New Fic: Blythe's Story Chapter 24
Feb. 10th, 2009 07:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
namasteTitle: Blythe's Story, Chapter 24
Author: Namaste
Summary: "She'd made too many mistakes in her life. Letting Greg slip away wouldn't be one of them."
PG, about 1,100 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 could feel Greg pulling away. He would be there, with her – with them – sitting at the table eating breakfast, or sprawled on the couch with homework, but when she spoke to him, he'd only shrug, or give a half-mumbled answer in reply. He'd spend hours in his room with books or music, or escape to the playground or the gym.
When he finally came home, she'd look forward to hearing his voice, to hear him make some joke or interrupt her with some story just as he always had. Instead, he'd be silent, or ignore her. Even when he did tell her something, she could sense that he wasn't telling her everything, as if he was holding back the punch line that would make everything clear.
Blythe could still tell when things were bad, when something bothered him. She could see it in his eyes, or the way his shoulders slumped. She could see it in the way he dragged his feet and the way his hands fumbled for something to keep them busy, something to occupy his mind other than his own thoughts.
If she asked, he'd admit the truth, his eyes widening in surprise that she saw through him. But it bothered her that he wouldn't tell her these things freely anymore. That he no longer confided in her.
John told her she was imagining things. "He's fine," he said. "Hell, I couldn't get him to shut up about some experiment he wanted to do."
John had finally started talking to Greg again a few weeks before school started. Blythe suspected those first words had been an accident. John had been watching a baseball game on TV, and cheered for some play. Greg had looked up from his book at the sound, and John called him over to watch the replay. Greg had hesitated for a moment, but then walked across the room to join him as John pointed out the action.
Blythe wanted to believe that Greg had gone to John's side because he wanted to talk to him, to be with him again, but she knew it was probably only because he thought it meant that the TV ban was finally over.
She'd hoped that they'd somehow find their way back to something like normal now that Greg and John were talking again, but days and weeks went by, and it normal never returned.
Instead, with each day, Greg seemed to put more distance between them, as if he could hide his emotions, even from her. As if he wanted to build some wall inside himself. To set himself apart from them. Apart from her.
Blythe tried to tell herself that he was just growing up, that it was just a phase, but part of her wondered if Greg thought she'd betray him somehow, if he let her see too much of himself.
But sometimes, he'd let the wall drop. He'd lift the curtain, just for a few moments, to laugh with her, or to tell her a joke. He let her into his world when he won a prize at the science fair, and she felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the weather.
Those moments never lasted for long, though, and Blythe was beginning to fear they'd disappear forever, if she let them. She wouldn't let them.
She'd made too many mistakes in her life. Letting Greg slip away wouldn't be one of them.
Blythe made his favorite foods. She saved up money to get him a used microscope, and dutifully studied every slide he told her contained something interesting, or cool, or "gross." She hugged him every morning, and praised him every night.
She thought sometimes that she saw something familiar in him. She'd catch an ease in the way he'd tell her a story that felt like the way he used to be. But that never happened when John was home.
And when John's newest orders came in – Vietnam again – Blythe was shocked to realize that her first thought wasn't about John's safety. It wasn't about how much worse things had gotten over there since his first tour. It wasn't about the distance.
Her first thought was that this could be the chance she needed to finally bring Greg back to her.
Without John, she thought, she and Greg could finally find common ground again, and build something new on it that would withstand anything.
Without John, she thought, Greg could be happy.
Without John, things would be different.
In the weeks before John shipped out, she felt the familiar fear for him. She cried when no one else could see her. She tucked a note deep in his bag when she packed it for him, telling him how much she loved him, and how proud she was. But at the same time, she made plans for her and for Greg. Plans for how she could bring them together again.
Her sister Sarah found a place for them in Lexington, less than a mile from her house. It was a small yellow bungalow with two bedrooms and a rose bush in the front yard. Their neighborhood was surrounded by miles of rolling green countryside and horse farms, rather than fences and armed sentries.
There was the university with public lectures on physics and astronomy that she didn't really understand, but Greg loved. There were diners with hearty meals of sausages and biscuits and grits.
There were cousins, and aunts and uncles and a whole family for Greg that he barely knew.
This was a different world for him, and Blythe watched him, day by day in this new world, waiting to see him come alive, waiting for things to change.
But nothing changed.
"I don't know what to do," Blythe finally admitted to Sarah after a family picnic when Greg had managed to make eight-year-old Jessica cry, then sulked after Blythe told him to apologize. "Things used to be so different."
Sarah shook her head. "He's a teenager now," she said. "Get used to it."
"You don't understand," Blythe said, but didn't bother explaining. There was too much to say – too much she couldn't say: about Phil, about John, about herself, about Greg. And Sarah had never really known Greg, had never spent more than a few days at a time with him, had never seen the way his mind worked, had never heard him pick out a piece of music until it was perfect, had never laughed at his jokes.
Sarah would never understand how much things had changed, because she never saw the way he was before. Nobody else ever saw Greg the way she did.
Blythe knew what he was before, and knew what he could still be, and she was certain she could make things right again. She just had to figure out how.
Chapter 25
Author: Namaste
Summary: "She'd made too many mistakes in her life. Letting Greg slip away wouldn't be one of them."
PG, about 1,100 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 could feel Greg pulling away. He would be there, with her – with them – sitting at the table eating breakfast, or sprawled on the couch with homework, but when she spoke to him, he'd only shrug, or give a half-mumbled answer in reply. He'd spend hours in his room with books or music, or escape to the playground or the gym.
When he finally came home, she'd look forward to hearing his voice, to hear him make some joke or interrupt her with some story just as he always had. Instead, he'd be silent, or ignore her. Even when he did tell her something, she could sense that he wasn't telling her everything, as if he was holding back the punch line that would make everything clear.
Blythe could still tell when things were bad, when something bothered him. She could see it in his eyes, or the way his shoulders slumped. She could see it in the way he dragged his feet and the way his hands fumbled for something to keep them busy, something to occupy his mind other than his own thoughts.
If she asked, he'd admit the truth, his eyes widening in surprise that she saw through him. But it bothered her that he wouldn't tell her these things freely anymore. That he no longer confided in her.
John told her she was imagining things. "He's fine," he said. "Hell, I couldn't get him to shut up about some experiment he wanted to do."
John had finally started talking to Greg again a few weeks before school started. Blythe suspected those first words had been an accident. John had been watching a baseball game on TV, and cheered for some play. Greg had looked up from his book at the sound, and John called him over to watch the replay. Greg had hesitated for a moment, but then walked across the room to join him as John pointed out the action.
Blythe wanted to believe that Greg had gone to John's side because he wanted to talk to him, to be with him again, but she knew it was probably only because he thought it meant that the TV ban was finally over.
She'd hoped that they'd somehow find their way back to something like normal now that Greg and John were talking again, but days and weeks went by, and it normal never returned.
Instead, with each day, Greg seemed to put more distance between them, as if he could hide his emotions, even from her. As if he wanted to build some wall inside himself. To set himself apart from them. Apart from her.
Blythe tried to tell herself that he was just growing up, that it was just a phase, but part of her wondered if Greg thought she'd betray him somehow, if he let her see too much of himself.
But sometimes, he'd let the wall drop. He'd lift the curtain, just for a few moments, to laugh with her, or to tell her a joke. He let her into his world when he won a prize at the science fair, and she felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the weather.
Those moments never lasted for long, though, and Blythe was beginning to fear they'd disappear forever, if she let them. She wouldn't let them.
She'd made too many mistakes in her life. Letting Greg slip away wouldn't be one of them.
Blythe made his favorite foods. She saved up money to get him a used microscope, and dutifully studied every slide he told her contained something interesting, or cool, or "gross." She hugged him every morning, and praised him every night.
She thought sometimes that she saw something familiar in him. She'd catch an ease in the way he'd tell her a story that felt like the way he used to be. But that never happened when John was home.
And when John's newest orders came in – Vietnam again – Blythe was shocked to realize that her first thought wasn't about John's safety. It wasn't about how much worse things had gotten over there since his first tour. It wasn't about the distance.
Her first thought was that this could be the chance she needed to finally bring Greg back to her.
Without John, she thought, she and Greg could finally find common ground again, and build something new on it that would withstand anything.
Without John, she thought, Greg could be happy.
Without John, things would be different.
In the weeks before John shipped out, she felt the familiar fear for him. She cried when no one else could see her. She tucked a note deep in his bag when she packed it for him, telling him how much she loved him, and how proud she was. But at the same time, she made plans for her and for Greg. Plans for how she could bring them together again.
Her sister Sarah found a place for them in Lexington, less than a mile from her house. It was a small yellow bungalow with two bedrooms and a rose bush in the front yard. Their neighborhood was surrounded by miles of rolling green countryside and horse farms, rather than fences and armed sentries.
There was the university with public lectures on physics and astronomy that she didn't really understand, but Greg loved. There were diners with hearty meals of sausages and biscuits and grits.
There were cousins, and aunts and uncles and a whole family for Greg that he barely knew.
This was a different world for him, and Blythe watched him, day by day in this new world, waiting to see him come alive, waiting for things to change.
But nothing changed.
"I don't know what to do," Blythe finally admitted to Sarah after a family picnic when Greg had managed to make eight-year-old Jessica cry, then sulked after Blythe told him to apologize. "Things used to be so different."
Sarah shook her head. "He's a teenager now," she said. "Get used to it."
"You don't understand," Blythe said, but didn't bother explaining. There was too much to say – too much she couldn't say: about Phil, about John, about herself, about Greg. And Sarah had never really known Greg, had never spent more than a few days at a time with him, had never seen the way his mind worked, had never heard him pick out a piece of music until it was perfect, had never laughed at his jokes.
Sarah would never understand how much things had changed, because she never saw the way he was before. Nobody else ever saw Greg the way she did.
Blythe knew what he was before, and knew what he could still be, and she was certain she could make things right again. She just had to figure out how.
Chapter 25
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 06:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 01:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 11:20 am (UTC)Watching the family fall apart and knowing that Blythe isn't going to manage to make everything OK again is so sad. I'm still loving this story like crazy :D
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 01:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 02:46 pm (UTC)I love this story. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 04:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 02:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 04:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 03:43 pm (UTC)I love reading this. It's so real. So sad. Knowing how it turns out makes me even more sad. Poor Blythe.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 04:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 03:47 pm (UTC)It is such exquisite torture to see the patterns repeated in House's life in this manner.
--blacktop
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 04:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 09:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 10:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-12 04:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-12 07:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-12 05:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-12 07:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-17 06:17 pm (UTC)Almost as much as realizing I don't feel like watching the show anymore. Well, no, it doesn't hurt -- it's just...weird-feeling. I used to adore House, but I don't know where the show I loved has gone.
I suppose I can wait until it ends to find the magic again. That happened with Buffy, Angel, and Firefly.
I can be an optimist about this -- oh, look...it's kind of like Blythe Syndrome -- just wait for it to be over and then look through for the good stuff. *sighs*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-13 02:09 pm (UTC)Now we know when the walls began building up, even to protect himself from his own mother. That's rough.