It's a stupid, stupid word, Cuddy decided, viciously signing another discharge form and throwing it on the "done" pile, before grabbing the next one off the extensive "to do" pile. Sighing at the stack of papers she concluded that she wouldn't be out of here before ten, and she'd still have to take work home with her.

She exhaled roughly, trying to focus on the task at hand. But her mind kept meandering back to that one stupid little word. The four letters that were ruining her life.


If she could kill the person who created that word, she would. And she'd spent her jail time just thinking about how fantastic it was that the obvious monster who was responsible for the demise of her social, personal and emotional lives and her general mental and physical health was dead. It would be a joyous day, she thought, signing another discharge paper with a flourish.

Love alluded her her whole life, and then right when she was content and happy, it came and smacked her in the face. Just like that, one morning the first thing she saw was his face, and the last thing each night was his face again. Him him him, 24/7.

She didn't ask for that. She didn't want that. She'd never planned to be one of those sappy women who were defined by their lovers and seemed to be unable to live without them. No, she was a strong, confident, professional woman. And yet... Whenever she saw him, her heart raced, her palms got sweaty and she felt like her stomach was going to fall out her ass.

Either she was having some sort of heart attack - and given the frequency she probably should get it checked out by physician - or she was having a love attack. Sort of like a heart attack, but way more complicated and painful. And with the added bonus of it being him.

She loved him. Oh, just freaking fantastic.

All she ever wanted was a normal life. Successful career, loving husband and three beautiful children to come home to, maybe a labrador retriever thrown into the mix somewhere. Certainly not what she had now... A grumpy gimp who complained about everything, ate all her food, spent all her money and required sex every walking, breathing moment.

Oh sure... Love hadn't screwed her over one little bit.

She knew she should just be done with it. Get rid of him, move on, find a nice boy to spend her time with. Okay, so she didn't want a nice boy, but maybe someone who gave her just the tiniest personal space and just an ounce of respect would be nice.

Yes, that's what she'd do. Next time she sees him, that's it. Clean break, over and done with.

Crap. Here he comes.

And then he opens the door confidently, smiling widely at her. And then he strolls - fine, limps - over and pulls her up out of her chair, catching her mouth in a passionate, breath taking kiss. Right on cue the symptoms start, and she can feel her heart speeding up, loving this.

Loving him.

Then the kiss intensifies, and she feels her knees wobble. And his arms tighten around her... And he says he's taking her home.

Fine with her.

And as he manages to pull her out to the bike and take her all the way back to his, to lavish his own love on her like he's been wanting to do all day, she can't help but think that maybe love isn't so bad at all...


Eh, she could do worse.