Remember WENN and it's characters are copyright Rupert Holmes, Howard Meltzer Productions and the other guys. This story is mine. I live in the city--my name is--(Oops sorry.. got carried away.. hehe)
Well, I wrote this story because I noticed something when I watched Emperor Smith Friday night. (Rupert's right something new happens with every viewing) Anyway--I noticed that Hilary seemed to have feelings for George. And I couldn't help but notice those feelings were mutual. (And Jeff hovering jealously in the background)
In the Othello scene--my GOD that was powerful! I noticed something. Hilary was crying. The only other man I'd ever seen her shed a tear over was Jeff. (I don't think it was just her getting carried away with the performance).
I also noticed that whatever happened between George and Hilary in this episode.. it seemed to have spawned the re-emergeance of Jeff and Hilary's relationship. Or at least eventually ending up with the "do you" dance around their true feelings.
I kinda wanted to explore that a little. Call this an in-betweenie. This would take place the night before George leaves. BTW--this story was written live and on the spot last night-- thanks Dani for being the ear. And as usual, the instigator.. hehehe Columbus should be afraid. Very afraid. ;)
Please as always... I love feedback.
Closer To Home
By Michele Savage
Hilary heard the knock at her back door and walked through the kitchen to investigate. It was late and she wondered who it could be. She brushed aside the window curtain and was surprised at who she saw. "George," she said as she opened the door. "Why didn't you come to the front door?"
"I didn't want to make trouble for you, Miss Booth," he answered a bit nervously. She gave him a chiding look and gestured for him to come in. He took off his hat and smiled, "I hope Mr. Singer doesn't mind my dropping by. I just wanted to tell you something."
"Jeffrey isn't home." She turned slightly and George caught the wistful look in her eyes. "I suspect he's out with his latest conquest of the week. I've heard she's a gym teacher." She slammed a kitchen chair angrily underneath the table, "Hope she isn't too 'athletic' for him."
George followed her through the dining room and watched as she sat on the couch in the living room. He sat across the room in the chair next to the telephone stand. He watched until she huffed out her anger, unsure how she'd take what he had to tell her. But he knew he had to leave. He was beginning to fall for Miss Booth and that wouldn't be right. Not for him, and especially not for her. Besides, she was a married woman. "Umm . . .Miss Booth--"
"George, I've told you before to call me Hilary. Why is it Miss Booth again suddenly?"
"I'm leaving," he blurted, unable to find a better way to put it.
Her eyes clouded for a moment, "Leaving," she asked in a hurt voice, "you're leaving?"
George stood and moved to the couch, taking her hand into his. He couldn't help but notice the difference in their skin. "Hilary-" She placed a finger on his lips to quiet him. Then replaced her finger with her own lips. George allowed the kiss momentarily, but pulled away. "No. This isn't right," he told her. "You're a married woman and I'm--"
"A man," she interrupted softly.
He stood wanting to put as much distance between them as possible. He'd been awake all the previous night thinking about her. He had to get away from her or they would both do something they'd regret. *Like fall in love*, his conscious added. He shook the thought away. "I've been signed by Warner Brothers," he said with false enthusiasm, "Someone heard me on the radio and they want me in the movies."
"That's wonderful." She said genuinely glad for him, but, also a bit sad. She knew he'd only end up in subservient roles. He was a much better actor than that. Jeffrey should be the butler. She added that thought with glee.
She stood. "When are you leaving?"
"Tomorrow," he backed slightly when she walked toward him, "my train leaves tomorrow." She reached for his shoulders and stepped into his arms. She leaned forward and kissed him urgently. When he tried to pull away, she tightened her embrace until he finally wrapped his arms around her and gave in.
When he felt her kiss grow more passionate, he forcibly pushed out of her arms. "No. Hilary is can't go any farther. I ...care about you too much to ruin your life. I'm not going to ruin your marriage either."
She wrapped her arms around herself and walked toward the dining room. "I'm not married."
She'd said it no louder than a whisper, and George wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. "What," he asked.
She faced him. "Jeff and I aren't married. You see, no matter what I do I'll raise a few eyebrows."
"Why--", he started to ask.
"Why what? Why am I not married to the man I am living with?" She turned to a picture of she and Jeff that hung on the wall.
George noted the almost sentimental way she looked at the photograph. He could tell she was in love with Mr. Singer, even though she apparently claimed to despise him.
"It's too long a story to get into. Needless to say, I can't seem to get rid of him."
"Do you want to?" George asked.
Hilary closed her eyes. She didn't want to admit to not having an answer to that question. Pushing it aside, she took a breath and said, "So will you be doing any shows tomorrow?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly.
She walked to him and placed her hand aside his face. "I really would love to do Othello with you. Hell, I'll be Othello!"
George laughed and replied in a poor imitation of a feminine voice, "I'm not sure I can get away with Desdemona."
Hilary giggled lightly then turned serious, "Please. If for no other reason than to perform Shakespeare with Hilary Booth. I'm sure it would be an honor."
"I'm sure." George smiled. "All right. Tomorrow, I will do Othello to your Desdemona. And it will be an honor."
"I should go, before your husb-- before Jeff gets home." He walked to the kitchen.
"George, use the front door."
"But Hilary--"
"I insist. This is my home and you will leave the way every other guest leaves." She pulled his arm and walked him to the door.
Before she opened the door, he stopped her and allowed himself one more kiss. "I'll go straight to the station, so I'll say goodbye to you now."
"George--" she whispered.
He wiped away a tear that had fallen down her cheek. "Look closer to home, Hilary. You'd be surprised at what you'll find." With that thought, he slipped through the door and left her alone.
She lay her forehead against the cool wood and freely wept.
Her tears spent, she went upstairs, put on her nightclothes and went to bed.
Alone.
Again.
She rolled to her back and looked toward the cold, empty half of the king-sized bed. When was the last time Jeff shared her bed? When was the last time any man shared her bed? She rolled to her side facing the wall and cried herself to sleep.
She was woken by a crash from downstairs and the sound of Jeff cursing. She sat and glanced at the clock. 1:30. She jumped when she heard the tentative knock on her closed bedroom door. "Class let out early?" she snapped.
From the other side of the door, she heard Jeff reply, "Can I talk to you, Hilary?"
"No, you may not," she said harshly and lay back down. For some reason George's last words suddenly sprang to mind. "Look closer to home."
"Hell," she sat and threw on her robe. She tied the belt and opened the door. He was no longer there and the guest bedroom door was closed.
Hilary stared at the closed door trying to talk herself into approaching. She tentatively walked down the hall and lifted a hand to knock. Something stopped her. Hilary let out a dejected breath, walked back to her room and silently closed the door. She was too tired to deal with it now. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe. She shuffled the robe off her shoulders and slid back into bed.
The next day, Hilary tried to hold a conversation with George, but, as she thought he would, the only times he spoke to her were during the shows. She wanted to talk to him; to tell him something that she'd realized after he left. She wanted to tell him that she loved him. Oh, she knew that the words were the only thing she could give him, but she wanted him to know how she felt.
When the time came for Othello, Hilary thought she was ready. By the end of the performance her emotions had become too real. She tried desperately to reign them in, but she couldn't. She only hoped that no one would notice.
Someone did.
Jeff watched from the control room, transfixed. He'd never seen her that get that emotional over Shakespeare. She was incredible. He knew that half her performance was George. He had seen the way she looked at him and knew she had feelings for the man. How that made him feel, Jeff was unsure. When he saw her tears begin, Jeff knew. Well, he thought he did. He shifted uncomfortably and hoped no one else in the control room noticed. He heard Mackie sniff from behind him and glanced around for the first time noticing there wasn't a dry eye in the room. Including his, though he was unsure as to why -he- had tears in his eye. It was just the broadcast. That's all it was.
When the reading was over, Hilary left the studio without looking back. She didn't want to see George leave. She'd written a note and snuck it into the pocket of his jacket earlier. It said everything she needed to say.
Epilogue
In the green room as Hilary was leaving for the night, she put on her cape and gloves. She felt something in the palm of one of the gloves. She pulled it out and saw that it was a note. She unfolded it and read:
"Whether you realize it or not, you love him. I could see it in your eyes last night when you looked at the picture. Stop denying your heart. I did, and look where I spent the last few days. Performing roles I never could have imagined. I care about you, Hilary and I want you to be happy. George."
She smiled slightly and slid the note back inside her glove. The door opened and she looked up to see that Jeff had entered. She hesitated, then asked "Would you like to go get some dinner with your wife?"
Jeff smiled, "I would. Yes."