AN: Thanks everyone for your wonderfully encouraging reviews, and I finally have the fourth chapter done. This time House is a nine year old and living in Spain, I hope you enjoy it.

Gregory House: The Early Years

Chapter 4: 1968

"¿Hola, como estás?

Blythe sighed. "Greg, you know I hate it when you talk to me in Spanish," she said.

Greg shrugged. "Well when you know Portuguese, Spanish isn't that difficult."

"We only lived in Portugal for three months, and it's a proven fact that kids always pick up languages much faster than their parents."

Her son merely shrugged once more, there was obviously something on his mind. "Mom, can I go to Pablo's house for awhile?" Greg asked impatiently.

Blythe smiled. "Of course, just be back in time for dinner."

Greg quickly nodded and was out of the door within a few seconds, much to the amusement of his mother. Blythe was thrilled to see how Greg could make friends so easily despite the language and cultural barrier. Yet the thing that bothered her was that he could detach from them so easily. It was a good thing because he never complained about moving, but also never kept in contact with the friends he left behind.

Travelling was always exciting and Blythe loved visiting the new countries where they made their home, but at the same time she hated living so far from home. It seemed to her that she disliked it more than anyone for John was eager to work wherever the Marines sent him, and Greg adapted quickly when they moved once more. When they moved to a new country Blythe would be eager to learn about the local culture and see the sites, but all too soon homesickness would set in as she dealt with culture shock again.

Shopping for groceries was always an adventure in a new country, but Blythe always managed somehow. She liked to take Greg with her because he always understood them better than she, and John was hopeless when it came to languages. Spain was a beautiful country and yet she felt like she stuck out like a sore thumb. She sighed, at least she knew that they wouldn't be here for too long.

"You cheated Greg!" exclaimed a Spanish boy with a runny nose.

Greg turned and glared at his accuser and leaned against his lacrosse stick. "You're just saying that because you're not fast enough to get the ball from me, not to mention a sore loser."

"Don't make fun of my brother!" another boy butted in, standing next to the first. "You American idiot."

Greg merely rolled his eyes. "Is that the best you can come up with?"

Suddenly Greg's friend Pablo was at his side. "Leave Greg out of this, and plus he was telling the truth."

"Make me," the other boy said.

Greg sighed, getting annoyed. "Can we just keep playing?"

"Not when we have to play with a cheater!" the first boy exclaimed.

"At least I'm not a poor sport, looser," Greg commented and turned around and looked over at Pablo. "Let's do something else."

Pablo began to nod, but suddenly his eyes went wide. "Look out Greg!"

Greg turned and started to duck, but it wasn't fast enough to avoid a fist that hit him square in the eye.

Blythe looked out the window nervously as the sun started to set. She was growing very worried about Greg. He was supposed to be back over an hour before. She tried to tell herself that she was overreacting, and that Greg probably just lost track of the time. But he was still a nine year old, and they were in a strange country.

"Blythe?" she heard from the front door and she turned to see John walk in the house, setting down his lunch pail on the table. "I'm sorry I'm late, I had a late run."

Blythe kissed his cheek. "There is food warming in the oven,' she said. Then she sighed. "I'm getting worried John, Greg is late coming home and I'm begging to worry that something happened to him.

John looked immediately annoyed. "Where did he go?"

"Over to a friend's house," Blythe replied. "I told him to be home in time for dinner."

"That kid is always getting himself in trouble," John complained. "I'll go find him."

John angrily walked back out towards the front of the house, but he wasn't gone ten seconds before he called out to her. "Blythe! He's home!"

Blythe rushed to the door where her son was sporting a black eye and was dirty from head to toe.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"I tripped and fell," Greg started looking down at his feet. "Sorry I'm late."

Blythe called upon a talent she was finding out was becoming more useful around her son. She had an uncanny ability to tell when people lied to her. As Greg was doing right now. "Don't lie Greg, tell me what happened," she said sternly.

Greg was silent for a moment, still staring at his feet.

"Tell us now!" John demanded, growing angrier.

"I got in a fight," Greg said in almost a whisper.

"A fight!?" John exclaimed, glaring at his son. "You know better than to pick fights with other boys!"

"I didn't start it!" Greg defended.

"I doesn't matter who started it!" John exclaimed. "No son of mine gets into fights and worries his mother half to death."

Greg looked at Blythe, hoping she would defend him. But Blythe left the discipline to John this time. She didn't like John's methods for punishing Greg, but she wouldn't argue with him either. Instead she left and went in the kitchen and got John's dinner ready.

"If you insist on rolling in mud," John continued his rant. "Then you can go and sleep in it!"

Greg looked confused for one brief moment before his father shoved him outside and locked the door behind him. Greg was once more furious at his father's actions, but this was probably better than the dreaded ice baths. Greg shivered and looked up at the full moon…Still this was going to be a very long night.