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Taken In
by gena
Taken in.......
".....my house!" Julie's voice nearly knocks me down, I've never seen her this angry. "Now!"
"Honey, it's our....." I try to get a few words in to diffuse the situation but she won't let me.
"No! You aren't a part of this any more. I'm not sorry, Jim. You gave me nothing - nothing. But I plan on keeping this house so you can get out now!" I stare at her, not even recognizing the woman I'd married only three years ago. I loved her, maybe not in the way she thought I should, but I do love her. I turn and go upstairs to pack. This is a nightmare and I keep hoping I'll wake up pretty soon but it doesn't look like that's going to happen. I should have known things weren't going to work out, House is quick to point out fidelity isn't my long suit, funny thing is fidelity to him is. I spend all my time worrying about him, terrified by his self destructive ways, his reckless nature and I never put any thought into my own welfare. I've never understood how it happened, how House became the most important thing in my life but he is and it has cost my every shred of happiness I ever had. I look up and see Julie standing in the doorway watching me. I can see the pain in her green eyes, she never wanted to betray me. I know the feeling. I never meant to betray Sharon or Kim either, but I did. Julie got lonely. House got needy. And somewhere in all this I got lost.
"I'll - I'll get the rest of my stuff soon," I say and hear the crack in my voice. The room blurs but I see Julie look away. Her own eyes are glistening, her mascara smudged and she has both arms wrapped around her middle like she's going to be sick. She nods as I walk past her, not foolish enough to try and kiss me.
"It didn't mean anything," she said quietly when I reach the stairs. "He - he was just there." Ironic, I think. I've tried harder this time than any of the others and she cheats on me. I don't turn, I know if I do and see that look - that apology in her face, I'll die. So I walk away, down the stairs, passed the unopened box of chocolates and into the garage. I toss my bags into my car and drive into the night. I catch a last look at our - her house in the rearview mirror. A dream house, one we bought with high hopes; raising a family, living a good life, growing old together, but it's nothing more than brick and mortar. I turn the corner and the house vanishes. I'm use to that, too. I feel like a nomad, everything of any importance to me is stuffed into two suitcases and tossed in the back seat.
For a long time I just drive. I have the window down and the wind is cool on my face. I don't cry, I don't have tears left any more, not for this. I remember the last time I cried, I was sitting in my office in the dark and House had just admitted to being an addict. Oh, I cried then, I cried until I didn't think I had a tear left in my body, so many wasted tears that night. I didn't think life could get any worse, - but it has. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know what to do. I have no one to help me, no place to turn. I pass the park and see bums sleeping on benches and wonder if my brother is among them. I thought I could save him, I thought I could save House, I thought I could save my marriage, I can't even save myself. It would be so easy to keep driving. The river is only a few miles ahead, I could make it all go away.
I turn towards the river and stomp the accelerator down harder. It's the kind of night that makes me wish I had a car like House's 'vette instead of the Volvo. When I can see the water, I pull over, stopping at a little park and just sitting there. Time passes, cars drive by, light flicker on the far side of the water, lives go on. I have no place to be, no place to go. I could disappear and no one would notice. Not true, I chide myself, Sharon and Kim would notice when their alimony checks didn't arrive. Cuddy would notice, eventually. House - House would notice at lunch time. I get out of the car, my sneakers crunching on gravel, and walk closer to the river. The world doesn't care what I'm going through, it just keeps spinning, and I think about yelling, screaming that I can't do it anymore, but even as I think it I know I won't do it. Screaming isn't my style. Sometimes I feel like a prisoner, a tortured soul locked inside one of my nice suits. I'm there, saying the things I have to say, doing the things I have to do, passing for normal and all the time I'm signaling with my eyes that I need help. I need someone to really look at me, to see the terror inside.
But no one sees it. Not my wives, not my boss and not House. No, House see it, House sees everything but he won't help me. Not the way I need. I stand there with my hands in my pockets studying the water swirling passed me. They say you can't step into the same river twice. I keep trying. I think every time that my life is going to be perfect, it's going to be that age old picture; wife, 2.5 kids, a dog and a white picket fence. I step into a river and when I can't tread water any longer I shake it off my heels and plunge right back in. Maybe House has the right idea, maybe it's better not to love anyone, not to even try. Something stings my eye and I reach up, brushing away a tear. Great, now I cry. I don't let myself indulge, I dry my eyes and walk back to the car.
I roll the windows up this time and turn on the radio. Yes, I do try and bury my sorrow with the Temptations singing along until my headlight sweep over 221B. I park and sit there a minute. I wish House would just let me say the things I have to. If I could unburden myself in a flood of emotion, a wave of tears, a strong embrace, maybe I'd feel - something - alive, whole, vindicated, vilified, I don't know. He won't. He can't. I want all that but it's not what I need. I just need to know someone will be there after everything - that someone will take me in. I grab my bags and knock on his door. He calls me an idiot but when I tell him the truth I see something in his eyes. I see emotion, and tears, and an embrace. He takes me in like I knew he would. He steps aside, a sad expression fleeting on his long face and I walk inside. I thank whatever gods watch over people like me that I have my House. It's not what I want but this is what I need, it's home.
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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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