Authors note: Thank you for the feedbackso far. I am enjoying filling in Cuddy's backstory. I just want to make it clear that I know little about medicine, medical procedures and medical ethics. So - please forgive any heinous errors. Also, this chapter includes a description of someone doing something unpleasant to a patient - if that offends you please don't read the chapter.

Part 6

There is no avoiding the tributes and obituaries that flood the media over the next couple of days; but still she tries. The coverage is varied – much of it glowing, but occasionally a note of criticism creeps in – suggestions that Professor Dean could be difficult to work with, that over the last few years her output was erratic. But there is nothing to dent her pristine reputation, to call into question her contribution to medicine and why would there be?

Cuddy is just starting to think that the worst is over – that she has got through the crisis, that it may soon be business as usual. She is starting to hope that her professional relationship with Dr Wilson will survive unscathed – and that in a matter of days she will be back chasing House for his clinic hours and trying to keep him out of trouble. But she is not to be that fortunate.

When Benjamin Dean leaves her office after a brief visit she is sitting on her couch gazing absently into space, a cup of coffee cooling before her. She is still sitting there when House bangs into the room on a noisy mission to complain about his clinic duty which is, of course, not even remotely connected to his desire to find out what is actually going on.

'Damn it Cuddy, have you no shame? The man's wife is barely cold - or is that the turn on? Doing the nasty before she's even buried?'

'Well, we were screwing each other while she was dying – why stop now,' she snaps back, not caring what he thinks of her. She is unprepared for the long, searching look he gives her or for his response,

'I shouldn't have believed you the first time, but you were so convincing and I have to admit I never thought you'd lie about something like that, I should have known better. We both know you didn't have an affair with Benjamin Dean.' On another day she might be amused at the admission that she'd defeated his 'everyone lies' rhetoric. But today, it doesn't seem like a particularly big deal.

'I really couldn't care less what you think.'

'Great, then this conversation is going to be very short. What did he want?' Too quick, he is much too quick; sometimes it is dizzying just trying to keep up. 'Cuddy – I really don't want to care about this – but it's standing between me and fewer clinic hours, so talk.' She isn't convinced, but there is something disturbingly admirable about the fact that he is prepared to make the attempt.

'He came to tell me that according to the instructions she left for her funeral, Julia would like me to deliever her eulogy.' She laughs and then winces at the bitterness that edges her voice, 'I should have known that she wouldn't let anything as fundamental as being dead stop her.'

'So, you stand up, spout a few meaningless, platitudes and then enjoy the free alcohol – what's the downside to this?' He is seemingly oblivious to the irony of this statement and there is no way she isn't going to point that out to him.

'The way you did when Volger wanted you to promote a product?'

'That was different.' His ego, his conceit is almost unbelieveable. She shakes her head in mock admiration.

'Of course it was, that was about you.' He sighes heavily,

'Then tell me, explain what this is all about; why being asked to give her eulogy is all such a trauma.'

He is hardly a good choice for this confession she thinks as she watches him through narrowed eyes. He drops onto the chair, puts his foot up on the coffee table and leans back, wearing an expression that screams boredom – but she is not convinced. He wants the answers far too badly, he wants all the pieces of the puzzle and they both know only she can give them to him.

She wonders if by finally saying the words outloud she will be free of their burden. Or, if it will only serve to make them solid and immutable.

'It's a challenge – she's daring me to use her eulogy to tell the truth.'

'Tell the truth about what?'

'She killed someone.' She ducks his gaze, but she can feel the weight of it and when she is silent for too long he prompts her.

'What – she hit someone with her car when she was drunk and left them to die?'

'She killed a patient.'

'Cuddy, she wouldn't be the first Doctor to make a mistake.'

'She didn't make a mistake – it was deliberate.' He is silent and she reflects that if this is all it took to shut him up perhaps she should have told him years ago. 'She wanted to test an experimental treatment on a live subject.'

'When someone is dying we take risks – you know that, we've both done it.' She knows he is thinking about two sick babies, two treatments and the call she gave him permission to make – and perhaps he is also talking about the treatment she'd given him.

'The patient was 5 years old, she was very ill – but she wasn't dying – and Julia gave her an early prototype of a treatment we were developing – not because it would help her – but because she fit the genetic profile and she wanted to know if the treatment would still be viable if the immune system was compromised. It wasn't – she died.' Until now she has been delivering her confession to the table-top, now she looks up at him, 'she didn't ask permission, she didn't explain, the parents didn't sign a release – they didn't even know. She just wanted to see what would happen.'

'That's not possible, someone would have said something, someone would have reported her.' When she doesn't answer he looks up and reads her expression without difficulty. 'Oh, I see, someone did.'

'It was my word against hers - no one else supported my version of events, the parents refused our request for an autopsy and the hospital chose not to tell them why it mattered, they were very keen to keep it under wraps.'

'And she just got away with it?'

'So far.'

'What happened to you?'

'Obviously I couldn't continue with the team. We were all so close - I practically lived at her and Benjamin's place – spent more time there than at my apartment, we all did. But, when I reported her the 'family' cut me off, they hinted to the hospital that I was too close to Benjamin – that this was my way of getting rid of Julia. I was transferred to another team, finished my residency and then got the hell out of there. I thought I'd left it all behind – I guess I was wrong.'

'You can't seriously be thinking of standing up at her funeral and accusing her of breeching medical ethics, of being responsible for a child's death?'

'She wanted me to give her eulogy.'

'Say no, you don't have to do what she wants – you never do what I want – why depart from a winning formula?'

'To put the past to rest?' He shakes his head,

'And you do that by destroying yourself? You accuse her and they'll come after you, you were the resident and more importantly, you're still alive. Even if you could prove what she did, even if others corroborate your account– the medical profession protects its own – and they'll cast you out. Let it go.'

'Which is what you'd do?'

'I have tenure and a Dean of Medicine who feels the need to protect me. Did she do it again?' She is wrong-footed by his sudden change of direction, or else by his unexpected acknowledgement that she stood between him and trouble on frequent occasions.

'I'm not sure – probably not.'

'Then congratulations, you passed the test, your conscience should be clear.'

'Its not.'

'Too bad – noble gestures aren't going to change that. She played God, its an occupational hazard, she went mad and wanted to know if there were any limits, you showed her there were. She probably wasn't even angry with you – not once she realised you'd stopped her from becoming a monster. Maybe she wanted to tell you that before she died, maybe not, you'll never know. The point is she's dead, you're not – get over it.'

He struggles to his feet and looms over her to deliver this tirade, she rises as well, unwilling to be placed at such a disadvantage. 'Well, thank you for your input, but its my call so …' She turns away but his hand shoots out to grab her wrist bringing her to a halt.

'Damn it Cuddy, will you listen to me!' She ought to demand that he let her go, she ought to wrench her arm out of his grip – but when she turns back to him, full of outrage, she does neither.

His gaze is fixed on the place where he is holding her wrist, his expression is uncharacteristically naked. As she struggles to find words his thumb moves carefully on the sensitive skin of her wrist. It is almost as though he is conducting an experiment – waiting to see what her response to his touch will be. She shivers at the caress and knows he feels it when his fingers tighten reflexively around her. The fragile, hesitant movement is making it difficult for her to think of anything but his hands on her skin and she is terrified by how easily she gets lost in this.

When she pulls away after endless moments he releases her without remark but he looks – stunned, as though something in his actions or his response has taken him completely by surprise.

After everything he has put her through over the years she ought to be triumphant at the knowledge that she can shake his composure – but all she can think is that her, or their, timing is lousy. She remembers James' face from a few nights earlier and reflects bitterly that only she could suddenly become irresistible to screwed up, unavailable men in the midst of her own crisis.

The sound of her office door closing rouses her and she realises that House has left. It is barely 3 o'clock in the afternoon – she still has a million things to do – but for the first, and hopefully the last, time she follows his example – and goes home to sit on her couch and watch crap TV.