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Julie
by gena
White wine went with fish and red with beef. Which went with divorce? Julie Wilson pondered the question a moment. Maybe she'd just have brandy. What was that song? Brandy was a fine girl, a good wife she would be - but his life, his love and his lady was the sea........Okay, so James' life wasn't the sea, it wasn't even the hospital, she could have dealt with that, but for his life, love and - lady to be his best friend? Julie lifted the glass stopper and poured herself a healthy dose of brandy, acutely aware she didn't even have a braided chain made of the finest silver from the north of Spain in compensation. She'd have to arrange to keep the house. That made her giggle, they'd both have a house if she did.
Julie sipped her brandy, letting it warm her in a way James use to; from the inside out. She really didn't have anyone to blame but herself, she'd known almost from the beginning and still gone into a marriage containing three people instead of two. Fools rush in, but idiots walk about, settle on the couch and proceed to make small talk while the world crashes around them. Her first memory of James was tainted by House, that should have been a clue - when she couldn't think of her husband without thinking of his best friend. She'd bumped into James at the dry cleaners, she'd made him drop his bag and they'd laughed shyly together. He'd seemed so - perfect. James Wilson, Head of Oncology at Princeton-Plainsboro, divorced, lonely. She'd been Julie Deavers, recently dumped by her boyfriend of five years and also lonely.
Accidental meeting had turned into coffee which had segued effortlessly into lunch and that into dinner. It felt as if she had known him for ages instead of hours; he seemed to be going through the same things, having the same doubts, experiencing the same pain. And god, he was handsome - his deep brown eyes were soft and lent him a vulnerable air whenever she gazed into them. He had heavy brows that somehow balanced his high cheekbones, giving him a slightly androgynous appearance that his gentle manner reinforced but still conveyed a strength of character. He made her feel - safe. At the time she'd thought of herself as an independent, self-sufficient modern woman, able to cope with anything life tossed at her, but there was some part of her that just wanted to be taken care of, to hand over the burden to a nice, charming, capable man and be cherished and protected for once.
Looking back the signs had been there all along. After dinner they'd gone back to her place, their physical attraction to each other undeniable and instant. She'd never done anything like that before but that evening she'd been willing to do whatever he wanted. They made love in her bed, and he had been gentle and amazing and held her long after he could have gone home. Julie remembered cuddling against him, light kisses and tender caresses as she told him in a hushed whisper about her dreams, hopes and aspirations. The outside world had seemed to vanish, leaving them like two shipwrecked souls washed up on a moon drenched beach until the moment his phone had rung. At the time Julie had smiled, playfully nibbling on his throat as he talked on the phone, making him squirm under her lips as he split his attention between her and the unseen speaker. It had been "House", James had repeated the name numerous times with different inflections; exasperated, amused, annoyed, and intrigued. Julie had sensed something then but upon seeing them together for the first time she realized just how difficult keeping James' attention would be when he was dealing with his friend. His name was Gregory House but James never called him anything but House and there was an electrical charge that crackled between them no one could have ignored. He was older than James, attractive in a bad boy kind of way; tall, thin, sarcastic and witty. He had piercing blue eyes and graying brown hair that curled and spiked like a child's just woken from a nap. He could be playful and amusing or sharp and condescending but always charismatic.
Their first meeting had been shortly after she and James began dating, James had seemed eager for his friend's approval. The three of them had gone to dinner, which had been intimate and fun, laughter spilling over from appetizer to entre and way past desert. She sat across from Greg, James' arm curled around her but the connection between the two men seemed to gather her in like an additional embrace so that when they took a taxi home, bookend by the two doctors, it felt familiar and comforting and not at all intimidating. Then later, on the couch, somehow it had been easy to let James coax her, teasing and light, into inviting Greg to their bed. It had been exciting; forbidden pleasures never sampled, things that had made her feel womanly and sexy and doubly desired. And if House seemed just a little bit more interested in James, she'd chosen to ignore it, drawing James' head down to her breast, breaking the intense look which locked the two men together. She'd seen something dark flicker in Greg's eyes at the gesture but it vanished almost immediately and he busied himself by caressing her flank and thighs and she forgot all about that momentary flash of emotion.
Until she saw it again - and again. She and James dated, moved in and wed all under the watchful eye of his best friend. There were good times, House could be so much fun. Even when practicing his cruelty it could seem like a joke, never mind that people got angry or hurt or humiliated, he kept it entertaining. For nearly a year she'd watched from inside that tight little circle knowing House might aim his barbs with deadly precision but he rarely struck too close to home. She'd seen him strike out at James on occasion, a little jab here or there though she never knew what it was about. Her husband would just get a sheepish look on his face and if he turned up later with roses or jewelry they would make love without talking about House at all. And then House got ill and all bets were off. She and James had hit a rough patch when House called and James was out of town visiting his brother. The phone rang and she could hear something in House's voice that almost sounded like panic but when asked what was wrong he just repeated a need for James. She'd tried to explain but House wouldn't listen, just kept demanding and something in his proprietary tone had caused her to balk. There'd been words, an unfair fight leaving her wounded and bleeding indignation, and when she'd hung up it had been with a sense of satisfaction that unplugging the phone only intensified. Only the next day, when House's girlfriend Stacy, called, her haughty voice hoarse and raw did Julie realize how real the urgency had been and by that time it was too late.
James cursed his timing, racing home to find his friend already crippled and bitter. He never realized her part and she never allowed herself to dwell on what had happened but House no longer granted her immunity. The delicate mantle of truce broken by House's pain and impatience, and her own sense of guilt, Julie bore the brunt of loathing in silence. She endured for years, holding out like a pioneer on the prairie too ill-equipped to handle the elements but too stubborn to move west. The look in House's eye became bolder, his hold on James stronger and his position in her husband's life more prominent. Left alone she did what she could to cope and when work wasn't enough she found something better.
God, the look on James' face when she told him. What a hypocrite. He'd just stared at her with those dark liquid eyes, stared like he'd never seen her before. And the funny thing - it had been ages since he really saw her, since he'd done more than just kiss her cheek on the way out the door. She was little more than a voice on the phone, softly cooing her understanding even when she knew he would spend his evening with House. So she found someone who saw her, who wanted her alone and she gave him what he wanted and what she needed. It hadn't made her feel any better, not about her and James, but it allowed her to go on, to let him leave every morning knowing chances were he wouldn't come home that night, and it let her be understanding and forgiving when she knew he was sharing the happiness they had once enjoyed with House.
So she sat and drank her brandy, smoothing a hand over the divorce papers in front of her. How fitting that a marriage license was ornate and beautiful, a promise for the future written in soaring calligraphy while the divorce decree was merely a business-like typed form dictating the severing of ties and the division of property as impersonal and sterile as a ruined life. A warm hand settled on her nape, a soft mouth nuzzled her ear and Julie Wilson breathed out a sigh. She gazed up at her lover, smiling and thankful she had something to cling to. She'd known all along that she was only fooling herself; James had never really been hers no matter the illusion they had built. Though she wasn't normally a vindictive woman, she harbored a secret hope that the changeable nature of her husband - ex-husband's - love would leave her rival as broken as she felt. But the memory of a flicker in House's eyes told her how foolish that hope was, whatever House received would satisfy him because he, unlike herself, could live with James' frailties.
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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 NBC/Universal, 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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