A/N:

Ok, I think I got the time difference/flight time, and so forth sorted out correctly ;-)


Chapter Three

"Life is partly what we make it, and partly what it is made by the friends we choose."

Tennessee Williams


After the Daleks had lain siege to most of the populated areas of the planet, James Wilson had done what so many others had. He'd moved out of the city, although in his case, he hadn't moved so far that the commute to his job was unbearable. He'd also asked the woman he loved to marry him. It was a good move. A good year. A good change. At the moment, he wasn't sure the same could be said for the man standing on the other side of his threshold.

"You look like shit," he couldn't help but blurt out when he greeted his wife and guests at the door. The statement was aimed at Robert, 'Bobby', Chase. It didn't look like Chase had slept in days, shaved in the last week or cut his hair in a year.

The Australian merely smiled, "Nice to see you too. James." He used the other man's first name for possibly the first time ever. All things considered, it seemed appropriate. Wilson's shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tie had probably abandoned hours ago. He had a towel slung over one shoulder and the smell of lasagne and garlic bread wafted out from the kitchen. Despite the fact that it was nearly midnight in New Jersey, he was the perfect picture of casual domesticity.

"Sorry," he apologized for his outburst, although he felt compelled to do so as much by Bobby's response as by Amber's glower. "It's been a long day," he said needlessly, moving aside to let them further into the lounge.

"Tell me about it," the Australian agreed, seemingly unfazed by his assessment. "I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Wendy Shutten. Wendy this is James Wilson."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he extended his hand to the exotic beauty standing next to Chase; she looked like she did most of her shopping in Stevie Nicks' old hippie wardrobe, but the combination of leather, lace and patchouli oil worked for the tall dark skinned woman in a way that it wouldn't have worked for most people. "I wish the circumstances were better," he added with a tight, grim little smile. The first he'd heard of the other man having a girlfriend was when he suggested to Chase that he could stay with him and Amber and the Australian rather reluctantly said he wasn't making the trip alone.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your colleague, Dr Wilson," Wendy said by way of greeting. "It must have been a terrible blow for everyone who knew Dr Kutner," she turned so that her gaze included Amber as well. She was soft spoken, it seemed, but had a firm, warm grip when she shook his hand and a friendly smile.

"Thank you. But please, call me James."

"I'll show you guys up to the guest room," Amber suggested, "and then if you're hungry…" she shot her husband a glare that only he would realize wasn't half as harsh as it looked. She had told him not to cook, that Wendy and Bobby would probably just want to get some sleep, but she hadn't actually expected him to listen to her.

He offered up an apologetic shrug to her reproachful glare. He'd needed something to do with himself and he wasn't sure Chase and his girlfriend would have had time for dinner… breakfast… they must have gotten on the first plane heading out of the UK as soon as they got the news to have arrived when they did.

Upstairs, Amber pointed out the bathroom and linen closet, in case they needed an extra blanket. "There's extra towels under the sink in the bathroom," she added. "Help yourselves to whatever you need."

"Thanks, Amber," Bobby told her sincerely. This was a side of the ambitious young doctor he'd never seen before. He was finding it a bit unnerving.

She just smirked, almost as if she could figure out what he was thinking… but maybe it was obvious. "You're welcome." She left them to settle in.

Bobby waited until the door had clicked quietly shut behind her to encircle Wendy in his arms. "Are you all right?" he asked. He knew that she didn't cope will with sudden changes.

"I'm fine," she promised. "I can handle this."

"I know… you know… people. Strangers…" he hesitated. She had lived most of her life around humans, something most of her kind didn't do, but she still sometimes found it difficult. Even if they didn't know she wasn't anything more than she appeared to be, Wendy knew.

"I'm fine, honestly. They seem nice."

"Wilson is. Amber… Amber's hard to explain."

"Well I think she's nice."

He shook his head. "Don't let her fool you. House didn't start calling her Cutthroat Bitch for nothing."

"I think if it comes down to it, my teeth are sharper than hers," she teased.

He chuckled, "Well let's hope it doesn't come down to anything like that," he brushed his lips against hers. "Have I mentioned how beautiful you are?"

"Not in the last few hours, at least."

"You're beautiful. And I love you."

"I love you too."

"Thank you. For doing this with me. I really don't think… I don't think I could do this without you."

"Yes you could. But I wouldn't have let you come alone."

…………………………………………………………

Ten minutes later Bobby and James, each with a bottle of beer in hand, were settling in at the dining room table; Amber offered to get the lasagne, since James had done the cooking. Wendy offered to give her a hand, which seemed to please their hostess. Bobby suspected Amber was going to use the opportunity to pump Wendy for more information about them. About Torchwood.

"So I hear it's 'Bobby' these days?" James asked with a quizzical look as they sat down at the table.

The other shrugged. There had been a time he wouldn't have dreamed of letting anyone ever call him 'Bobby', but a battle with Jack over a name wasn't worth the bother. It was one he'd lose and he knew it, so why even engage in it? "My boss's idea," he stated simply, taking a swig off his beer. "After he started… it just kind of stuck. Trust me. It wasn't worth arguing over. When Jack sets his mind to something, there's no dissuading him," he rolled his eyes. He would have an easier time winning an argument with Janet than with Jack Harkness.

"He sounds like a real charmer."

He chuckled. "You have no idea."

"Oh?"

He just shook his head. Some things didn't bear getting into.

"So how've you been?" James asked him, taking a sip from his own bottle. "Other than all this," he added.

"Other than this, things have been really good," Bobby told him earnestly. "I love my job. I love my girlfriend—"

"Not in that order I hope."

The Australian chuckled, "Not if I like my body parts where God intended them."

"You do look like Hell," he pointed out, then. (Wilson's slight waver at the mention of God wasn't lost on the man sitting across from him, but neither addressed the issue. Everyone who knew Robert knew that at one point he had seriously considered going into the clergy. Everyone who watched the news knew that after the Dalek invasion, some people were flocking to churches, synagogues and mosques, while others were deserting them.)

So Bobby just smiled. He'd looked worse than this working for House and they both knew it. "It's been a rough couple of days at work is all. Wendy just wears it better than I do."

"You two work together?" he sounded surprised.

Bobby nodded and drank some more of his beer. As Abby would say, Torchwood did not have a Rule Number Twelve.

"Is she a doctor, too?" James wanted to know.

"I'm the only physician on staff." There hardly seemed any reason to lie about that.

"So… it's not a medical facility?"

The blond leant back in his chair considering his reply a moment before answering. "I handle autopsies mostly. Bandage up the occasional scraped knee. I think Jack only keeps a real doctor around to keep the rest of the team from moaning about his first aid skills. Which do leave a bit to be desired," he added with a wry grin, drinking some more of his beer. He'd been on the receiving end of Jack's ministrations a time or two. Battlefield triage was an understatement.

Before James could inquire further, however, Amber and Wendy returned from the kitchen with the lasagne, garlic bread, a bowl of salad and a bottle of wine. Food and wine were served up and the conversation drifted to small talk, the weather, how various members of the hospital were doing. It took little time to get to the subject of Foreman and Thirteen's relationship, a revelation that Bobby found incredible. Inconceivable, even. And not just from Foreman's end.

"What the Hell did she slip into his cool aid?" he wondered with a laugh. James chuckled, too.

"He pursued her," Amber told him. "I know, I wouldn't have pictured it either," she added. "Stick-up-his-butt Foreman and Thirteen… but it's been a few months now." She drained the last of the wine from her glass. "They seem… happy. I guess opposites attract," she gave James a sly little smile across the table.

"Why does everybody call her Thirteen?" queried Wendy.

"House assigned us all numbers when we were interviewing for the fellowship position," said Amber, before James could jump in and sugar coat it. "He couldn't be bothered to learn names," she explained. "Although it didn't take long for me to get nicknamed 'Cutthroat bitch,'" she sounded proud of her moniker. "I'm still not sure he knows my real name."

"He does too," James defended him. "And you can't say he wasn't perfectly… decent… at our wedding." Although 'decent' was the best word he could come up with. Still, it hadn't been a complete disaster…

"I thought the earth was going to open up and spit out the Four Horsemen," Amber intoned. "The day anyone saw Greg House acting like something that almost resembled a real human being had to be a sign of the Apocalypse."

Bobby laughed. He reckoned House was just afraid of what she would do to him if he screwed up her big day. Not that he was going to say as much out loud. He turned to Wendy, "I think Thirteen decided she could beat House at his own game if she went along with it."

"A couple of weeks in, she taped over her name on her nametag and wrote in 'Thirteen'," said Amber.

"It sounds… like an interesting place to work," the other woman replied.

Bobby nearly lost his composure. "As compared to what?" Weevils and pterodactyls? He didn't say it aloud, of course, but he knew she knew what he was thinking.

"Well at most of the jobs I've had people didn't go about calling each other by number or things like…" she hesitated, but no, clearly Amber was not offended by the 'nickname'. "Cutthroat Bitch."

"You haven't met House," was all Amber had to say on the subject. She refilled her glass and offered more to her guests as well.

"We should probably get some sleep," Bobby told her; he didn't want to discuss his former boss any more, or give James and Amber the chance to ask too many questions about where he and Wendy worked. He especially didn't want to get asked questions when he was over tired and starting to feel the alcohol. Besides, he was going to need all the sleep he could get if he was going to face House tomorrow…today. It was almost two o'clock in the morning. "Can I give you a hand with the clean up?" he asked of his hosts.

"We've got it," James told him. Bobby looked a little better for the meal, but he still looked as if he must be dead on his feet.

"Thanks again for putting us up," he said as he stood. Wendy took his hand and followed him up the stair, after bidding their hosts a quiet good night.

Amber followed James into the kitchen. "Well. She's an improvement on Cameron."

He gave her a look. She returned it.

"I thought you liked Cameron," he said at last, as he loaded the dishes she handed him into the dishwasher.

"She's too… weasely."

"Weasely?"

"Manipulative is too strong a word. House is manipulative. Cameron is just childish."

"Childish?"

"Childish," she affirmed.

He decided it was probably wiser to just drop it. "So did you and Wendy talk about anything interesting in here?" he asked instead.

"Not really. But I'm going to take her out tomorrow… the last thing she needs is walk into that hospital with Bobby," told said to the look he was giving her. "Besides, I like her."

James Wilson bit his tongue on the speculation that the day his wife liked someone she'd just met was the day those Four Horsemen decided to put in their appearance after all…


A/N:

Yes, after some internal debate, I think there will be aliens or alien tech somewhere… I just haven't decided what or where yet. ;-) Thank you as always for the lovely reviews! I so very much appreciate them and for those who are familiar with House, thank you for bearing with the last couple of chapters of backstory and explanations… it seemed less cumbersome than putting in extended author's notes.

Next up: House and Cameron…