Title: You Can't Help
Author: JnnLuvsU
Summary: Julie has some questions.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Simple as that.
Author's Notes:
Okay, for the ten people who actually read this, let me explain. I always wondered what turned the tables for Wilson's third marriage. Why he didn't cheat and why she did? Also, who marries a man who's been married twice before and who's best friend is a complete and utter asshole. So I put myself in Julie's shoes, and this is what came from it.
You Can't Help...
You know that old saying. The one that goes, "You can't help who you fall in love with."? Well, I used to say that was bullshit. Who would fall for someone who didn't love them back? Being loved back is one of the staples to being in love, isn't it?
Not at all, it seems, actually. Because I did it. I had to go and prove that damn fucking saying true. And I tried so hard to prove it false. And it took me a year to realize that I was losing. Or actually, it took me six months to make me think I was losing. It just took the year to figure out I'd never even been in the running.
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"You're not even angry." I stated, too tired to even attempt to act insulted.
He looked at me, and silently shook his head, "No, not really."
I nodded, "I'm moving." I didn't try to touch him. Didn't try to make him love me. A year was enough. Even trying to make him jealous didn't work. I'd beaten myself up enough. I'd allowed him to break my heart one too many times. No more.
He nodded, "I'll have the papers drawn up tomorrow."
I nodded again, "Send them here." I held out my hand, giving him the address.
He took it, attempted to look sad for a moment and then disappeared down the stairs.
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And just like that, my marriage was over. I knew it was partly my fault, but I wasn't dumb. I also knew that I wasn't the one to blame for this, not really. I was just the one to blame for getting myself into this mess. That was my fault. Because I made the mistake. I couldn't help who I fell in love with.
And I did love him. Right from the start. And, as strange as this seems now, one of the first things that drew me to him was Greg House. He was so caring, so compassionate. And Greg was, well, for lack of a better word, an asshole. But he stuck by his friend, and took care of him. I admired him for that. I still do.
I knew that I was never first. Greg was first, that was obvious from the day we met. And I dealt with that. I thought that he would grow to see me as at least as important as Greg. It never happened. And that hurt. That was the first hurt. But not the last.
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"Where were you last night?" I asked quietly, not looking at him.
He sighed, "We were watching some movie. I had too much to drink. Fell asleep." He at least had the decency to look apologetic. He kissed me softly, "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
I nodded, smiling softly at him, "Just...call next time, okay?"
He smiled, "I will." He took me in his arms, "I love you, you know."
I smiled back, "I love you, too."
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I never bothered to take his promises seriously. I learned that quickly. He did get better at calling, but it did happen again. Many times. And I took it. Because I loved him.
Besides, how can you tell him he can't hang out with his friends? It was better than the alternative. I knew all about his past. He'd never been faithful to a wife. I thought, well, at least if he's hanging out with Greg, he's not out sleeping with another woman.
I briefly thought he was using Greg as his excuse, but I knew that wasn't true. That's when you know your marriage is going down hill. When you start to hope that your husband is cheating on you. Because it's better than facing the alternative. That he's not. He just doesn't care enough about you to come home to you at night.
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"Julie," he leaned down to my ear. "I've got to go."
I looked at him, "My parents are here," I reminded him. I really wanted my parents to at least think that my marriage was working.
He didn't even look guilty, "I know. I'm sorry. Emergency at the hospital."
I rolled my eyes, anger taking hold, "Sure," I said, scathingly. "He's about 6'2" and uses a cane."
His eyes narrowed, but I could tell he knew he'd been defeated. "Julie..."
I turned my back on him, "Just go. I'll make excuses."
He briefly reached out to touch my back before leaving, saying nothing more. And I allowed the tears to fall before turning to face my parents.
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That was one of the only times I truly got angry. Maybe if I'd gotten angry more often, things would have been different. Maybe I wasn't aggressive enough. Maybe... No. Enough maybes.
I blamed myself for months. I tried being supportive. I kept thinking that something I was doing was wrong. So, I tried harder. Harder to be there for him. To make him realize that I was what he needed and that I could be what he wanted. And then I realized. It wasn't me. And that helped a lot. It wasn't my fault my marriage was slipping away.
So, I turned blame to where I knew it could fall. And to where I knew it would piss him off. I shifted my blame to Greg. Which wasn't exactly fair. But I loved my husband. I couldn't blame him, could I?
And the more I blamed Greg, the easier it became to hate Greg. For what he was doing to my marriage.
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"What time is it?" I asked, groggily looking at the clock.
He placed a kiss on my cheek, "Late. Sorry. Emergency..."
"At the hospital." I finished for him. I knew something must have happened, though. "Is Greg okay?" I asked.
He stiffened, and I knew I'd hit a nerve. "House is fine," he answered slowly. "He went home hours ago."
I nodded, pretended to believe him. "Okay. I just thought..."
He cut me off, "Julie, one of my patients coded just as I was leaving."
I nodded again, "Okay." I knew what time it was. And I also knew that he hadn't been at the hospital. Because I'd called. Twice. Talked to a nice woman who said he and Greg had left around six.
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But I pretended to believe him. Because pretending was far better than facing the truth. I'd begun to realize that my husband was cheating on me. Not in the traditional sense. And not with another woman.
So, I started to seek comfort elsewhere. Deep down, I wanted to get caught. I wanted to make him jealous. Because even jealously is an emotion. More emotion than I'd seen out of him in months.
I just wanted him to react. I just wanted him to get angry. Anger and jealously would prove he cared. At least a little bit. But I got sucker punched. Because he didn't care. He didn't even react.
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He was leaving the house, not saying a word.
"You're going to him, aren't you?" I asked, quietly. It wasn't an accusation. It wasn't anger. I stood halfway up the stairs in our grand house and stared at my husband's back, knowing I'd never see it again.
He didn't turn around. He didn't answer my question. He didn't have to. He put his hand on the door knob, but didn't say a word.
"James," I said as he opened the door. He paused. I took a deep breath, "I hope he makes you as happy as you want him to," I whispered and turned around to walk back up the stairs. I didn't wait to see his reaction. I didn't need to anymore. I already had my answers.
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I've been sitting in my car for hours. Staring at the house in front of me. I can't bring myself to get out of the car. But there are things that need to be said. Things I need to say. After a year of marriage, I feel I deserve to know what went wrong.
Before I know it, I'm standing in front of the apartment, knocking at the door. It's opened from the inside and I know I've surprised him. Personally, I consider this a small victory and inwardly grin. "Hello, Greg."
His eyes narrow, "He's not here." He starts to close the door.
I put my hand up to the door, stopping it's movement. "I know." I state firmly. "I need to talk to you." I push past him and walk uninvited into his apartment.
He stands at the door for a few minutes and I almost laugh. I don't think anyone has ever dared to just walk into Greg's apartment before. I doubt James even tries that. But, I really don't care. Finally, he turns to find me standing in the middle of his living room eyeing the piano in the corner. I raise my eyebrows at him, "You play?"
He looks me up and down as if I'm some sort of creature he needs to get rid of. He limps over to a chair and sinks into it. "No, it's decoration," he says sarcastically, "I regularly buy super expensive toys that I don't use."
I shrug, "You just don't seem the type. James never mentioned it." Which is weird. Especially considering I've played since I was twelve years old. You think that would be something he'd tell me about. Tears sting my eyes. Why would he hide the one thing that could possibly connect Greg and I?
He doesn't answer. Instead, he starts to twirl his cane, "So, Julie," he says with a tone just this side of insulting, "What do you want to talk about? How you broke Wilson's heart?"
There's anger in his tone, I notice. I think this is the only reason I don't laugh. I smile, though, fighting the sudden urge to fully grin at him, "You flatter me, Greg," I say offhandedly, still admiring his piano. It's much nicer than my own. I turn to look him square in the eye. I want him to know how serious my next statement is. "You and I both know that you are the only one who holds that power."
He tries to hold my gaze and ultimately fails. He looks away. I don't know if this is because he's just realized the truth in my statement or because he already knew it. I'd bet money that he already knew.
"Julie," he sighs, all sarcasm and anger gone from his tone. "If it makes you feel any better, I wanted your marriage to work."
I stare at him curiously, "Why?" I ask. "What do you care?"
His eyes flash and I'm at a loss as to why. I just know I've somehow managed to royally piss him off. He starts speaking softly, "What? You think I enjoy watching him waste his time on me? I've tried to push him away. He won't budge. He seemed happy with you." He stares at me with anger in his eyes, "If you hadn't gone and cheated on him, he would have stayed with you."
I shake my head, "This is not my fault." I say it with conviction. It's taken me a year to realize that this is not my fault and I'll be damned if I'm going to let Greg tell me otherwise.
He narrows his eyes, "No, I suppose it's mine."
I look at him and have a sudden revelation, "My god," I whisper, "that's it." I stand and start pacing. "That's why this was different." I look at him. He's following me with his eyes. He looks nervous, as if I'm a snake that will suddenly strike. "That's why he cheated on Sarah and whatever his other wife's name was. Because of you. They fought over you. They blamed you." I sit back down, everything made more sense now.
He's still looking at me nervously, "I'm sure no more than you and Jimmy have fought over me."
I shake my head, "That's just it, Greg. We've never fought over you, not really. I kept my opinions of you to myself. I'm not dumb. I knew how stupid it was to insult you in front of James." I look at him, "But you're right, I did blame you." I sigh, "I blamed you for a long time. Then, I realized, it wasn't your fault."
"So, who's fault is it then?" he asks in a strange tone. He actually seems relieved that I don't blame him.
"James'," I reply promptly. Because that's the truth. I know that now.
He gets that angry look in his eye again, "Jimmy didn't do anything to you. Or did you forget, you cheated on him."
"Don't kid yourself, Greg," I mutter, "James was looking for an excuse." I sigh, "And I wasn't giving him his regular one. It was only a matter of time before he found another one." I shrug, "I just gave him what he wanted."
He furrows his eyebrows, "Regular one?" he asked, digging in his pocket for something. He pulls out a pill bottle and takes two of whatever's inside.
I stare at him like he's stupid. He really can't be that dense. "You," I state plainly. "I wasn't trying to compete with you." I take a deep breath and lean back to stare at the ceiling, "And when I didn't compete, he didn't feel forced to choose." I sigh, "And there's no way I could ever have won," I admit this to both him and myself.
He nods sadly and looks at me, "I don't say this very often, Julie, but I am sorry. I never wanted to compete with any of you."
I smile at how he clumps all of us together. The stupid women dumb enough to marry James Wilson. "Which is why I don't blame you."
He nods again, "So, if you aren't here to yell and bitch that I broke up your marriage, why are you here?" His voice is curious.
I sigh, "Because, I love him." I state simply. "I want him to be happy." I look him in the eye, "You're the only one who's capable of that."
He looks at his hands, "I doubt that."
"I don't. He's in love with you Greg," I say this softly, not knowing how he'll react.
Even not knowing how he'll react doesn't prepare me for how he does. He doesn't react. Just avoids my eyes. Which leads me to another revelation, "You know?!" I exclaim.
He doesn't answer me. "When you and Jimmy got married, I thought you were going to be different. You accepted me. Far more than Sarah or Elizabeth had, even from the beginning. I really think that Jimmy loved you. I never wanted to ruin that for you."
I nod, "You love him." I state. It's not even a question anymore. I finally have my answers.
He keeps looking at his hands, "It's complicated. I...I love him." He stammers and I think this is the first time he's admitted this. There's more, though, I can tell.
"But?" I prompt.
He looks me in the eye, his own full of sadness, "I'm no good for him. Even I know that. I so hoped he'd get over whatever crush he had on me and be happy with you."
"He didn't, Greg." I stand. It's time for me to go. "And he won't. He'll just keep hurting everyone he gets to replace you. That's not fair, Greg. Especially since it also hurts you. Why not give yourself a chance to be happy?"
He doesn't answer. I don't expect him to. I can see myself out. I pause at the door. "I was wrong, Greg."
He looks up at me then, "About what?" he asks, rubbing his eyes.
I smile at him, a genuine smile, "It's not James' fault. He couldn't help who he fell in love with." I open the door. "And neither could you." I walk out of his apartment. Free. Finally free.
The End.
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So, did you like it? Hate it? Think I'm completely insane?