She sat at home and stared at the white blank wall. He discovered her little secret. Of course he had. He was House after all. A busy little digger he was. Digging up every flaw, every secret, while keeping himself locked up.
She wasn't afraid of the diagnosis. She couldn't alter her DNA or change fate or invent a cure.
She wasn't afraid of the painful and undignified death, which might occur to her.
She wasn't afraid of not knowing. She preferred not to know. It didn't matter anyway.
But the thing 13 was afraid of was the one thing which was inevitably connected to her fate.
She was afraid of the reaction and behavior of all the other people who would know as well. Friends, colleagues, family, acquaintances, strangers.
The looks they would cast into her direction, the whispers, the pity.
She had seen what a human being became once the horse was out of the barn. A lifeless puddle of self-pity.
And now that House knew she felt the fear clutching her guts and turning her stomach.