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If anybody wanders across this, ignore it. It's just a test to check whether the formatting will work.

Some days she watches House and Wilson talking together in the cafeteria, napkins and cups and plates spread across the table between them. Wilson will say something and she’ll see House smile, or House will point out something and Wilson laughs.

Some days she wishes she were a part of that. She can even imagine a world in which she would be part of that. She likes to believe that House respects her enough to accept her into his very select inner circle.

But she knows that image is as much a fantasy as any other story she’s heard. Even if House were to allow her in, Cuddy knows that he needs limits -- and it is up to her to enforce them. No one else seems able or even willing to try any more. And after all, someone has to control the chaos.

“Two or three hundred years ago, when people were far from being so crafty and cunning as they are nowadays, an extraordinary event took place in a little town.”
The Owl

Cuddy’s life wasn’t a fairy tale. She was no princess whose body was so delicate it could be bruised by a pea.

House was no bewitched prince who merely needed the love of a pure heart to break a curse so he could finally be happy.

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