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crack_van2007-09-28 09:25 pm
visionshadows.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2007-09-28 09:25 pm
My Fathers' Son by deelaundry (PG)
Fandom: House, M.D.
Pairing: House/Wilson
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
deelaundry
Author's Website: Dee's Fics
Why this must be read: My Fathers' Son is a story about one family and how secrets - big secrets - change the course of their lives. The story is told from the point of view of House and Wilson's son. We see his family through his eyes, see the way his fathers ask him to lie about his home life, see the way it changes him as he grows older. We also see what happens when parents pick the welfare of their child over their own happiness.
This story is long, in depth, and spans many, many years. It's a view of House and Wilson that is canon attitude and actions-wise even though they are in a decidedly non-canon situation. This House is softened by his son, but he's still a bastard, still a jerk. He's arrogant and refuses to acknowledge that Jack is *his* son. Jack is Wilson's son, but he is House's son in so many ways.
I do want to put in a word of caution. This story does include death. If you can't handle death, natural death, in the course of a lifetime, then I would pass. However, you are really missing a fantastic story. Even the death is handled beautifully and feels right. I will tell you that I still tear up when I think about it and I don't do that with many stories. It was just so bittersweet and *right* for this story.
You don’t talk about your family.
That was the first and greatest commandment, etched into Jack Wilson’s soul from his earliest memory.
The visual on that memory was mostly white: walls, floor, ceiling, hospital gown. In fact, everything - in the haze that surrounded such an old memory - was white except Pop’s sleeping face, in stark relief. He’d felt a sense of wonder at the strange colors of the spots covering Pop’s face. Blue, purple, green, red, mixed together.
He’d thought of them in the moment as spots, although he soon learned the proper word was bruises.
Dad’s face wasn’t in the memory at all, but his warm hand was, pressing down on Jack’s shoulder. It almost hurt, the weight, but at the same time it anchored Jack, kept him from floating away. He was grateful, another word he hadn’t known at the time but had learned in the days that followed.
“You see, Jack,” Dad said, his voice heavy, “this is why we don’t talk about our family.”
“House, you’ll scare him,” came a woman’s voice. “He’s only three.” It must have been Aunt Lisa; Dad wouldn’t have let anyone else hear. Jack was beyond caring at the time.
He reached out for Pop’s hand, almost toppling over the chair he was standing on in the process. Dad caught him, safe and strong, and helped him onto the bed next to Pop.
“He needs to see. He needs to know, so this won’t happen to him. It’s a cauliflower tail.”
Jack didn’t look up from the bed. He had buried his face in Pop’s chest, which was warm, and the regular up and down of Pop’s breathing was soothing. But Jack puzzled over where the tail he was supposed to see was, and why it was made of cauliflower. It would be another decade before he’d find the tail and learn the right words.
My Fathers' Son
Pairing: House/Wilson
Author on LJ:
deelaundryAuthor's Website: Dee's Fics
Why this must be read: My Fathers' Son is a story about one family and how secrets - big secrets - change the course of their lives. The story is told from the point of view of House and Wilson's son. We see his family through his eyes, see the way his fathers ask him to lie about his home life, see the way it changes him as he grows older. We also see what happens when parents pick the welfare of their child over their own happiness.
This story is long, in depth, and spans many, many years. It's a view of House and Wilson that is canon attitude and actions-wise even though they are in a decidedly non-canon situation. This House is softened by his son, but he's still a bastard, still a jerk. He's arrogant and refuses to acknowledge that Jack is *his* son. Jack is Wilson's son, but he is House's son in so many ways.
I do want to put in a word of caution. This story does include death. If you can't handle death, natural death, in the course of a lifetime, then I would pass. However, you are really missing a fantastic story. Even the death is handled beautifully and feels right. I will tell you that I still tear up when I think about it and I don't do that with many stories. It was just so bittersweet and *right* for this story.
You don’t talk about your family.
That was the first and greatest commandment, etched into Jack Wilson’s soul from his earliest memory.
The visual on that memory was mostly white: walls, floor, ceiling, hospital gown. In fact, everything - in the haze that surrounded such an old memory - was white except Pop’s sleeping face, in stark relief. He’d felt a sense of wonder at the strange colors of the spots covering Pop’s face. Blue, purple, green, red, mixed together.
He’d thought of them in the moment as spots, although he soon learned the proper word was bruises.
Dad’s face wasn’t in the memory at all, but his warm hand was, pressing down on Jack’s shoulder. It almost hurt, the weight, but at the same time it anchored Jack, kept him from floating away. He was grateful, another word he hadn’t known at the time but had learned in the days that followed.
“You see, Jack,” Dad said, his voice heavy, “this is why we don’t talk about our family.”
“House, you’ll scare him,” came a woman’s voice. “He’s only three.” It must have been Aunt Lisa; Dad wouldn’t have let anyone else hear. Jack was beyond caring at the time.
He reached out for Pop’s hand, almost toppling over the chair he was standing on in the process. Dad caught him, safe and strong, and helped him onto the bed next to Pop.
“He needs to see. He needs to know, so this won’t happen to him. It’s a cauliflower tail.”
Jack didn’t look up from the bed. He had buried his face in Pop’s chest, which was warm, and the regular up and down of Pop’s breathing was soothing. But Jack puzzled over where the tail he was supposed to see was, and why it was made of cauliflower. It would be another decade before he’d find the tail and learn the right words.
My Fathers' Son