Titled: Four Brothers XIII
Author: wheretobe
Rating: PG
Summary: The story of four Sons, Christopher James House.
Authors note: R&R highly appreciated. This is a very AU story and just a try and see if I could pull it off.
Pairing: Huddy
Disclaimer: I don't own House or its characters Fox does tho, I just used them shamelessly for this snippet.
To the reviewers has taken me long enough I know ):
huddyaddicted: Thank you for always reviewing! You've helped me so much over the last chapters believe me! I'm happy that with the latest chappy I've been more ooc.
LANIKI: I've never thought about Chris's role so deeply. But yea I guess he portrays a lot of the turmoil between them.
Insanehouseaddict: I'm happy you've enjoyed it so far. Thanks for the reviews, that makes me proud.
Glicine: Thanks for reviewing almost every chapter, and for getting me to put my stories up at I hope that this meets the predictions. Thanks to you to for reviewing so often.
For today thats all. To all the not mentioned reviewers: lots of thanks and hugs. Your replies really helped me along!!!
Christopher James House
Blythe House had always loved her Husband, no matter what, no matter how harsh his words, she stuck to him. Times would've never allowed for a wife, especially an army wife to speak up to her husband, and Blythe wouldn't break that cycle.
She flinched when another yell of her son broke the nights silence. She yelped and swallowed a sob, closing her eyes tightly she tried to block out the reality of the situation. Blythe hung to the glass of club soda like it was a life line, as her son's yells broke her resolution one by one.
Gregory had, again, disagreed with his father and then, as the argument was in full swing, snarled back at his father that he would never go to the army and become a senseless idiot as he was.
Dishes had flown and smashed on the wall, Greg tried to run away, giving his mother a shocked look as she wouldn't give him the front door key to unlock his prison, before being slammed into said door by his father. He had begged his mother, screamed for her,as he was being dragged into the basement by his hair and then thrown down the stairs. But Blythe simply started cleaning the table and then the shards of porcelain.
The punishment was dealt almost all night. At first Greg had yelled infidelities at his father, but after hours of beating his voice was a mere crackling, only groans making it out of his mouth as the army belt hit him.
When John had retired for the night with slamming doors, Blythe went back into the House, preparing a bowl with warm water, getting ointments and the first aid kit and made her way into the cellar, tears streaking down her cheeks.
She found Greg rolled tightly together on the tiled floor, in a corner where he had dragged himself into, trying to flee. He was only wearing his jeans, his upper body swollen and bloody, his face almost unrecognizable. The floor was full of blood, sweat and water, the tub in the other corner of the room half filled. Blythe shuddered as she thought of what might've happened in this basement, then she pushed those thoughts aside and squared her shoulders.
When she first touched him Greg cowered even farther into the corner, whimpering and trying to look at her through his swollen shut eyes. She held his hand softly while she cleaned his wounds with water and Iodine and then dressed them with bandages.
'Oh Greg, when will you stop talking back to him?'
Another whimper broke from the boy, his battered body wrecking with sobs. He sucked his swollen and bleeding lip and then tried opening his eyes to glare at her.
'Do you enjoy it Mom?'
He pushed her away and then crossed the room, he grabbed his shirt and with much effort he pulled it on again. Blythe broke into tears again knowing that she had chosen this way and had to go it, knowing she would never be able to protect her own child. But also knowing that she had done everything possible to not put another child into this family.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
House jolted into a sitting position in his bed, panting hard, his eyes wide in terror. He had once again, like so often, relived the past beatings, one by one. The dreams so realistic that he woke with the ache on his skin, burning streaks of red before his eyes and a hate deep in his heart.
He wiped his hand over his face and shuddered. The dreams had started after Lisa had told him that she was pregnant and intent on keeping the child. He had been thrown back into his childhood and youth, when he had sworn himself that never in the world would he set an innocent child into this world.
Slumping back down Greg tried to wipe the images from his mind. But they clung to him. He could still see the basement room, could've sworn that his Father had it tiled and tubbed for one purpose only. Blood was easier to clean there, a compromise to Blythe House. The smell still stuck in his nose, after all those years that he had not been there anymore. It haunted him and made him want to retch.
A shuddery groan escaped him as he thought of the child that was to be born, a child with those gene's, a child he had never wanted, sworn himself he would never have. Why did this have to happen? How could he ever be a father to someone that might look like John House, how could he know that he wouldn't turn out like John? Just the thought of that child made him sick.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Lisa laid rolled into a ball, on her bed, a hanky clutched in one hand, the other over her belly. She had cried for most of the night, remembering the look on House's face as she told him. She knew he wouldn't jump into the air happily and declare his undying love for her, but she had seen hatred in his eyes. Pure hate towards something that wasn't even born yet. At least, thats what she thought it was.
Cuddy wiped her eyes furiously, trying to clear her vision. How dare he even think of Abortion. She would never let this final chance pass her by, and after everything they went through, the injections and Christopher's adoption and upbringing she thought he would stick to her. She tried to think of a moment when he had disappointed her more but couldn't think of one.
'Well...I guess we'll have ...to make this work on our own.'
She sniffed and then buried her hot face into her pillow, Crying herself to sleep.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
'We need to talk House.'
Cuddy shot a look at his lackeys who quickly scurried off to leave them alone, only Cameron taking more time then needed and shooting House a questioning look. When everyone had left House leaned back in his chair and gave her a once over.
'I haven't changed my mind Cuddy. I don't want a child.'
'I don't care, I can't change your mind, I know that. But I will not Abort. That is my decision.'
House shrugged and looked at the ground, already knowing what was coming. She was leaving him.
'House...I can't...how could I ever be with you? But I know that you are a big part in Christopher's life and I would never take him from you or keep you two apart. I promised it and I will stick to my promise. We'll work something out.'
House had grabbed his tennis ball and started throwing it at the wall across him, making it bounce back to him angrily.
'And I will not ask your help with the baby you won't have to be there.'
Even if it breaks my heart.
House shrugged and threw the ball again, staring ahead angrily. Her shoulders slumped and she turned to leave but not before throwing over her shoulder:
'We'll have to work something out with when you want Chris, he misses you Greg.'
His hand missed the tennis ball by less than an inch, it flew past him and crashed against his trash can.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
'JOHN! John please let him go! Please, look he's scared, he didn't mean to do it, it was an accident! JOHN NO!'
Little Greg's head snapped back from the blow of the punch, the 10 year old sagging together in a heap on the floor, clutching his jaw.
'ACCIDENT MY ASS! He dropped the plate on purpose. How dare you treat your mother like this you little bastard! She stood behind the stove all day for this, and you refuse to eat it! I saw you dropping the plate, thought you could avoid eating it then? EH? Well I will teach you!'
John pulled the sobbing boy up by his hair, ignoring his screams, then pulled him towards the stove where the gruel was still cooking in its pot. John House roughly pushed his son into the nearest corner, telling him with one look to dare to move. Greg, turned around crying, trying to hide his face a bruise already forming.
A bowl crashed down onto the counter next to him and then his small head was forced back,his mouth open and soon filled with the steaming hot gruel. Burning his throat and stomach, his body wanting to spit while John forced him to swallow by holding his mouth closed.
He had refused to swallow but soon the air left his lungs, he fought hard and soon turned blue from lack of Oxygen. Then everything had turned black.
When he woke his ribs and tummy hurt and his torso was lined with purple bruises, telling of the beating as punishment for fainting. Little Greg found himself in his own bed, but no one, as always, was there to hold his hand that night, as he cried and cried.