namaste: (Default)
[personal profile] namaste
Title: Blythe’s Story, Chapter Fifteen
Author: Namaste
Summary: "The puzzle was supposed to be a chance for them to do something together on a cold and rainy late fall Sunday. No games, no homework, no housework – nothing to distract them. Greg and John needed to learn how to live together again before things got worse."

PG, 960 words.
Author’s Note: 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



This should be easy, Blythe thought. Everything here should fit together and snap into place, just as it always had before. But it didn't.

She put down one puzzle piece, and picked up another, turned it around and tried to make that one fit. Greg picked up the one she'd put down and tried to slip it into the same spot in the jigsaw puzzle she'd already given up on. It still didn't fit, even when he pounded it with his fist.

"Don't force it, honey," Blythe told him. "If it doesn't fit, then it's not the right piece."

"But it should fit," Greg said. "Look at it."

He held it out before her, and she saw the same thing that had drawn her to it: the right shape, the right shade of purple that matched the lilac bush in the puzzle's picture, even the right size.

"If it doesn't fit, then it's not the right piece, no matter how much you want it to be," she told him. "Try another one."

Greg ignored her and put the piece back down on the table, tried to force it into place again.

"Stop it," John barked from the other end of the table. He took the piece from Greg's hand and tossed it back into the jumble of other pieces.

Greg dropped his hands to his side, his head dropping down slightly.

"John," Blythe said softly, and reached over, touched his arm. She felt tight muscle beneath his skin, the skin itself still tanned from the tropical sun even two weeks after he'd returned home. She kept her hand there for a few moments, until she could feel some of the tension begin to ease.

John had been short tempered since he returned home, though he kept saying he was just trying to adjust. There had been too many strange noises over there, he'd said, and too many people he didn't trust. He kept promising that all he needed was time, but nothing had changed yet. He was trying, though.

"Sorry," John said. He picked up a puzzle piece and held it out to Greg. "Why don't you try this one?" he asked.

Greg just glanced at it, then shook his head. "It's not the right one," he said.

Blythe could see as well as Greg that the purple wasn't quite the right shade. She suspected that John knew that too, but he still held it out like it was a peace offering, but Greg wouldn't take it.

"Here," she said, and pushed some other pieces across the table in Greg's direction. "Why don't you work on the fence?"

Greg looked up at her. He shrugged and took the pieces she offered. John tossed his piece back down onto the table.

The puzzle was supposed to be a chance for them to do something together on a cold and rainy late fall Sunday. No games, no homework, no housework – nothing to distract them. Greg and John needed to learn how to live together again before things got worse.

Blythe was sure that they'd be moving again soon, though she wasn't certain where. After nearly eleven years with John, she'd begun to develop a sixth sense for the moment when the transfer would arrive. She'd find herself sorting through papers and tossing anything she didn't need, and saving boxes from the grocery store that could hold everything they needed to keep.

Moving would mean that their world would narrow down again to just the three of them, and a civil war between John and Greg would only make things harder.

It hadn't been this bad between the two of them before, -- or at least Blythe didn't think it was that bad. But the year away had hardened John in ways she hadn't expected, while Greg had become more independent, the stubborn streak he'd always had forcing itself out at inconvenient times – at school during arguments with teachers, or at home when he didn't want to eat brussels sprouts, or when John wanted him to turn off the TV and Greg wanted to watch cartoons.

She'd seen the jigsaw puzzle when she was cleaning out the closet, and thought it would give them all something they could do together. One thousand pieces, the picture of a beautiful meadow in springtime and time to become a family again.

Instead, John had concentrated on the patch of woods on his side of the puzzle, pushing all the pieces that could match the trees and leaves to one side of the table, and leaving Blythe and Greg to sort out the rest.

She looked across the table at John with his pieces, and Greg with his collection of pieces showing the fence line that ran along the bottom of the picture. They were both ignoring the section where the woods and fence met.

Blythe shook her head and looked back down at the table, at the mixture of blue pieces for the sky, yellow for the daffodils, and the pale green of the grass. She spotted one piece that stood out from the others and picked it up. She held it over the spot filled with lilacs for a moment and started to lower it down, then stopped and handed it to Greg.

"Try this one," she said.

"You found it." He grinned as he put it down, perfectly filling the hole.

John watched him and nodded, then went back to his own pieces again.

Blythe sighed, then scooted her chair around the corner of the table and picked up one of the darker green pieces, that must have come from the shaded ground near the trees that ran alongside the fence.

"Let's see if this one fits," she said, and set it into place.

Chapter Sixteen

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-18 08:54 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] blackmare-9.livejournal.com
Very, very nice -- using one moment with a puzzle to create the whole picture of this family's life. The contrast between the puzzle's idealized version of reality and the far-less-sunny reality in the house is so striking.

I can't think it's an accident that Greg is working on the fence. Which later becomes barbed wire or perhaps a whole brick wall.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-19 03:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] namasteyoga.livejournal.com
Thanks for the earlier note on the typo. Fixed it. I was hoping the puzzle metaphor wasn't too anvilicious, but I couldn't resist.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-20 01:09 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] feanix.livejournal.com
Well said.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-18 10:32 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] menolly-au.livejournal.com
Just going to delurk to say I love this series, fascinating glimpses into little House and his family. The whole jigsaw metaphor fits wonderfully, I wonder if it Greg who does not quite fit into his family, or John? or maybe a bit of both. And I totally empathize with Greg and the piece that really looks like it should fit but does not! And that he pounds on the piece to try and make it fit seems a very House like thing to do.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-19 03:31 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] namasteyoga.livejournal.com
Thanks for delurking. I'm glad the jigsaw image worked. To an extent I'd say that neither Greg nor John fit together, but Blythe is the piece that keeps trying to unite them.

And the pounding on the piece? My mother always has a jigsaw puzzle up, and I frequently resort to that method. It never works then either.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-19 01:27 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pwcorgigirl.livejournal.com
They were both ignoring the section where the woods and fence met. Oh, that's such a wise observation there.

For all his stubbornness, I think House really gets that "never quit" attitude from his mother, although hers is very low-key compared to his. She never stops trying to make it work with Greg and John, and there's a very strong sense of how she's bridging them here.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-19 03:32 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] namasteyoga.livejournal.com
Thank you. Once I hit on the jigsaw puzzle metaphor, I had to take it further to have those pieces that neither of them wanted to touch. And I think Blythe has a tenacity I'd lack.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-19 10:10 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jonne17.livejournal.com
Lovely. I really like the way you describe how House (strange to call him that in this context, but Greg feels weird too) feels about the puzzle, his happiness when that piece that's missing finally gets into the right place.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-19 08:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] namasteyoga.livejournal.com
Whether he's House or Greg, you've got to figure he loves solving a puzzle. Thanks.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-19 04:19 pm (UTC)
ext_25649: House sucking a lollipop while staring at Wilson (Default)
From: [identity profile] daisylily.livejournal.com
The jigsaw works really well as a metaphor (and I always like to pick my 'own' bit when I'm sharing jigsaws with someone :D )

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-19 08:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] namasteyoga.livejournal.com
Yep. In our family, we all tend to take our own area to work on too.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-19 09:41 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hibernia1.livejournal.com
I liked the puzzle metaphor a lot, I'm glad you decided to use it. I feel so sorry for Blythe, stuck in the middle of those two...

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-20 03:29 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] namasteyoga.livejournal.com
Thanks. Blythe has set herself in a hard place, hasn't she?

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-20 02:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] angelfirenze.livejournal.com
They were both ignoring the section where the woods and fence met.

Now why does that part make a particular point of sense unmatched by nearly anything else in this story -- ah, yes, because it's a perfect mirror of what's actually happening to Greg and John in real-life.

I noticed you didn't specify who Blythe scooted closer to. Ambiguous meanie.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-20 03:30 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] namasteyoga.livejournal.com
Yes, I'm being ambiguous. Hee. Thanks.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-27 03:36 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chilibreath.livejournal.com
Greg on one side, John on the other. Working on their sides in their own way with Blythe trying to bridge them together in the middle.

I love it.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-12-27 03:47 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] namasteyoga.livejournal.com
Thanks. Metaphors are handy sometimes.