Thirteen

Good Riddance

It was late when Thirteen entered House’s office. The rest of the team had gone home. She approached House’s ڈیسک nervously, مزید nervously than she would have had House been sitting there. She laid an envelope on سب, سب سے اوپر of his keyboard, where he’d be sure to find it.
    
This had been no easy decision, but it was something she had to do. Her hands were already beginning to shake. To continue practicing would be irresponsible. She wouldn’t risk killing someone so she could pretend she was imagining things. For too long she’d been dealing with this سے طرف کی not...

It's about Thirteen, told from Kutner's point of view. I didn't have time to proof read it. I hope there's not too many errors (fat chance).


Once Upon a Time, The End

How odd is it that you’re born in a hospital, آپ leave the hospital, grow up, have a family, achieve your goals, whatever, and then, once you’re old, آپ come back to a hospital to die. It’s like, آپ think you’re doing really well, and then, at the very end, آپ realize آپ really haven’t gotten anywhere. You’re right where آپ were when آپ were born.
    
The patient was Erica Marshall, eight years...

Okay, so I have this theory, and I'm sure it's completely wrong, because it's based on absolutely no evidence, but that's how a lot of decisions are made on House, so I'm going with it.

I think Thirteen is secretely rich.

My first point of thought is her name. Assuming it's Remy (no تبصرہ on the other potential names), I think that's a pretty stereotypically rich-preson name.

My سیکنڈ point of thought is the fact that she's the only person on the دکھائیں whose house we haven't seen. It's an anomaly ("Doctors love anomalies"). I think there is a reason for that.

My third point of thought is that...

I wrote this in response to my پسندیدہ line from Dying Changes Everything (that means there is a mild spoiler, people).

There's some mild Thurtner that's really not essential to the plot. I just put it in there because I love those two.

So please read and let me know what آپ think.


She slid the glass door closed and glanced back one last time.
    
She’d been told she was different. She’d been told she had wings. She’d been told she could fly.
    
She was no different. Maybe she’d had wings once, but they were long gone. They’d shriveled up and...