New Fic: Blythe's Story Chapter 21
Jan. 18th, 2009 11:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
namasteTitle: Blythe's Story, Chapter 21
Author: Namaste
Summary: "Greg's voice came back in an answer that was strong and certain, even if it wasn't as loud as John's. "I'm right," he said. "You know I'm right."
PG, 925 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
It finally happened on a warm June Saturday. Blythe hadn't seen the signs. Or maybe she'd ignored them: Greg's silence, the way he'd stared at Phil, the way he'd flinched when John called him "son."
She hadn't been ready, so when it happened, it hit full force like a wave slamming against the break wall, or a bolt of lightning out of a clear blue sky.
It started as she drove home from the store, and saw a neighbor out on her porch looking toward their home, a worried look on her face that didn't let up when she saw Blythe pull into the driveway.
She turned off the engine and then she heard it. The shouts. The yells. John's voice and Greg's voice all tangled together. John's was louder. Demanding. Strident. It was all emotion. Even as she got out of the car and rushed to the door she couldn't make out the details. Only the anger. The rage.
"Son of a bitch!" she finally made out as she neared the door. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Greg's voice came back in an answer that was strong and certain, even if it wasn't as loud as John's. "I'm right," he said. "You know I'm right."
Blythe pushed open the door and saw the two of them standing in the middle of the living room, John using every inch of his height to loom over Greg, but Greg standing straight, not backing down, not giving in to him.
John's shoulders hitched slightly, his arm drew back.
"John!" she shouted.
He froze, but his right arm remained where it was, held stiffly a few inches away from his body, his fingers curling into what looked like it was becoming a fist.
Blythe crossed the room in two quick steps, placed herself between them. "John," she said softer this time, and reached out to him, taking his hand in hers. She felt muscle and tendons and bone beneath his skin, all drawn tight and hard. He seemed to fight her for a moment, then allowed her to ease his hand down.
"I'm right," Greg repeated.
Blythe felt the tightness fight its way to the surface again in John's hand, and she turned to Greg. "Quiet," she said. She reached out for him with her other hand but he took a step back from both her and John.
She looked from Greg to John and back. John was breathing hard, Greg staring into John's face even though he'd finally put some distance between them. She knew he could see the same anger she did, but he didn't seem to care.
Blythe had seen them fight, had heard them yell, had played the referee more times than she could count. She'd never seen them like this.
"What's going on?" she asked.
John kept his gaze locked on Greg. "Ask him," he said. "He seems to know everything."
Blythe kept her eyes on John for a moment longer, seeing the hard set of his shoulders and the way the muscles in his jaw worked beneath the thin layer of skin. He wouldn't look at her.
She turned to Greg. He'd drawn back another half of a step at John's words, tried to ease away from John – or from her.
"Tell me," she said.
Greg didn't look at her, only stared at John. She reached out, grabbed his arm and turned him toward her before he could slip even further away. She wouldn't let him go. "Tell me," she repeated.
He finally shifted his gaze to her face. She could see an intensity in his eyes, a certainty that he was right, just as he'd said. She'd seen that look before – that power that seemed like a fire deep inside him. Then she saw something new. Some flash of an emotion she hadn't seen from him before. For a moment, she thought it looked like pity.
"Greg?" she asked, but he looked away again, wouldn't look at her even when she pulled him closer.
"You're so sure you're right, go ahead and say it," John said. His voice was low now. Not a shout. Not a yell, but Blythe sensed the fury beneath the quiet rumbling. "Say it to her." He nodded at Blythe.
Blythe turned back to Greg. He stood there silently for a few seconds, then shook his head and pulled his arm out of her grip.
"You're a liar, and a coward." John leaned forward and his voice got even quieter. "Maybe you think your life would be better if you weren't my son. Too bad for you that you're wrong."
Blythe felt her breath catch in her throat, and tightened her grip on John's hand – not to calm him down this time, but because the world was spinning out from beneath her. The room tilted to one side and she closed her eyes, reached out again to where Greg had been, looking for another anchor, but felt nothing.
She heard footsteps and forced herself to breathe. Once. Twice. She held her breath and realized the footsteps were the sound of Greg's sneakers running down the hallway. She took another deep breath and finally opened her eyes just as his bedroom door slammed shut.
She focused on the place where Greg had been until the room came back into focus. She turned to John, but he still wouldn't look at her, just pulled his hand away from hers and walked away. He slammed the front door on his way out, and left her standing all alone.
Chapter 22
Author: Namaste
Summary: "Greg's voice came back in an answer that was strong and certain, even if it wasn't as loud as John's. "I'm right," he said. "You know I'm right."
PG, 925 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
It finally happened on a warm June Saturday. Blythe hadn't seen the signs. Or maybe she'd ignored them: Greg's silence, the way he'd stared at Phil, the way he'd flinched when John called him "son."
She hadn't been ready, so when it happened, it hit full force like a wave slamming against the break wall, or a bolt of lightning out of a clear blue sky.
It started as she drove home from the store, and saw a neighbor out on her porch looking toward their home, a worried look on her face that didn't let up when she saw Blythe pull into the driveway.
She turned off the engine and then she heard it. The shouts. The yells. John's voice and Greg's voice all tangled together. John's was louder. Demanding. Strident. It was all emotion. Even as she got out of the car and rushed to the door she couldn't make out the details. Only the anger. The rage.
"Son of a bitch!" she finally made out as she neared the door. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Greg's voice came back in an answer that was strong and certain, even if it wasn't as loud as John's. "I'm right," he said. "You know I'm right."
Blythe pushed open the door and saw the two of them standing in the middle of the living room, John using every inch of his height to loom over Greg, but Greg standing straight, not backing down, not giving in to him.
John's shoulders hitched slightly, his arm drew back.
"John!" she shouted.
He froze, but his right arm remained where it was, held stiffly a few inches away from his body, his fingers curling into what looked like it was becoming a fist.
Blythe crossed the room in two quick steps, placed herself between them. "John," she said softer this time, and reached out to him, taking his hand in hers. She felt muscle and tendons and bone beneath his skin, all drawn tight and hard. He seemed to fight her for a moment, then allowed her to ease his hand down.
"I'm right," Greg repeated.
Blythe felt the tightness fight its way to the surface again in John's hand, and she turned to Greg. "Quiet," she said. She reached out for him with her other hand but he took a step back from both her and John.
She looked from Greg to John and back. John was breathing hard, Greg staring into John's face even though he'd finally put some distance between them. She knew he could see the same anger she did, but he didn't seem to care.
Blythe had seen them fight, had heard them yell, had played the referee more times than she could count. She'd never seen them like this.
"What's going on?" she asked.
John kept his gaze locked on Greg. "Ask him," he said. "He seems to know everything."
Blythe kept her eyes on John for a moment longer, seeing the hard set of his shoulders and the way the muscles in his jaw worked beneath the thin layer of skin. He wouldn't look at her.
She turned to Greg. He'd drawn back another half of a step at John's words, tried to ease away from John – or from her.
"Tell me," she said.
Greg didn't look at her, only stared at John. She reached out, grabbed his arm and turned him toward her before he could slip even further away. She wouldn't let him go. "Tell me," she repeated.
He finally shifted his gaze to her face. She could see an intensity in his eyes, a certainty that he was right, just as he'd said. She'd seen that look before – that power that seemed like a fire deep inside him. Then she saw something new. Some flash of an emotion she hadn't seen from him before. For a moment, she thought it looked like pity.
"Greg?" she asked, but he looked away again, wouldn't look at her even when she pulled him closer.
"You're so sure you're right, go ahead and say it," John said. His voice was low now. Not a shout. Not a yell, but Blythe sensed the fury beneath the quiet rumbling. "Say it to her." He nodded at Blythe.
Blythe turned back to Greg. He stood there silently for a few seconds, then shook his head and pulled his arm out of her grip.
"You're a liar, and a coward." John leaned forward and his voice got even quieter. "Maybe you think your life would be better if you weren't my son. Too bad for you that you're wrong."
Blythe felt her breath catch in her throat, and tightened her grip on John's hand – not to calm him down this time, but because the world was spinning out from beneath her. The room tilted to one side and she closed her eyes, reached out again to where Greg had been, looking for another anchor, but felt nothing.
She heard footsteps and forced herself to breathe. Once. Twice. She held her breath and realized the footsteps were the sound of Greg's sneakers running down the hallway. She took another deep breath and finally opened her eyes just as his bedroom door slammed shut.
She focused on the place where Greg had been until the room came back into focus. She turned to John, but he still wouldn't look at her, just pulled his hand away from hers and walked away. He slammed the front door on his way out, and left her standing all alone.
Chapter 22
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-18 05:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-18 07:50 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-18 05:25 pm (UTC)Beautifully written though, I could see it all happening clearly in my head.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-18 07:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-18 05:36 pm (UTC)I feel for Blythe. She loves them both, but she can't defend Greg and can't tell the truth to either of them. Stuck in the middle with guilt and nobody to talk to.
Actually I feel for all three of them equally. Great that, as a reader, I can't choose sides, even though I naturally gravitate towards taking Greg's.
Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-18 08:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-18 05:57 pm (UTC)And that John called Greg a liar and a coward are the most hurtful things he could ever have said. That accusation will have a long echo in his son's life.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-18 08:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-18 07:40 pm (UTC)I love the ambiguity of those words.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-18 08:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-18 09:38 pm (UTC)Absolutely perfectly played out, and therefore very, very painful for all concerned.
I think this is my personal canon now -- especially the part about John calling Greg a liar and a coward, and that momentary expression of Greg's that lets us know how sad he is for his mom.
The time you took in writing this was worth it.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-18 10:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-19 08:51 am (UTC)I still don't have all that much sympathy for Blythe, but you make it a easier to understand how things might have gone wrong.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-20 02:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-19 04:04 pm (UTC)But in a totally good way - this feels just right (so to speak - it's about as far from 'right' as they're getting).
It's just occurred to me that we don't know whether or not the true facts of the matter were ever revealed to John; we only know what his response was to Greg telling him.
*looks forward to more*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-20 02:27 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-20 02:19 am (UTC)Now I can't wait for the next chapter! Brilliantly written!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-20 02:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-20 08:55 am (UTC)Feels like I've been clubbed in the guts with a bat or something....
Oh, well done...
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-20 07:43 pm (UTC)*stares in numbness*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 06:19 am (UTC)