New Fic: Blythe's Story, Chapter Sixteen
Dec. 21st, 2008 07:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
namasteTitle: Blythe’s Story, Chapter Sixteen
Author: Namaste
Summary: "It was the mummies that did it."
PG, 993 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
Blythe watched Greg come alive in Egypt.
The curiosity he'd always had for everything and anything – the color of the sky, why leaves changed color, how planes flew -- began to take a new shape and focus there. It was no longer just the simple questions every child asked. There in the heat and the sand and the noise, he was able to look at history and touch science, and Greg suddenly knew that the answers to everything he ever wanted to know were out there just waiting for him.
It was the mummies that did it.
They'd been in Egypt for two weeks when it started. Blythe was still trying to get accustomed to the heat, to the noise, to the crowds, to the food in the marketplace that was so different from anything she'd used at home. She had figs spread out over the cutting board, taking small bites from them as she tried to figure out how to use them in her cookie recipes when Greg handed her the page torn from a magazine about a local exhibit.
"They scooped out their brains with a straw," he said. "Why'd they do that?" There was an intense light in his eyes, one that Blythe would see sometimes and that could almost take her breath away: when he was working out a new song, or he'd learned some new word or new card trick.
"I don't know," she said, "but we can find out."
John was attached to the Marine security unit at the embassy. There were just a few American families there, and the American and Egyptian staff mingled more easily than they had in Greece where there was a large Marine presence. One of the other Marine wives pointed her to a small office at the embassy that specialized in cultural relations.
"Boys love mummies," she said. "It's a phase they all go through."
Blythe just smiled and thanked her. Nothing with Greg ever seemed to be a simple phase.
Sitting in the office, surrounded by photos of pyramids and replicas of scepters and a fake sarcophagus, Greg had listened as Nassim began with easy explanations of the ancient Egyptians' religion and customs.
"But how did they know which chemicals to use?" Greg asked, then demanded to know more about how they'd wrapped the mummies, and how they preserved the lungs and kidneys.
Blythe had started to apologize for Greg, telling him that Nassim was busy, but Nassim had laughed, and soon gave Blythe the name of someone at a museum who could show Greg the actual tools they'd used centuries ago.
"He's a smart boy," Nassim had said. "Most boys just want to know about the mummies they see in monster movies."
He told them how he'd grown up seeing excavations near Giza, and how he'd hung around the camps waiting to see every new treasure they found. He told them where to go to see for themselves what was happening, and gave Greg a list of books he could read.
"You're spoiling him," John said when Blythe planned yet another trip to another museum, but he'd never understood why it was that Greg always wanted more information. John had always been happy knowing that the world worked according to its own rules. He never needed to know those rules. Greg had always wanted – no, needed -- to know why things happened, and now he needed more than she could give him, more than she'd ever learned. But if Blythe couldn't answer his questions by herself anymore, she would find the people who could.
At the museums, and at the ancient ruins, and at the pyramids, Greg dug deep into every piece of information he could find. He quizzed the docents, and ran his fingers over ancient hieroglyphs. At one site, a digger held out a piece of pottery to him, and let him hold it in his hand.
At home, teachers had complained that Greg disrupted class with his questions or that he ignored them. They never believed Blythe when she told them that he was bored, that he needed more than they were giving him.
But now, in this place where she knew she would never fit in, she could give Greg just what he needed. She saw the light in his eyes grow bright and deep, and knew it was worth the travel, worth spending time away from the rest of their families, worth the constant moves. Staying in one place was nice, but home couldn't offer him this.
Here, history and science were things he could touch and feel. It was real, and Blythe could see Greg's mind open up to so much more than he'd ever known just from books.
"Enough already," John grunted at him when Greg tried to show him how chemicals reacted to different metals.
John's world was different from the one that Greg was growing into. John didn't like history, didn't care for science beyond the physics of how his plane reacted to an approaching cold front. He rarely left the embassy compound or their apartment if he could avoid it. Egypt was a crazy place, he always said. It was out of control. Greg's new fascination with anything about mummies and tombs and ancient Egyptians was nothing more than a whim to John.
Blythe didn't understand much about the science that laid claim Greg's imagination either. She'd always expected music to be the thing that opened the world to him. He'd always loved music. She understood music.
But this – mummies and chemistry and shards of pottery that told some story of the past – this was Greg's world alone, and one that was apart from them. This was a world where he was finding his own way, making his own discoveries. He was striking out on his own without her, taking the first steps beyond her world.
All Blythe could do was help him take those steps, and watch him come alive.
Chapter Seventeen
Author: Namaste
Summary: "It was the mummies that did it."
PG, 993 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
Blythe watched Greg come alive in Egypt.
The curiosity he'd always had for everything and anything – the color of the sky, why leaves changed color, how planes flew -- began to take a new shape and focus there. It was no longer just the simple questions every child asked. There in the heat and the sand and the noise, he was able to look at history and touch science, and Greg suddenly knew that the answers to everything he ever wanted to know were out there just waiting for him.
It was the mummies that did it.
They'd been in Egypt for two weeks when it started. Blythe was still trying to get accustomed to the heat, to the noise, to the crowds, to the food in the marketplace that was so different from anything she'd used at home. She had figs spread out over the cutting board, taking small bites from them as she tried to figure out how to use them in her cookie recipes when Greg handed her the page torn from a magazine about a local exhibit.
"They scooped out their brains with a straw," he said. "Why'd they do that?" There was an intense light in his eyes, one that Blythe would see sometimes and that could almost take her breath away: when he was working out a new song, or he'd learned some new word or new card trick.
"I don't know," she said, "but we can find out."
John was attached to the Marine security unit at the embassy. There were just a few American families there, and the American and Egyptian staff mingled more easily than they had in Greece where there was a large Marine presence. One of the other Marine wives pointed her to a small office at the embassy that specialized in cultural relations.
"Boys love mummies," she said. "It's a phase they all go through."
Blythe just smiled and thanked her. Nothing with Greg ever seemed to be a simple phase.
Sitting in the office, surrounded by photos of pyramids and replicas of scepters and a fake sarcophagus, Greg had listened as Nassim began with easy explanations of the ancient Egyptians' religion and customs.
"But how did they know which chemicals to use?" Greg asked, then demanded to know more about how they'd wrapped the mummies, and how they preserved the lungs and kidneys.
Blythe had started to apologize for Greg, telling him that Nassim was busy, but Nassim had laughed, and soon gave Blythe the name of someone at a museum who could show Greg the actual tools they'd used centuries ago.
"He's a smart boy," Nassim had said. "Most boys just want to know about the mummies they see in monster movies."
He told them how he'd grown up seeing excavations near Giza, and how he'd hung around the camps waiting to see every new treasure they found. He told them where to go to see for themselves what was happening, and gave Greg a list of books he could read.
"You're spoiling him," John said when Blythe planned yet another trip to another museum, but he'd never understood why it was that Greg always wanted more information. John had always been happy knowing that the world worked according to its own rules. He never needed to know those rules. Greg had always wanted – no, needed -- to know why things happened, and now he needed more than she could give him, more than she'd ever learned. But if Blythe couldn't answer his questions by herself anymore, she would find the people who could.
At the museums, and at the ancient ruins, and at the pyramids, Greg dug deep into every piece of information he could find. He quizzed the docents, and ran his fingers over ancient hieroglyphs. At one site, a digger held out a piece of pottery to him, and let him hold it in his hand.
At home, teachers had complained that Greg disrupted class with his questions or that he ignored them. They never believed Blythe when she told them that he was bored, that he needed more than they were giving him.
But now, in this place where she knew she would never fit in, she could give Greg just what he needed. She saw the light in his eyes grow bright and deep, and knew it was worth the travel, worth spending time away from the rest of their families, worth the constant moves. Staying in one place was nice, but home couldn't offer him this.
Here, history and science were things he could touch and feel. It was real, and Blythe could see Greg's mind open up to so much more than he'd ever known just from books.
"Enough already," John grunted at him when Greg tried to show him how chemicals reacted to different metals.
John's world was different from the one that Greg was growing into. John didn't like history, didn't care for science beyond the physics of how his plane reacted to an approaching cold front. He rarely left the embassy compound or their apartment if he could avoid it. Egypt was a crazy place, he always said. It was out of control. Greg's new fascination with anything about mummies and tombs and ancient Egyptians was nothing more than a whim to John.
Blythe didn't understand much about the science that laid claim Greg's imagination either. She'd always expected music to be the thing that opened the world to him. He'd always loved music. She understood music.
But this – mummies and chemistry and shards of pottery that told some story of the past – this was Greg's world alone, and one that was apart from them. This was a world where he was finding his own way, making his own discoveries. He was striking out on his own without her, taking the first steps beyond her world.
All Blythe could do was help him take those steps, and watch him come alive.
Chapter Seventeen
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 12:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 02:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 12:59 am (UTC)But this chapter really stands out for me, this is Greg House in a nutshell. I love it. :)
Keep up the good work!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 02:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 01:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 02:58 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 02:34 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 03:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 02:39 am (UTC)Or are you just writing to keep warm? Seriously, is it NO DEGREES on your side of the state, too, or is Detroit just losing it's atmospheric mind? *seethes*
IT IS WAY TOO DAMNED COLD. That's all I can say at the moment. I do not want to leave my warm bed tomorrow. Alas...
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 03:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 03:08 am (UTC)This? Is the essence of House. I can so see that curious little boy in the insatiably curious man he became.
Marvelous chapter. Hugs to you, and to Blythe and young Greg.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 04:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 03:44 am (UTC)Better comment than I could come up with after reading this chapter.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 03:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 04:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 04:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 07:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 04:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 02:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 04:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 06:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-22 11:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-23 05:14 pm (UTC)*mems*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-24 02:17 am (UTC)