New Fic: Blythe's Story, Chapter Three
Nov. 16th, 2008 04:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
namasteTitle: Blythe's Story, Chapter Three
Author: Namaste
Summary: "As Greg grew, Blythe kept looking for signs that would betray her, that he'd take on the features of the man they'd left behind, rather than the one who came home to them."
PG, about 1,000 words.
Author's Note: Part Two of a look at House's early life, based on the new background we received in the fifth season episode "Birthmarks." The 800 word limit I gave myself for chapters kind of isn't working, so I've revised that to 1,000 words. Hope no one cares about that. To start at the beginning: Chapter One, Chapter Two
Somehow, it worked.
Somehow, in those first days after John brought Blythe and Greg home, they became a family -- maybe not the one that Blythe had once dreamed of, but one she loved and wanted to protect.
Somehow, Blythe could almost forget everything that had gone so wrong when she saw John pick up the baby, dangle his keys in front of him, and laugh as Greg reached for them.
Somehow, her own secret made it easier to forgive John's complaints when Greg's cries woke him in the night before an important flight, because of the way that John would hold him the next night and walk the hall with him until he fell asleep.
Nothing was perfect, nothing was what she expected, but somehow, it was good enough.
But even then, the fear never quite left her that somehow, it wouldn't last. As Greg grew, Blythe kept looking for signs that would betray her, that he'd take on the features of the man they'd left behind, rather than the one who came home to them.
Greg's hair grew in, covering the birthmark, but then she saw something in his smile: the deep dimples in his cheeks that neither John nor she had. If John ever noticed, he didn't say anything.
Greg was nearly two by the time John's parents finally saw him -- a brief vacation on their way to John's new posting in North Carolina. Greg hid behind Blythe's skirt while John's mother held out a cookie.
When he finally stepped closer, John's mother held his face in her hand for a moment.
"He doesn't look very much like you, John," she said. "Are you sure he's yours?"
Blythe felt her stomach tighten, but then John chuckled, and his mother laughed, and ruffled Greg's hair. "At least he has my eyes."
She looked up at Blythe, and Blythe saw a familiar shade of blue. Her mother-in-law's eyes weren't quite as bright as Greg's, but they were close enough. Maybe she just wanted to believe that they resembled hers. Maybe it was all the evidence she needed, so Blythe nodded.
"I always thought he had John's nose," she added, and John's mother shrugged.
"Maybe," she said, then changed the subject to their holiday plans.
A few months later, Blythe had chicken on the stove when John walked in the door of their tiny base duplex. He held it open a moment longer.
"You remember Phil, right?" John asked. "We were stationed together in San Diego. I told him to come for supper."
Phil lingered for a moment at the doorway. "John insisted," he said.
Blythe froze, looking at him, looking at John. She thought she'd been ready for anything, but never expected this. She felt lightheaded, felt her skin go warm, but gripped the spatula in her hand, focused on what was important: Greg, John, their family.
"That's all right," she said, then nodded and turned away. "Please, come in."
She heard the door close, but when she glanced back, she saw Phil leaning against the far wall, as if he was anxious to keep his distance. She could see differences between him and John now, the past few years telling on their bodies in different ways. John had lost the lean body of his youth and filled in with muscle. Phil still had the tall, rangy body he'd had the last time she saw him.
"Phil's going to be leading another squadron here," John said. He stepped up to Blythe, leaned around to kiss her cheek. "He just got his assignment last week."
Blythe took the last pieces of fried chicken out of the pan, put them on the plate and turned off the heat. The cornbread she'd made earlier was on the countertop, fresh beans were simmering on the stove.
"You're here all alone?" Blythe kept her back to Phil. It was easier just to think about what was in front of her -- the hot oil, the chicken, the beans. She knew what to do with those.
"For now," he said.
"Phil's getting married in a few months," John said. He leaned against the counter, filling the space between Blythe and Phil.
"In June," Phil added.
"I told him that you'd show his wife around once she gets here," John said, "show her the ropes."
"Sure. I'd love to." A wife would be good. He'd have his own reasons to keep their secret. Blythe finally turned around and gave them both a smile. She almost said something about knowing how hard it was to be new and alone in a strange place, but held back.
She saw Greg out of the corner of her eye, standing at the doorway, staring at the stranger in his kitchen. "It's OK," she said to him, then turned to Phil. "He doesn't like meeting new people."
Phil nodded, but John stepped across the kitchen, lifted Greg into his arms. "This is Greg," he said, and carried him across the room. "Greg, this is Captain Phillips."
"You can call me Phil."
Greg stared at him.
"Too bad you're not getting married here," John said. "Greg will be three years old in June. That should be just the right age for a ring bearer, don't you think?"
Phil turned his head slightly to the side. "Three?" he asked.
"He's a little small for his age," John said.
"He's the perfect size for his age," Blythe said. She could almost see Phil running numbers in his head, adding and subtracting. Maybe he would figure it out, but as she looked at John, at the way Greg leaned his head against John's shoulder, Blythe knew that she couldn't take that risk, wouldn't give him a reason to finish counting, would find a way to make him believe that Greg belonged to John.
She stepped away from the stove, put her arm around John's waist and kissed his cheek. "He has John's nose, don't you think?"
Phil glanced at her, then at John, and finally at Greg. He smiled again, and his posture eased slightly. "Yeah," he said. "I guess he does."
Chapter Four
Author: Namaste
Summary: "As Greg grew, Blythe kept looking for signs that would betray her, that he'd take on the features of the man they'd left behind, rather than the one who came home to them."
PG, about 1,000 words.
Author's Note: Part Two of a look at House's early life, based on the new background we received in the fifth season episode "Birthmarks." The 800 word limit I gave myself for chapters kind of isn't working, so I've revised that to 1,000 words. Hope no one cares about that. To start at the beginning: Chapter One, Chapter Two
Somehow, it worked.
Somehow, in those first days after John brought Blythe and Greg home, they became a family -- maybe not the one that Blythe had once dreamed of, but one she loved and wanted to protect.
Somehow, Blythe could almost forget everything that had gone so wrong when she saw John pick up the baby, dangle his keys in front of him, and laugh as Greg reached for them.
Somehow, her own secret made it easier to forgive John's complaints when Greg's cries woke him in the night before an important flight, because of the way that John would hold him the next night and walk the hall with him until he fell asleep.
Nothing was perfect, nothing was what she expected, but somehow, it was good enough.
But even then, the fear never quite left her that somehow, it wouldn't last. As Greg grew, Blythe kept looking for signs that would betray her, that he'd take on the features of the man they'd left behind, rather than the one who came home to them.
Greg's hair grew in, covering the birthmark, but then she saw something in his smile: the deep dimples in his cheeks that neither John nor she had. If John ever noticed, he didn't say anything.
Greg was nearly two by the time John's parents finally saw him -- a brief vacation on their way to John's new posting in North Carolina. Greg hid behind Blythe's skirt while John's mother held out a cookie.
When he finally stepped closer, John's mother held his face in her hand for a moment.
"He doesn't look very much like you, John," she said. "Are you sure he's yours?"
Blythe felt her stomach tighten, but then John chuckled, and his mother laughed, and ruffled Greg's hair. "At least he has my eyes."
She looked up at Blythe, and Blythe saw a familiar shade of blue. Her mother-in-law's eyes weren't quite as bright as Greg's, but they were close enough. Maybe she just wanted to believe that they resembled hers. Maybe it was all the evidence she needed, so Blythe nodded.
"I always thought he had John's nose," she added, and John's mother shrugged.
"Maybe," she said, then changed the subject to their holiday plans.
A few months later, Blythe had chicken on the stove when John walked in the door of their tiny base duplex. He held it open a moment longer.
"You remember Phil, right?" John asked. "We were stationed together in San Diego. I told him to come for supper."
Phil lingered for a moment at the doorway. "John insisted," he said.
Blythe froze, looking at him, looking at John. She thought she'd been ready for anything, but never expected this. She felt lightheaded, felt her skin go warm, but gripped the spatula in her hand, focused on what was important: Greg, John, their family.
"That's all right," she said, then nodded and turned away. "Please, come in."
She heard the door close, but when she glanced back, she saw Phil leaning against the far wall, as if he was anxious to keep his distance. She could see differences between him and John now, the past few years telling on their bodies in different ways. John had lost the lean body of his youth and filled in with muscle. Phil still had the tall, rangy body he'd had the last time she saw him.
"Phil's going to be leading another squadron here," John said. He stepped up to Blythe, leaned around to kiss her cheek. "He just got his assignment last week."
Blythe took the last pieces of fried chicken out of the pan, put them on the plate and turned off the heat. The cornbread she'd made earlier was on the countertop, fresh beans were simmering on the stove.
"You're here all alone?" Blythe kept her back to Phil. It was easier just to think about what was in front of her -- the hot oil, the chicken, the beans. She knew what to do with those.
"For now," he said.
"Phil's getting married in a few months," John said. He leaned against the counter, filling the space between Blythe and Phil.
"In June," Phil added.
"I told him that you'd show his wife around once she gets here," John said, "show her the ropes."
"Sure. I'd love to." A wife would be good. He'd have his own reasons to keep their secret. Blythe finally turned around and gave them both a smile. She almost said something about knowing how hard it was to be new and alone in a strange place, but held back.
She saw Greg out of the corner of her eye, standing at the doorway, staring at the stranger in his kitchen. "It's OK," she said to him, then turned to Phil. "He doesn't like meeting new people."
Phil nodded, but John stepped across the kitchen, lifted Greg into his arms. "This is Greg," he said, and carried him across the room. "Greg, this is Captain Phillips."
"You can call me Phil."
Greg stared at him.
"Too bad you're not getting married here," John said. "Greg will be three years old in June. That should be just the right age for a ring bearer, don't you think?"
Phil turned his head slightly to the side. "Three?" he asked.
"He's a little small for his age," John said.
"He's the perfect size for his age," Blythe said. She could almost see Phil running numbers in his head, adding and subtracting. Maybe he would figure it out, but as she looked at John, at the way Greg leaned his head against John's shoulder, Blythe knew that she couldn't take that risk, wouldn't give him a reason to finish counting, would find a way to make him believe that Greg belonged to John.
She stepped away from the stove, put her arm around John's waist and kissed his cheek. "He has John's nose, don't you think?"
Phil glanced at her, then at John, and finally at Greg. He smiled again, and his posture eased slightly. "Yeah," he said. "I guess he does."
Chapter Four
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Date: 2008-11-17 12:32 am (UTC)