New Fic: Blythe's Story Chapter Ten
Nov. 29th, 2008 08:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
namasteTitle: Blythe’s Story, Chapter Ten
Author: Namaste
Summary: "After San Diego and Greece and Hawaii, she'd forgotten how quickly things changed in the spring everywhere else, how the ground thawed and there were suddenly flowers where there had only been bare ground before. Everything was changing."
PG, 995 words.
Author’s Note: Part Ten of a look at House's early life, based on the new background we received in the fifth season episode "Birthmarks," using chapters of about 1,000 words.
To start at the beginning: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven (Letters 1965), Chapter Eight (Letters 1966), Chapter Nine
There was no card from Jenny at Christmas. No letter. No photos.
Blythe told herself that it didn't mean anything, tried to convince herself that Jenny was just busy -- with the girls, with her parents farm. Maybe Phil had come home safely before the holidays, and she was so caught up with having him home that cards just slipped her mind.
On New Year's Eve, Greg begged John and Blythe to let him stay up until midnight.
"You're too young," John said, but Blythe could hear a lighter tone in his voice that made her think he was open to changing his mind.
Greg must have picked up on the same tone. "I was up nearly that late when we flew here last month," he said.
It had been a long day for all of them -- with a snowstorm in Chicago that grounded their flight for four hours, and lost luggage that slowed them down for another two hours once they got to North Carolina. Greg had sagged against Blythe in the airport terminal, his head on her lap while they waited for John to track everything down.
John looked up at Blythe. "What do you think?" he asked.
Greg turned to her, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised. He clasped his hands together in an innocent pose that she didn't quite believe. "Please?"
Blythe promised to think about it. That day, Greg did every extra chore he could find. He took out the garbage. He dried the dishes. He cleaned his bedroom without Blythe asking him to.
"You weren't even this good for Santa," she said when she saw it.
"That's because there is no Santa," Greg said. It wasn't a guess, it was a statement. Blythe wondered if John had told him, or one of the older boys teased him during basketball practice at the gym.
"You thought there was a Santa last week," she pointed out.
"No I didn't," Greg said. "I figured out last year that Santa doesn't shop at the base NEX. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to miss out on any presents you'd put Santa's name on."
There was snow in January, the first snow that Blythe had seen in years, and the first snow that Greg could remember. He ran outside even before breakfast, and compressed the snow into tight snowballs that he threw at everything that caught his eye -- the fence, a telephone pole, a rustling bush, even birds flying high above the neighborhood. He was taking aim at a neighbor's dog when Blythe knocked on the window, shook her head and he turned and instead tossed it at a fire hydrant.
John was at the window when Greg's throw fell short of a colonel's passing sedan, and he rushed out, grabbed Greg by the shoulder, marched him back inside and grounded him on the spot for a week.
"No TV, no music, no playing outside," he said.
Blythe saw the panicked look on Greg's face, and he stared out the window at the light snowfall that was still falling.
"But --" Greg started to say.
John held up a hand. "I can make it two weeks. You have to learn respect for other people's property. You could scratched the car or broken a window."
Blythe knew it wouldn't do any good to argue with John when he was mad. She prayed the snow would stick around for a few days, at least until he'd calmed down and she could talk him into softening the punishment, but it was gone by the next afternoon.
When it snowed again three weeks later, she woke Greg early and led him to the back yard. "How about we make a snowman this time?"
The first crocuses bloomed in the base gardens in March and soon the trees were filled with fresh growth, the brown branches seeming to soften into green overnight.
After San Diego and Greece and Hawaii, she'd forgotten how quickly things changed in the spring everywhere else, how the ground thawed and there were suddenly flowers where there had only been bare ground before.
Everything was changing. Greg outgrew his jacket and his tennis shoes, her sister was having another baby, her father was getting ready to retire.
And in April, Phil showed up at their door.
John swung it open, held out his hand, led him inside and got him a drink.
"I heard you were getting transferred here," John said.
John hadn't mentioned it to Blythe before, and he apologized now and said it had slipped his mind. Blythe sighed, but took a seat across from Phil. "What about Jenny and the girls?" she asked. "When do they get here?"
She thought of the last picture she'd seen of them, the baby in Susie's arms, Susie's hair a light brown tied into pigtails. She wondered if the baby looked like Phil or like Jenny, or if she looked like her sister. Blythe forced down the thought that maybe she looked like Greg.
Phil looked down at the whiskey in his hand. "I don't know," he said, and took a drink. "She's still out at her folks' place. She says she doesn't want to come."
He let the ice tumble against the glass for a few seconds, then looked at Blythe. "I was hoping maybe you could talk to her, and get her to change her mind."
Blythe sagged back against the chair. "I can't --" she said, then shook her head and started over. "I don't know what I could say."
"Tell her that it's not as hard as she remembers," Phil said. "Tell her that the girls will adjust to moving just like Greg has." He sat forward on the couch, the glass gripped in his right hand. "Please?"
Blythe wasn't sure she could convince Jenny that was true when it was hard enough to convince herself. She already had enough lies to atone for, but she finally nodded. "OK," she said. "I'll try."
Chapter Eleven
Author: Namaste
Summary: "After San Diego and Greece and Hawaii, she'd forgotten how quickly things changed in the spring everywhere else, how the ground thawed and there were suddenly flowers where there had only been bare ground before. Everything was changing."
PG, 995 words.
Author’s Note: Part Ten of a look at House's early life, based on the new background we received in the fifth season episode "Birthmarks," using chapters of about 1,000 words.
To start at the beginning: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven (Letters 1965), Chapter Eight (Letters 1966), Chapter Nine
There was no card from Jenny at Christmas. No letter. No photos.
Blythe told herself that it didn't mean anything, tried to convince herself that Jenny was just busy -- with the girls, with her parents farm. Maybe Phil had come home safely before the holidays, and she was so caught up with having him home that cards just slipped her mind.
On New Year's Eve, Greg begged John and Blythe to let him stay up until midnight.
"You're too young," John said, but Blythe could hear a lighter tone in his voice that made her think he was open to changing his mind.
Greg must have picked up on the same tone. "I was up nearly that late when we flew here last month," he said.
It had been a long day for all of them -- with a snowstorm in Chicago that grounded their flight for four hours, and lost luggage that slowed them down for another two hours once they got to North Carolina. Greg had sagged against Blythe in the airport terminal, his head on her lap while they waited for John to track everything down.
John looked up at Blythe. "What do you think?" he asked.
Greg turned to her, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised. He clasped his hands together in an innocent pose that she didn't quite believe. "Please?"
Blythe promised to think about it. That day, Greg did every extra chore he could find. He took out the garbage. He dried the dishes. He cleaned his bedroom without Blythe asking him to.
"You weren't even this good for Santa," she said when she saw it.
"That's because there is no Santa," Greg said. It wasn't a guess, it was a statement. Blythe wondered if John had told him, or one of the older boys teased him during basketball practice at the gym.
"You thought there was a Santa last week," she pointed out.
"No I didn't," Greg said. "I figured out last year that Santa doesn't shop at the base NEX. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to miss out on any presents you'd put Santa's name on."
There was snow in January, the first snow that Blythe had seen in years, and the first snow that Greg could remember. He ran outside even before breakfast, and compressed the snow into tight snowballs that he threw at everything that caught his eye -- the fence, a telephone pole, a rustling bush, even birds flying high above the neighborhood. He was taking aim at a neighbor's dog when Blythe knocked on the window, shook her head and he turned and instead tossed it at a fire hydrant.
John was at the window when Greg's throw fell short of a colonel's passing sedan, and he rushed out, grabbed Greg by the shoulder, marched him back inside and grounded him on the spot for a week.
"No TV, no music, no playing outside," he said.
Blythe saw the panicked look on Greg's face, and he stared out the window at the light snowfall that was still falling.
"But --" Greg started to say.
John held up a hand. "I can make it two weeks. You have to learn respect for other people's property. You could scratched the car or broken a window."
Blythe knew it wouldn't do any good to argue with John when he was mad. She prayed the snow would stick around for a few days, at least until he'd calmed down and she could talk him into softening the punishment, but it was gone by the next afternoon.
When it snowed again three weeks later, she woke Greg early and led him to the back yard. "How about we make a snowman this time?"
The first crocuses bloomed in the base gardens in March and soon the trees were filled with fresh growth, the brown branches seeming to soften into green overnight.
After San Diego and Greece and Hawaii, she'd forgotten how quickly things changed in the spring everywhere else, how the ground thawed and there were suddenly flowers where there had only been bare ground before.
Everything was changing. Greg outgrew his jacket and his tennis shoes, her sister was having another baby, her father was getting ready to retire.
And in April, Phil showed up at their door.
John swung it open, held out his hand, led him inside and got him a drink.
"I heard you were getting transferred here," John said.
John hadn't mentioned it to Blythe before, and he apologized now and said it had slipped his mind. Blythe sighed, but took a seat across from Phil. "What about Jenny and the girls?" she asked. "When do they get here?"
She thought of the last picture she'd seen of them, the baby in Susie's arms, Susie's hair a light brown tied into pigtails. She wondered if the baby looked like Phil or like Jenny, or if she looked like her sister. Blythe forced down the thought that maybe she looked like Greg.
Phil looked down at the whiskey in his hand. "I don't know," he said, and took a drink. "She's still out at her folks' place. She says she doesn't want to come."
He let the ice tumble against the glass for a few seconds, then looked at Blythe. "I was hoping maybe you could talk to her, and get her to change her mind."
Blythe sagged back against the chair. "I can't --" she said, then shook her head and started over. "I don't know what I could say."
"Tell her that it's not as hard as she remembers," Phil said. "Tell her that the girls will adjust to moving just like Greg has." He sat forward on the couch, the glass gripped in his right hand. "Please?"
Blythe wasn't sure she could convince Jenny that was true when it was hard enough to convince herself. She already had enough lies to atone for, but she finally nodded. "OK," she said. "I'll try."
Chapter Eleven
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-11-30 11:48 am (UTC)Phil and Jenny really stand out as such well-defined characters here, with their own lives and story.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-11-30 02:14 pm (UTC)