House, M.D. 1. Chapter 1

_**Hunting Season**_

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Blood pumping, ground flashing by, trees multiplying, breath becoming shorter and shorter. Her legs trembled during flight as her paws hit the earth causing it to rumble. Everything was muted out, and her eyes were set straight ahead.

A flaming red fox raced at an incredible speed through an overgrown woods, jumping through thickets, leaping over fallen oaks that creaked beneath her soaring figure. The sun was setting. The light beams filtering through the treetops became thinner with every second.

A bellowing bark shook the wood off of the trees, and the sound of panting began to fill the vixen's ears. It was gaining on her. Her left, front leg suddenly tucked under her causing the fox to crumble painfully to the ground. The black leg twitched in soft spasms. She started to pant in fear. Saliva dripped off of her sloppy tongue, but her mouth quickly grew dry.

Barking—more monstrous bellows and growls sounded from deep in the wood as darkness set in from the dying sun.

Her amber eyes grew wide. She tried to stand but her back legs were frozen still. Her mind commanded the quivering limbs to stand, but they disobeyed.

More barking. Louder and louder those bays became soon filling her black-tipped ears causing them to ring in agony.

The crippled vixen cried out, but nothing fell from her gaping maw. The sound was sucked out of her, and soon everything became silent—save those looming bays and barks and howls of the invisible hound.

Panting hard, her lungs expanding like balloons ready to burst, she became desperate. She reached forward with her only good leg. Her body was ready to run even with its inoperable limbs. She stretched that leg out—and it snapped in half. The sound of the sudden crunch of bone drowned out by the awful, unending shriek of the fox.

XXX

She jolted awake with a shrill cry. Her left arm clutched her right with a grip so tight that her skin began to turn white.

'_The same dream—' _her thoughts echoed.

She remained upright for a while. Soft pants flowing out of her mouth one by one, and her heart was racing. Racing like that fox.

Cold water slapped her face as she flung the grimy sink water from her hands.

When did she get to the sink?

'_When did I get to the sink' _Her thoughts repeated.

'_When did I get to the sink?' _Her thoughts repeated again.

'_Wait_.'

She inhaled sharply before clamping her mouth shut. Water dripped from her nose and her lips as her blue eyes stared into the mirror above the faucet. Her sweaty fingers gently refrained from gripping the fake porcelain sink.

_Didn't. Didn't I just…just say…ju—'_

She slammed the bathroom mirror shut after having grabbed a toothbrush. She ran it under the water before thrusting it into her mouth to scrub… but then her thoughts caught up to her.

'_Wait.'_

She froze.

It happened again.

Holding the bristled, wooden toothbrush in her mouth as her eyes went back to the mirror. There she was—in her reflection. Remy Hadley. The body of Remy Hadley that was moving faster than her own mind. The cogs ticked in her head just a minute too slow.

It was getting worse.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello, fellow readers! So if you haven't guessed, this story is mainly about Remy Hadley's fight against Huntington's disease, and how the symptoms slowly begin to consume her. I am currently fighting a battle, myself (I am blessed that it is nothing nearly as severe as Huntington's), but that's a whole other, boring story. I have always wanted to write about Thirteen as she is such a wonderful and mysterious character on the show, but I never had the true drive to do so-until now. It's not planned to be anything too big, but it is an important story to me, and I appreciate any and all feedback (good and bad critique equally accepted)! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the story!

Also,all copyrights apply-I do not own any of the House M.D. concepts or characters.

** ***SPOILERS and some language*****

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_Chapter II_

"_So, what did you do?"_

Her tired eyes scanned the clean surface of the table in front of her as the words of her old boss floated heavily in her head. She liked thinking back to that day, when he picked her up in the car, drove her around. She remembered how the wind felt as it slipped through her fingers, her hand swimming in the air outside the car window.

God, she missed House. The man was a menace, but he was also a mentor.

But he was gone. Just like her brother, and just like her mother.

Remy sat quietly in a thin, rounded chair next to the small, one-person table in the middle of her kitchen. Her flat was actually quite nice, and rather _popular_ with her 'guests'. However, she'd always had this stupid, fake-tarnished, wooden table and chair that she had purchased as a set for her first digs back in the day. She just couldn't let them go.

But the goddamn chair wobbled, and it drove her nuts. She had tried everything to stabilize it—books, magazines, wooden blocks, pill boxes, you name it. But even if it stopped wiggling around like an impatient, antsy toddler, it still didn't feel right.

So here she was, shifting her weight constantly to the left to keep the one, back, shorter leg from touching the ground.

Her hands were warm from the clay mug in her grasp. The dark and hazy, dirt-colored liquid seemed to dance slowly in her cup, the lumpy tea bag hiding in the abyss of her routine breakfast. The few drops of milk she had added spiraled around in the ocean of muddy water.

Light suddenly filtered gently into the room through her one kitchen window placed high above the sink. It was the only window in the flat that was always a bit grimy—since it couldn't be reached from the outside safely, being so high off the ground.

Remy took a sip of her breakfast and sighed as the heat enveloped her mouth. It instantly made her think of the many warm kisses she had received in her young lifetime. The feeling of someone else sharing their sounds, their touches, their secret desires with you—but rarely sharing your name. It was a life in the fast lane, that's for sure.

But if the road was leading to death, she might as well floor it and race to the finish.

Her thoughts had distracted her and the chair suddenly shifted over onto the one shorter leg. The steaming tea leapt from its confined pool and spilled onto her hand, causing the woman to gasp. She quickly stilled her arm as the liquid burned her hand. Her blue irises zoomed in on the pained area, watching as the heat fled slowly in a retreat, and the skin became cool again.

She sat there quietly, still holding the mug in her left hand as the other hand hovered in the dull, morning air. Brooding thoughts crawled into her mind. Was this what death felt like? Painful—shooting, quick pain—then seeping into nothingness? A lukewarm melancholy.

The quiet woman thought about her brother in his final moments.

The pain she saw in his eyes before she—she—sh…

She turned the faucet handles, and the sink shut off. Her tea mug sitting alone on the dish rack, drying off after she had cleaned it.

Her hands gripped the counter top's edges. Long locks of dark brown hair waterfalled in front of her brow. Remy looked down into the sink—into the drain. She realized what had happened to her thought process and waited for it to catch up to her body. The memory span in her brain was short-circuiting. It was fucking annoying, but there was little she could besides be a little slower.

However, she began to notice that this memory problem occurred generally in her waking hours. It was as if all of the imaginary employees in charge of her thought retention kept showing up late to work, but one by one they would run through the office doors late and get to work. She only worried that one day a worker would call in sick. Then someone else would catch it, spread the disease—until one day everyone called in sick. Then someone would quit. Then people would boycott. And then…what if everyone quit….what if the company shut down…..

Her mind began to race. Her heart beat pounding rapidly. The sound of her pulse getting louder. It was throbbing.

—What if the head of the department lost his mind, brought a gun to work to use instead of the pen in front of him to sign important forms. What if he pulled the trigger—wha—what if he jumped off a bridge—

Remy roared wildly as she threw the mug at the opposite wall. It shattered on impact, and suddenly the room became darker. The light had run for cover, and hid in the corners, trembling. White shards of glazed pottery were strewn all over the floor.

Her body was still, but her chest quivered unnaturally. Remy's bright eyes grew cold, and her pupils thinned. Then those brilliantly blue orbs darted to her right hand, which had thrown the cup.

Remy Hadley had never been one for violence. If anything, she would hurt herself before ever laying a hand on another person…or coffee mug.

She felt estranged. Her body trembled in fear and uncertainty as she slid slowly downward against the kitchen cabinets. The wood rubbed her back affectionately, but when she sunk to the floor completely, she held her knees and felt alone. Alone.

"Please…" she whimpered.

Flashing images of the lifeless bodies of her family and her mentor tormented her aching mind.

"Please come back."

She began to weep.


	3. Chapter 3

Here's the next update! Exams are kicking my ass, ugghhh collegeeeee.

Anyway - Hope you all enjoy it =)

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House M.D. concepts or characters.**

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_Chapter III_

Sweat glistened on her skin as she placed her keys on the side table. The door closed behind her with a thud. Remy sighed as she dragged herself across the floor, her legs numb. She felt sore, but the feeling of a good workout always helped her mood. In fact, research proved that being extra active and adding a lot of cardio to your daily exercise improved your health as far as Huntington's went. Who knew if it actually helped, but it sure as hell felt like it.

Her above-the-knee, black yoga pants stuck to her skin, and her teal sports bra reeked, but the smell of perspiration almost gave her a sense of victory. Remy had always been pretty active. She hated sitting still for too long if she had energy. Morning's didn't count, however. She enjoyed her quiet, lazy 'tea in the morning' routine.

She pulled the black hair tie out and shook her hair free. She was going to take a nice, long shower, enjoy some lunch, relax—maybe watch an old movie favorite. Usually Remy Hadley went out on Friday nights, but since her days had been a bit…well, not the usual, she felt more compelled to stay in. Just in case something happened, she didn't want to be out and about. She especially didn't want her friends knowing about her condition. In fact, _no one_ knew.

Suddenly, she heard a noise from the kitchen.

Remy froze.

She stood still, waiting for another sound. Maybe it had just been the wall creaking from the air conditioning unit. Or maybe another bird had hit a window, or something. God, she prayed it was a damn bird. Even a mouse would be nice.

But another sound, more _intentional_, echoed from around the corner. Someone was in her apartment.

'_Shit.'_

She didn't have her phone on her, since she left it at home whenever she went for runs or to the gym. It was in the kitchen.

'_Shit. Shit—'_

Remy looked around for a weapon, and settled with grabbing her keys. She held them between her ring and middle finger, and carefully made her way through the entrance room. She hugged the right wall and paused as her right shoulder touched the wall frame that led into the next room.

She inhaled. And exhaled. Blood pumping like crazy.

Remy spun around the corner and faced the intruder, key out and ready to stab.

"Geez, I can smell your man-sweat from over here, Rem." A masculine voice spoke.

Her tense body slumped once she realized who it was. Sitting in her wobbly chair was her friend, Jaden, who had made himself comfortable with a glass of milk. He took a swig of it. Remy groaned roughly and smacked her keys onto the kitchen counter that wrapped around the wall like a sideways 'U'.

"Jaden—"

"You need to get so'more milk, by the way" he interrupted her, giving her an eyebrow raise and a saucy smile.

"How the hell did you get into my flat?!"

Remy growled, not actually that angry just genuinely curious as to how her good friend snuck in.

Jaden was really a sweet guy. His hair was shaggy and dark, almost like a dog's, his breath smelled faintly of his hookah pen (always on hand), and his eyes were a soft shade of brown. He was wearing dark blue pants and a half-tucked in, mint collar shirt. Pale and lanky, but with a heart of gold—he had always been there for Remy. In return, he would occasionally snag some of her food or coupons.

He and Remy had been friends for a long while. She had met him at a bar just after she started working for House years ago. She was insanely fucked up that night—could barely walk. Luckily, Jaden carried her back to his place, and when Remy woke up she was absolutely alarmed (assuming she had unknowingly slept with him), hung-over, and confused as to where she was. Jaden proceeded to inform her that she was in his apartment and in the safe company of a gay man.

The two were at a quiet stand-off. Jaden chugging the last of his friend's milk, and Remy waiting for an answer.

The youngest in the room, Jaden at twenty-six, set the empty glass down,

"Rem. What's been going on?"

"I don't know what you mean."

The sweaty, reserved woman crossed her arms and leaned against the wall frame. Her friend stared intently at her, squinting his eyes. He then through his hands up, exasperated with the behavior he was witnessing,

"Come on, seriously? You're going to do this with _me_?" he had raised his voice an octave when the words spilled out.

But Remy remained rooted in her mind. She was a stubborn one.

"Nothing's going on, Jaden."

"Oh _really_?" Jaden said in a hush-hush voice sarcastically.

"_Really_," Remy whispered back.

Jaden's gaze was piercing as he looked at his friend. Remy refused to make eye contact with him, and instead looked at the cabinet. His gaze was unsettling.

Remy gave up and threw up her hands, too, "Jaden. This is ridiculous—how did you get in here?"

She attempted to change the subject, but to no avail.

"You're—You're dropping everything, Remy!"

"_Dropping_?"

"Yes. You're dropping your friends. You dropped Lara. Hell, Rem, you've dropped off the face of the earth."

The room grew quiet. That name hadn't been spoken or heard in quite some time for Remy. Her eyes became glassy as she literally shrugged off his questions and focused her attention on the small window above the sink.

Jaden realized he had stepped into some dangerous territory, but he was her friend. He just wanted to help. He just wanted for her to let him, or anyone in.

"_What happened?_" he said gently.

The question hovered between them, slowly dissolving into the cold air of the apartment. The dark-haired man persisted.

"I mean, seriously, what happened—you two seemed so happy together?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Jaden."

Remy closed her eyes and turned her head towards the man, tilting it downward. Slowly she blinked her eyes open and looked at Jaden. Her 'usual' look appeared on her face—furrowed brow, soft lips flattened into a frown, and deep, blue eyes very serious in nature.

"I'm…I'm just not ready to talk about it yet."

Remy turned away again, shifting her hands down to rub the sides of her legs instinctively.

Jaden sighed, accepting the minimal answer he was going to receive.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed from the bedroom, which was opposite the entrance to the kitchen Remy had entered through.

A woman with russet hair in a boy cut appeared holding a small, indigo box in her hand. She had on denim leggings, a dark blue flannel shirt, and pretty black pearl earrings. Her left ear had at least five piercing up and down the cartilage.

"Do you _actually _use these, Remy?" the woman's eyebrow raised with a smirk on her small lips.

Jaden turned his head around to look at the speaker before putting his hands up and looking away quickly, "Ew. Ew, I don't wanna know."

Remy looked at her as well, eyes zoning in on the box of dental dams in the woman's grasp. Her eyes widened a bit,

"K-Kit, what the hell!" she quickly strode over to her friend, who was grinning ear-to-ear now. "Give me those."

Remy snatched the box and brushed past the ginger exhaling indignantly, frustrated with her friends.

"What is wrong with you two?! Don't you have someone else to bother?" Remy called from the bathroom where she was putting the dental dams back.

Kit had snagged a small packet from the box though and was now harassing Jaden with it, who refused to touch it. Finally, the guy smacked it out of her hand and onto the floor.

"We're here to kidnap you." Jaden and Kit said in unison.

Silence hung in the air.

"What?"

The two 'intruders' both laughed a bit at the shock and disbelief in Remy's voice.

"You NEED to get out, Rem. Come on!"

"I know the bouncer—" Jaden added.

"You mean his dick."

Jaden rolled his eyes, "same thing." He mumbled back quickly.

The two friends heard the sound of footsteps approaching as Remy appeared in the empty door frame, standing still,

"_No._"

She said it so simply, and then continued her way towards the table. She grabbed the empty glass and headed for the sink.

"Reeemmmm—" Jaden drew out her name like a child.

Keena ruffled the gay guy's hair before pushing it playfully, "Remy, you have to get out sooner or later. People will start thinking you're actually dead!"

"Or worse—_hitched_."

The two burst out laughing just at the thought of Remy Hadley being married. The subject of the laughter groaned as she scrubbed the glass with a dishrag. A small smile suddenly crept onto her face, though. She missed the company.

Jaden and Keena continued to joke about Remy Hadley secretly being a sappy girlfriend or a serious stud. The brunette at the sink shut the water off, no longer listening to the silly banter going on behind her.

_Pant Pant Pant Pant_

The vision of the crimson fox racing through the woods flashed in front of her, causing her to become disoriented. She gripped the sink, her hands beginning to tremble.

"_Not now," _she could barely mumble as the vision faded.

Her friends hadn't noticed.

Then it stopped. The shaking stopped. The cold sweat stopped.

She was okay.

"So, are you coming? Or do we have to actually kidnap you—"

Remy's eyes stared intently at the sink, but she looked up at the window. A sigh escaped her cold lips.

"Alright, I'll go."

Jaden smacked a hand down onto the table and grinned wildly,

"HA. Five bucks—pay up."

Kit groaned as she pulled out a crumpled five from her pocket and slapped it in the guy's hand.

Remy spun around with a surprised smile,

"You guys were _betting _on me?!"


End file.

House, M.D., Drama, Hurt-Comfort