Week Nineteen: Memories

"Do you ever think about…?" Cuddy was standing next to Wilson, standing in the stairwell and staring down at the maze of stairs down below.

"About?" Wilson prompted.

"Amber," Cuddy replied, quietly. She didn't want to ask the question, but there it was; it had come out of her mouth, out of her thoughts and she had better own up to it. She still didn't know why she had asked it, however.

Wilson paused for a moment, then slowly nodded.

"Not as much as I used to," he admitted. He looked at her as if to ask, silently, where she was going with this. Cuddy wished she knew the answer. Was she just dragging up someone else's pain as an excuse to not have to think about her own? If so, that would reveal a callous side to her that she didn't like to acknowledge – but, as with everything, it was there somewhere, under the surface. "But I do miss her. I don't feel like anyone ever really… 'got' me the way that Amber did."

Cuddy paused, thinking about the phrase. What did it actually mean to "get" someone, exactly? Just to understand them, to grasp where they were coming from? That was something she had always been good at, to rationalize things and to understand them from a variety of perspectives. That wasn't what Wilson meant, though, not really – to understand someone on a deeper level meant… well, what did it mean, exactly? Did it mean to give up your own…whatever it was? Your own worldview? It seemed as if one couldn't gain something without being willing to give up some other piece; matter could be not created nor destroyed.

"What about House?" Cuddy blurted, and again she hated the fact that she had said it as soon as she had. She could take away whatever brownie points she had given herself for not mentioning him, wipe away the board and start over.

Wilson chuckled.

"Don't tell me you're implying that he and I had something going on besides friendship – or that we are now. You've known us too long to hit us with that old chestnut."

"Well, I know that you've been married three times during when you've been best friends with House. Maybe it would have been easier to marry him instead."

"Or maybe it would drive me to an early grave. He already has, half of the time."

Cuddy laughed, then let out a sigh. Wilson turned to her.

"So, shoot. What is it you're really asking about? Because as much as I'd love to work through everything with Amber… I don't think that's really what you're getting at. I'm pretty certain that this is, yet again, all about House. And his strange… agreement with Cameron that I'm still trying to wrap my head around. If I even should."

Cuddy shrugged.

"I'm talking around my own issues, I suppose. I'm jealous. It sounds stupid to say, really stupid, with all of this going on, though. There's not time to be jealous – hell, I don't have time to be jealous. I barely have time to be a hospital administrator and a mother and a human being at the same time; I definitely can't pencil in being some petty, bitter ex."

"After everything House has done, I don't know if a little bit of bitterness wouldn't be completely out of line."

"You can't be bitter towards a man who's dying."

"Who says you can't?"

Cuddy shrugged her shoulders.

"People. Everyone. Humanity. I mean, if Cameron is having a whole kid to try and save him, I can't really be over here taking pot shots."

"Who says?"

Cuddy cocked her head to the side and proceeded to glare at Wilson.

"Did anybody tell you that you missed your calling to be a psychiatrist? A really annoying one who has a tendency to look at you and say, 'And how does that make you feel?'"

Wilson shrugged.

"You're the one who brought up my dead girlfriend. I thought that you were looking for advice."

"I'm not looking for advice," Cuddy told him, but then added with a sigh, "I could probably use some, though. I thought that this whole Cameron situation would be over by now, that she'd either bail out on the whole idea or whisk Chase back to Chicago with her baby. I didn't think we would be this far along with this… Or even that House was going to be in this much danger. I thought he'd have found out he had some rare but curable disease, or nothing at all. Or that this has all been a very long prank to get back at me for breaking up with him."

"I thought he got back at you by driving his car into your house."

"House likes to leave no stone unturned."

Wilson sighed.

"Have you considered that maybe… maybe he just really has nowhere else to go? Honestly, I feel like… I don't know, maybe House has given up. And so maybe… you can be mad, but if your being mad gets you back with him… I don't know what you want to do."

"Are you really trying to match-make me back with the walking reason my house is a construction mess and I can't sleep in my own bed?"

Wilson shrugged.

"Maybe that's the reason you asked. Maybe that's what you're looking to do, Cuddy. Honestly… I don't know. Getting back with him would be a mistake. But you wouldn't be here asking me about Amber and House and regrets if you didn't want him back. Maybe you just need to put it all to the side, or go over and yell at him for a few hours or… Whatever makes this work for you."

Cuddy let out a slight snort and let her gaze travel downward; she focused on one single tile.

Little things could make up big things, couldn't they? The ripple effect?

She still wasn't sure if she wanted to create a ripple, in case she started another tsunami. Then where would she be?