Title: Everything's Not Lost
Rating: R (naughty language & non-descriptive sex/nudity)
Characters/Pairings: Thirteen/Original Character
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Romance
Word Count: 1400
Summary: "She was never late without a reason..." MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE S4 FINALE ("Wilson's Heart").
Disclaimer: I don't own House MD and am making no money from this. I do however own the original character in this ficlet, so paws off please!

I felt guilty for always breaking Thirteen's heart and so this time I'm breaking her heart but there's someone to pick up the pieces - yay! This is the first time when I've made an original character the main focus of a fanfic especially as it's from her/his POV in second person narrative. Which brings me onto my next point, "you" can be whoever you want to be; I visual Thirteen's lover as a girl a year or two younger but I've left out all physical descriptions so you can make it pretty much whoever you want it to be. :-) The emphasis is on the emotional development of Thirteen after the events of the season 4 finale and the dynamic of their relationship.
Fic title is thanks to Coldplay, it's a beautiful song that seems to fit with the story.
Oh, and it's unbeta'd; all mistakes are mine, if you see any please do let me know (I did write this at some ungodly hour last night so no doubt there are a few mistakes lurking about)!

She was late.

The 'date' was meant to be at nine, your place, just in time for Scrubs and a drink of beer. You went through a phase of actually going out on dates before discovering you were both much happier in the comfort of your own homes; you still went out when you felt like it or wanted to see the latest sci-fi movie (at your request) but it meant no more awkward dinner dates with prying eyes and expensive wine. Still, even if it was just a casual drink date at yours, she was never late without a reason.

You tried her cell phone four times, only to discover it had been switched off. You sighed, and figured she must be working late again; she often worked long hours with her new job and her cell was off the majority of the time in the hospital. So you patiently waited for a couple of hours with your single beer and the distraction of the television set and hoped for her call.

It was past midnight by the time she showed up. The rushed sound of her key in your door and a flurry of movement as she pulled you into her arms. No apologies, no explanation, but that look in her eye that told you not to ask questions as she pulled you into the bedroom. She kissed you until your lips were sore, marked you with bruises and faded lipstick alike as she desperately made love to you, lust shining in her eyes.

And then it vanished. The passion, the wanton, the need…and it was just her, lying broken in your arms. She brushed off your concern with an exhausted shake of her head, and you knew not to ask – not tonight. Her eyelids fluttered closed over emotionless eyes as she fell into a restless sleep, her body wrapped tightly around yours.

You woke in the night to witness her crying. Silent tears rolled down her drained face with exhaustion; her back against the headboard as she sat staring numbly into the darkness. Not even the comforting sounds of a sniffle or a sob could be heard as she quietly mourned; it broke your heart seeing her so emotionally vulnerable.

She barely reacted as you sat up in bed beside her, linking your hand through her pale, shaking one. You squeezed her palm gently in reassurance as you watched her watch the darkness, you were thankful when you felt a faint twitch against your hand in response.

"Talk to me." You begged, slowly pulling the covers around you to keep her warm.

She remained unresponsive, tears continuing to stream languidly down her naked body and onto the cream comforter as you sidled closer.

"I don't know why I did it." She whispered, so quietly you could barely hear her above the muffled nighttime noises of the street outside.

You refrained from questioning further; you had an unspoken principle in your relationship along the lines of "don't ask; don't tell". She would explain when she was ready; whether it would take seconds or weeks.

You were sitting behind her now; your body loosely encasing hers, not wanting to push her, but needing her to know you were there if she needed you. They sat quietly for an uncountable number of minutes, your hand still closed comfortingly around hers as the tears began to subside.

"I ran the test."

Her shaking voice cut through the surreal calm immediately, like a knife to your heart. You froze in shock; unable to comprehend the fact that she had actually ran the test for Huntington's. On your fifth date she had let it slip; told you there was a fifty percent chance that she had the genetic disorder but she never wanted to know for certain and didn't want to talk about it. You had respected her wishes, and you had never discussed it, her health became one of those things that you just didn't talk about…like your sister. It worked better that way.

"You're positive." You were surprised to hear your voice was as quiet and as broken as hers.

"Yeah." And this time her murmur was followed by a soft sniffle, leaning back into your embrace.

Words escaped you, as they often did, and instead you found yourself wrapping your arms tighter around her. You briefly wondered if she needed you as much as you needed her, and she must have been thinking the same thing as a second later you found her curled up in your arms as close as physically possible.

You choked back your tears at seeing her so depressed and dejected, whispering the most reassuring words you could think of as you rubbed calming circles on her back.

She relaxed against you, tears slowing and almost drying before taking a sharp intake of breath and stating three words you never expected to hear, "Amber died today."

"Shit, Remy." You cursed under your breath, unable to believe how your girlfriend was still functioning, "I'm sorry. Really. Shit…" You mumbled, your head falling against the headboard in disbelief.

She made a noise somewhere between a giggle and a sob against you, your fingers taking to distractedly running through her hair. Again, a few minutes passed in silence, and you almost thought she had drifted back to sleep when you heard her speak once more.

"I'm sorry about tonight…our date…" She attempted to apologise, but you cut her off with shush and a loving kiss to her exposed shoulder.

"If you want to talk…" You started, but this time it was her who cut you short.

"I don't." She interjected, gingerly raising herself to a sitting position.

You tried not to let your disappointment and worry show at the lack of contact; but the distance made you appreciate how completely exhausted both emotionally and physically she looked in the dim light.

"Thank you." She whispered as you studied each other in the darkness.

You sent her a gentle smile, "Anything else you want to tell me about? Plans to take over the world? Plans to blow up the world?" You joked, carefully measuring her response.

Luckily, she smirked back at you, her dark mood from before lifted somewhat, "Well, my boss is in a coma."

"Huh." You responded, not entirely sure whether she was joking and not entirely sure whether you wanted to know, "To think the highlight of my day was choosing which envelope to use for the company's 2009 stationary."

She laughed at that, a slight spark returning to her red, tired eyes. You rarely had those serious, emotional moments that you're sure every other couple must go through; you must have only seen her cry twice during your sixteen-month relationship. You didn't do serious, you rarely did romantic, and you never (and never particularly wanted to) have the dreaded relationship talks. You just were. But sometimes when you saw her all puffy eyed, miserable, exhausted and still by some miracle, absolutely gorgeous…you almost wanted a 'normal' relationship with her.

You held out your hand to her, and she took it with a sad smile, not letting go until she was lying next to you once more.

"You know, I…" you sighed, taking a moment to trace her face delicately with your fingertips, "I love you," you said honestly as her eyes locked onto yours. "It didn't matter if that test was positive or negative or if you never ran it; we're not going to change." You tried to explain to her before shaking your head as if to get rid of all of the emotion that suddenly overcame you, "And you've had a really shit day, so I should probably just…"

Her lips pressed lightly against yours, her soft chaste kiss somehow saying everything that you had just tried to explain - she was always the efficient one.

"I love you too." She admitted, before finally letting the exhaustion take hold and falling asleep in your arms.

Comments & concrit are welcome!