Title: Positive
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Thirteen (Thirteen/Amber if you squint)
Genre: Angst/General
Word Count: 400
Summary: Set immediately after "Wilson's Heart". MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE FINALE.
Disclaimer: I don't own House MD or any of the characters, places, or plots mentioned in this story. Just a bit of fan appreciation to avoid revision.

Unbeta'd; all mistakes are mine. Took me twenty minutes and post-finale which means you'll be lucky if this even makes any sense.

She stared blankly at the printed test results in her hands.

She was positive.

She had a genetic disorder - Huntington's; she was dying.


The three words relentlessly span around her head; shock prohibiting her from do anything else but stare blankly at the sheet she still held in her shaking hand. She had dared to hope; that little part of her that had watched too many movies with happy endings as a child and had drank from half-full glasses had dared to hope, because someone as beautiful and as talented as herself couldn't be sick. And now that part of her, no matter how small and insignificant, had changed everything.

She had abandoned her principles and for what? If the test was negative as she had so optimistically (and naively) hoped then, yes, she would live her life; normal and boring. But she didn't stop to consider what would happen if the test was indeed positive as she had been dreading all the years, not until the words were taunting her with their bold red ink.

She should resign. People don't want sick doctors. She had screwed up enough today but what if that became a regular occurrence? She probably had ten or twenty years at best before she lost control of her mind entirely and the chorea took away her right as a practising doctor.

She sighed. She shouldn't have run the test; she had lived with the doubt for over twenty years and coped just fine, and today...today, she should be thinking of Amber, not herself. But she wanted to know; she gave into a fleeting, irrational impulse and now her life would never be the same again.

One word shouldn't have the power to change so much, one action shouldn't have lead to this much misery and self-hatred and anxiety…she was scared, so incredibly scared. Tears clouded her eyes but she stubbornly blinked them back, she would not cry today; at least, not for herself.

She screwed up the paper in her fist, wishing she could take it back. Ignorance was bliss, but now nothing could take away the burden of knowledge that plagued her mind.


The words came to her again as she threw the results in the trash. The ball of paper landed against the bottom of the dustbin with a whimper and a thump, the one result that meant everything to her, now somewhat irrelevant as it lay alone in the darkness.

As always, comments and concrit are welcome!