A/N - thanks for reading! I am not entirely sure where this chapter came from. I think my inner Cuddy has a little too much time on her hands!

The Dean of Medicine

She thinks she may have lost control of this situation somewhere along the line – even though she isn't sure when, or how it happened. She doesn't like uncertainty so it's, troubling that she can't see a way out of this without damage. But it's even more troubling that she is not sure she wants there to be one.

She isn't used to finding herself in the middle of a tangled web of emotions. You can't be in as much of a hurry as she was – as she still is – and not leave something behind. In her case it is relationships – something she has never regretted, doesn't even regret now. There have always been men, if she wants them, although often it's not the wanting that is the problem. It's what comes afterwards that she has trouble with. But surely it shouldn't be this complicated, shouldn't resemble a minefield where one wrong step in either direction could bring disaster?

It feels like a particularly absorbing game of chess, with players who match each other in skill, flair and strategy. Every move brings either defeat or victory closer – the denouement impossible to predict until the very last moment. And this would be a highly relevant simile if it weren't for the fact that this game is being played out by three people, not two. And actually, it isn't a game at all.

She knows what James wants from her – she can see it in the fleeting moments when their eyes meet. He touches her sometimes, when no one else is there to see; a soft, lingering sensation, his fingertips brushing her hair, or her cheek – making her shiver. And for reasons that she does not entirely understand it is not quite enough.

But they could so easily fall headlong into an affair; tumble over the precipice together, as they have almost done once already. But she pulled back – because she doesn't want to be another of the women he accidentally falls in love with, because she isn't sure if he wants to make love to her, or the idea of her, because she doesn't want to see the expression in House's eyes if he were to find out.

But that isn't a train of thought she is comfortable with – because it is safer to believe that House isn't interested in her except as an occasional sparring partner, a source of vicodin and as the person who manages the consequences of his more extreme behaviour. Life has taught her that it would be foolish to attribute anything to the heated glances he throws her way, or take his frequent comments about her body even remotely seriously. She knows that biological reactions are not something you base decisions on. But there are moments when something she doesn't recognise flares between them, so strong it leaves scorch marks in its wake, and she can't decide whether to be intrigued or terrified by that.

She isn't like Stacy, who comes trailing the baggage of their past love and that final betrayal, or like Cameron who looks at him with the tattered remnants of hope in her eyes. Though she would prefer not to admit it, she is astute enough to understand that might be the point, that whatever she has left to offer him might be exactly what he needs.

It is clear that what she ought to do is find a nice, uncomplicated man to fall in love with. Someone who has nothing to do with the hospital, who will make her take holidays, eat at reasonable hours and persuade her to do something other than work at the weekend. But she doesn't know anyone like that and she is not sure that she would know how to deal with them if she did.

She's never been a gambler, and she has no intention of becoming one now. But, sometimes she thinks the solution to this is a starkly simple one. Toss a coin – heads House, tails Wilson and hope everything else comes out in the wash. In reality she knows behaving in such a way is absurd, like trying to make a decision between the devil and the deep blue sea. On other occasions she wonders if there is a way to just give up, to walk away from this with her dignity and her self-respect intact. But the truth is every choice has consequences and even choosing not to make a choice comes with a price.

So as it turns out the chess motif might be relevant after all – because if it is a game between Wilson and House, then perhaps the black queen can simply leave them to fight it out, wait to see who places her in check?

She smiles at the thought, because though she may not like it the one thing she is sure of is that in this game the next move is hers. And if it really is chess they are playing, albeit a seriously screwed up version, then she needs to work out which of the white pieces will serve her ends better – should she take the knight or the king?

The End