Remy Hadley's alarm clock blared petulantly through her dreams; she reached a hand from under the covers and slapped the alarm off, then rolled over and groaned. After Chase had left, she had gotten some more drinks for herself and then had taken a taxi home. Not only was she going to have to walk to the hospital, but she was super hung over and still stressing about the previous night.

She had had this problem before; the prospect of seeing a man who slighted you after an intimate moment at your workplace was not ideal. I hope he doesn't remember, she thought as she pulled on a turquoise turtleneck.

Her worst fears were realized as she rushed through the doors of the Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital. She was already twenty minutes late when she collided with Robert Chase.

"Oh," she said as he bent over to grab the folders he had dropped. "I'm sorry about that."

"No problem," Chase said, straightening up. He coughed then said, "so about last night-"

"I totally understand." Thirteen said. "Two coworkers out having a good time. It's forgotten. No need to dwell on it." She strode away from him as he opened his mouth to interject. "Gotta go."

"Thirteen, just the bisexual I was talking about," House said as she hurriedly entered the glass room.

"Sorry I'm late," she mumbled. Foreman shot her a glance but she ignored him.

"Oh, don't worry about it," House said. "A little girl on girl action is much more important than our comatose patient."

"House-" Foreman forewarned, ready to jump to Thirteen's defense.

"He's in a coma?" She asked, looking from Taub to Foreman to House.

"Nice catch, Nancy Drew." House said sardonically as he paced the floor, his cane thunking meticulously.

"Well then it's not MS," she said.

"That's a shocker," House replied.

"Coma doesn't mean muscles anymore," Taub said. "It's the brain."

"Could there be a clot we can't see?" Foreman asked.

"No," House said, staring at the floor. "It's cancer."

"A tumor in the precentral gyrus could explain the bleeding."

"Good thing we have a surgery to check out today." House closed his eyes, then left the room.

Thirteen and Foreman went to room 434 to check on the patient. He was pale; his eyes fluttered but never opened, and an oxygen mask was placed over his nose and mouth.

A girl, no older than 22, was sitting in a chair next to him holding his unresponsive hand. Her head was down and her blond hair was covering her face.

"Can I help you?" Thirteen asked, approaching the girl.

The girl shook her head wordlessly, and raised her face to look at Thirteen. Her eyes were swollen and red; she looked like she hadn't slept in days.

"Do you know him?"

She nodded her head, then stared at the floor.

"Do you know him well?"

Slowly the girl nodded her head. "What's wrong with him?" She asked, her voice breaking.

"We don't know yet." Foreman said. "It could be anything from his head injury last year, to what we're looking for now: a tumor."

"He has cancer?" The girl squeaked.

"We're not sure," Thirteen said. "Was he acting any different before the seizures? Any different behavior, did he spend a lot of time drinking?"

The girl shook her head as her lower lip trembled.

"So no drug use? Did he reinjure himself in any way?"

"No."

"Okay, well. Anything you have to tell us about his behavior leading up to this could be vital to his survival," Thirteen said.

The girl nodded again, then dropped her head.

"Anything different?" Thirteen asked Foreman.

"Well, his potassium level is a little high, but I wouldn't worry about it."

"Okay." Thirteen turned to leave, then addressed the girl once more. "His surgery is at 2:30. It shouldn't take more than an hour or so. You're welcome to wait here for him if you want."

The girl said nothing as they closed the door behind them.