Out With A Bang
By Jules
(5/10)
A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! This chapter is a bit of a departure from the format I started, but I think it's necessary. Enjoy!
Danville, Kentucky was called "the city of firsts." The first what, House thought as he drove past the town's city limit sign. Surely it wasn't the first place a priest committed adultery and produced a bastard son.
Then again, this was House and his screwed up paternity. Anything was possible.
When he left Cuddy that morning, he hadn't intended to wind up in his father's hometown. He just wanted to get away and divorce himself from the road to nowhere they couldn't seem to escape.
It was already dark, but the lights of the Catholic Church sparkled through the stain glass. The building itself was similar in structure to the Princeton campus. Gothic. Old. There were stories of love and labor and doubt in its bricks and mortar. The tower reminded him of Mayfield. Funny. Every point in his life was associated with some kind of building.
He turned off the ignition and stared at his father's home, well, as close to a home as he could find. Upon reading and re-reading his book, the church was only location he had divulged.
The lights suddenly turned off and the front door opened. A tall, older man stepped out and began to lock the door.
House recognized him immediately—it was like looking in a mirror that only showed the future. The only significant differences were his well-shaven skin and perfectly tamed hair. But his eyes, his eyes were definitely the same.
"Hello," House said loudly.
The man startled but collected himself quickly. "Can I help you, son?"
House searched the air for something to say now that he was here, finally confronting the man he had always wondered and obsessed about. He should have scripted it, thought this through. Gone to Miami instead. "No. I'm good."
House awkwardly turned to leave. He was an idiot for coming here.
His father peered after him, his gut telling him to stop this troubled man. "I was just leaving but don't mind staying if you'd like to go inside," he called after him.
House stopped. "I don't believe in God."
The old man smiled. "You think that excludes you from His House?"
House rolled his eyes. "Would you want someone in your house you didn't believe in?"
"Those who seek the Lord lack no good thing. You're here. That's all that matters right now." He held the door open. "Come in."
House followed him inside. He had aged well—the man he remembered from his childhood was still present beneath the age lines and frosty white hair. He led House halfway down the isle and stopped.
"Sit."
"I thought confessionals took place in those porta potty rooms."
He grinned, amused. "They're out of order for this one."
"Figures." House plopped down next to his father, unabashedly staring at him. He felt all of ten years old.
He waited patiently, recognizing that the man needed to be here, despite his uncouth exterior. "What brings you to Danville, son?"
"I need to change."
He hadn't expected that. This man seemed dogmatically set in his ways. "For yourself or for someone else?"
House's mouth twitched. "Her name's Cuddy."
His father nodded. "A love."
House shrugged. "Something like that."
"Did she ask you to change?"
"Yes. No. She wants me to "be" with her."
He laughed good-naturedly. "She wouldn't be the first woman to demand presence and attentiveness. What's holding you back?"
"I don't want to feel pain."
"Do you want to feel joy?"
"Of course."
"They go hand in hand."
House rolled his eyes. "What crap."
"You say you don't believe in God. He isn't going to be there if you don't have faith. Likewise, love can't exist without a willingness to lose it. Without an open heart, you'll never feel anything. Good or bad. If she's worth it, you do whatever it takes to keep her. I fell in love once. But I also made a choice and never regretted it."
"Of course you can't regret something if you don't know what you lost." House rubbed his leg, feeling suddenly agitated with the old man.
"Like I said, I made a choice. Change is an action. It can't define you," he responded calmly.
"I read your book," House said abruptly.
"Oh?"
House leaned forward, invading his father's space. "You don't have a clue."
The color dropped out of his face once House came into focus. He had always wondered if it was true. But Blythe had vehemently denied it, and he had chosen to believe her.
House got up to leave.
"I would have been a good father to you, Gregory," he said simply.
"Intentions mean nothing. Absence doesn't give you the right to anything."
His father nodded. "Son. If you love her, show her. Otherwise, move on and don't look back."