Note from Author: Thanks to those of you who have sent me reviews and feedback. This chapter contains one of those 'moments' I was talking about - its not exactly a lurch into 'ship though.

Bend and Break – Part 4

The floor is buzzing with news of her arrival as soon as she emerges from the elevator. Perhaps they have already heard about her impromptu tour of the hospital and have been waiting to see if she would pay them a visit. Perhaps they have been speculating about her uncharacteristic avoidance of a high profile patient. Either way, heads turn as she passes and eyes follow her to Dr Cameron, with whom she briefly confers.

Her heels tap on the floor as she walks steadily towards the room in question. She exchanged her suit jacket for her lab coat before venturing from her office, but is trying not to think about the ten minutes she spent deciding which garment would provide her with the best armour for this encounter.

She has used her tour of the hospital to prepare herself. Moving from floor to floor, talking to colleagues, giving support and advice has proved a salutary reminder that she is a force to be reckoned with.

The great man is conspicuous by his absence – a fact she is glad of. Just at the moment she is not sure she can deal with House's particular brand of arrogant, self-absorption. He has better reason than most people to be both arrogant and self-absorbed – but that doesn't mean she is keen to be exposed to either facet of his character. She has no doubt that news of her arrival will reach him very soon, and that when he hears of her destination he will conclude that he is the one who forced her hand. That he will be right is something she is already finding irritating. But his parting shot hit home – she isn't a naive resident anymore and she is a long way from the young woman who hero-worshipped Julia Dean, then found out the hard way that she had feet of clay. She hasn't been that person for a long time.

'Lisa,' she is not at all surprised to hear someone speak her name. She takes a breath and then turns to greet him.

'Hello Benjamin.' He is older of course, it's been 15 years, and they are all older. She isn't quite prepared for the kiss he brushes against her cheek, or for the way he grasps her hand.

'I'm so glad you are here – Jules will be happy too, she's missed you.' She digs her nails into her palm to prevent herself from responding - he is such a good man, he's always been a good man – and a good Doctor. As far as she knows he's never been jealous of his wife's celebrity, of her awards and achievements. He's always been quietly supportive, standing in her shadows. Well, perhaps not always.

'I'm not sure this is a good idea,' she says – but nevertheless allows him to lead her into the room.

At her first sight of the patient she has to fight to contain her shock, Julia Dean has shrunk, almost collapsed into herself; Cameron's use of the word 'frail' is, no longer, so surprising. As her eyes open she focuses first on her husband, before she identifies her visitor.

'Dr Cuddy,' the voice and the eyes are familiar, on more occasions than she can remember she waited, hopefully, for a word of praise and a nod of approval from this woman. She can feel the pull even now – the need for her approbation.

'Professor Dean.' She plucks the chart from the end of the bed and looks over it, the readings don't tell her anything she doesn't already know, but it gives her something to do. 'I understand you've been asking to see me – is there a problem?'

'Perhaps I was just curious to see what you've made of yourself. I'm not sure I think much of your hospital – your Head of Diagnostics is rude, he doesn't even wear a lab coat. I've heard of him of course, but he's clearly past his best.The oncologist is on his third marriage, and that's on the rocks. No matter how brilliant he is, you have to wonder about someone with such an unstable personal life.'

'If you're not happy about the treatment you're receiving I'll be happy to arrange a transfer. Of course the truth is, the maverick diagnostician and the oncologist who's not so good at being married are probably the only two people in the State who stand a chance of saving your life – but don't let that stop you.'

'Lisa, I'm sure she didn't mean…' she waves Benjamin off without looking at him.

'I'm sure the Professor meant exactly what she said, as I recall she has always been very precise in what she does, and doesn't say.'

'I see you're still burning with moral indignation – even after all these years – admirable really. It's such a pity you are so limited in your thinking. You could have done great things Lisa.' She almost smiles at the familiar line the conversation is taking – how strange toreturn to the same argument – after all this time.

'If only I'd done as I was told, let you guide me? I don't think so.'

'You don't know what you threw away.'

'You're right – I don't. I only know what I held onto.' She takes a step towards the door; concluding there is nothing new to be gained from this – but Julia's voice, suddenly breathy, calls her back.

'We were as good as your family – doesn't it matter at all that you betrayed us?'

'You weren't my family and I wasn't the one who betrayed something important. I'm not surprised that you can't see that – I'm not surprised about anything you do, I haven't been for a long time. Goodbye Benjamin – it was good to see you again.'

She doesn't look back as she steps out into the corridor, she is far too concerned with maintaining her composure until she is safely away from scrutiny. The hallway is busy with people – obviously news of her visit has spread. She sees House watching her, pausing in his discussion with Cameron as she walks rapidly past – but he does not speak. Her hands are trembling in the aftermath of the confrontation, she shoves them into the pockets of the coat divided between the urge to throw something and to burst into tears.

'Dr Cuddy,' his expression is pensive and his eyes meet hers only for a moment before darting away to read the chart he is holding onto. 'I'm sorry, but I need a moment of your time.'

'Dr Wilson, I really…' her voice wavers and before she knows quite how he has done it he is grasping her elbow and guiding her along the corridor into an unoccupied room. As they move he is talking to her about a patient – describing a complicated situation and she frowns, trying to remember if this is something she should know about. But once the door is closed and he flips the blinds the energy leaves him and he becomes his usual, diffident self.

'Sorry, I just thought I should get you away from there,' she sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose,

'That bad?'

'You looked like you were going to explode.'

'Damn,' she says softly, almost to herself.

'You OK?'

'No – I want to throw her out into the street and tell her to find another hospital. But I won't – and she knows it.'

'I've never seen anyone get under your skin like this - not even House.'

'Well, amazingly some people can push my buttons even more effectively than House,' she smiles slightly, 'but lets just keep that between you and I – I don't want him to feel he has to up his game.' He rubs his neck, a sure sign he is feeling awkward.

'And this is really all about an affair?' There is no judgement in his gaze – which under the circumstances isn't surprising. His own personal life is frequently chaotic and his grasp of the concept of fidelity appears tenuous at best – except to House of course – where she thinks it is probably absolute. But she forgets that in his own, far quieter way, he is just as perceptive as his friend and he must see something in her expression now because he takes a step closer to her, 'it isn't, is it?' An almost smile lurks around his mouth for a moment and he sounds admiring as he says, 'you told House what you know he'd believe?' His amusement fades and he looks at her sombrely, 'he's not exactly keeping the information to himself, what could make you want to damage your reputation like that? What's so terrible you'd chose to use this as a distraction?'

She holds up a hand to ward him off but isn't exactly surprised when he ignores it. She wants to tell him that if he doesn't stop being so nice to her she will be forced to break one of her own cardinal rules – perilously close to tears already she refuses to cry in front of someone she works with. But his hand on her shoulder is incredibly soothing and the temptation to sink into his touch is almost overwhelming. She tries to hold herself away from him but he tugs her gently into a loose embrace and the warmth of his body is a pertinent reminder that it is a long time since someone has really touched her.

Her brain is perfectly clear that this is a very bad idea, but just for the moment her body is over-riding all that instinctive caution. Instead she looks up at him and her breath comes to a shuddering halt at the expression on his face. It would be so easy to turn her head just a fraction more, to brush her lips against his, to give an affirmative answer to the question his eyes are asking. For a second she is frozen, irresolute and just as she decides to take what she needs and damn the consequences the mood is broken by the insistent shrill of a pager. His.

Hurridly she steps away from him, her cheeks burning, her mind a jumble of confusion. What the hell just happened, where had that come from – and what was she supposed to do about it? He is busy not looking at her, talking into the phone in a low murmur as he responds to the page. God, this is a mess.

He can't quite meet her eyes as he tells her that another patient needs his attention and she wonders whether this is a good thing or not? If he'd laughed it off as 'just a crazy moment' she might not have been flattered, but she would certainly have been reassured that it wasn't something she needed to worry about. His determination not to talk about, or even to acknowledge the moment in question makes her think this is something she will have to deal with sooner or later. But right now she needs it to be later. Much later.

As he heads out of the door she sinks into a nearby chair and wonders if there is any point in rifling House's desk for left over Vicodin.