Author's Notes: Okay I just want to get some things out in the open before you read this story. I have never written this pairing before. I've never written House fic before. I've never even read house fic before. So if this seems particularly out of character or doesn't really mesh with the actually timeline for the series I apologize. If it makes the situation any better, let's just say this is a slightly AU okay? Plus if I made any particularly glaring errors I'm sure you can mention them in a comment.

Again I feel like there is probably a common storyline for the Thirteen and Cameron. Hope this will still be entertaining on some level. I feel like I may have made Cameron particularly neurotic, always concerned about a need to be in control, saving to validate herself. And Thirteen is just really mysteriously sexy (well nothing wrong with that in my book).

This whole story is actually a birthday present for a friend. I'm sure she knows who she is. So happy birthday woman. Told you I would write you this pairing. Hope you actually enjoy it despite me not watching this show since Thirteen kissed Foreman (I'm a pissy lesbian okay?).

The Voice

Rating: R

Pairing: Thirteen x Cameron

You know you are here for only one reason.

My eyes trailed over the ceiling, tracing the shadows cast from the streetlamp outside my apartment window. How exactly had I ended up here tonight? Little bits and pieces came to mind, but right now I was definitely having trouble putting the puzzle together. Sometimes life was like that though. One day you are in the Mayo Clinic working on top immunology research, next day you are working in an emergency room at a teaching hospital. It often was just a blur like that.

I remembered it being a very stressful week. One filled with more unwanted thoughts that usual; more of The Voice.

You know what happened last time you did this.

A shaky breath rattled out of my chest and my eyes fluttered. Fingers tiptoed up my sides, a beautiful face came into view and I couldn't help but smile.

"You know Alison, everyone always said that you were the idealistic innocent one at Princeton-Plainsboro," she said with a smirk.

She leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to my lips. My teeth instinctively grabbed on, nipping lightly at her bottom lip. A low growl escaped her and she pushed me further down into the bed.

You know that there is only reason why she is the one on top of you.

I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around her back, bracing myself to block out my annoying subconscious.

How had I gotten here? That whole blur theory definitely seemed to apply to my life right now. My mind was moving as fast as her lips against my own and it definitely wasn't conducive to any sort of clear thinking. Her tongue darted out and slipped in between my lips, the light taste of vodka trailing along with it and stinging my palette.

My mind was clouding over from the feather light touches from her tongue and fingers, but the acrid taste of alcohol seemed to knock me back towards my memories of earlier this week. Of talking to her. The single point that made her so different from the other employees at the hospital.

Because you know there is only on reason you would be so drawn to someone.

I closed the door to my locker with a sigh and let myself fall forward, the cool metal of its surface calming my thoughts.

You should have been able to save that little girl.

My breath shuddered as the voice echoed in my head. Logically I knew that there was nothing I could have done to help the child. She had come into the emergency room with a pneumothorax that had progressed to the point where not even Princeton-Plainsboro's surgeons and clinicians had been able to help. This was something that happened far more often than I would have liked, but it didn't make the feeling of intense sadness and shame any less piercing.

Probably because this is all you are supposed to be good at.

Urgh. I couldn't even argue back against my subconscious right now. All my energy seemed to have dropped out of me the second the girl's pulse had flat lined.

Plus… it wasn't like the voice was wrong.

This was supposed to be what I am good at. The only thing I am good at really. That's why I was at the best teaching facility on the east coast, right? What was the point of working here, dealing with all the stress of an emergency room, of House possibly jumping (or hobbling) out from behind any door or corner when I couldn't even do that one thing properly?

You have to save them. Because you have to be in control.

My fingers danced over the outside of my locker. Urgh. It was definitely time to get out of this place for the night. I twirled the combination on my lock and let the door swing open on its well oiled hinges. As I shifted my white coat off my shoulders and into my locker I heard a flurry of angry footsteps enter the other side of the room. Seconds later an equally loud set of feet echoed off the metallic walls, the extra thud of a cane adding to the clatter.

Damn. Definitely the last person I wanted to deal with right now. If anyone knew how to cut my self confidence down to my core it was House.

I slunk closer to my locker in the vain hope that I could melt inside it and avoid his analytical stare, at least for today. Luckily, it didn't seem like he was going to walk down my aisle of lockers and the mysterious first set of footsteps seemed to be providing an adequate distraction for the argumentative doctor.

"So I know you enjoy being a self-destructive force on the level of an Al Qaeda suicide bomber, but I would really rather appreciate it if you left that sort of hoo-ha at home. The rest of us here, well we rather like trying to do this thing called 'saving lives'," House's condescending voice shook the lockers in front of me.

"Oh please. The only thing you like is yourself. Don't even try that guilt trip on me."

My eyebrows knit together as I immediately recognized House's mysterious partner by her deep voice.

The new female team member. She always seemed very hard working; constantly staying late in the labs to run the multitude of tests that her slave driver boss ordered for diagnostics.

Sort of like you, huh? Always bending over backwards for a man that wouldn't give you a second glance.

House's obvious anger cut into my thoughts, interrupting The Voice from making any other snide comments.

"Guilt seems to be the only thing that gets through that thick head of yours lately. Well besides all the opiates."

"I'm not on drugs," the other girl said with a growl.

"Uh huh, keep talking Angelina. Your bisexual lies don't cover up the shadows under your eyes and the paranoid glances you have been casting at everyone who steps in your field of vision, even Cuddy. And she is about as threatening as Bambi."

"Whatever," the woman uttered as she slammed her locker shut loudly. "I still helped with the diagnosis. We saved that man's life."

A twinge of guilt ran through me at her words.

At least she was able to save someone today.

"If you haven't noticed, I don't really care so much about the damn patient. His wife was hot and I think she probably would have fallen into my arms out of grief if he hadn't pulled through."

The female physician let out a snort of disgust.

"How do you live with yourself?" she growled out.

"Much more easily than someone living with Huntington's I'd imagine," House retorted back.

An electric silence fell on the locker room.

My mind raced at the implications of House's statement. Huntington's Disease? She had never openly displayed any of the symptoms before. Someone surely would have mentioned it. If House was telling the truth she must only be in the early stages before she was robbed of her fine motor control.

"You're an asshole," the other woman growled out.

"Perhaps. But as the experienced substance abuser in this room I just want to point out that sunglasses are definite plus for the morning after. If you want to avoid Cuddy's middle-aged wrath that is," House muttered as the sound of his shuffling steps and cane echoed off the banks of lockers once more.

From my hiding spot on the other side of the row of lockers I could hear the cane bump against the door as he left his assistant behind.

"And next time you want to have a drug-filled sex party with the female persuasion make sure you webcam that shit."

The locker room door swung shut, leaving a painful silence. I waited a few tense moments just listening to the sound of her angry breathing. A part of me wanted to reach out to the other woman, but that would mean basically admitting to eavesdropping on the whole personal conversation. My forehead wrinkled as I considered my options.

Wouldn't you like to help at least one person today? Try not being useless for a change?

With a sigh I slammed my locker shut, knowing that the loud, metallic clang would alert the other woman to the fact that she wasn't alone.

Besides she is dying. I need to help her.

I glanced around the bank of lockers I had been hiding behind for the whole exchange to see the pretty brunette leaning forward against her locker, a nice mirror to my own earlier actions. Her eyes shifted slowly to regard me as I stepped out from behind my hiding spot.

"Um sorry," I said quietly, not really sure how to start a conversation with someone who I had inadvertently heard so many personal things about. "I didn't mean to overhear."

She let out a deep breath and turned to lean against the locker, casting a wary glance over me. I tried to give a supporting smile to the woman, but her eyes tightened as she watched me. Before her gaze dropped to look me up and down.

Huh. Did she just check me out?

As quickly as she did her once over the interested look disappeared. She gave a light shrug and arched forward off the cold, metal lockers and picked up her purse from the bench.

"All in a day's work. If anyone would understand, it would be you," she said quietly.

I nodded in sympathy, taking a tentative step towards the other physician.

"House likes to find the cracks in our armor, just to make himself feel better about his own unfortunate life. You'll get used to it…uh… Thirteen," I stumbled over the end of my thought, realizing that I didn't in fact know the new assistant's name.

The brunette's steely eyes flashed at me and she leaned forward, closing the difference between the two of us. Her head ducked towards me and I could feel her breath tickle the shell of my ear.

"The name is Remy," she whispered.

It was all I could do to suppress the shiver running through me at the airy voice.

Remy pulled back slowly and slung her purse over her shoulder as she headed towards the door.

"You know that I have an incurable disease, but didn't even know my name," she adds bitterly before pushing the door open. "Ironic."

"Remy…"

I murmured it almost reverently as she kissed her way down my neck, taking her time to languidly nip at my skin whenever my breathing hitched in my chest. She chuckles lightly at the sound of her name, the vibrations against my neck making me moan.

"That definitely sounds better coming from you than House's damn number," she mumbled.

My fingers traced up her back and wove into the curls at the base of her neck. Her hands continued to trace their way across my abdomen, drawing out patterns and words that I couldn't possibly be able to identify, especially with the fog that seemed to be taking over my mind at the minute.

You always are the weak, submissive one. No matter how hard you try otherwise.

Steel blue eyes flicked up towards me as my muscles clenched at The Voice's comment. The slight hesitation in her movements allowed me to shake the fog from my mind just long enough to change our positions. My hips rolled upwards and rocked the brunette back, flipping her onto the bed and giving me the chance to crawl on top.

Remy stared back up at me, surprise lacing her eyes. She certainly didn't seem to expect me to take the lead at all tonight. I reached down to her sides and grabbed both of her arms and pinned them to the pillow above her head. My palm itched against the rough texture of fabric underneath it. I managed to tear my eyes away from Remy's piercing gaze long enough to glance up at her wrist. The slight light from my apartment window glinted off the metal clasping holding the bandage there, my lips curling slightly as my fingers loosened their hold on her injury.

Sometimes the best way to escape my own thoughts was to spend some extra time at work on the weekend. The emergency room usually picked up on Friday and Saturday nights; all the clubs and bars in the area would send their share of incompetent drunks my way.

Don't lie. You just scoring little victories for once. Being superior.

The man in front of me moaned in pain as I wrapped a brace around his wounded arm. I flashed him a sympathetic smile; something I didn't honestly feel he deserved considering the reason he was here was tripping over his own feet down a flight of stairs. He gave one last disgruntled groan as I handed him his paperwork and showed him on his way, eager to help the next person in my long Saturday night line.

Because you need to validate your own pathetic existence.

I frowned at the familiar notion as I waited patiently, flipping through the admission folders at the entrance hall. My eyes fell on a familiar name.

Remy Hadley.

Well Remy certainly wasn't that common a name. I glanced around the ER waiting room and my eyes saw the sullen woman sitting in a corner, clutching a dirty towel to her arm. She blended right in with the other drunken, stoned patients in various states of clubbing gear slouching in their chairs. My fingers tightened around her folder, knowing that there were other people who should get called in first, but my mind rationalized that helping a doctor was clearly a priority.

"Miss Hadley" I called out into room.

She bounced unsteadily to her feet, eyebrow arching when she realized who exactly was calling her name. I watched as she threaded her way through all the other drunks in the ER to make her way over to me. We trekked down the corridor into an open room, holding the door open for her as she left a few splatters of blood on the floor. Remy stumbled onto the hospital bed and let me unwrap the towel from her forearm. A long, vertical cut arched its way down her arm, marring her pale skin.

"Holy… how exactly did you manage this?" I murmured quietly as I grabbed some antiseptic to clean up the wound.

She grunted as the drying blood was cleaned away from her skin.

I glanced over the incision, mentally noting that it was deep enough to warrant stitches. My eyes trailed from the wound, down her arm to take in her black, skin-tight top and jeans. Same type of weekend-fun clothes I saw on most of the girls that came through my ER on a Saturday night. Remy looked up from her intense examination of the floor to watch my fingers as they plucked out some medical stitches and prepared to get to work. I silently prepared the sutures and began to fix her laceration as carefully as I could. Her eyes calmly followed my motions as I wove the surgical thread into her forearm.

Normally I felt every poke of the needle into my patients' skin, feeling the pain as if it was my own.

But now all I could feel was an odd heat in my digits as Remy's gaze burned into them.

This feeling again. You know this feeling.

Memories of her conversation with House flooded into my mind at The Voice's bidding.

That's right. You want her so you can play the hero.

My fingers slipped slightly in their well practiced routine, pricking Remy's skin . She calmly reached out and steadied my hand. A small strangled breath escaped my lips before I had time to reign it in.

"Broken glass," she mumbled as she pulled her hand back, her touch lingering all the way down my arm. "I was expressing my interest in someone at the bar down the street. Apparently they weren't quite as unattached as I had imagined."

I winced slightly. A bar fight? That certainly wasn't going to be my first guess. She always seemed like such mellow, buoyant person when I saw her around the hospital.

"I've seen my fair share of girl fight injuries, but you really got a keeper here."

A smirk appeared on her face at my words.

"Actually it was the guy who wasn't too keen on my intentions toward his fiancée."

Oh.

"There's nothing like a good challenge," she murmured.

My jaw dropped and I tried to focus on finishing up the last tie on her stitches. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see her watching my face intently, measuring my reaction to her reveal. It seemed as though House really did know everything about his team. Although that wasn't exactly surprising.

Bisexual. And counting down to her death. Just the way you like them.

Urgh. Bad train of thought.

I wiped over my freshly finished work with another round of antiseptic and pulled out a roll of medical gauze and bandages. Remy chuckled at my sudden focus on my work and reluctance to meet her eyes. Her smirk continued while I finished up the wrappings. I clipped the bandage closed and stepped back to admire my handiwork.

You could save her in more ways than one. Be a hero. It's all you can do.

"Um… Next time maybe you should try and stay away from fights," I said quietly as I wrote in the details on her chart.

Remy slid off the examination table and into my personal space. She grazed up against the front of her folder, rustling the pages. I hazarded a glance up at her and immediately regretted it. Her cold eyes danced at me. Urgh. It was obvious what sort of effect she was having.

You can help her. She'll self-destruct without you.

"Maybe you should come with me next time. That might distract me from any women with jealous partners," she whispered.

And with that she disappeared out the door, leaving me staring at her wake in shock.

She smiled up at me as I traced my fingers over the binding on her forearm. It had only been a few days ago, but my work was still visible on her body. There was something very surreal and pleasing about that.

Because you got to save the day.

I ducked my head down and claimed her lips with my own once more. She moaned into my mouth and wiggled underneath me, obviously pleased that I had stopped staring at her and had moved on with our evening plans. Her tongue pushed its way into my mouth aggressively, claiming everything it touched. My breath rushed out of me and she seemed to relish that. She just tilted her head more to lean upwards and eat up my moans.

This was one hello of a kiss. I smiled into it and pulled back to look her in her bewitching eyes. The fog that seemed to fill my mind whenever she was near me, touching me, streamed in between my ears.

"I have no clue how I ended up here tonight," I whispered breathily.

Remy stared up at me with her typical smirk.

"You can't plan everything Dr. Cameron," she said slyly.

But that was what I needed. That structure. That control. Remy just didn't operate on the same system as me. She wanted to live her life on the fly, never regretting and never second guessing. That didn't mean that she knew anything about me.

Like how you want to save her. Play the hero.

My breathing slowed as I watched Remy smirk underneath my body. That familiar urge to protect, to save, to validate my own existence flowed through my veins.

To prove that you aren't useless.

Obviously I had been staring too long. Remy bucked up against me and flipped me back onto the bed like I had earlier. My eyes widened as she pressed me back into the pillowy surface. Suddenly I was very aware of just what we had been doing earlier, how little clothing we had on right now. Remy's skin rubbed hot against my own.

Her fingers laced in between mine and pulled my arms out away from our bodies. I could feel her heart racing where it was pressed up against my chest. No doubt mine was doing the same.

This was very different. Not just because I could feel her chest rubbing against my own in a very distinct difference from my usual companionship. I simply wasn't used to this… domination.

"You can't control everything," Remy growled in my ear, her chestnut hair lacing with my own blonde in a startling contrast.

I opened my mouth to object, but she just smirked that knowing look of hers and shoved her thigh in between my legs. My eyes squeezed shut and any complaints I had been trying to formulate evaporated from my lips as she ground upwards. Heat rushed to my core and I all I could see was her smirk burned on the back of my eyelids.

The Voice whispered at the back of my mind, telling me that I needed to wrestle back on top, regain the advantage.

But the warmth spreading through me seemed to be sapping my strength. I had no desire to fight back against the woman on top of me as she slid her toned leg between mine.

"You can't save me," she whispered.

I trembled in her arms, unsure if it was from the realization that she apparently knew as much about me as I did about her, or from the fact that her fingers were now tracing along the top of my underwear.

"Now why don't you just stay still, relax, and let me use these fingers of mine while I still can," she mumbled as her teeth grazed the shell of my ear.

This situation was far out of my hands now. Planning, organizing, compartmentalizing; they were what I thrived on. Being with Remy was anything but that.

I reached up and griped her shoulders tight.

The Voice fell silent as let the brunette take control.

My heels clacked down the hallway as I shifted through some casework from the ER. Just had to file some things and then I would be done for the night.

"Don't work too hard or your beautiful face will permanently acquire those worry lines," a voice broke into my thoughts.

I glanced up and saw those hypnotizing steel blue eyes again. Damn.

"Yeah and you shouldn't work too hard or you'll be back in my ER to have those stitches fixed."

She grinned at me and I could feel myself heat up slightly at the intensity of her gaze.

She has too much power over you.

Remy just continued to smile at me. God I must be the easiest book in the world to read.

But that is fine. If she comes to you it will be that much easier to keep her safe.

"Wow, this is almost as good as skinemax."

Both of us turned to the intruding voice.

Of course. House practically had radar for private moments. Remy immediately broke her heated stare and started to walk past her boss. She threw one last look over her shoulder and gave me a quick wink. The faint blush from the action did nothing to help my case in front of House.

"Wow," he commented loudly enough that both of us would be guaranteed to hear his interest.

House's eyes trailed after Remy as she sauntered around the corner. He slowly turned back towards me, wide eyes analyzing. I arched an eyebrow at him before ducking my head down towards the paperwork in my arms.

"Huh. I wasn't aware that bisexuality was contagious," he said with a smile that was a little too wide for my comfort.

"You know that bisexuality doesn't spread like that," I retorted dryly as I started walking away from House's prying gaze.

"I don't know. You are the immunologist. You tell me."

House's prying wasn't exactly something I enjoyed. Especially not about this. I didn't know the answers to the questions he was sure to throw at me left and right. His insight was always startling, and usually unwelcome.

I simply kept a step ahead of him. He certainly moved unnervingly fast for a man who used a cane.

"You know don't you?"

My stride faulted slightly.

"I don't know what you mean," I stuttered as I shuffled my folders.

"I don't know what I mean either. I was just making up shit, but apparently it did mean something to you. Which means you know something about Thirteen."

A sigh escaped me and I turned to face House. When he got a bone like this he would never let it go. It was best just to deal with him and then move onwards. He hobbled up next to me and jutted his face forward expectantly.

"Years of working underneath you and you still feel like you can just pressure me into telling you everything. Just to satisfy your sick curiosity."

His head tilted to the side and his eyes narrowed. Whenever he did that sort of look it felt like he could see right through you.

This is why you can't be around him any more. You never know what to expect. It isn't in the plan.

"Oh I see. She is just your type," House commented.

I snorted in disgust.

"What, gorgeous? Intelligent?"

"Dying," House said quietly.

He's got you there.

I really didn't need my subconscious teaming up on me with House. Especially when they were both right.

House's eyebrows arched upwards in that annoying fashion they always did when he knew he had made a very astute, very lucky correct guess.

"You aren't my boss anymore. You have no control over me now," I said quietly as I started to walk away once more.

"Oh you are sort of right about that I suppose," he called after me. "Luckily I do still work with Thirteen, so really my fun with this will never end."

It took all my focus to keep from stumbling once again. He had me there. Even if he couldn't follow me around constantly at work, he could certainly make Remy's life a living hell. And she wasn't nearly as used to putting up with his shit as I was. I should probably give her a fair warning. But she had already gone home for the evening.

Here you are again, trying to play the hero.

I shushed The Voice and headed towards the ER to drop off the paperwork before grabbing my things. There was only one place I could think to find the brunette outside of the hospital.

It was time to break my usual schedule and head over to the bar down the street.

You never know where you might end up. Sometimes the trail you blaze in life can be very vague; one day you are married and the next you are in bed with one of the most gorgeous, totally female, doctors at your job.

I try so hard to make my life as much of an organized blur as I can. Planning everything out to the last second.

Yet despite all of my best laid plans I had somehow ended up here; staring up at my ceiling once more, tracing the shadows dancing there.

A slim arm snaked its way across my stomach. My skin thrummed at the touch and I let Remy curl up behind me in the sheets. The feeling of someone next to me, surrounding me like this… was different. I let my eyes drift shut and enjoyed the sensation. Maybe sometimes it was alright to just relinquish control for a few moments.

Freefalling could be just as satisfying.

I waited a few minutes, letting Remy's breath wash over my neck as her fingers traced down my sides, waiting for The Voice to add its commentary; to bring me down to my place again.

Remy's fingers danced.

And The Voice stayed silent.

Meh. Well there it is. Happy Birthday3

And many thanks to my lovely beta Jaz.