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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.