Ten years later, Foreman wasn’t married, and there were no Foreman Jrs. He lived alone, at age 45, but he wasn’t miserable.
Occasionally, he would google the name Rema Hadley, MD. He knew that she had a partner, Kate, but no kids. She was a hospitalist at Rush Hospital in Chicago, and she’d be 40 now.
Foreman had told other women he loved them, but it turned out the woman he didn’t tell, was the only one that those words would have been true. He fell in love with Thirteen, but knew the past was too damaged.
--
Every morning, Thirteen was happy to wake up next to Kate. They had gone off to Massachusetts, and gotten married a little more than three years ago. Kate knew her past, the whole story. She also knew that she wouldn’t want kids, and that she would probably die in a couple of years, but she stayed with her.
Thirteen worked at Rush as a hospitalist, but tremors in her hand were getting worse. She could hardly even draw blood anymore, and Thirteen knew that she would have to resign soon.
Every time her body would convulse, her mind would go back to Foreman, and she had been thinking of him a lot lately. She knew that maybe, at one point, she felt like she fell in love with him. But now, they didn’t keep contact, and she hadn’t really heard from him for ten years. She simply put the past behind her.
--
When they got the somber letter in the mail, their reactions were similar. They both sat, stunned, knowing that they would make the trip into New Jersey as soon as possible.
--
Thirteen stood above the open coffin, looking down onto her previous boss. She had seen Cameron sobbing a bit earlier and Chase trying to comfort his wife. Kutner had listened to Wilson’s eulogy, but left moments after. Taub showed up with his wife and polite ten-year-old daughter, and Cuddy was around here somewhere, probably getting to know Taub’s kid. Foreman had, unbeknownst to her, slipped into the last pew, just before the ceremony started.
Soft footsteps walked up to her, and Thirteen turned around to see Foreman walking up to her. He was wearing the same type of expensive suit he used to wear, same shiny shoes.
Thirteen’s hair was put up in a ponytail, and she was wearing black pants and a black shirt. He noticed that she had been twirling a silver ring on her ring finger. Foreman went up to her and put a hand on the small of her back.
“I’m actually surprised it took this long for the Vicodin use to trash his liver,” Foreman said, which earned a dry chuckle from Thirteen.
“Kind of ironic House died during his least favorite time of the year: Christmas. Did he ask to be buried with his cane?” Thirteen asked, gesturing at the black wood lying next to the body.
“No, Wilson told me he added it. Wilson also said that all House wanted his tombstone to say was Gregory House, MD. Wilson made him add R.I.P. to it, “ Foreman told her. He felt her arm shaking against his pant leg. “How bad is it?”
Thirteen turned to look at him, waiting a moment before telling him the truth. “It’s bad.” The stood in silence for a few minutes, before Foreman spoke up again.
“Do you ever regret terminating?” He asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.
“No,” she finally replied. “I wish I could die saying that I had mothered a child, but if I brought someone into the world who would have to suffer the same why I am, that would be what I would eventually regret.” Thirteen could see his eyes glisten with tears. She was never good with crying family members. “You would have been a good Dad.”
--
R.I.P. Here lies beloved friend, lover, and physician. May she have eternal happiness, all pain and suffering gone. June 27, 1979—January 30, 2020. Rema “Thirteen” Hadley.
*I didn't write this. But the fanfic was on a weird page for a link. Plus it looks better and is easier to read as an article, IMO.*
At work, people knew their story, and no one thought that they would actually be friends. Yet, they were. They often fought during differentials, but they would go out for drinks with Kutner and Taub afterward. Occasionally, House would make them do procedures or break and enter together, just to tease. They never let it get to them.
Two years later, Taub, Kutner, and Thirteen left the fellowship. They went on to other hospitals, and other positions. Foreman got a job in neurology at the Cleveland Clinic.
--
Ten years later, Foreman wasn’t married, and there were no Foreman Jrs. He lived alone, at age 45, but he wasn’t miserable.
Occasionally, he would google the name Rema Hadley, MD. He knew that she had a partner, Kate, but no kids. She was a hospitalist at Rush Hospital in Chicago, and she’d be 40 now.
Foreman had told other women he loved them, but it turned out the woman he didn’t tell, was the only one that those words would have been true. He fell in love with Thirteen, but knew the past was too damaged.
--
Every morning, Thirteen was happy to wake up next to Kate. They had gone off to Massachusetts, and gotten married a little more than three years ago. Kate knew her past, the whole story. She also knew that she wouldn’t want kids, and that she would probably die in a couple of years, but she stayed with her.
Thirteen worked at Rush as a hospitalist, but tremors in her hand were getting worse. She could hardly even draw blood anymore, and Thirteen knew that she would have to resign soon.
Every time her body would convulse, her mind would go back to Foreman, and she had been thinking of him a lot lately. She knew that maybe, at one point, she felt like she fell in love with him. But now, they didn’t keep contact, and she hadn’t really heard from him for ten years. She simply put the past behind her.
--
When they got the somber letter in the mail, their reactions were similar. They both sat, stunned, knowing that they would make the trip into New Jersey as soon as possible.
--
Thirteen stood above the open coffin, looking down onto her previous boss. She had seen Cameron sobbing a bit earlier and Chase trying to comfort his wife. Kutner had listened to Wilson’s eulogy, but left moments after. Taub showed up with his wife and polite ten-year-old daughter, and Cuddy was around here somewhere, probably getting to know Taub’s kid. Foreman had, unbeknownst to her, slipped into the last pew, just before the ceremony started.
Soft footsteps walked up to her, and Thirteen turned around to see Foreman walking up to her. He was wearing the same type of expensive suit he used to wear, same shiny shoes.
Thirteen’s hair was put up in a ponytail, and she was wearing black pants and a black shirt. He noticed that she had been twirling a silver ring on her ring finger. Foreman went up to her and put a hand on the small of her back.
“I’m actually surprised it took this long for the Vicodin use to trash his liver,” Foreman said, which earned a dry chuckle from Thirteen.
“Kind of ironic House died during his least favorite time of the year: Christmas. Did he ask to be buried with his cane?” Thirteen asked, gesturing at the black wood lying next to the body.
“No, Wilson told me he added it. Wilson also said that all House wanted his tombstone to say was Gregory House, MD. Wilson made him add R.I.P. to it, “ Foreman told her. He felt her arm shaking against his pant leg. “How bad is it?”
Thirteen turned to look at him, waiting a moment before telling him the truth. “It’s bad.” The stood in silence for a few minutes, before Foreman spoke up again.
“Do you ever regret terminating?” He asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.
“No,” she finally replied. “I wish I could die saying that I had mothered a child, but if I brought someone into the world who would have to suffer the same why I am, that would be what I would eventually regret.” Thirteen could see his eyes glisten with tears. She was never good with crying family members. “You would have been a good Dad.”
--
R.I.P. Here lies beloved friend, lover, and physician. May she have eternal happiness, all pain and suffering gone. June 27, 1979—January 30, 2020. Rema “Thirteen” Hadley.
*I didn't write this. But the fanfic was on a weird page for a link. Plus it looks better and is easier to read as an article, IMO.*
