A/N: I can't believe it's been over a year. Just holy wow. I neglected this story like crazy and I'm seeking to change that since I know I've been torturing some people with this hiatus. Apologies to you all and I hope it doesn't happen again. I thought I'd switch it up a bit and have it in first person perspective from Remy's POV. Hopefully, you'll like this chapter. I wanted to deviate from the episode a bit so I don't just copy the episode sequence. What fun would that be? haha

"Thirteen wake up. Wake up," House said shaking my shoulders, obviously thinking that would help.

You don't think I'm trying? All I see is black and I can't escape. My eyes are glued by an unstoppable force and the longer they stay shut, the more I slip away.

"Is she dead?"

Who asked that? I know the voice, but my head is too fogged to remember the face, to remember the name.

The blackness became blacker, although I didn't think that that was even possible. The blacker it became, the more I felt it. Its presence, this oblivion, was slowly swallowing me whole. I felt tired and I realized that my mind was about to be overcome. My mind. Screw looks, my mind is my treasure. Beauty is relative and it will fade. Knowledge. Facts. Those are constant.

Without knowledge, who am I? I'm just another face. I'm nobody.

And then, everything changed.

"Open your eyes dumbass."

And like it was nothing, I did. No strain, nothing at all. They just opened. But I wasn't in Cuddy's office. No, I was sitting on a chair in House's office. Except it wasn't his office. It looked just like my boss's room, but when I looked out the window, it was just white. The color shone brightly like the sun, but it held no warmth or comfort. And there was House, just sitting at his chair, feet on the desk, bouncing his favorite ball against the wall.

Where am I?

"You don't know?" he asked. "You're in your own head."

"I'm in my head?" I repeated. I mean I got what he said, but I couldn't understand. How is that even possible?

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," House said.

"You're reading my—"

"Mind?"

"Yeah."

"For a smart person, you're a dumbass," he deadpanned. "We're in your head. It doesn't count as reading your mind when we're already here."

Oh yeah…

"So why am I here?" I asked. "And more importantly, why are you here?"

"The mind is a complex place," he answered. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that you secretly have been crushing on little ol' me and are just coming to accept it."

I could've laughed at him. Would that technically count as laughing at myself?

"Why are you here?"

"It doesn't have to be me. I could be Cuddy, but you'd be distracted," he smiled, hands curving over his chest to imitate having breasts. Then his face became more neutral. "I'm the smartest person you know and you can't deny it."

It was true. The man is an ass, but he's brilliant.

"Then wouldn't it be only appropriate," he continued, "that I'd be the one to show you around you brain."

"I guess," I mumbled back.

"Well then, I guess it's settled. How far back do you want to go?"

"What?"

"It's your head. So long as you remember it, we can go there."

"So you're saying I have an all-access pass to Memory Lane?" I asked. "Sweet."

He stood up, "An answer any day now would be nice."

"Yeah, sorry," I responded, twirling my hair. Where should I go? No one really ever thinks about the first place they could go if they could remember anything. "Wait, one question."

"I'm you. You can ask anything you want."

"Okay. I don't really know how this whole thing works yet and I don't think I'll really ever grasp it, but if I go back anywhere, can you— I mean me— can we see how it would affect what would happen later?"

"You've got an imagination so I guess it's plausible."

I smiled. This could be interesting. I thought of all the important times in my life and I realized which moment I wanted to revisit.

"Finally, a decision," House sighed dramatically.

Then, the room suddenly changed and I was standing in my old bedroom and House grew taller. No. It can't be. I looked down. I was shorter. I was…a child. The mirror in my room held a reflection of a 9 year old me. I was a kid again. I ran my hand down my cheek just to see if it was real and it was. Then I remembered why I chose this moment and I ran to the window.

There they were. My parents…both of them. My dad, who'd be struggling to place my mother in the car, finally managed to get her in and closed the door. He turned around and saw me in the window. Just like I remembered, he motioned for me to hurry up and get in the car. Only the first time it happened, I was an idiotic brat. I glared at my mother and let my dad drive her away. I left my window and climbed under my cover, repeating over and over how much I hated my mother, how much I thought she hated me.

I wasn't going to make this mistake…not again. My legs at first didn't move out of my initial shock, but they made up for it soon after when I ran down the stairs and out to the car. The wind blew through my hair quickly and I don't think I've ever moved that swiftly for anything. In less than a minute, I was out the door and hugged my father, my short height placing my head in his stomach while my arms wrapped around him tightly.

"Rem, we have to go," he said solemnly to me.

"I know, I know daddy," I answered. I stopped calling him daddy when mother died and I realized that the world wasn't all sunshine and rainbows and fluffy bunnies. I hopped in the car and we sped off. My old neighborhood looked just as I remembered it and I even waved at my old neighbor, Mr. Page. He was a friendly old man and his wife always gave me freshly made lemonade when I passed their house on hot days.

We just sat there in the car as my dad drove. Minutes passed and none of us said a thing. Then, my mom broke the silence. "I'm glad you're here, honey," she said with a slight stutter.

"You feel better yet?" House asked, suddenly appearing next to me in the backseat. "Of course you don't, I already know the answer."

"So this is my imagination, huh?" I wondered aloud, covering my mouth when I thought my parents would hear me.

"Don't worry, they can't hear you. Well, they could, but you don't want them to so they can't. Just like they can't see or hear me. Everything they do from the moment you changed your past is a figment of your imagination."

"This is amazing."

"So do you want to sit in a car and imagine a twenty minute ride to assisted living or do you want to skip to the interesting bits?" he asked. Before I could even answer, we were standing at her bedside. There was no one in the room besides me, my mother, and House.

"I would've said no," I deadpanned to House.

"I know. But I also know that deep down, you are really anticipating these crucial moments, not a car ride."

"I guess," I said, lowering my head. I turned away from him and approached my mother's bed. I knew this moment. My mother had been in this house for over a year and a half. She was going to die in a week. This was my last chance at redemption and I had blown it.

"Mother?" I whispered, just as afraid of her now as I was then.

She looked over at me, "What?"

"I…" I didn't know what to say. What is a person supposed to do in this situation? "Mother, I —"

Her right arm swung over the nightstand, nearly knocking over a cup of water, "You need to leave."

I felt hurt. Here I was with my mother, one week before her death and she's telling me to leave. I just turned twelve a month ago and I was still too naïve to understand. I looked in my mother's eyes and what I had first interpreted as anger and hate, I now recognized was pain and exhaustion. My mother didn't loathe me, she didn't tell me to leave out of spite. She told me out of mercy; she didn't want me to see her this way.

The tears gathered in my eyes and I ran over to her, my arms embracing her moving body. Her body wasn't still, but I didn't care. I could've been pelted by a million blows and I still wouldn't have let go of her. "I love you mom!" I cried, tears running down my face. "I love you so much!"

She remained silent and after the next few moments, I turned to leave. When I opened the door, I saw that instead of a hallway, I faced the same white light I saw looking out of the window of House's office. House placed his hand on my shoulder and before I took a step to leave my mother called out my name. I turned around and still saw that she was squirming in her bed.

"Yes mother?" I answered nervously. I knew I could make this situation be whatever it wanted to be, it was my imagination. I could've cured her if I really wanted to, but I was still nervous anyways. My brain and my heart never really seemed to get along anyways and so I figured that even if I tried controlling the situation around me, it wouldn't go very well.

"Remy, I—" she said, interrupted by another stutter. "I— I love you too."

I couldn't make out the right words for this moment. My biggest regret in life was telling my mother I hated her before she died. But now I told her that I loved her. And she even told me that she loves me too. I wasn't there when she died and both House and I knew that I couldn't go to that moment. The scene would just be pure imagination, but I also knew that it was a time that I couldn't emotionally process. I smiled sadly at my mom and House guided me out of the room.

We ended up in Cuddy's office. "Why are we back here?" I asked.

He was sitting in her chair, fingers absent-mindedly drumming on the desk. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "You're applying for a job."

"I am?" I looked down. I was back to adult me and I realized that these were the clothes I had on when I had my initial interview with Cuddy. My knee length black pencil dress with black pumps fitted nicely on my body, although I was glad that I never had to wear clothes this fancy when working or else my coworker's would've seen how little fancy clothes I owned.

Right after, Cuddy ran into the room and House got out of the chair, walking around the desk and into the chair next to me. "I am so sorry Dr.— " she began, standing in front of her seat.

"Hadley. Remy Hadley, pleasure to meet you Dr. Cuddy," I answer, standing up and shaking her hand before we both sat down.

"My sincerest apologies, I was just dealing some issues concerning one of our doctors," she admitted, her cheeks turning a subtle pink.

"Dr. House?"

"Yes. How did you know?" she asked, surprised.

"You don't know me yet, remember?" House said, nudging my arm. I turned to look over at him, but he disappeared.

"Oh, you know," I lied, trying to cover my own ass despite the fact that it was totally unnecessary, "he's a popular name in the medical world. I've heard a couple stories."

"I do the best I can," Cuddy said, rolling her eyes. "I'd like to say that a lot of these…rumors are false, but House has his methods. He's a bit eccentric in his work, but he always gets the job done."

"So if I get the job I'll be working directly under him?"

"Yes," she began as she sifted through her papers. "Unfortunately, House is a sought after man and many want to get the job as well. Despite your stellar résumé, Dr. Hadley, I'm afraid the other candidates are also quite qualified. Your time here, however, will not be in vain. Each candidate will be given equal opportunities. You'll all be tested in your skills and will each have to apply them on real cases.

"Ah, here it is!" she said, lifting a file hiding under a few papers. She sifted through the file and pulled out a piece of paper. I tried reading through, although it was in vain. Luckily, she didn't keep me in suspense too long as she continued, "Each candidate will be given a specific number during the process, as this was House's decision. It seems your number is thirteen."

"Good thing I'm not superstitious, huh?" I joked as I accepted the number, forcing a laugh to try and ease the tension. It didn't work the first time and it felt worse saying it the second time. Shit. Cuddy continued as if my interjection hadn't just happened.

"If you go to reception in a couple days, Claire will tell you everything you need to know and get you everything you need.

"As I was saying, you'll work side by side with House and the best of the best will get the jobs. I can't tell you what kind of crazy tasks House will give you or the hours you'll spend trying to impress him. I wish you the best of luck and hopefully—"

"Dr. Cuddy!" a woman ran in. I turned around and took in the sight before my eyes. It was the first time I ever saw Allison and my God, she was beautiful. Her lab coat slowly dropped to her side as she stopped in the middle of the office. She was clad in scrubs and her braid was a bit messy, but she still looked beautiful and I wondered if she had the same struggles as I did.

Being a woman in my field is hard enough, let alone a pretty one. A good looking doctor isn't unheard of, but it's also not very common. Most of my classmates didn't take me seriously. They thought that I was stupid and the only reason I was getting straight A's was because I was blowing my professors and blowing any nerds that gave me their test answers in classes with professors I couldn't seduce. Everyone wanted to be my friend because they thought a pretty girl has to have pretty friends, but from what I could tell most of them were secretly terrified of me. I don't know why everyone thought I was cold-hearted. It did teach me one thing though— if I wanted to make a name for myself, I'd have to be tough.

"Dr. Cameron," Cuddy said, standing out of her seat, obviously irritated. Allison had a good reason if I recall (my brain would tell me otherwise in a second if I was wrong), but in Cuddy's mind, it made her look bad. "I'm in a meeting. What makes you think it'd be a good decision to barge in like this?"

She looked over to me in acknowledgement and I saw her eyes give me a quick up and down. If she was surprised to see someone like me in the room applying for the job I was, she didn't show it. "It's…him," she hesitated.

Cuddy sighed and I could now relate to her, knowing just how much of a hassle House was. "What is it?"

"He covered the entire hallway outside Wilson's office in some sort of oil, but we don't know what it is. People are slipping and someone's bound to crack their head on the floor."

"Where are the housekeepers?"

"We're short staffed in that department today with that cold going around. The hall is too big for Sam and Nicole. They're scrubbing the floors as we speak, but it'll take them a long time before they're done."

Cuddy paused, looking down at her desk as if the answer would be hidden among the scattered papers. "Alright," she said, turning to me. "I'm so sorry you were here for this. It usually isn't really this hectic around." I'd later find out that that was a complete lie, but I stood there in silence anyways. "I'd hate to cut this meeting short, but I hope you understand. You seem like a promising candidate and I wish you the best of luck."

She smiled as she rushed out. I bet she gave that line to every 'promising candidate' that applied for the job.

"I'm sorry too, I'd hate to have my job interview cut short," Allison laughed awkwardly, clearly embarrassed for the impression I must have of the hospital and for her unplanned intrusion. It's not that I minded though. Well, maybe a little at the time, but it doesn't matter much anyways. I mean, I got the job eventually. "Since Dr. Cuddy isn't here to do it herself, I can lead you out."

I nodded and followed her out of the room. In the clinic, there were a few nurses whispering. I didn't catch them the first time, mostly because I was too concentrated on the doctor next to me.

"Did you hear about House's prank on Wilson? He turned the hallway into some sick Slip 'N Slide. I caught a glance when I took the stairs and I couldn't help but laugh. Just seeing something about that ass Dr. Martin falling straight on his ass is just so satisfying," one whispered.

Another laughed, "I heard about it, but I haven't seen it. So that's why Cuddy rushed out of clinic a second ago. I heard from someone who heard from someone else that the oil on the floors is some obscure brand from the Ivory Coast."

"I heard Colombia," a third chimed in.

"Doesn't matter," the first began again. "She's freaking out. I wish I could see her face when she gets there. Although, if she doesn't take her damn stilettos off, she's gonna break both her ankles."

I turned back to Cameron, a bit in shock of what I just witnessed. I only remember whispering nurses the first time through, I couldn't even really tell what their voices sounded like.

If my brain was capable of picking up something that remote what else can it do? What else have I seen and blocked out? This just gets cooler and cooler.

"I know the hospital is a bit complex to navigate at first, but I can assure you that it gets easier over time," she said, breaking the silence. "So I heard you want to work for Dr. House."

"Yes," I said just like I had before. It was shyer than I usually speak and I had mentally slapped myself for it at time. "I heard he's a brilliant man, although a bit unusual in his methods."

She laughed and I smiled at how happy she looked, "I can definitely agree to that. I used to work for him."

"Really?" I asked, feigning surprise.

"Yeah, for a few years actually. Working with him is a great experience. Definitely the best and worst years of my life."

"Worst years?"

"Oh, I shouldn't have said that," she said, placing her hand over her mouth and looking away to hide her blush. "It's not that it was a bad time. Working with House is really great! And I swear I'm not just saying that. It's just that he can be a bit odd, but I guess you already know that considering the course your interview took—again sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it," I reassured her. "He seems interesting. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited for this trial thing to begin."

"Even if you don't get the job, it'll be worth it," Cameron continued, growing even redder. "Not that you won't get the job! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. It's just that there's a lot of people— You seem really qualified— Well, I don't really know you, but you look qualified—" Her embarrassment was palpable and I felt sorry and wanted to laugh simultaneously. I didn't do either.

"It's okay," I smiled, placing my hand on her shoulder, although quickly retracting it after realizing I probably shouldn't have done that. We were now standing in the lobby and I knew this was the end of our first meeting. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you around then?"

"Most definitely I hope," she answered with the sweetest of smiles, almost making my knees give way.

"Well it was a pleasure meeting you, Dr. —" she trailed off, realizing that she didn't actually know my name.

I looked down, as shy as I was the first time I lived this moment. Before I could even think about possibly changing the scene, my hands raised my sign in front of my chin and I replied, "Thirteen." Perhaps it was for the best that I answered as Thirteen. It wasn't personal, but for me, if I called myself a number around her, I would go by that around everyone else.

I guess in a really weird way this was the moment I became Thirteen.

"Thirteen," she finished, after a brief pause mostly likely caused by my weird and unexpected answer. "If you have any questions about the job or House or the hospital in general, feel free to come see me. Good luck. I hope you get the job."

"Thank you Dr. Cameron. Hopefully, House will see me and just say 'You seem qualified. Well, I don't really know you, but you look pretty qualified. Here, have the job.'" I teased, smiling as a faint blush rose to her cheeks again. "Take care then."

"Have a nice day," she mumbled from behind her hand. She still looked embarrassed, but was smiling.

I nodded and passed through the doors. As expected, the outside was white and before I knew it, I was sitting back in House's office, my mind's version of him reclined in his chair.