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In the Presence of Her Enemy
by gena
In the Presence of Her Enemy........
Julie Wilson picked up another tray of hors d'oeuvres, took a deep breath and pushed open the kitchen door. The murmur of conversation broke occasionally, light laughter filling the cracks and bringing a smile of relief to her pretty face. Being the wife of Dr. James Wilson brought with it certain responsibilities, and being a good hostess ranked, if not number one, then within the top three. Unfortunately her husband had never taken their position in Princeton's society as seriously as she did. She circled the room, offering the small but expensive tidbits the caterer had created and accepting her well earned congratulations. Brenda McMullen managed a tight smile, her blue eyes frostily surveying the food, the flowers and the stylish dress Julie had bought only three days earlier. Brenda's last party had been elegant but lifeless, and the obvious energy of the Wilson's gathering had definitely been noted.
Julie continued her rounds, making sure everyone had a good time. James stood to one side of the room, deep in conversation with a full professor from the university. She'd invited all the society page regulars, the influential people on her committees, the most notable of their neighbors and everyone of any importance at Princeton-Plainsboro and even given in to James' request that she invite, to her way of thinking, his lesser prestigious friends like Dr. Gregory House and his team. She estimated the total per capita earnings in their living room right at that moment must surely be more than some small countries averaged for their entire population. Lisa Cuddy complemented her on a beautiful party as did the city councilman who lived around the corner. Julie glowed, catching James' eye and silently thanking her lucky stars in finding him. Her mother hadn't understood, but she was old-fashioned, and against her daughter dating a married man. But Julie had tried to explain it wasn't like that. James and his wife had been emotionally estranged for years, leaving him trapped in a loveless and miserable marriage. He'd been so lonely and sad when they met that Julie's heart had gone out to him that first day. She could sense that more than a loveless marriage was slowly breaking his sensitive heart and when he finally confessed that he'd been forced to watch his best friend endure a terrifying and life altering illness, all Julie could do was holding him and cry with him. Many nights when James came to her apartment he spoke almost entirely of his fear for Greg House, his brown eyes shining with tears and she had comforted him, making him forget for a little while. Julie had just wanted to make him happy again. Despite her mother's dire warnings Julie had continued the relationship and a year after meeting him, James asked her to become the third Mrs. Dr. James Wilson.
The wedding had been an utter disaster. Gregory House, the recently recovered best man, had been rude and condescending to everyone, James had been withdrawn and nervous and her cousin Kenny had gotten so drunk he fell over the table at the reception and ruined the cake. And to top it off, when he fell he knocked House to the ground and James absolutely refused to leave on their honeymoon until he knew House was okay. He hadn't been. House'd had a bad reaction to a drug, or a treatment or maybe just life itself and their trip had been postponed indefinitely. She'd spent her wedding night sobbing on the bathroom floor, listening to her mother mutter "I told you so" through the door. It had been an ordeal but Julie had become the next Mrs. James Wilson with all it entitled. She looked around the beautiful house at all her expensive things and smiled. Her sister didn't have anything like it. Connie might be the apple of their mother's eye but she had three bratty children and a husband who couldn't hold a job.
Her gaze fell on James again. He was so handsome, even more so now than he'd been four years ago. Her breath would catch in her throat when she looked at him. She loved to run her fingers through the dark hair that always fell over his forehead it gave him a boyishly innocent appeal, and when he smiled, his deep chocolate eyes twinkled. James had a wicked sense of humor, she could remember the early days of their marriage being filled with laughter and teasing. More and more often silence stretched between them. Julie could feel a gulf opening, the only bridge one of habit that he used to reach her. She had loved him so much. God, even now, the sight of his tall, muscled body could make her pulse quicken. But it wasn't working anymore, the random nights of sex couldn't keep them together. She'd tried hard to be what he wanted, what he needed but Julie realized James would never really love anyone he married. She didn't think he even understood why he failed but she could see the shadow which hovered over their matrimonial bliss and recognized its familiar shape. In her heart, Julie felt the inevitable drawing closer and its cold, black visage made her shiver as if it were the Grim Reaper and not divorce.
Julie shook off her foreboding and headed back towards the kitchen to bring out more of the dainty delicacies she'd had specially prepared for the evening. Her casual glance fell on a lone figure leaning against the hallway wall. One bad thing about being Mrs. James Wilson meant having to deal with Greg House at social events. Unkempt, unpredictable, uncouth, and unrepentant, House had limped into her life and hung like a broken albatross around her neck. She'd tried valiantly in the early days of her marriage to James to like House. He possessed a strange attractiveness, it blazed in his piercing blue eyes and crackled in his razor sharp wit but unfortunately he also possessed the personality of a rabid badger only without all its nice qualities. James alone seemed immune to House's bitter and angry ways, everyone else avoided being close to him. She forced a smile and glided over to where he lurked. Somehow sensing House's anti-social tendencies, the other guests had given the hallway and House a wide berth. At least she hoped they had only sensed House's rudeness and not be subjected to it. "Greg, how are you?" she chirped.
House looked up from where he had been hunched over his cane, both hands clutching the handle and gave her a brilliant smile. Julie felt her heart sink, she knew better. "Julie, I'm crippled and in a massive amount of pain. Thanks for asking," he nearly shouted. She cringed, shooting quick glances left and right as she angled her body to block him from the view of anyone passing by.
"That's, uh, yes," she stammered. "Hors d'oeuvres?"
"Frightfully expensive, huh?" he asked, eyeing the artistic concoction. "Bet they taste like shit." He scooped up a handful, popping most of them into his mouth and chewing noisily. "Umm, not too crappy," he complimented.
Julie thrust a linen napkin into his hand before he could wipe his fingers on the tablecloth. She would have left it right there, she didn't like him anyway, but she could see real pain in the lines of his face. Julie knew all about the infarction, House's brush with death and long recovery, the chronic pain and limited mobility but for all that she'd never really seen House show signs of how much he suffered. His face betrayed little he didn't wish to show; occasionally he looked pale and he always looked tired but his eyes were normally a vibrant shade of blue she'd never seen on someone else and he never let his disability limit what he wanted to accomplish. Right now those blue eyes were dulled gray, and he had his right hand splayed over the uneven rise of his thigh. He saw her notice and moved his hand back to his cane with a determined motion. The sudden sound of James' laughter drew both their gazes towards the cavernous living room. They could see James on far side of the room, deep in conversation with the councilman, gesturing with his hands and looking more relaxed than Julie had seen him for months. Julie looked back at House in time to see something sad and wistful flicker in his eyes. She'd seen that look many times before but usually only in her vanity mirror. She didn't know why, couldn't even put it into words, but at that moment the kinship between them seemed to override the animosity. Tired of fighting a losing battle, she let her perfunctory smile die.
"You want a real drink?"
House stared at her a moment. Julie could almost hear him trying to work out her angle. She'd never known anyone who could put a 100 different scattered pieces together as quickly as House did and see the finished picture. He gave her an honest smile, the first one she'd really seen tossed in her direction. "Yeah, you got whiskey?"
Thy ended up in James' study. Julie went straight to the little bar James kept stocked in his office while House settled behind the desk. She heard him give a soft hiss and looked over her shoulder to find him sitting with his legs propped on the oaken desk. She handed him a glass, raising her own in silent salute. Their conversations before had always been like a deep dark pit, covered with a brittle layer of civility, so fragile they could plummet into the abyss and be impaled on the jagged barbs below at any second and she didn't really think this time would be different. They drank without speaking for a moment and Julie took the opportunity to study House. He looked less pained after a few minutes, the pinched set of his lips had eased and some of the deeper lines in his face faded. She threw herself gracelessly into the chair beside the desk, propping her feet next to his and he flashed her a devilish smile. "Why, Mrs. Wilson, are you trying to seduce me?" He asked in mock innocence when her skirt rode up to mid-thigh. He could be charming, not in a smooth Cary Grant kind of way but like a naughty little boy looking for attention.
"You're the old geezer here, House," she reminded him. "If anyone's going to get seduced it should be me."
"Is that the plan?"
"Cut out the middle man?" She wondered.
"Well, you know he gets all the action," House said with a conspiratorial wink.
"That's what I've always suspected," Julie countered. House cut her a sideways glance before returning his attention to his drink. Julie sipped her own, mulling over that calculating look. At first she'd figured James used House as cover for his infidelity - those claims of exhaustion and spending the night with his friend instead of risking the drive home, just a lie when he was really seeing other women. It wasn't until she heard whispered snatches of late night phone conversations, witnessed the way they communicated in a semaphore of gestures and looks and began finding Greg's belongings mixed in with James' that she realized House wasn't camouflage, he was the enemy. Shock had given way to humiliation, then rage. The thought of her mother discovering the truth kept her quiet but at that moment the warmth of the alcohol and the fact House seemed just as miserable loosened her tongue. Reckless, she said, "You don't really think you'll get him, do you? It'll be a cold day in Hell before I divorce him."
"Oh, Julie, I'm a patient man," House said with a slow, wolfish smile. Julie felt her heart grow cold. House drained the last of his drink and looked at her, face devoid of all emotion but something shifting behind the intense blue of his gaze. "And I'm not asking you to divorce him! I can share and that's all I'm asking, really. Jimmy loves his wives, he always has and I like Jimmy to be happy. So let's not make this into a war and let's not make him choose." He leaned forward, placing the empty glass carefully on the desk and looking her straight in the eye. "If Wilson has to pick between us I can assure you, he won't come home to you."
A dozen scenes flashes through her mind; James on their wedding day more worried about House than her, James leaving in the middle of any number of dinner parties after a call from House, James and House with their heads close together whispering and laughing, House's smug smile...."You bastard," Julie snarled. House shrugged and sat back.
"I wondered where you two had disappeared to." James Wilson's voice pierced the silence making both people jump. House gave a small hiss as the movement pulled his leg and Wilson immediately moved to his side, concern in his dark eyes. "Sorry, House," he said softly.
"I'm fine," House said. "Julie and I were just having a drink and talking about you."
"Oh?" Wilson's expression hovered between amusement and wariness.
Julie rose to her feet, her smile seductive and filled with warmth. "I was telling Greg how much I love you," she purred and wound her arms around her husband. James nuzzled her neck and over his shoulder Julie gave House a triumphant smile. "And Greg was saying he just isn't enjoying himself at the party and thought he'd leave."
House grinned at her and winked. A moment later he gave another hiss of pain and used his right hand to pull his leg off the desk. Wilson turned at the sound. "Damn, maybe I'm not feeling as well as I thought," he said, gripping his cane tightly. "I think I will head on home, Wilson."
James disentangled himself from Julie, and hurried to House's side. "Are you okay? Do you think you can drive home?"
House reached into his pocket and handed over his keys. "Maybe not. I'll meet you out front." Wilson took the keys and nodded. He rushed from the room without a backwards glance at Julie. House waited until the echo of his footsteps had faded then turned to her. "Don't fuck with me, Julie. I told you, I like James to be happy and he's happy being married. It just doesn't matter to me who he's married to, got it?" With that he limped from the room.
The truth slammed into Julie Wilson like a fist, winding her, bringing a gasp of pain unlike anything she'd ever felt before. She collapsed back into her chair, realizing she'd been stupid to underestimate her foe. Julie wiped at the tears trickling from the corner of her eye, and resolved not to make that mistake again. With her head held high she picked up the long forgotten tray of hors d'oeuvres and headed back to her guests. She'd make some excuse for James' absence, she always did. No one needed to know the truth, that her husband didn't really love her. As Greg liked to say Everybody lies. She could too.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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