New Fic: Blythe's Story Chapter 22
Jan. 24th, 2009 10:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: Blythe's Story, Chapter 22
Author: Namaste
Summary: "Blythe shook her head. She'd already had a second chance, she thought. She could have told them the truth, but each time she'd lied. Lied to everyone. Nothing but lies. And for what?"
PG, 988 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
She heard the ticking of the clock, the second hand beating out the time, though she couldn't quite remember what time it was, or what day it was.
She heard water dripping from the kitchen faucet.
She heard the sound of her own heart beating in her chest, fast and hard.
She couldn't hear John, and didn't know if he was just outside the door, or if he'd gone away. Gone to cool off down at the officers' club, or if he was gone forever.
She couldn't hear Greg in his bedroom. Couldn't hear the sound of his feet hitting the floor as he paced in some intricate rhythm that only he seemed to know, the one that he'd settle into whenever he was bored, or doing homework.
She should go to him, Blythe thought. He'd need her. He'd need to know that she loved him. He'd need to know that John loved him, no matter what.
But what was she supposed to say? What could she say?
Greg had seen through her, seen that hidden part of her that no one else had -- seen past the lies and the stories.
He must hate her, she thought, and felt her knees give out. She slid down to the floor, her skirt wrinkled beneath her knees, her hand pushing hard against the floorboards to keep herself from collapsing even further.
The floor was cold. She was cold. Cold deep inside. Cold like she'd never be warm again. Cold like her heart could freeze in her chest, but somehow it kept beating.
He knew. Greg knew.
And he'd told John.
John.
He knew all her lies now. He knew that she wasn't the woman he'd thought she was, wasn't the woman she'd tried to be.
She wondered if he'd walk out on her now without a word, or if he'd give her another chance.
She shook her head. She'd already had a second chance, she thought. She could have told him the truth, but each time she'd lied to him. Lied to everyone. Nothing but lies. And for what?
"For them."
Blythe wasn't sure if she'd actually said the words, wasn't sure where they came from, but recognized the feeling from somewhere deep inside her, the one place the cold hadn't seemed to have touched. She tried to ignore the cold and focus on that one thought, like the dying ember of a fire.
"For them," she whispered.
She'd lied to hold her family together, had lied to protect them, she reminded herself. She'd lied to give Greg a home and a world that could take him everywhere.
She'd lied to give John someplace to call home, someplace to hold in his heart no matter how terrible the world might seem.
She sat up straight, felt the warmth seeping back into her hands.
She'd lied because it seemed like the best thing for all of them. Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe she shouldn't have lied. But the lies had been there, and she'd told each one to protect them.
And now, for them, she'd face the truth. For them she'd find some way to make it right again. Find some way to make it up to John. Find some way to make Greg believe in her again. Find some way to rebuild their world.
She pushed herself onto her feet and stood there with one hand against the wall until she felt steady.
She looked down the hall to Greg's room, then over to the front door where she'd last seen John. At least she knew where Greg was. She could talk to him once she knew if John had left.
Blythe opened the door, and squinted against the late afternoon sunlight.
The car was still in the driveway, and John was sitting in the driver's seat, staring straight ahead at the closed garage door. His hands were on the wheel, fingers gripping the hard plastic until his knuckles turned white. The engine wasn't running.
Blythe hesitated for a moment, then waked around the car and slid into the passenger seat. She didn't look at John.
For them, she told herself. She could do this for them. She took a deep breath.
"I wasn't going to hit him." John's words cut through the quiet before she could say a word.
Blythe turned to look at him, his words taking long seconds to filter through her thoughts. She shook her head, and wondered if she'd misheard him. "What?"
"I wouldn't hit him, no matter how much he deserves it," John repeated. "I'm not -- " he shook his head and didn't finish the sentence.
Blythe blinked her eyes, tried to bring back the memory of what had happened before John had walked out the door, fought past her thoughts of her own lies and betrayal. John's hand had been raised, she remembered.
"I wasn't going to hit him."
She wondered if John was just repeating the words to himself, if he even realized that she was there. It was as if he'd been through a different fight, as if he'd never heard Greg's words.
But then she remembered: She hadn't heard them either. Maybe Greg really hadn't figured out anything. Maybe John's anger and words had nothing to do with her. Maybe her secret was still safe. Maybe her lies hadn't hurt anyone.
Yet.
Or, more likely, she was still fooling herself now. She should confess everything. Come clean. Do it now, while she could. She could still make everything right, and make a fresh start for all of them.
"I wasn't going to hit him," John said again.
Or maybe she should wait, just until John was calm, until they had all had time to cool down.
Blythe nodded slightly. Later would be better. It would be better for her. And it would be better for them. She reached over, and put her hand on John's arm.
"I know," she said.
Chapter 23
Author: Namaste
Summary: "Blythe shook her head. She'd already had a second chance, she thought. She could have told them the truth, but each time she'd lied. Lied to everyone. Nothing but lies. And for what?"
PG, 988 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
She heard the ticking of the clock, the second hand beating out the time, though she couldn't quite remember what time it was, or what day it was.
She heard water dripping from the kitchen faucet.
She heard the sound of her own heart beating in her chest, fast and hard.
She couldn't hear John, and didn't know if he was just outside the door, or if he'd gone away. Gone to cool off down at the officers' club, or if he was gone forever.
She couldn't hear Greg in his bedroom. Couldn't hear the sound of his feet hitting the floor as he paced in some intricate rhythm that only he seemed to know, the one that he'd settle into whenever he was bored, or doing homework.
She should go to him, Blythe thought. He'd need her. He'd need to know that she loved him. He'd need to know that John loved him, no matter what.
But what was she supposed to say? What could she say?
Greg had seen through her, seen that hidden part of her that no one else had -- seen past the lies and the stories.
He must hate her, she thought, and felt her knees give out. She slid down to the floor, her skirt wrinkled beneath her knees, her hand pushing hard against the floorboards to keep herself from collapsing even further.
The floor was cold. She was cold. Cold deep inside. Cold like she'd never be warm again. Cold like her heart could freeze in her chest, but somehow it kept beating.
He knew. Greg knew.
And he'd told John.
John.
He knew all her lies now. He knew that she wasn't the woman he'd thought she was, wasn't the woman she'd tried to be.
She wondered if he'd walk out on her now without a word, or if he'd give her another chance.
She shook her head. She'd already had a second chance, she thought. She could have told him the truth, but each time she'd lied to him. Lied to everyone. Nothing but lies. And for what?
"For them."
Blythe wasn't sure if she'd actually said the words, wasn't sure where they came from, but recognized the feeling from somewhere deep inside her, the one place the cold hadn't seemed to have touched. She tried to ignore the cold and focus on that one thought, like the dying ember of a fire.
"For them," she whispered.
She'd lied to hold her family together, had lied to protect them, she reminded herself. She'd lied to give Greg a home and a world that could take him everywhere.
She'd lied to give John someplace to call home, someplace to hold in his heart no matter how terrible the world might seem.
She sat up straight, felt the warmth seeping back into her hands.
She'd lied because it seemed like the best thing for all of them. Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe she shouldn't have lied. But the lies had been there, and she'd told each one to protect them.
And now, for them, she'd face the truth. For them she'd find some way to make it right again. Find some way to make it up to John. Find some way to make Greg believe in her again. Find some way to rebuild their world.
She pushed herself onto her feet and stood there with one hand against the wall until she felt steady.
She looked down the hall to Greg's room, then over to the front door where she'd last seen John. At least she knew where Greg was. She could talk to him once she knew if John had left.
Blythe opened the door, and squinted against the late afternoon sunlight.
The car was still in the driveway, and John was sitting in the driver's seat, staring straight ahead at the closed garage door. His hands were on the wheel, fingers gripping the hard plastic until his knuckles turned white. The engine wasn't running.
Blythe hesitated for a moment, then waked around the car and slid into the passenger seat. She didn't look at John.
For them, she told herself. She could do this for them. She took a deep breath.
"I wasn't going to hit him." John's words cut through the quiet before she could say a word.
Blythe turned to look at him, his words taking long seconds to filter through her thoughts. She shook her head, and wondered if she'd misheard him. "What?"
"I wouldn't hit him, no matter how much he deserves it," John repeated. "I'm not -- " he shook his head and didn't finish the sentence.
Blythe blinked her eyes, tried to bring back the memory of what had happened before John had walked out the door, fought past her thoughts of her own lies and betrayal. John's hand had been raised, she remembered.
"I wasn't going to hit him."
She wondered if John was just repeating the words to himself, if he even realized that she was there. It was as if he'd been through a different fight, as if he'd never heard Greg's words.
But then she remembered: She hadn't heard them either. Maybe Greg really hadn't figured out anything. Maybe John's anger and words had nothing to do with her. Maybe her secret was still safe. Maybe her lies hadn't hurt anyone.
Yet.
Or, more likely, she was still fooling herself now. She should confess everything. Come clean. Do it now, while she could. She could still make everything right, and make a fresh start for all of them.
"I wasn't going to hit him," John said again.
Or maybe she should wait, just until John was calm, until they had all had time to cool down.
Blythe nodded slightly. Later would be better. It would be better for her. And it would be better for them. She reached over, and put her hand on John's arm.
"I know," she said.
Chapter 23
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-25 02:10 pm (UTC)