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Let No Man Put Asunder
by Jayne Leitch
Rating: G
Spoilers: 'Damned If You Do', 'Fidelity'. The whole Wilson thing. Consider this not-so-distant futurefic.
Disclaimer: not mine. At all. In more ways than the usual; somebody on TWoP mentioned this scenario, and I couldn't *not* give it a whirl. I humbly beg forgiveness of that person, whoever he/she is, and I hope he/she doesn't mind that I (mis)appropriated their idea.
LET NO MAN PUT ASUNDER by Jayne Leitch
The patient waiting in Exam Three was seated primly on the table, ankles crossed, fingers of her right hand worrying at the well-manicured nails of her left. She looked up when House entered, and he could see she had watery eyes, high colour in her cheeks, and what James had referred to as "a rabid pitbull of a divorce lawyer".
Suddenly, today's clinic duty was a little more interesting. "Hello, Julie."
Her hands flattened on her thighs, reflexively smoothing her tailored skirt. Blinking rapidly--he wondered at her nerves, that she seemed so close to actual tears--she gave him a self-deprecating half-smile and said, "Hi, Greg. I'm not really sick; I just needed to talk to you."
"I know." He nodded, and perched himself against the edge of the countertop, his hands folding together on his cane. When he was settled, he levelled her with his most stubbornly immovable stare. "I'm not telling you who she is."
"Who--" Julie blinked again, this time caught off-guard. "Why not?"
"Because your divorce was finalized a week ago, which officially makes her identity none of your business."
He knew Julie about as well as he'd known any of James' wives or girlfriends: just enough to know that she hadn't lasted long enough to have the opportunity to get used to his preferred style of conversation. She stared at him, knocked off-balance and grasping quite obviously for equilibrium. "So if I'd come to you at any point before the paperwork went through--"
"I wouldn't have had such a good excuse for not telling you." He shrugged. "Probably would've had to fall back on something petty, like personal hubris or loyalty to James."
Julie stiffened, her back straightening until she looked posed and uncomfortable. "I don't want to cause any trouble--"
"Are you *kidding* me?" At her sharp look, he continued, "A woman buys a suit like yours for one reason: she could be a boardroom barracuda or out for revenge, but either way she wants to intimidate men by turning them on. As for the shoes and earrings, they're for intimidating the women--or in your case, *woman*. First, they prove that you're confident enough to wear three-inch spikes and make them work with that skirt. Second, they prove that your divorce settlement was big enough that you can afford to encrust your ears with diamonds; this in turn suggests that you wiped James out and he has nothing, financially speaking, to offer the brazen hussy who stole him from you." Ignoring the colour rising in Julie's cheeks and the way her hands were balled into white-knuckled fists in her lap, he leaned forward and finished, "It's a very eloquent look you've put together. Doesn't quite suit you, but speaks *volumes*."
Julie's eyes narrowed, and her mouth pressed into a thin, lipsticked line. "I just want to know who she is," she said finally, her tone carefully measured and even. "I need to know, Greg. I need to know why--how he could--"
"How he could promise to love, honour and cherish you, then turn around and cheat on you, lie to you, and generally treat you like crap?" House shook his head. "You want to hurt James because he hurt you. I understand the impulse, but I'm not going to help you carry it out."
She frowned. "You sound like you don't even like him," she said, a faintly accusing note in her voice.
"I never sound like I like anybody." House rolled his eyes. When he'd first walked in, Julie's presence had seemed promising; now, he was getting impatient. "You know, I watch _Desperate Housewives_," he told her, "and the concept of 'hell hath no fury' isn't entirely out of my reach."
"That's not--" Julie looked away and huffed out an irritable breath. Then, abruptly and decisively, she slid off the table to her feet; her hands uncurled and began smoothing her jacket and skirt with quick, sharp strokes. "I can't believe I really thought you might help me. Stupid. You've been friends with him for years, you were his best man..."
"I was best man when he married Melanie, too, but that doesn't mean I told her about you." The look this observation merited made him cringe away in exaggerated fear. "Whoops. I thought that would make you happy."
Julie glared. "I'm sure you've heard this before," she said tightly, grabbing her purse from the table before taking an angry step towards him, "but you are a malicious, *miserable* person." She shook her head, her lips curling in distaste. "I will never understand why James likes you."
House let her brush past him, waited until her hand had closed around the doorknob before he spoke. "Julie." Turning his head, he saw her stop, stiffen, and wait. He sighed and sent a wry look to the back of her head. "That's just who he is. You knew that when you married him."
He thought her shoulders fell a little before she wrenched open the door and strode away.
"They all do," he said to the empty room.
End.
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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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