What Love Has Made of Me

Disclaimer: I own nothing relating to House. All characters remain property of David Shore and associated parties, and are used here without permission.

A/N: If you think you've seen this fic before, you probably have, as it was originally posted elsewhere. I'm putting it on ffnet so that I can have all my stories in one place. This fic was written in early February 2006, but due to events that transpired later in S2, it is now obsolete, or AU. Inspiration for this fic came from the book "Wicked," which tells the story of "The Wizard of Oz" from that of a minor character, as well as my own desire to let Julie (who I guess we'll never see now) speak for herself. Lest I face accusations of inserting myself into the storyline, let me say now that Julie and I share nothing in common other than the same profession and a love of pearls.

Summary: Julie may be used to being alone, but that doesn't mean she likes it. Julie-Wilson angst/romance. May contain spoilers through season 2.

House: Your wife doesn't mind being alone at Christmas?
Wilson: I'm a doctor. She's used to being alone.
- Damned if You Do

The morning sunlight slowly trickled into the bedroom, diffusing through the sheer white curtains before falling at my feet. I always love this time of day, watching the sun creep its way up the comforter until the window's edge blocks it just as it reaches my chin. I've always been an early riser, and so I manage to see the sunrise every morning. Its beauty never fades, and somehow it manages to restore my faith in the world. But today even the sunrise couldn't lift my spirits.

I rolled my head over to the right, staring at the empty pillow, chewing on my lower lip with concern. Even when he isn't here, I still know where he is, if given three guesses. He doesn't have the heart to leave, even when he does. But I was beginning to think that today would be different. Today he might really be gone, and it was all my fault.

"James," I whispered to the empty room. "Please come home."

One year earlier...

"Julie, we've been over this before. I don't have any control over when my patients develop a neutropenic fever. You know that."

I sighed into the phone and said nothing.

"What do you want me to say, Julie?" Whenever James said those words, I knew the conversation was as good as over.

"I just don't know what to do, James. You tell me you need notice when I make plans, so I give you notice. And then you cancel on me anyways. You're completely undependable," I was close to tears again.

"Jules, my patient needs me here right now," I could just imagine James on the other end, clutching the phone between his chin and shoulder, glancing anxiously over his shoulder towards his patient's room. He was barely listening to me now.

"James, I need you too," God, I hated stooping to this level.

"Can we talk about this later?" James asked, ignoring my last statement.

"Yeah," I sighed, unclasping my earring from the ear that wasn't pressed into the phone.

"You know I love you," he said.

"I know," I replied. And it's true. I know he loves me. But what I really wanted was for him to tell me that he loves me, not that I know he loves me. Perhaps it's really just a matter of semantics, but to me it means a great deal.

I hung up the phone then, and unclasped my other earring. The two pearls rolled into the palm of my hand. I stared at them, blinking back tears as I thought about the night that James had given them to me.

James knew how much I loved pearls. It was hard not to. I made it no secret that diamonds were nice, but pearls were really my best friend. And so when James proposed to me, he did it not with a diamond solitaire, but with these pearl earrings.

"Oh James," I exclaimed. "You remembered!" I wrapped my arms around his neck and fell into his embrace.

"So, that's a yes?" he asked, in that charming and bashful little boy way of his.

"Yes, James, yes!" I exclaimed, pulling back to examine my pearls one last time before placing them in my ears. "How do I look?" I asked him, twirling around in a tight circle for dramatic effect.

"Like my fiancée," he whispered.

That was three years ago. I'd been thirty at the time of our engagement, never married, and chomping at the bit to be so. So I passed on the big wedding that would have taken months to plan in favor of a small, intimate ceremony that took place a month after our engagement.

I got my diamond solitaire too, of course. James had it in his jacket pocket, and slipped it on my finger once I'd put on the earrings. But it was those pearls that had truly endeared him to me.

And so, three years later, here we were. I slipped out of my high heels and shuffled to the phone in my stockinged feet. "Hi," I said to the person on the other end. "I need to cancel a reservation..."

After I hung up the phone, I headed back to our bedroom to change. It looked like I was going to be spending our third wedding anniversary with my sweats, a pint of ice cream, and my well-worn DVD collection.

Present...

I won't bore you with the details on how we met. After all, how many times do you have to hear the proverbial blushing nurse meets handsome doctor story before you barf? The only twist on our story is that I'm a pharmacist, not a nurse, and the handsome doctor has been twice married – and divorced. And if you know James' friend House, you can connect the dots. House got his pills; James got me.

I threw the bed covers back and pushed myself out of the bed. I hate Monday mornings. Who doesn't? Oh yeah, those people who don't work. I know everyone expects me to not work; after all, I am the wife of the Chief of Oncology at PPTH. We're certainly not poor by any standard, but two ex-wives and five years of alimony a piece have taken their toll on James' bank account. Still, I could stay home, if I wanted. James certainly doesn't care one way or another. But I have no reason to stay home, so I'm still working for now. But not at PPTH.

Once James and I got married and benefits and salary were no longer my primary concern, I put in my notice at PPTH. It wasn't a bad job, but it wasn't what I really wanted to be doing. Besides, House thought I should give him a carte blanche on his Vicodin refills, and that was creating not a small bit of tension between me and James. At that time James was still making the effort to come home at a reasonable hour, so I didn't mind not getting to see him at work any longer. Now I had my dream job – working at an independently-owned pharmacy. I didn't get benefits, and I took a thirty percent cut in salary, but I was happy. And that's when all the trouble started...

It's ironic really, because another one of my reasons for originally taking a job at PPTH was because I wanted to meet new people. I'd just moved to Plainsboro from New Brunswick, after receiving my pharmacy degree at Rutgers. I knew that working in a large hospital such as PPTH would give me the opportunity to make many new friends, whereas a small independent, such as the one I currently work in, might have only a few employees. But it turns out you really need only one friend to get into a whole lot of trouble...

TBC...