Don't you hate when that happens?
Ever had a story that starts out as one thing and ends up as another? This story started out to answer the question: Why does someone as funny/sexy/smart as Cuddy need to internet date? Only, I actually do get that. So it turned into more of a look at the relationship between House and Cuddy (and Wilson) and the fact that neither of them seem to be able to break out of set patterns of behavior, even when those behaviors become destructive. Whether it succeeded...you be the judge. On the plus side, the last ep proved my theory that House would be stalkerish about Cuddy's love life ;-)
At first this idea was going nowhere, but then I had the chance to play out the basic idea on P_P_T_H so I owe Ticcy and Jaryn a big thanks for allowing me to do that. This isn't the same story (sadly, no H/W/C threesome) but it started there.
Also, for those not employed by the US healthcare system, the JCAHO (pronounced jay-co) is the body that accredits US health care facilities. In theory, this is a purely voluntary measure. In practice, you can't recieve government funding if you're not accredited so it's pretty much a necessity. And it creates huge amounts of stress and insanity when you're gearing up for a survey :-0
Old Dogs/New Tricks
From: house-g @ ppth.edu
To: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
Subject: No can do
Hope you can contain your disappointment because I've got a patient and I can't do clinic hours, you, and take care of said patient all at the same time. Lose the clinic hours and I may have enough time left after saving my patient to do you.
~~**~~
Cuddy unlocked her office door and let out a sigh when she saw House sitting at her desk, peering at her computer. He glanced over at her, then went back to his snooping without the slightest pretense that he was surprised or sorry.
"Batchelor number one is a loser," House announced as she dropped her purse on the desk. "So are three, four and five." He looked up over his shoulder at her. "The internet dating thing not working so well, huh?"
Cuddy ignored him as she leaned across him to close her email. Naturally, House took the opportunity to look down her blouse. She refrained from slapping him, but only by the barest margin. With a JCAHO inspection imminent on top of the usual daily hospital crises, Cuddy had only functioning nerve left and House was running roughshod over it.
"Did you hear me?" House asked as she straightened up and deprived him of his mammary view.
"Heard," Cuddy said. "But not listening."
"Seriously, I thought you were going to quit doing this," House continued, obviously unconcerned by the fact that she was Not Listening.
"I did. I am. I will."
She had stopped actively looking through the potential bachelors on the dating website, but she hadn't yet removed her own profile, because, well, what the hell was she supposed to do? Most of the men she worked with were technically her subordinates, which meant that technically they were forbidden fruit. And with the hours she put in on her administrative duties along with whatever actual doctoring she managed to work in, she didn't have a whole lot of time to spend socializing. She couldn't quite bring herself to face spending the rest of her life alone, and without any other viable means of finding a date, let alone someone special, she felt the need to keep one option open.
All of which was none of House's business anyway. Cuddy slapped him on the shoulder. "Get out of my chair."
"Why don't you just do Wilson?" House made a dramatic show of relinquishing her chair, then plopped his ass down on the corner of her desk.
"Wilson?"
"It makes sense," House said, twirling his cane as he presented his case. "You're the same age, both too pretty to be that age, both Jewish, both possess a really annoying work ethic, and both believe in happily ever after. You'd be perfect for each other...if it weren't for the fact that you both suck at relationships. Although that might work in your favor. Maybe the suckage would cancel out."
"Wilson might have something to say about it," Cuddy muttered, trying to ignore the big lump of House on her desk. Truth was, she had something to say about it. Actually saying it seemed pointless since House was better at Not Listening than she was.
"Please," House scoffed. "You have breasts. Wilson will be up for it."
"Flattering," Cuddy said in a flat tone. Although, she half suspected House was right. "But I think I'd rather go with bachelor number two."
"The psychopath?" House asked.
"Oh, for...." Cuddy shook her head, try to sift House's insanity from her own thoughts. "Even if he is psycho, he should be a piece of cake after dealing with you."
"I'm serious."
"So am I, House. Stay out of my office and out of my personal life."
"What personal life?" House called as he sauntered out the door.
~~**~~
From: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
To: All staff
Subject: JCAHO
A friendly reminder of our upcoming inspection by the JCAHO. The next few weeks will be stressful for everyone as we prepare to put our best foot forward. I would ask everyone to exercise the utmost patience and professionalism in the coming days.
Please see attachment for schedule and roster of surveyors.
~~**~~
"So?" Brenda said, following Cuddy into her office.
"So...what?" Cuddy asked. She knew damn well what, and Brenda knew damn well that she knew damn well what. Brenda had some knowledge of the barren state of Cuddy's love life--these days who didn't?-- so when a big bouquet of flowers from a 'secret admirer' suddenly showed up on her desk, it was a little difficult to play dumb.
"What's he like?" Brenda asked. She leaned toward Cuddy in a conspiratorial manner, as if that would encourage Cuddy to confide in her. It would, except that Cuddy still didn't know all the much about him, not the factual kind of stuff. Not what he looked like or what he did for a living. What she did know from their initial email correspondence was that he was a romantic, shy, even a little skittish.
"I'm just getting to know him," Cuddy demurred. She felt so ridiculous, so, damn it, giddy. A week ago she'd been feeling dried up, old and brittle. Now, after a bouquet and a flurry of emails, she felt renewed: younger and sexier. Her teeth seemed whiter, her skin smoother, and her hair silkier.... God, she was pathetic.
"God, you're pathetic," House said as he burst through the door. Brenda rolled her eyes and slipped out the door before it could close; she knew she wasn't going to get any decent information with House around.
Slightly relieved by the temporary end of Brenda's questions, Cuddy turned to House with a pleasant expression. She was resolved that nothing was going to ruin her mood, not even the rumpled bane of her existence.
House took one look at her face and took a step back, wary. "You're smiling."
"And this bothers you?" Cuddy asked as she returned to re-sorting the pile of paper on her desk. She debated pulling out her cell phone with its handy little camera. Putting House on the defensive was a rare event. She'd like to have a reminder for her scrap book...and to email to pretty much every one House knew.
"Greatly," House said. "Either you've discovered my kryptonite, or you got laid last night." House edged a few cautious steps closer and peered at her face. "Laid, definitely."
Cuddy stopped and glared at him, taken by the sudden urge to throw something at his head. Like a bowling ball. "Sex is not the answer to everything."
"It's pretty much the answer to all my questions," House said. He sniffed at the fragrant bouquet on her desk. Then he tilted his head to stare at her, his eyes traveling from head to foot and back again with only a modest pause at chest level. Cuddy shifted uneasily, because House was far too good at figuring out things he had no business figuring out. And then ruining those things for everyone involved.
"You really are pathetic," House said when he'd finished his figuring.
"What?" Cuddy slapped both hands on her desk and stared. She wasn't pretending to misunderstand him; she was objecting to his choice of adjective. Surfing the web for a decent man might be pathetic. Actually finding one was…a miracle.
"You're swooning over a second-rate Romeo you picked up on some internet street corner. Some loser who's as pathetic and desperate as you are," House said disdainfully.
"Just because you don't believe in love...."
"Oh, I believe in it. I believe it sucks." House walked around her desk and Cuddy stiffened as he invaded her personal space, tried to intimidate her with his physical size. She kept her eyes on his, even when his dropped to her cleavage. "Why don't you just join an escort service? At least that way you'd get paid for it."
"I told you; this is not about sex."
"No, it's worse. You're not just selling a service; you're selling you. Those dating sites are nothing but virtual pimps. And you voluntarily advertise yourself on them." House mimicked a feminine voice. "Hi, I'm Lisa. I'm lonely and I'll do anything for a man."
"That is completely not true," Cuddy said, pleased by the absence of anger in her voice. Turned out it was possible to preserve a good mood, even in House's presence. Love, or at least the promise of love, might not conquer all, but it sure took the edge off House's tongue. "If I'm the slut you say I am, then why am I always alone?"
"That's what it looks like, though, when you sell yourself on the web." House waved his cane at her computer, and for a second Cuddy thought he was actually going to take a whack at it. "You're degrading yourself, and you'll never find anyone worth having that way."
Leave it to House to sort of compliment her by accusing her of whoring herself. It was caring, in his own uniquely twisted way, and she'd known him long enough to read between the lines and around the corners and under the stairs. The problem was that he interpreted everything according to his own cynical light: everybody lies, everybody cheats, everybody fucks you over in the end. She refused to buy into his misanthropy.
"Tell it to someone who cares, House. I'm not letting you ruin this for me."
~~**~~
From: house-g @ ppth.edu
To: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
Subject: If you don't, who will?
Cuddy-
It's been two weeks since Wilson got laid. You must take action, otherwise Wilson is liable to do something reckless, like take up square dancing or get married again.
~~**~~
"Vegetarian lasagna or chicken salad?" Wilson asked as he entered Cuddy's office holding two Styrofoam containers, one in each hand. He kicked the door closed behind him and moved to the side of the room, setting the containers on the small coffee table in front of the loveseat.
"Chicken."
"So...." Wilson cast a curious look at the vase on Cuddy's desk as he stabbed his fork into the lasagna. "That's three bouquets in three weeks. Should I take it that this one's for real?"
"It's...got potential." Cuddy settled on the loveseat and spread a napkin across her knees before picking up the container of chicken salad. Unfortunately, potential was all it had so far. Mr. Maybe Right was extremely reluctant to meet until he was sure there was a reasonable expectation that meeting would lead to more. She understood…except that she preferred to simply meet and find out. Her position, developed after multitudes of non-starting relationships, was that there was no point wasting time on a long correspondence if there was no hope of anything more.
"How much potential?"
"I'm not telling you anything," Cuddy said, glancing askance at Wilson. "I tell you, you tell House, House makes my life miserable."
"First, I don't tell House everything." Wilson jabbed his fork in her direction to emphasize his point. "Second, House will make your life miserable anyway."
"True, but the fact remains that you're only asking because House is making you ask because he's frustrated he can't get anything out of me," Cuddy said, waving her own fork back at Wilson. "You don't care if it's got potential."
"I do care. Not with the same, almost stalkerish intensity that House does, but I do care," Wilson said. Cuddy gave him a suspicious look. She didn't doubt that Wilson cared--caring was what he did and he did it all too often--but he didn't normally pry too deeply. Wilson had his own secrets and, like most men with secrets, he wasn't keen to breach another's privacy.
Wilson gave a small, dismissive shake of his head when he noticed her assessing look. "Chalk it up to self interest if you like. When you're happy, the hospital is happy. Makes life easier on everyone."
"And when I'm a bitch, everyone's miserable?"
"I didn't say that."
Cuddy set her tray down and rubbed her hand over her brow for a moment while Wilson looked on in barely concealed interest. "Don't you ever get tired of having your personal life served up with the latest lab results? Don't you hate it when House discusses your latest divorce from across the clinic lobby?"
"Of course," Wilson said with a rueful nod. "And point taken."
"This...this thing has potential, but I'd like to wait until I know if it's got more than just potential before it becomes the gossip du jour," Cuddy said.
"Sure, okay," Wilson said with a nod of his head. "Just don't be surprised if House keeps snooping around."
~~**~~
From: house-g @ ppth.edu
To: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
Subject: 101 uses for a thong
Slingshot/tea cozy/surgical mask/eye patch/doggy diaper....
Unfortunately, this all the further I got before the elastic gave out on your hot pink thong. Shoddy workmanship obviously. Please--splurge on the good stuff next time.
~~**~~
"Okay, I've decided you can have me," House announced as Cuddy pushed through the door to the diagnostic conference room.
"O happy day," Cuddy exclaimed sarcastically as she approached the table and tossed a file at him. "What the hell would I want you for?"
"Sex." House appeared surprised that she hadn't already known that. Chase and Cameron looked up from their files and Foreman, conversely, buried himself deep in a day old newspaper. House smirked as he nodded in Chase's direction. "If you ask real nice, Dr. Chase will probably even give back your hot pink thong."
"I don't have.... I never...," Chase exclaimed in alarm. Cuddy let him panic. After all, he hadn't exactly refused to assist House in his illegal search and seizure. Besides, if House hadn't terrorized Chase to the point of bedwetting already, it was unlikely she could do anything to scare him.
"Shut up about my underwear and take care of that," Cuddy told House, pointing at the file. "JCAHO will be here soon and I want your dictations up to date."
House eyed the folder, puzzled. "I only have one?"
"No," Cuddy said slowly, because even House wasn't that oblivious to his obligations and his lack of fulfillment thereof. He only wished he were. "That file is merely the list of outstanding dictations."
"I have a patient," House protested. "He's OCD. He'll freak if I upset his routine."
"Then I'm guessing you already have upset his routine, just to watch him freak," Cuddy said. "He needs a psychiatrist, not a diagnostician. And you need to update your paperwork. Now."
"Don't these pencil pushers have something better to worry about?"
"No, actually, they don't," Cuddy said pointedly. "This is exactly the kind of thing JCAHO surveyors live for, which means, for the time being, it is exactly the kind of thing you live for."
"Pretty sure hot pink thongs are the kind of thing I live for," House said as he tossed the file in Cameron's direction.
~~**~~
From: house-g @ ppth.edu
To: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
Subject: One is the loneliest number
So what do you say--you, me, and Wilson? Tonight works for me.
~~**~~
Cuddy slid her hands down her sides, smoothing the blood-red sheath dress over her hips. She wished she had a full length mirror in her office, but she'd spent enough time modeling the dress in front of the mirror in the store to know that the cut flattered her figure and the color flattered her complexion. In fact, she thought she was looking pretty damn good in general. It was times like this that the strict dieting and regular exercise were all worth it. At least she hoped they were worth it; the final and deciding opinion wouldn't be hers.
She grabbed her purse and jacket and locked her office behind her. As she crossed the darkened lobby on her way to the exit, she heard a familiar and entirely unwelcome voice.
"Well, damn," House said, speeding his uneven steps to catch up with her. "When you didn't answer my email, I assumed the threesome was off. But now that I see that dress...."
"It's not for you, House." Cuddy didn't bother to look back as she walked out the main entrance and stopped, looking from side to side.
"Seriously, where are you going?" House asked, pulling up to a stop next to her and copying her searching looks, looking up and down the street.
"Seriously? None of your business." Cuddy checked her watch and wished desperately for House to lose interest and leave. She'd pleaded, wheedled, enticed, coaxed, damn near everything but begged to get Mr. Secret Admirer to finally take a chance and meet with her. And sure, maybe the fact that she had to do damn near everything but beg should be a big clue to forget about this guy, but she had to know. After investing this much time, she had to know if he'd been worth it.
"Okay." House looked around, then walked to the nearest bench. He sat down and draped his arms along the back, looking pleased with himself. Cuddy turned, stared, and finally threw up her hands. House merely raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"I have a date."
"I know," House said. "I want to check him out."
"You're not my father," Cuddy said through clenched teeth.
"Thank god." House threw his hands up in mock horror. "Otherwise you and me--totally icky."
"No 'otherwise' about it. You and me--totally icky." Cuddy turned away from House and kept her eyes fixed on the darkening street. She couldn't make House leave, but she could refuse to give him what he wanted, which was obviously to annoy her into a stroke.
But twenty minutes later House was still lounging on the bench and Cuddy was still pacing and date-less. If House hadn't been there she would've waited longer, even if it did make her look desperate, but House was there and she wasn't going to confirm his assessment of her level of desperation any further than she already had. She turned sharply and began digging through her purse for her car keys.
"Thanks," Cuddy spat at House as she headed toward the parking lot.
"What?" House asked as he scrambled to get off the bench and follow her. "What did I do?"
"You scared him off."
"If he's that easy to scare, he'll never make it through one date with you," House said. Cuddy refused to respond, stalking toward her car, teeth gritted, furious as she'd ever been with House. House threw out his hands in exasperation. "Come on, he doesn't even know me. Why would he be afraid of me?"
"Because," Cuddy snapped as she jammed her keys into the car door. She yanked the door open, tossed her purse inside, and turned to face House. "Because he's shy. Because he doesn't know you. Or maybe he does know you and he doesn't want to subject himself to your derision any more than I do."
"How would he know me?" House asked, his voice suddenly quiet.
"If he's ever received medical care anywhere in the state of New Jersey, he probably knows you," Cuddy said. Truth was, she'd begun to suspect that her little admirer might be even closer than that. She suspected he might be affiliated with the hospital in some way because he seemed to know a lot about her daily activities. When he'd finally agreed to this meeting, he'd already known that she had a late meeting. To her, that said he was part of the hospital community.
"I'm flattered...," House said slowly.
"Don't be," Cuddy snapped. "Lots of people know of Dr. Kevorkian. Doesn't mean they want to actually meet him."
"Hey, I've never killed anyone. Not intentionally. Except for that one time...."
"Butt out, House. I mean it." Cuddy slammed her door shut and revved the engine for good measure. She didn't want to hear anything House might be yelling at her. For once, she was going to have the last word.
~~**~~
From: wilson-j @ ppth.edu
To: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
Subject: Kevorkian?
Seriously? I really need to hear the non-embellished version. Coffee?
~~**~~
Cuddy took another sip of wine and set the glass aside. She had her laptop propped in her lap as she sat on the couch with one leg tucked up under her. The TV was on, the sound nothing but white noise as she puzzled over the last email from her mystery man. How the hell did he know about House and Chase's big thong adventure? Granted, House was not known for discretion, and he certainly enjoyed taunting her, but she wasn't aware that it was common knowledge. She was uncomfortable with the insinuations Mr. Mystery Man was making about her and House as well, but depending on what kind of trash-talking he'd heard from House.... She needed to clear the matter up, and fast.
Her cell phone rang, interrupting her musings. She glanced at the caller ID, sighed, and flipped the phone open. "The answer is no."
"I haven't asked you anything yet," House said in an accusing tone.
"You wouldn't be calling to ask permission unless you're planning something insane or illegal." Cuddy paused to pick up the wine glass, swirling the dark liquid around. "So the answer is no."
"Does a lobotomy fall under insane or illegal?"
"If the lobotomy is for you, then the answer is yes. Otherwise, you're insane."
"If I'm insane, the lobotomy might cure me, but if I'm not, it would just be pointless," House argued, sounding infuriatingly cheerful.
Cuddy made a face at the phone. "House, what do you want?"
"I want you to stop emailing your pathetic little internet boyfriend."
"How...?" Cuddy sat up straighter and set the wine aside as she glanced around the room. Had House planted a spy camera while he was snooping through her underwear? Surely even he wasn't that brazen. Actually, he was that brazen, but she didn't think he would've risked something so invasive when Chase and Foreman were around. Unless he was blackmailing them for their silence.... "What makes you think I'm emailing him right now?"
"Of course you're emailing him," House said. "It's Saturday night. You have no life. What else would you be doing?"
"You are so...."
"Unless you've moved on from virtual blowjobs to the real thing."
Cuddy snapped the phone shut, which would never be as satisfying as slamming an old fashioned phone down. Hell, she was tempted to call House back on her old house phone, just for the pleasure of hanging up on him. She didn't, though. She wouldn't let him know how much he got under her skin with his criticism and disdain and lucky freaking guesses about how she spent her Saturday nights.
What if he wasn't guessing? The thought came to her out of the blue. She stared at the computer screen, read the email, considered the fact that her secret admirer was far too aware of a lot of the details of both her personal and professional life. Considered the fact that her secret admirer hadn't shown up for their date while House was with her.
"You bastard," Cuddy muttered. She downed the rest of the wine and reached for the keyboard. She knew how to find out what House had been up to on the internet. And she knew how to make him pay for it.
~~**~~
From: wilson-j @ ppth.edu
To: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
Subject: A little warning next time?
Seriously, if you're going to piss House off, at least give me time to duck.
~~**~~
"You impounded House's computer? Are you nuts?"
Cuddy glanced up from her desk. Wilson was standing just inside her office door, hands on hips and an utterly perplexed expression on his face.
"First, House's computer wasn't impounded. I merely had the techs run a complete analysis of his system. If he hasn't done anything wrong, he has nothing to worry about."
"And when's the last time House hadn't done something wrong?"
"Second," Cuddy continued, ignoring the likely moot question of House's guilt. "It's not House's computer. It belongs to the hospital which means that the hospital--that is, I--can do with it as I please."
"Okay, sure, but what do you think you'll find?" Wilson took a seat in the chair just in front of the desk, slumping down slightly as he gazed at her.
"Maybe nothing. Maybe something," Cuddy said.
"Cuddy," Wilson said in a wary tone. "What are you looking for?"
"Emails," Cuddy said vaguely. Wilson merely shrugged; clearly he had no idea what she was talking about. Either House hadn't told Wilson about his plot or he was actually innocent. She knew which way she'd bet. "I have some suspicions about...about my 'secret admirer'."
"You...?" Wilson's expression was almost comically stunned. Then he gave himself a violent shake and leaned forward. "You think House is your secret admirer?"
"Not for real. I think he's pretending to be a secret admirer so he can humiliate me."
"House doesn't want to humiliate you," Wilson said. Cuddy made a disbelieving snort. "He doesn't. He worries that you're going to get mixed up with the wrong guy."
"So he pretends to be the wrong guy in order to teach me a lesson," Cuddy concluded. Wilson hesitated, brow furrowed as he thought. Finally he let out a resigned sigh.
"I suppose that makes sense, in a completely nonsensical yet completely House way. But something like that would take a lot of time and effort and how often do you see House putting effort into anything that doesn't directly benefit him?"
"He's bored," Cuddy said, easily dismissing Wilson's argument. "He has no patients to speak of, his kids are refusing to fight with him, his leg's no worse than usual.... This is how he's passing his time."
"The flowers," Wilson said abruptly, his expression triumphant. "House won't even buy his own newspaper. There's no way he'd spring for three bouquets."
"Well...." That did give Cuddy pause. Twisted schemes were House's specialty, but they usually included a sub-plot in which he found a way to make his victim pay for their own abuse. He hadn't submitted any suspicious charges on his hospital expense account lately, but.... "Have you checked your latest credit card statement?"
"It's not him," Wilson said with assurance.
"You know that for a fact?"
"No," Wilson admitted. "But the bigger question is, why are you so sure that 'this' is a scam?"
"I don't think it is a scam...except when House says something that makes me think he's behind it and then it would be a scam."
"You're being a little paranoid, don't you think?" Wilson asked.
"House," Cuddy said flatly, as if that explained everything. Wilson nodded slowly, because it did explain everything. "Look, if he's not involved, then he can go back to downloading his porn and sending threatening emails to the White House."
"And if he is involved...?"
"It's better if you don't know."
~~**~~
From: house-g @ ppth.edu
To: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
Subject: Civil rights mean anything to you?
Blatant violation of my constitutional rights, that's what this is. I mean, I'm pretty sure I read something in there about the right to download porn, right after that whole bit about the pursuit of happiness.
~~**~~
"Dr. Cuddy."
"What did you find?" Cuddy looked up to see Terry, her computer geek, standing just inside the door. She both wanted and didn't want him to have identified House as her secret admirer. If it was House, she would come down on him like the wrath of God and that would feel good. But if it wasn't House, then she still had a real albeit reluctant suitor and that would feel even better.
"It's not exactly what I was expecting," Terry said, looking nervous. His apparent fear annoyed Cuddy. She could be brusque with employees, she knew that, but she didn't randomly attack and eat them. She left that kind of predatory behavior to House. "Turns out Dr. House's computer is involved, but he's not the instigator."
"How so?" Cuddy asked, her expression reserved to the point of immobility. How could House's computer be involved, but not be the source?
"Your...internet 'friend' installed some software that allows him remote access to your computer. Probably attached it to one of the emails," Terry said. "Recently he also extended his surveillance to Dr. House's computer. Possibly Dr. Wilson's as well. I'm still trying to track his movements."
"Access?" Cuddy asked, not fully understanding what Terry had said. Or maybe not wanting to fully understand, because if she was getting it right, it wasn't something she wanted to hear.
"He's been reading your emails, looking at your calendar." Terry shrugged uncomfortably. "He can pretty much go in and see anything you've got on your computer here. Or at home, too, I'm guessing."
"He's...been spying on me?" Cuddy asked, shocked by the information. Then an even more frightening thought occurred to her. "What about the hospital? Can he access our patient records?"
"He probably could, but as far as I can tell, he hasn't tried. He's only been interested in you," Terry said. His expression actually brightened slightly, which left Cuddy even more shocked. "In a way, it's a good thing this happened. It's helped us identity a potential security breach."
"Yeah, it's great," Cuddy said in a flat tone. It left her personal life in ruins, again, and she was indirectly responsible for the potential violation of the confidentiality of thousands of patient records, but really, it was fucking great. "Can you fix it?"
"Yes, ma'am." Terry seemed happy at the prospect. Cuddy shook her head slowly, unable to comprehend how this could be in any way a positive development. "I've already got a couple of our programmers working on security. And I can delete the software on your computer. But you won't be able to talk to him anymore. Any email he sends could have the spyware attached, and he'd be right back into the system."
"That's not a problem. I have nothing more to say to him." She did, though. She had a lot of very choice words she'd like to say to this...freak. He'd messed with her emotions, with her hospital, and she wanted to come down on him, make him pay for making her into his little toy.... Except she didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing how successful he'd been.
Cuddy swallowed against the lump in her throat, her cheeks heated. Terry was still waiting and she wasn't going to let him know either just how easily she'd been played, assuming he didn't already know from reading her email correspondence. But there was one more piece of information she needed. "Do you know where he is?"
"He's good at hiding his tracks. Better than I am at following him," Terry admitted with some chagrin. Like it was a contest, a challenge to find out who was the better cyber-geek. "He could be on the other side of town...or the other side of the country."
part 2
At first this idea was going nowhere, but then I had the chance to play out the basic idea on P_P_T_H so I owe Ticcy and Jaryn a big thanks for allowing me to do that. This isn't the same story (sadly, no H/W/C threesome) but it started there.
Also, for those not employed by the US healthcare system, the JCAHO (pronounced jay-co) is the body that accredits US health care facilities. In theory, this is a purely voluntary measure. In practice, you can't recieve government funding if you're not accredited so it's pretty much a necessity. And it creates huge amounts of stress and insanity when you're gearing up for a survey :-0
Old Dogs/New Tricks
From: house-g @ ppth.edu
To: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
Subject: No can do
Hope you can contain your disappointment because I've got a patient and I can't do clinic hours, you, and take care of said patient all at the same time. Lose the clinic hours and I may have enough time left after saving my patient to do you.
~~**~~
Cuddy unlocked her office door and let out a sigh when she saw House sitting at her desk, peering at her computer. He glanced over at her, then went back to his snooping without the slightest pretense that he was surprised or sorry.
"Batchelor number one is a loser," House announced as she dropped her purse on the desk. "So are three, four and five." He looked up over his shoulder at her. "The internet dating thing not working so well, huh?"
Cuddy ignored him as she leaned across him to close her email. Naturally, House took the opportunity to look down her blouse. She refrained from slapping him, but only by the barest margin. With a JCAHO inspection imminent on top of the usual daily hospital crises, Cuddy had only functioning nerve left and House was running roughshod over it.
"Did you hear me?" House asked as she straightened up and deprived him of his mammary view.
"Heard," Cuddy said. "But not listening."
"Seriously, I thought you were going to quit doing this," House continued, obviously unconcerned by the fact that she was Not Listening.
"I did. I am. I will."
She had stopped actively looking through the potential bachelors on the dating website, but she hadn't yet removed her own profile, because, well, what the hell was she supposed to do? Most of the men she worked with were technically her subordinates, which meant that technically they were forbidden fruit. And with the hours she put in on her administrative duties along with whatever actual doctoring she managed to work in, she didn't have a whole lot of time to spend socializing. She couldn't quite bring herself to face spending the rest of her life alone, and without any other viable means of finding a date, let alone someone special, she felt the need to keep one option open.
All of which was none of House's business anyway. Cuddy slapped him on the shoulder. "Get out of my chair."
"Why don't you just do Wilson?" House made a dramatic show of relinquishing her chair, then plopped his ass down on the corner of her desk.
"Wilson?"
"It makes sense," House said, twirling his cane as he presented his case. "You're the same age, both too pretty to be that age, both Jewish, both possess a really annoying work ethic, and both believe in happily ever after. You'd be perfect for each other...if it weren't for the fact that you both suck at relationships. Although that might work in your favor. Maybe the suckage would cancel out."
"Wilson might have something to say about it," Cuddy muttered, trying to ignore the big lump of House on her desk. Truth was, she had something to say about it. Actually saying it seemed pointless since House was better at Not Listening than she was.
"Please," House scoffed. "You have breasts. Wilson will be up for it."
"Flattering," Cuddy said in a flat tone. Although, she half suspected House was right. "But I think I'd rather go with bachelor number two."
"The psychopath?" House asked.
"Oh, for...." Cuddy shook her head, try to sift House's insanity from her own thoughts. "Even if he is psycho, he should be a piece of cake after dealing with you."
"I'm serious."
"So am I, House. Stay out of my office and out of my personal life."
"What personal life?" House called as he sauntered out the door.
~~**~~
From: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
To: All staff
Subject: JCAHO
A friendly reminder of our upcoming inspection by the JCAHO. The next few weeks will be stressful for everyone as we prepare to put our best foot forward. I would ask everyone to exercise the utmost patience and professionalism in the coming days.
Please see attachment for schedule and roster of surveyors.
~~**~~
"So?" Brenda said, following Cuddy into her office.
"So...what?" Cuddy asked. She knew damn well what, and Brenda knew damn well that she knew damn well what. Brenda had some knowledge of the barren state of Cuddy's love life--these days who didn't?-- so when a big bouquet of flowers from a 'secret admirer' suddenly showed up on her desk, it was a little difficult to play dumb.
"What's he like?" Brenda asked. She leaned toward Cuddy in a conspiratorial manner, as if that would encourage Cuddy to confide in her. It would, except that Cuddy still didn't know all the much about him, not the factual kind of stuff. Not what he looked like or what he did for a living. What she did know from their initial email correspondence was that he was a romantic, shy, even a little skittish.
"I'm just getting to know him," Cuddy demurred. She felt so ridiculous, so, damn it, giddy. A week ago she'd been feeling dried up, old and brittle. Now, after a bouquet and a flurry of emails, she felt renewed: younger and sexier. Her teeth seemed whiter, her skin smoother, and her hair silkier.... God, she was pathetic.
"God, you're pathetic," House said as he burst through the door. Brenda rolled her eyes and slipped out the door before it could close; she knew she wasn't going to get any decent information with House around.
Slightly relieved by the temporary end of Brenda's questions, Cuddy turned to House with a pleasant expression. She was resolved that nothing was going to ruin her mood, not even the rumpled bane of her existence.
House took one look at her face and took a step back, wary. "You're smiling."
"And this bothers you?" Cuddy asked as she returned to re-sorting the pile of paper on her desk. She debated pulling out her cell phone with its handy little camera. Putting House on the defensive was a rare event. She'd like to have a reminder for her scrap book...and to email to pretty much every one House knew.
"Greatly," House said. "Either you've discovered my kryptonite, or you got laid last night." House edged a few cautious steps closer and peered at her face. "Laid, definitely."
Cuddy stopped and glared at him, taken by the sudden urge to throw something at his head. Like a bowling ball. "Sex is not the answer to everything."
"It's pretty much the answer to all my questions," House said. He sniffed at the fragrant bouquet on her desk. Then he tilted his head to stare at her, his eyes traveling from head to foot and back again with only a modest pause at chest level. Cuddy shifted uneasily, because House was far too good at figuring out things he had no business figuring out. And then ruining those things for everyone involved.
"You really are pathetic," House said when he'd finished his figuring.
"What?" Cuddy slapped both hands on her desk and stared. She wasn't pretending to misunderstand him; she was objecting to his choice of adjective. Surfing the web for a decent man might be pathetic. Actually finding one was…a miracle.
"You're swooning over a second-rate Romeo you picked up on some internet street corner. Some loser who's as pathetic and desperate as you are," House said disdainfully.
"Just because you don't believe in love...."
"Oh, I believe in it. I believe it sucks." House walked around her desk and Cuddy stiffened as he invaded her personal space, tried to intimidate her with his physical size. She kept her eyes on his, even when his dropped to her cleavage. "Why don't you just join an escort service? At least that way you'd get paid for it."
"I told you; this is not about sex."
"No, it's worse. You're not just selling a service; you're selling you. Those dating sites are nothing but virtual pimps. And you voluntarily advertise yourself on them." House mimicked a feminine voice. "Hi, I'm Lisa. I'm lonely and I'll do anything for a man."
"That is completely not true," Cuddy said, pleased by the absence of anger in her voice. Turned out it was possible to preserve a good mood, even in House's presence. Love, or at least the promise of love, might not conquer all, but it sure took the edge off House's tongue. "If I'm the slut you say I am, then why am I always alone?"
"That's what it looks like, though, when you sell yourself on the web." House waved his cane at her computer, and for a second Cuddy thought he was actually going to take a whack at it. "You're degrading yourself, and you'll never find anyone worth having that way."
Leave it to House to sort of compliment her by accusing her of whoring herself. It was caring, in his own uniquely twisted way, and she'd known him long enough to read between the lines and around the corners and under the stairs. The problem was that he interpreted everything according to his own cynical light: everybody lies, everybody cheats, everybody fucks you over in the end. She refused to buy into his misanthropy.
"Tell it to someone who cares, House. I'm not letting you ruin this for me."
~~**~~
From: house-g @ ppth.edu
To: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
Subject: If you don't, who will?
Cuddy-
It's been two weeks since Wilson got laid. You must take action, otherwise Wilson is liable to do something reckless, like take up square dancing or get married again.
~~**~~
"Vegetarian lasagna or chicken salad?" Wilson asked as he entered Cuddy's office holding two Styrofoam containers, one in each hand. He kicked the door closed behind him and moved to the side of the room, setting the containers on the small coffee table in front of the loveseat.
"Chicken."
"So...." Wilson cast a curious look at the vase on Cuddy's desk as he stabbed his fork into the lasagna. "That's three bouquets in three weeks. Should I take it that this one's for real?"
"It's...got potential." Cuddy settled on the loveseat and spread a napkin across her knees before picking up the container of chicken salad. Unfortunately, potential was all it had so far. Mr. Maybe Right was extremely reluctant to meet until he was sure there was a reasonable expectation that meeting would lead to more. She understood…except that she preferred to simply meet and find out. Her position, developed after multitudes of non-starting relationships, was that there was no point wasting time on a long correspondence if there was no hope of anything more.
"How much potential?"
"I'm not telling you anything," Cuddy said, glancing askance at Wilson. "I tell you, you tell House, House makes my life miserable."
"First, I don't tell House everything." Wilson jabbed his fork in her direction to emphasize his point. "Second, House will make your life miserable anyway."
"True, but the fact remains that you're only asking because House is making you ask because he's frustrated he can't get anything out of me," Cuddy said, waving her own fork back at Wilson. "You don't care if it's got potential."
"I do care. Not with the same, almost stalkerish intensity that House does, but I do care," Wilson said. Cuddy gave him a suspicious look. She didn't doubt that Wilson cared--caring was what he did and he did it all too often--but he didn't normally pry too deeply. Wilson had his own secrets and, like most men with secrets, he wasn't keen to breach another's privacy.
Wilson gave a small, dismissive shake of his head when he noticed her assessing look. "Chalk it up to self interest if you like. When you're happy, the hospital is happy. Makes life easier on everyone."
"And when I'm a bitch, everyone's miserable?"
"I didn't say that."
Cuddy set her tray down and rubbed her hand over her brow for a moment while Wilson looked on in barely concealed interest. "Don't you ever get tired of having your personal life served up with the latest lab results? Don't you hate it when House discusses your latest divorce from across the clinic lobby?"
"Of course," Wilson said with a rueful nod. "And point taken."
"This...this thing has potential, but I'd like to wait until I know if it's got more than just potential before it becomes the gossip du jour," Cuddy said.
"Sure, okay," Wilson said with a nod of his head. "Just don't be surprised if House keeps snooping around."
~~**~~
From: house-g @ ppth.edu
To: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
Subject: 101 uses for a thong
Slingshot/tea cozy/surgical mask/eye patch/doggy diaper....
Unfortunately, this all the further I got before the elastic gave out on your hot pink thong. Shoddy workmanship obviously. Please--splurge on the good stuff next time.
~~**~~
"Okay, I've decided you can have me," House announced as Cuddy pushed through the door to the diagnostic conference room.
"O happy day," Cuddy exclaimed sarcastically as she approached the table and tossed a file at him. "What the hell would I want you for?"
"Sex." House appeared surprised that she hadn't already known that. Chase and Cameron looked up from their files and Foreman, conversely, buried himself deep in a day old newspaper. House smirked as he nodded in Chase's direction. "If you ask real nice, Dr. Chase will probably even give back your hot pink thong."
"I don't have.... I never...," Chase exclaimed in alarm. Cuddy let him panic. After all, he hadn't exactly refused to assist House in his illegal search and seizure. Besides, if House hadn't terrorized Chase to the point of bedwetting already, it was unlikely she could do anything to scare him.
"Shut up about my underwear and take care of that," Cuddy told House, pointing at the file. "JCAHO will be here soon and I want your dictations up to date."
House eyed the folder, puzzled. "I only have one?"
"No," Cuddy said slowly, because even House wasn't that oblivious to his obligations and his lack of fulfillment thereof. He only wished he were. "That file is merely the list of outstanding dictations."
"I have a patient," House protested. "He's OCD. He'll freak if I upset his routine."
"Then I'm guessing you already have upset his routine, just to watch him freak," Cuddy said. "He needs a psychiatrist, not a diagnostician. And you need to update your paperwork. Now."
"Don't these pencil pushers have something better to worry about?"
"No, actually, they don't," Cuddy said pointedly. "This is exactly the kind of thing JCAHO surveyors live for, which means, for the time being, it is exactly the kind of thing you live for."
"Pretty sure hot pink thongs are the kind of thing I live for," House said as he tossed the file in Cameron's direction.
~~**~~
From: house-g @ ppth.edu
To: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
Subject: One is the loneliest number
So what do you say--you, me, and Wilson? Tonight works for me.
~~**~~
Cuddy slid her hands down her sides, smoothing the blood-red sheath dress over her hips. She wished she had a full length mirror in her office, but she'd spent enough time modeling the dress in front of the mirror in the store to know that the cut flattered her figure and the color flattered her complexion. In fact, she thought she was looking pretty damn good in general. It was times like this that the strict dieting and regular exercise were all worth it. At least she hoped they were worth it; the final and deciding opinion wouldn't be hers.
She grabbed her purse and jacket and locked her office behind her. As she crossed the darkened lobby on her way to the exit, she heard a familiar and entirely unwelcome voice.
"Well, damn," House said, speeding his uneven steps to catch up with her. "When you didn't answer my email, I assumed the threesome was off. But now that I see that dress...."
"It's not for you, House." Cuddy didn't bother to look back as she walked out the main entrance and stopped, looking from side to side.
"Seriously, where are you going?" House asked, pulling up to a stop next to her and copying her searching looks, looking up and down the street.
"Seriously? None of your business." Cuddy checked her watch and wished desperately for House to lose interest and leave. She'd pleaded, wheedled, enticed, coaxed, damn near everything but begged to get Mr. Secret Admirer to finally take a chance and meet with her. And sure, maybe the fact that she had to do damn near everything but beg should be a big clue to forget about this guy, but she had to know. After investing this much time, she had to know if he'd been worth it.
"Okay." House looked around, then walked to the nearest bench. He sat down and draped his arms along the back, looking pleased with himself. Cuddy turned, stared, and finally threw up her hands. House merely raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"I have a date."
"I know," House said. "I want to check him out."
"You're not my father," Cuddy said through clenched teeth.
"Thank god." House threw his hands up in mock horror. "Otherwise you and me--totally icky."
"No 'otherwise' about it. You and me--totally icky." Cuddy turned away from House and kept her eyes fixed on the darkening street. She couldn't make House leave, but she could refuse to give him what he wanted, which was obviously to annoy her into a stroke.
But twenty minutes later House was still lounging on the bench and Cuddy was still pacing and date-less. If House hadn't been there she would've waited longer, even if it did make her look desperate, but House was there and she wasn't going to confirm his assessment of her level of desperation any further than she already had. She turned sharply and began digging through her purse for her car keys.
"Thanks," Cuddy spat at House as she headed toward the parking lot.
"What?" House asked as he scrambled to get off the bench and follow her. "What did I do?"
"You scared him off."
"If he's that easy to scare, he'll never make it through one date with you," House said. Cuddy refused to respond, stalking toward her car, teeth gritted, furious as she'd ever been with House. House threw out his hands in exasperation. "Come on, he doesn't even know me. Why would he be afraid of me?"
"Because," Cuddy snapped as she jammed her keys into the car door. She yanked the door open, tossed her purse inside, and turned to face House. "Because he's shy. Because he doesn't know you. Or maybe he does know you and he doesn't want to subject himself to your derision any more than I do."
"How would he know me?" House asked, his voice suddenly quiet.
"If he's ever received medical care anywhere in the state of New Jersey, he probably knows you," Cuddy said. Truth was, she'd begun to suspect that her little admirer might be even closer than that. She suspected he might be affiliated with the hospital in some way because he seemed to know a lot about her daily activities. When he'd finally agreed to this meeting, he'd already known that she had a late meeting. To her, that said he was part of the hospital community.
"I'm flattered...," House said slowly.
"Don't be," Cuddy snapped. "Lots of people know of Dr. Kevorkian. Doesn't mean they want to actually meet him."
"Hey, I've never killed anyone. Not intentionally. Except for that one time...."
"Butt out, House. I mean it." Cuddy slammed her door shut and revved the engine for good measure. She didn't want to hear anything House might be yelling at her. For once, she was going to have the last word.
~~**~~
From: wilson-j @ ppth.edu
To: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
Subject: Kevorkian?
Seriously? I really need to hear the non-embellished version. Coffee?
~~**~~
Cuddy took another sip of wine and set the glass aside. She had her laptop propped in her lap as she sat on the couch with one leg tucked up under her. The TV was on, the sound nothing but white noise as she puzzled over the last email from her mystery man. How the hell did he know about House and Chase's big thong adventure? Granted, House was not known for discretion, and he certainly enjoyed taunting her, but she wasn't aware that it was common knowledge. She was uncomfortable with the insinuations Mr. Mystery Man was making about her and House as well, but depending on what kind of trash-talking he'd heard from House.... She needed to clear the matter up, and fast.
Her cell phone rang, interrupting her musings. She glanced at the caller ID, sighed, and flipped the phone open. "The answer is no."
"I haven't asked you anything yet," House said in an accusing tone.
"You wouldn't be calling to ask permission unless you're planning something insane or illegal." Cuddy paused to pick up the wine glass, swirling the dark liquid around. "So the answer is no."
"Does a lobotomy fall under insane or illegal?"
"If the lobotomy is for you, then the answer is yes. Otherwise, you're insane."
"If I'm insane, the lobotomy might cure me, but if I'm not, it would just be pointless," House argued, sounding infuriatingly cheerful.
Cuddy made a face at the phone. "House, what do you want?"
"I want you to stop emailing your pathetic little internet boyfriend."
"How...?" Cuddy sat up straighter and set the wine aside as she glanced around the room. Had House planted a spy camera while he was snooping through her underwear? Surely even he wasn't that brazen. Actually, he was that brazen, but she didn't think he would've risked something so invasive when Chase and Foreman were around. Unless he was blackmailing them for their silence.... "What makes you think I'm emailing him right now?"
"Of course you're emailing him," House said. "It's Saturday night. You have no life. What else would you be doing?"
"You are so...."
"Unless you've moved on from virtual blowjobs to the real thing."
Cuddy snapped the phone shut, which would never be as satisfying as slamming an old fashioned phone down. Hell, she was tempted to call House back on her old house phone, just for the pleasure of hanging up on him. She didn't, though. She wouldn't let him know how much he got under her skin with his criticism and disdain and lucky freaking guesses about how she spent her Saturday nights.
What if he wasn't guessing? The thought came to her out of the blue. She stared at the computer screen, read the email, considered the fact that her secret admirer was far too aware of a lot of the details of both her personal and professional life. Considered the fact that her secret admirer hadn't shown up for their date while House was with her.
"You bastard," Cuddy muttered. She downed the rest of the wine and reached for the keyboard. She knew how to find out what House had been up to on the internet. And she knew how to make him pay for it.
~~**~~
From: wilson-j @ ppth.edu
To: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
Subject: A little warning next time?
Seriously, if you're going to piss House off, at least give me time to duck.
~~**~~
"You impounded House's computer? Are you nuts?"
Cuddy glanced up from her desk. Wilson was standing just inside her office door, hands on hips and an utterly perplexed expression on his face.
"First, House's computer wasn't impounded. I merely had the techs run a complete analysis of his system. If he hasn't done anything wrong, he has nothing to worry about."
"And when's the last time House hadn't done something wrong?"
"Second," Cuddy continued, ignoring the likely moot question of House's guilt. "It's not House's computer. It belongs to the hospital which means that the hospital--that is, I--can do with it as I please."
"Okay, sure, but what do you think you'll find?" Wilson took a seat in the chair just in front of the desk, slumping down slightly as he gazed at her.
"Maybe nothing. Maybe something," Cuddy said.
"Cuddy," Wilson said in a wary tone. "What are you looking for?"
"Emails," Cuddy said vaguely. Wilson merely shrugged; clearly he had no idea what she was talking about. Either House hadn't told Wilson about his plot or he was actually innocent. She knew which way she'd bet. "I have some suspicions about...about my 'secret admirer'."
"You...?" Wilson's expression was almost comically stunned. Then he gave himself a violent shake and leaned forward. "You think House is your secret admirer?"
"Not for real. I think he's pretending to be a secret admirer so he can humiliate me."
"House doesn't want to humiliate you," Wilson said. Cuddy made a disbelieving snort. "He doesn't. He worries that you're going to get mixed up with the wrong guy."
"So he pretends to be the wrong guy in order to teach me a lesson," Cuddy concluded. Wilson hesitated, brow furrowed as he thought. Finally he let out a resigned sigh.
"I suppose that makes sense, in a completely nonsensical yet completely House way. But something like that would take a lot of time and effort and how often do you see House putting effort into anything that doesn't directly benefit him?"
"He's bored," Cuddy said, easily dismissing Wilson's argument. "He has no patients to speak of, his kids are refusing to fight with him, his leg's no worse than usual.... This is how he's passing his time."
"The flowers," Wilson said abruptly, his expression triumphant. "House won't even buy his own newspaper. There's no way he'd spring for three bouquets."
"Well...." That did give Cuddy pause. Twisted schemes were House's specialty, but they usually included a sub-plot in which he found a way to make his victim pay for their own abuse. He hadn't submitted any suspicious charges on his hospital expense account lately, but.... "Have you checked your latest credit card statement?"
"It's not him," Wilson said with assurance.
"You know that for a fact?"
"No," Wilson admitted. "But the bigger question is, why are you so sure that 'this' is a scam?"
"I don't think it is a scam...except when House says something that makes me think he's behind it and then it would be a scam."
"You're being a little paranoid, don't you think?" Wilson asked.
"House," Cuddy said flatly, as if that explained everything. Wilson nodded slowly, because it did explain everything. "Look, if he's not involved, then he can go back to downloading his porn and sending threatening emails to the White House."
"And if he is involved...?"
"It's better if you don't know."
~~**~~
From: house-g @ ppth.edu
To: cuddy-l @ ppth.edu
Subject: Civil rights mean anything to you?
Blatant violation of my constitutional rights, that's what this is. I mean, I'm pretty sure I read something in there about the right to download porn, right after that whole bit about the pursuit of happiness.
~~**~~
"Dr. Cuddy."
"What did you find?" Cuddy looked up to see Terry, her computer geek, standing just inside the door. She both wanted and didn't want him to have identified House as her secret admirer. If it was House, she would come down on him like the wrath of God and that would feel good. But if it wasn't House, then she still had a real albeit reluctant suitor and that would feel even better.
"It's not exactly what I was expecting," Terry said, looking nervous. His apparent fear annoyed Cuddy. She could be brusque with employees, she knew that, but she didn't randomly attack and eat them. She left that kind of predatory behavior to House. "Turns out Dr. House's computer is involved, but he's not the instigator."
"How so?" Cuddy asked, her expression reserved to the point of immobility. How could House's computer be involved, but not be the source?
"Your...internet 'friend' installed some software that allows him remote access to your computer. Probably attached it to one of the emails," Terry said. "Recently he also extended his surveillance to Dr. House's computer. Possibly Dr. Wilson's as well. I'm still trying to track his movements."
"Access?" Cuddy asked, not fully understanding what Terry had said. Or maybe not wanting to fully understand, because if she was getting it right, it wasn't something she wanted to hear.
"He's been reading your emails, looking at your calendar." Terry shrugged uncomfortably. "He can pretty much go in and see anything you've got on your computer here. Or at home, too, I'm guessing."
"He's...been spying on me?" Cuddy asked, shocked by the information. Then an even more frightening thought occurred to her. "What about the hospital? Can he access our patient records?"
"He probably could, but as far as I can tell, he hasn't tried. He's only been interested in you," Terry said. His expression actually brightened slightly, which left Cuddy even more shocked. "In a way, it's a good thing this happened. It's helped us identity a potential security breach."
"Yeah, it's great," Cuddy said in a flat tone. It left her personal life in ruins, again, and she was indirectly responsible for the potential violation of the confidentiality of thousands of patient records, but really, it was fucking great. "Can you fix it?"
"Yes, ma'am." Terry seemed happy at the prospect. Cuddy shook her head slowly, unable to comprehend how this could be in any way a positive development. "I've already got a couple of our programmers working on security. And I can delete the software on your computer. But you won't be able to talk to him anymore. Any email he sends could have the spyware attached, and he'd be right back into the system."
"That's not a problem. I have nothing more to say to him." She did, though. She had a lot of very choice words she'd like to say to this...freak. He'd messed with her emotions, with her hospital, and she wanted to come down on him, make him pay for making her into his little toy.... Except she didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing how successful he'd been.
Cuddy swallowed against the lump in her throat, her cheeks heated. Terry was still waiting and she wasn't going to let him know either just how easily she'd been played, assuming he didn't already know from reading her email correspondence. But there was one more piece of information she needed. "Do you know where he is?"
"He's good at hiding his tracks. Better than I am at following him," Terry admitted with some chagrin. Like it was a contest, a challenge to find out who was the better cyber-geek. "He could be on the other side of town...or the other side of the country."
part 2