Tinderbox-chapter 3
Title: Tinderbox
Author: Fayding_fast
Sequel: Yes, to Duped.
Chapter: 3/4
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em
Wordcount: 4882
Spoilers: Minor for "Daddy's boy" and "Needle in a haystack"
Warning: Serious angst. Swearing.
Con-crit? Yes, please.
Rating: PG
Author's note: This really is a particularly sad chapter. Have faith!
Edited March 2021
October 23rd, 2012, 20:05 hrs
House shook his head in exaggerated disbelief, then straightened up. "Billy shares your lunch?" he asked with deceptive mildness.
"Not exactly," Peter hedged, gaze darting around the kitchen evasively.
House put his fingers under Peter's chin and turned the child's face towards him. "He doesn't share your lunch?"
Peter shook his head. "No, House," he said.
"Great!" House enthused, face animated by false cheer. "So, what does he do?" He smiled in encouragement. "Exactly?"
Peter decided to come clean. "He eats my whole lunch," he answered ingenuously. The child wrung his hands. Was House prepared to change the filling in his sandwiches? If House wasn't, Billy wouldn't be happy.
Concerned eyes glanced at the lunchbox, then pinned the kid back down. "Does he, now?" House probed, tone still remarkably restrained. "How long has this been going on?"
Peter thought back. "It started shortly after we went round Doctor Lee's for dinner," he said. He looked at House earnestly. "I don't mind that he eats it, House," he assured his friend. "He needs it."
House was feeling sick to his stomach. Why hadn't he picked up on this before? Why? "Let me get this straight," he said. "Billy asks you to give him your lunch, and you just hand it over to him? On a silver platter? You go from breakfast time to your evening meal without eating anything at all?"
Peter nodded uneasily, not liking the way House's face had paled, or how his mouth had tightened, abruptly, into a grim, forbidding line. Was House furious with him? Was he ill? "He told me that he needs to eat a lot more than me because he's bigger than me, and his mommy and daddy don't have a lot of money." He reached out warily to brush House's hip. "House, are you feeling.....?"
"Excuse me," House interrupted him. Without another word, House grabbed his cane, turned his back, and limped towards the bathroom.
"House, what's wrong?" Disturbed, Peter started to follow him.
House quickened his steps.
"What are you doing? Where are you going?" Peter's voice was shaking with alarm. He began to run to try to catch up to him.
In desperation, House slammed the bathroom door in his face.
*
House held onto the sides of the washbasin with shaking hands.
The boy's peculiar question about food sharing, the previous week, now made a terrible kind of sense. And he, not understanding the severity of the situation, had babbled on and on like a fool.
A blissfully ignorant, stupid fool.
Peter was being bullied.
Trying to stop the trembling, he gripped the basin even tighter until his fingers ached. He raised enlightened, seething eyes and looked at himself in the mirror. The man reflected there, staring back at him, looked unbelievably helpless and tired.
Damn it all to hell; Peter was the victim of bullying.
In the grip of unspeakable rage, House raised his arm and swept everything off a nearby shelf. Cans and bottles, lotions and shaving gear all went flying. The tantrum made him feel marginally better. His rampage might very well have continued, only, he then heard Peter's voice.
The boy had screamed his name in panic; the child was hammering on the closed door.
*
House hastily unlocked the bathroom door and threw it open. He stared down into the small child's terrified face. "Don't get upset," House said, "I'm fine. See? Not a mark on me."
Possessing the resilience of the very young, upon discovering that House was unhurt, Peter's terror abated rapidly. But what, then, had caused that commotion? Confused, he peered round House's legs and gasped in consternation when he saw the chaos. He pointed at it, deeply upset. "House, is that my Mickey Mouse flannel lying there on the floor?"
House picked him up.
"I don't know if I'm too thrilled about that, House."
House carted him into the kitchen. He sat him on the kitchen counter and braced his hands on either side of him so that he couldn't fall off.
The child looked up at him reproachfully. "You scared me badly, House," he groused, "and you also shut the door on me."
"I know I did, Pedro; I was out of order."
Tetchiness unassuaged, the boy indicated the worktop. "You've sat me down in a lot of breadcrumbs."
"An unforgivable offense," House said to pacify him. "I'm an evil, wicked man. You can scold me to your heart's content later. Right now, we need to have another one of our talks."
"We do," Peter agreed vehemently. "You need to take better care of my things, House. I really like that flannel."
"Peter." House patted his cheeks. "I'm not kidding; you need to focus. You listening?"
"Oh, fine," Peter said, still peeved. He rested his chin on the heel of his palm - the poster child for the seriously put upon. "I'm all ears," he said begrudgingly. "Fire away."
If House hadn't been quite so agitated, he might have grinned. Instead, he gazed at the child pensively. "Do you know what can happen if you keep skipping your meals?"
Peter put his thumb into his mouth. He nodded vigorously in assent.
House gently forced his friend to stop sucking on his thumb and held both of the child's hands down, on his lap. "I want you to work with me, here," he said. "Tell me what can happen."
"Your daddy can call you a downright disgrace and force you to go and stand in the corner," Peter answered him instantly. "For a whole ten minutes!"
"Ooo-kaaaay," House said, managing to veil his exasperation. "I meant more along the lines of - what effect does fasting have on the human body?"
"Oh. You should have said." Peter frowned, accessing his immense store of memories, and then his brow cleared. "You could get a headache," he said.
"Good. What else?"
Thawing substantially because of the praise, Peter narrowed his eyes in concentration. "You could get pains in your tummy."
"That's right; you could," House concurred readily. "And what else?"
"It can slow you down; you don't learn as quickly when you're hungry."
"Excellent." House winked. "I'll make a doctor of you, yet. Can you think of any other consequences?"
"I don't want to be a doctor; I'm going to be an elf," Peter reminded him. He glanced down at Katie's present. The child, drowning in his voluminous T-shirt, looked disturbingly small and frail. "You can lose a lot of weight," he murmured unwillingly.
"Yep, that's a biggie." House's voice was unusually serious. "That it? What about fainting?" He waited. His friend was bright enough to draw his own conclusions.
Peter stared sombrely down at House's restraining hands, his heels tapping lightly against the cupboard door. "You believe that's why I fainted last week," he whispered.
"Yeah, I do; don't you?" House watched him, apprehensive and quiet.
It seemed like the most logical explanation. Feeling suddenly insecure, Peter raised his head and searched House's eyes, looking for help. "I don't know what to do, now," he said.
"Bear with me; I have an idea." House released him and stood upright. "Stay safe," he warned and went to fetch Peter's backpack. He needed to move - needed to work some of the screaming tension out of his system. He threw the empty bag on the worktop, next to Peter, and opened it up. "This is what we'll do." He glanced at the boy, making sure he had his full attention. He did. "The cheese sandwiches, I'll wrap up and place in the bottom of your bag, here. Then I'll place the lunchbox, with Billy's food in it, on top, here." He pointed.
Peter frowned.
"You mustn't tell Billy that you have extra food in the bag. I want you to eat your cheese sandwiches sometime during the day, when he's not in sight. Some place where he won't disturb you. Got that? At lunchtime, you can still give your friend some food, as usual. He won't be any the wiser, and you won't be hungry. Do you understand?"
"I do." Peter nodded, delighted. "House, that's a really neat idea."
"That's my boy." He ruffled the child's hair. "You gonna be alright sitting there, whilst I finish doing what I've gotta do?"
"I'll be fine. I'll be very careful."
"You'd better be." House busied himself around the kitchen, thinking - plotting. It was imperative that he introduce himself to Billy and without delay. He wanted to confront him by the end of that week. He turned to look at the child, expression innocent. "Your buddy, Billy. He the one that always mock shoots you, when you play games?"
Peter shook his head, unsuspecting. "No, that's Brian. He's my other school friend."
"They sound like interesting kids." House smiled at Peter. "I'd really like to meet them." His friend was watching him thoughtfully, dark head tipped to the side. It made House cautious.
"You've never asked to meet any of my friends before," Peter said, curious as to why House would want to do that, now.
"A serious oversight." House fumbled around for a believable explanation. "You've met my friend, Doctor Lee. It's only fair that I should meet yours too, right? Get to know them a little. How about Friday? They can come round here, straight from school, and I'll make you all some dinner. Afterwards, you can all play together, or maybe watch DVDs. I'll leave it up to you. It'll be great." House tried to disguise the sense of urgency he felt. Taking a calming breath, he wiped sweaty palms down his jeans.
Peter beckoned for House to step nearer to him.
Obediently, House stepped in front of him - forced himself to meet the luminous, questioning eyes. "So, what do you say?" House asked brightly.
"House, why did you storm off to the bathroom? What caused that crash; did you fall?"
House stared at Peter, biting his lip. It would be pointless to lie; he'd never get away with it. Not with the child so close and scrutinizing him so intently. "No, I didn't fall," he admitted reluctantly. "I was concerned about you, and I needed to be on my own for a while. I lost my temper and knocked everything off the shelf." He grimaced. "I think the cap came off the shampoo."
Demonstrating a maturity beyond his years, the child shook his head in dismay. "It's not a good thing to throw things around, House. Have you ever thought about getting some help?"
"You mean professional help? As in anger management classes? I haven't given that a great deal of thought, no," House said. "It's something I'll certainly consider doing, though, in the future."
"If you could, House, I'd sure appreciate it. I'd sleep a lot better at night." Satisfied with the other's pledge, Peter abruptly loosened up.
Sometimes, it was difficult to keep Peter on track. "About meeting your friends?"
"I think I'd like that; I'd like that very much." The child smiled shyly up at House, then always quick to lavish affection, he stretched up and coiled scrawny, loving arms, ultra carefully, around House's neck.
House automatically hugged him back.
"I'm so pleased that you want to meet Billy and Brian," Peter said.
House nodded silently, guilt and concern wrestling for dominance in his eyes.
Peter sighed audibly, relaxing against the older man. "House, thank you. You've made me very happy."
"I'm glad," House said. He could feel the child's ribcage, outlined sharply, against his palms.
The boy was being bullied.
That hateful knowledge might well have stoked his already fertile imagination, but to House, his friend seemed sickeningly fragile, his body as delicate as a bird's.
House gentled his hold. He leaned in close to Peter's ear. "This Friday," he said gruffly and found himself convulsively swallowing bile.
The child nodded sleepily against his chest.
"Good boy." House was forced to swallow again. "Mention it to your friends, tomorrow, and, whatever you do, don't forget."
*
October 24th, 2012, 12:50 hrs
"Would you like to come round House's, after school, this Friday?" Peter asked. "He said that he'll cook you some dinner."
Brian had already agreed to come, providing that it was okay with his parents. Now, Peter, bouncing a ball on the playground, was waiting for Billy's reply.
Billy wasn't so keen. "Why the hell would I want to do that?" he said.
Peter stared at him incredulously. "House told me that you'd say that," he gabbled excitedly. "Almost word for word." He turned to Brian. "House knows everything, even things about people he hasn't met, yet. He's so amazing. You'll find that out when you meet him."
Grabbing the ball from Peter, Billy bounced it on his knee, annoyed that in the other kids' eyes, it appeared that he was predictable. "And I'm guessing, he told you what to say in reply," he gibed.
"He did," Peter said nodding and held out his hand for his ball. "House said that if you don't want to come round and play with me, then you can't be much of a friend."
"Did he?" Billy could sense House was a fellow manipulator. A kindred soul. Perhaps, a couple of hours spent in his company, wouldn't be a washout; he might learn something. He thought for a moment, then grinned. "Okay. Tell your crippled friend to set an extra place at the table."
"Don't describe House like that," Peter pleaded.
Billy laughed at him and moved off, still entertaining himself with Peter's ball.
*
October 25th, 2012, 11:50 hrs
"You look tired," House commented with spectacular tactlessness, as he limped awkwardly into Lee's office.
Lee glanced up at him and scowled.
"And grumpy." House gave him a knowing look. "It's got to be girl problems. Trouble brewing in paradise? Storm clouds gathering on the horizon?" He tapped the side of his nose. "Thingummy show you to the door?"
Lee looked even more annoyed. "Believe it or not, Thingummy actually has a name... Claire. And no, we haven't split up; I'm seeing her tonight, after work."
Undeterred by Lee's less than chirpy mood, (most adults snapped at him after he spoke to them), House sank into a chair opposite Lee and snatched a stapler from his friend's desk. He lifted up the handle and pried underneath the hammer with a thumb nail. "So, what gives?"
Lee sighed heavily, debating on whether or not to say anything. "I'm afraid she's only after one thing," he confided, at last.
"Your money?" House suggested. He twanged the stapler spring with an inquisitive finger, then pulled back the pusher and let it go with a resounding snap. Several ill-fated staples went flying. Luckily for him, Lee was so embroiled in his own misery, that he didn't appear to notice.
"Sex," Lee said and shook his head dolefully.
"With whom?" Intrigued by his latest distraction, House was barely listening.
"A Mandingo in Timbuktu! Who do you think?" Lee threw down his pen in irritation.
House looked up, curious.
"Me, you moron; she wants to have sex with me!"
His new toy temporarily forgotten, House's eyes narrowed. "How awful. You must be at your wits' end."
Lee nodded sadly.
House's interest deepened.
On the verge of a stroke, Lee did his level best to calm down. He picked up his pen again and doodled idly on a patient's file. Now that he had started to tell House what was bothering him, he figured he might as well continue. "She's going too fast. What happened to wining? Dining? Getting to really know someone, before biting the bullet and jumping into bed with them?"
Biting the bullet? "I don't know what the world's coming to," House sympathized. He was fascinated. Was Lee asexual? Gay? Who knew?
From Lee's description, Claire sounded as if she could once have been his type of girl. In the past, lacking a conscience, he would have tried to get her number.
But that was before he'd met Peter and been re-homed on a pedestal.
That was before his erstwhile conscience had boomeranged back.
Smiling ruefully, House filched a sheet of paper from Lee's desk, folded it in two and stapled it neatly along the edges. Peter, Peter, Peter, he thought with fondness. If you realized how much power you wield, you'd probably need to be sedated. God help him in his later years! He was already viewing the world through gray eyes!
"I suppose you think that I'm an idiot?" Lee mumbled sheepishly, and House blinked.
"Huh? Well..... yeah." Something was amiss with the stapler. House looked down at it, realized he'd jammed it, and slid it, as unobtrusively as possible, back onto the desk. "Or, maybe, you're just shy."
Lee stared at him, caught unawares.
House struggled laboriously to his feet. He started towards the door. "Don't stress over tonight," he advised his friend. Hapless loser or not, House still liked him. "Live a little," he added over his shoulder. "Just see how it goes."
Shaking his head, Lee flapped a hand, dismissively, in House's direction. "Go on, get; I've got work to do." He had a sudden thought. "Unless you want to run an eye over this patient's file?"
House stilled, waging an internal battle. The door and its promise of freedom was so close. Oh, why was he even bothering? House rolled his eyes. He about-turned and started back towards the desk. "Sure," he said, crooking his fingers and beckoning for the paperwork. "Why not?"
*
October 26th, 2012, 16:10 hrs
House didn't know what to make of Brian. The boy was polite enough but oddly watchful. House decided to reserve judgment on him.
Billy was another matter entirely. When he'd picked the boys up from school, Billy had looked House over with an impudent sneer on his face. Billy - House had hated on sight.
Nor did that first impression change, over dinner. Billy was by turns, scornful, cocky, ungrateful, and he kept ridiculing Peter, every single chance he got.
After they'd finished eating, Peter tried to show his friends a magic trick, with his miniature deck of cards. "Pick a card," he said to Billy. "Look at it, but don't show it to me. Remember what it is."
Whilst Billy looked at his card, Peter cut the deck in two and discreetly looked at the card at the bottom of the cards in his right hand. He glanced at House.
House winked at his friend reassuringly and gave him the thumbs-up.
Peter smiled at him. He turned back to Billy. "Okay, give me your card back," he said.
Billy laid his chosen card on top of the pile in Peter's left hand, as directed.
Placing the cards he held in his right hand, on top of the cards in his left, Peter then loosely shuffled the deck. "Right, I'll tell you when I get to your card." Closely watched by the two boys, he started to lay his cards down carefully, one by one, until he reached the card he had memorized. Billy's card had to be the next one. Peter laid down the six of diamonds. "That's your card," he said confidently.
"Nope." Billy shook his head.
"No?" Peter stared at Billy, surprised. "Are you sure, Billy? It has to be that one."
"It's not. My card was the nine of spades." Billy looked disgusted. "That trick was useless."
Cheeks flaming, Peter looked over at House, unable to understand where he'd gone wrong.
House had seen and heard enough. "Peter," he said, his tone gentle. "Would you please go and fetch me my cell phone? I think I left it in my bedroom, in one of the drawers in my dresser."
"Sure, House."
The three of them watched as Peter scrambled off the sofa and disappeared out of sight.
House immediately turned to Billy, but the boy spoke to him, first.
"Nice piano," Billy said.
"Thanks." House smiled good-naturedly. "Bit large for your swag bag but take a look through my cupboards." He casually pointed towards his kitchen. "You might get lucky."
The two boys stared at him curiously.
"What made you say that?" Billy asked.
"Because you're greedy." House put his hand to his mouth and pseudo whispered. "And you're a thief."
Understanding dawned in Billy's eyes. Visibly unconcerned, he slouched back on the couch and folded his arms, casually, behind his head. "Peter told you about that, huh? Well, what do you expect me to do? One day, he just came over to me and offered me his lunch. He's been giving it to me, ever since."
"That isn't true." Brian glanced quickly at House, then stared bravely at Billy. "You came up to him one lunch time and more or less forced him into giving his lunch over. I know what happened; I was there."
House, who had never particularly approved of tattletaling unless he was the one doing it, suddenly warmed to the kid.
Billy threw Brian a glance that promised retribution.
House gifted Billy with a patented smirk of his own. "Your days of unfettered gluttony are over. Don't be surprised if, over the next few months, you start to shed a few of those excess pounds."
Fuming, Billy glared at him. "What's it got to do with you, anyway? Why do you even care?"
House leaned towards him. "I care because he's my friend."
Billy shrugged offhandedly. "Or is it something else? Why are you friends? He's six; you're an old man."
Bristling, House glanced towards his bedroom door. No sign of Peter yet; good. He turned back to face Billy. "Peter's a great kid. Something a mean-spirited child like you is never likely to understand. From now on, stay the hell away from him. For God's sake, he's just lost his mom!"
"So what? You wanna know what I think?" Billy sat forwards, small eyes glinting. "My mommy and daddy have told me that there are some dirty old men out there who like hurting little kids. I think you're one of them; am I right?"
House jerked as if shot.
Brian looked at Billy, thoroughly confused. "I don't know what you're going on about," he said.
"It's okay," House said. "I'm sure your friend doesn't know what he's saying, either." But inwardly, House was reeling. How old was Billy? Peter's age? A fraction older? He hadn't been expecting such an offensive accusation, not from the mouth of a young kid.
"Yes, I do." Billy didn't, not really, but he wasn't going to tell them that. He paused for effect. "I'm not the only one who thinks that," he said. "Everybody at the school's talking about it."
How dare Billy insinuate that he'd abuse Peter? How dare he? "That's enough," House said, voice ominously quiet.
Billy glanced at Brian, but the other boy was staring studiously at his knees. Billy turned his infuriating smirk back onto House. "That why you ask Peter to come over here, all the time? You think his daddy knows what's going on?"
"That's enough!" House slammed his cane down on the carpet - felt the impact jar the muscles, brutally, in his shoulders and back.
Both boys jumped.
Goaded beyond all reason, House had taken a furious step towards Billy when, for the second time that week, he was brought back to his senses by Peter's terrified scream.
"House! Stop!" The little boy ran to stand in front of Brian and Billy, arms outstretched as if to shield them. "House, what do you think you're doing?"
House swayed as if waking up from a dream.
Peter turned to face his friends who were both sitting, shocked and subdued, in front of him. Peter addressed Brian. "You both need to go home, now. Call your daddy and ask him to come and get you."
Brian hesitated, looking up at House.
"Go on, it's alright," Peter said. "He won't touch you. Please, go and call your daddy."
Whilst they waited for their lift to arrive, the boys waited, in tense silence, by the door.
*
"You were going to hit them."
"No!" House denied the charge emphatically. He rubbed his temples. "I promise you, I wasn't."
"You tricked me, House. You told me that you wanted to meet Brian and Billy. That's the only reason I asked them over."
"Billy's a bully," House said bluntly. "Brian doesn't seem to be too bad, but Billy's just using you!"
"He's not a bully, House; he's my friend."
"He's not your friend! He's a jerk! One's nice, one's hostile. How can you get them confused?" House realized that he was shouting. He made a huge effort to modify his voice. "He's been stealing your lunch! Where was Billy when that drink spilled all over your sketchbook, huh? You're too careful to let something like that happen. Where was Billy, then?"
Peter savagely wiped at his eyes. "He told me that it was just an accident, House. He didn't do it on purpose."
"Of course, he did!" House was yelling again, but this time, he couldn't control it. "He's not got a decent bone in his body! He had the nerve to accuse me of........" For a traitorous instant, his mind conjured up a picture perfect image of Wilson. Oblivious to House's deception, Wilson was stepping towards him, body open and wholly unguarded, his brown eyes shining with misguided joy.
Crap, not now, not now! House blinked away the memory and swiped at a mouth tasting of ashes. He tried to reassemble his thoughts. "You latch onto people that end up hurting you," he said dully. "How long did you stay in the marital home with Julie, after it was all over? Night after night, you kept on crawling back to her, and she didn't even speak to you during the last six months! In the end, she was finally forced to throw you out!"
He stared at Peter, his hand white knuckled where it was gripping his cane. House was sorely tempted to go to kindergarten with him. He wanted to attach himself to Peter like a shadow, like a second skin, and keep him safe for the rest of his days.
But he couldn't. No matter how much he yearned to protect him, he knew that he couldn't.
"You're exactly the same, now," House continued relentlessly. "You've come back to Earth for the second time, and you still haven't learned anything! You're an idiot! You don't know when it's time to let go!"
Peter had listened to this tirade in silence. He was dreadfully pale. "I'm not an idiot, House," he said, his mouth trembling, "but you made me look like one. You sent me in there." He jerked his head in the direction of House's bedroom. "Where is your cell phone?"
Despite himself, House's gaze flickered to his jacket, hanging up by the front door.
Peter followed his gaze. He nodded to himself. "I see," he said.
House looked down at the floor, chastened. "I needed to talk to Billy without you interf......"
"You wanted to attack him," Peter said numbly. He could hardly believe the depths of House's betrayal. And now, he had to face Billy again, on Monday. How was he ever going to be able to do that? "You've made things worse."
"No." House took a shaky step nearer to him but stopped immediately when the child flinched. Wounded, he hunched over, leaning extra heavily on his cane.
"Call my daddy," Peter said, crying openly now. "I want to go home."
House's heart was racing. He pressed his hand to his sternum. "No! I mean..... please....just.... just wait a minute, okay? Let's both take a step back. I was only looking out for you," he stressed softly. "Billy had to be stopped." He dropped his cane and held his hand out, his posture still that of an octogenarian's. "Things have spiralled wildly out of control. Billy said some terrible things. Admittedly, he took me off guard, but I swear to you, I wasn't going to hit him. I was just trying to protect you, that's all. Please, Pedro, come here."
Peter shook his head. "I want to go home," he said again, his tone flat and lifeless. He stumbled to the living room window and gazed bleakly outside.
Watching him, House knew only too well what the boy was looking for and felt queasy with grief. He covered his eyes.
House had to wonder if the world had stopped spinning, himself.
part 4
Author: Fayding_fast
Sequel: Yes, to Duped.
Chapter: 3/4
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em
Wordcount: 4882
Spoilers: Minor for "Daddy's boy" and "Needle in a haystack"
Warning: Serious angst. Swearing.
Con-crit? Yes, please.
Rating: PG
Author's note: This really is a particularly sad chapter. Have faith!
Edited March 2021
October 23rd, 2012, 20:05 hrs
House shook his head in exaggerated disbelief, then straightened up. "Billy shares your lunch?" he asked with deceptive mildness.
"Not exactly," Peter hedged, gaze darting around the kitchen evasively.
House put his fingers under Peter's chin and turned the child's face towards him. "He doesn't share your lunch?"
Peter shook his head. "No, House," he said.
"Great!" House enthused, face animated by false cheer. "So, what does he do?" He smiled in encouragement. "Exactly?"
Peter decided to come clean. "He eats my whole lunch," he answered ingenuously. The child wrung his hands. Was House prepared to change the filling in his sandwiches? If House wasn't, Billy wouldn't be happy.
Concerned eyes glanced at the lunchbox, then pinned the kid back down. "Does he, now?" House probed, tone still remarkably restrained. "How long has this been going on?"
Peter thought back. "It started shortly after we went round Doctor Lee's for dinner," he said. He looked at House earnestly. "I don't mind that he eats it, House," he assured his friend. "He needs it."
House was feeling sick to his stomach. Why hadn't he picked up on this before? Why? "Let me get this straight," he said. "Billy asks you to give him your lunch, and you just hand it over to him? On a silver platter? You go from breakfast time to your evening meal without eating anything at all?"
Peter nodded uneasily, not liking the way House's face had paled, or how his mouth had tightened, abruptly, into a grim, forbidding line. Was House furious with him? Was he ill? "He told me that he needs to eat a lot more than me because he's bigger than me, and his mommy and daddy don't have a lot of money." He reached out warily to brush House's hip. "House, are you feeling.....?"
"Excuse me," House interrupted him. Without another word, House grabbed his cane, turned his back, and limped towards the bathroom.
"House, what's wrong?" Disturbed, Peter started to follow him.
House quickened his steps.
"What are you doing? Where are you going?" Peter's voice was shaking with alarm. He began to run to try to catch up to him.
In desperation, House slammed the bathroom door in his face.
*
House held onto the sides of the washbasin with shaking hands.
The boy's peculiar question about food sharing, the previous week, now made a terrible kind of sense. And he, not understanding the severity of the situation, had babbled on and on like a fool.
A blissfully ignorant, stupid fool.
Peter was being bullied.
Trying to stop the trembling, he gripped the basin even tighter until his fingers ached. He raised enlightened, seething eyes and looked at himself in the mirror. The man reflected there, staring back at him, looked unbelievably helpless and tired.
Damn it all to hell; Peter was the victim of bullying.
In the grip of unspeakable rage, House raised his arm and swept everything off a nearby shelf. Cans and bottles, lotions and shaving gear all went flying. The tantrum made him feel marginally better. His rampage might very well have continued, only, he then heard Peter's voice.
The boy had screamed his name in panic; the child was hammering on the closed door.
*
House hastily unlocked the bathroom door and threw it open. He stared down into the small child's terrified face. "Don't get upset," House said, "I'm fine. See? Not a mark on me."
Possessing the resilience of the very young, upon discovering that House was unhurt, Peter's terror abated rapidly. But what, then, had caused that commotion? Confused, he peered round House's legs and gasped in consternation when he saw the chaos. He pointed at it, deeply upset. "House, is that my Mickey Mouse flannel lying there on the floor?"
House picked him up.
"I don't know if I'm too thrilled about that, House."
House carted him into the kitchen. He sat him on the kitchen counter and braced his hands on either side of him so that he couldn't fall off.
The child looked up at him reproachfully. "You scared me badly, House," he groused, "and you also shut the door on me."
"I know I did, Pedro; I was out of order."
Tetchiness unassuaged, the boy indicated the worktop. "You've sat me down in a lot of breadcrumbs."
"An unforgivable offense," House said to pacify him. "I'm an evil, wicked man. You can scold me to your heart's content later. Right now, we need to have another one of our talks."
"We do," Peter agreed vehemently. "You need to take better care of my things, House. I really like that flannel."
"Peter." House patted his cheeks. "I'm not kidding; you need to focus. You listening?"
"Oh, fine," Peter said, still peeved. He rested his chin on the heel of his palm - the poster child for the seriously put upon. "I'm all ears," he said begrudgingly. "Fire away."
If House hadn't been quite so agitated, he might have grinned. Instead, he gazed at the child pensively. "Do you know what can happen if you keep skipping your meals?"
Peter put his thumb into his mouth. He nodded vigorously in assent.
House gently forced his friend to stop sucking on his thumb and held both of the child's hands down, on his lap. "I want you to work with me, here," he said. "Tell me what can happen."
"Your daddy can call you a downright disgrace and force you to go and stand in the corner," Peter answered him instantly. "For a whole ten minutes!"
"Ooo-kaaaay," House said, managing to veil his exasperation. "I meant more along the lines of - what effect does fasting have on the human body?"
"Oh. You should have said." Peter frowned, accessing his immense store of memories, and then his brow cleared. "You could get a headache," he said.
"Good. What else?"
Thawing substantially because of the praise, Peter narrowed his eyes in concentration. "You could get pains in your tummy."
"That's right; you could," House concurred readily. "And what else?"
"It can slow you down; you don't learn as quickly when you're hungry."
"Excellent." House winked. "I'll make a doctor of you, yet. Can you think of any other consequences?"
"I don't want to be a doctor; I'm going to be an elf," Peter reminded him. He glanced down at Katie's present. The child, drowning in his voluminous T-shirt, looked disturbingly small and frail. "You can lose a lot of weight," he murmured unwillingly.
"Yep, that's a biggie." House's voice was unusually serious. "That it? What about fainting?" He waited. His friend was bright enough to draw his own conclusions.
Peter stared sombrely down at House's restraining hands, his heels tapping lightly against the cupboard door. "You believe that's why I fainted last week," he whispered.
"Yeah, I do; don't you?" House watched him, apprehensive and quiet.
It seemed like the most logical explanation. Feeling suddenly insecure, Peter raised his head and searched House's eyes, looking for help. "I don't know what to do, now," he said.
"Bear with me; I have an idea." House released him and stood upright. "Stay safe," he warned and went to fetch Peter's backpack. He needed to move - needed to work some of the screaming tension out of his system. He threw the empty bag on the worktop, next to Peter, and opened it up. "This is what we'll do." He glanced at the boy, making sure he had his full attention. He did. "The cheese sandwiches, I'll wrap up and place in the bottom of your bag, here. Then I'll place the lunchbox, with Billy's food in it, on top, here." He pointed.
Peter frowned.
"You mustn't tell Billy that you have extra food in the bag. I want you to eat your cheese sandwiches sometime during the day, when he's not in sight. Some place where he won't disturb you. Got that? At lunchtime, you can still give your friend some food, as usual. He won't be any the wiser, and you won't be hungry. Do you understand?"
"I do." Peter nodded, delighted. "House, that's a really neat idea."
"That's my boy." He ruffled the child's hair. "You gonna be alright sitting there, whilst I finish doing what I've gotta do?"
"I'll be fine. I'll be very careful."
"You'd better be." House busied himself around the kitchen, thinking - plotting. It was imperative that he introduce himself to Billy and without delay. He wanted to confront him by the end of that week. He turned to look at the child, expression innocent. "Your buddy, Billy. He the one that always mock shoots you, when you play games?"
Peter shook his head, unsuspecting. "No, that's Brian. He's my other school friend."
"They sound like interesting kids." House smiled at Peter. "I'd really like to meet them." His friend was watching him thoughtfully, dark head tipped to the side. It made House cautious.
"You've never asked to meet any of my friends before," Peter said, curious as to why House would want to do that, now.
"A serious oversight." House fumbled around for a believable explanation. "You've met my friend, Doctor Lee. It's only fair that I should meet yours too, right? Get to know them a little. How about Friday? They can come round here, straight from school, and I'll make you all some dinner. Afterwards, you can all play together, or maybe watch DVDs. I'll leave it up to you. It'll be great." House tried to disguise the sense of urgency he felt. Taking a calming breath, he wiped sweaty palms down his jeans.
Peter beckoned for House to step nearer to him.
Obediently, House stepped in front of him - forced himself to meet the luminous, questioning eyes. "So, what do you say?" House asked brightly.
"House, why did you storm off to the bathroom? What caused that crash; did you fall?"
House stared at Peter, biting his lip. It would be pointless to lie; he'd never get away with it. Not with the child so close and scrutinizing him so intently. "No, I didn't fall," he admitted reluctantly. "I was concerned about you, and I needed to be on my own for a while. I lost my temper and knocked everything off the shelf." He grimaced. "I think the cap came off the shampoo."
Demonstrating a maturity beyond his years, the child shook his head in dismay. "It's not a good thing to throw things around, House. Have you ever thought about getting some help?"
"You mean professional help? As in anger management classes? I haven't given that a great deal of thought, no," House said. "It's something I'll certainly consider doing, though, in the future."
"If you could, House, I'd sure appreciate it. I'd sleep a lot better at night." Satisfied with the other's pledge, Peter abruptly loosened up.
Sometimes, it was difficult to keep Peter on track. "About meeting your friends?"
"I think I'd like that; I'd like that very much." The child smiled shyly up at House, then always quick to lavish affection, he stretched up and coiled scrawny, loving arms, ultra carefully, around House's neck.
House automatically hugged him back.
"I'm so pleased that you want to meet Billy and Brian," Peter said.
House nodded silently, guilt and concern wrestling for dominance in his eyes.
Peter sighed audibly, relaxing against the older man. "House, thank you. You've made me very happy."
"I'm glad," House said. He could feel the child's ribcage, outlined sharply, against his palms.
The boy was being bullied.
That hateful knowledge might well have stoked his already fertile imagination, but to House, his friend seemed sickeningly fragile, his body as delicate as a bird's.
House gentled his hold. He leaned in close to Peter's ear. "This Friday," he said gruffly and found himself convulsively swallowing bile.
The child nodded sleepily against his chest.
"Good boy." House was forced to swallow again. "Mention it to your friends, tomorrow, and, whatever you do, don't forget."
*
October 24th, 2012, 12:50 hrs
"Would you like to come round House's, after school, this Friday?" Peter asked. "He said that he'll cook you some dinner."
Brian had already agreed to come, providing that it was okay with his parents. Now, Peter, bouncing a ball on the playground, was waiting for Billy's reply.
Billy wasn't so keen. "Why the hell would I want to do that?" he said.
Peter stared at him incredulously. "House told me that you'd say that," he gabbled excitedly. "Almost word for word." He turned to Brian. "House knows everything, even things about people he hasn't met, yet. He's so amazing. You'll find that out when you meet him."
Grabbing the ball from Peter, Billy bounced it on his knee, annoyed that in the other kids' eyes, it appeared that he was predictable. "And I'm guessing, he told you what to say in reply," he gibed.
"He did," Peter said nodding and held out his hand for his ball. "House said that if you don't want to come round and play with me, then you can't be much of a friend."
"Did he?" Billy could sense House was a fellow manipulator. A kindred soul. Perhaps, a couple of hours spent in his company, wouldn't be a washout; he might learn something. He thought for a moment, then grinned. "Okay. Tell your crippled friend to set an extra place at the table."
"Don't describe House like that," Peter pleaded.
Billy laughed at him and moved off, still entertaining himself with Peter's ball.
*
October 25th, 2012, 11:50 hrs
"You look tired," House commented with spectacular tactlessness, as he limped awkwardly into Lee's office.
Lee glanced up at him and scowled.
"And grumpy." House gave him a knowing look. "It's got to be girl problems. Trouble brewing in paradise? Storm clouds gathering on the horizon?" He tapped the side of his nose. "Thingummy show you to the door?"
Lee looked even more annoyed. "Believe it or not, Thingummy actually has a name... Claire. And no, we haven't split up; I'm seeing her tonight, after work."
Undeterred by Lee's less than chirpy mood, (most adults snapped at him after he spoke to them), House sank into a chair opposite Lee and snatched a stapler from his friend's desk. He lifted up the handle and pried underneath the hammer with a thumb nail. "So, what gives?"
Lee sighed heavily, debating on whether or not to say anything. "I'm afraid she's only after one thing," he confided, at last.
"Your money?" House suggested. He twanged the stapler spring with an inquisitive finger, then pulled back the pusher and let it go with a resounding snap. Several ill-fated staples went flying. Luckily for him, Lee was so embroiled in his own misery, that he didn't appear to notice.
"Sex," Lee said and shook his head dolefully.
"With whom?" Intrigued by his latest distraction, House was barely listening.
"A Mandingo in Timbuktu! Who do you think?" Lee threw down his pen in irritation.
House looked up, curious.
"Me, you moron; she wants to have sex with me!"
His new toy temporarily forgotten, House's eyes narrowed. "How awful. You must be at your wits' end."
Lee nodded sadly.
House's interest deepened.
On the verge of a stroke, Lee did his level best to calm down. He picked up his pen again and doodled idly on a patient's file. Now that he had started to tell House what was bothering him, he figured he might as well continue. "She's going too fast. What happened to wining? Dining? Getting to really know someone, before biting the bullet and jumping into bed with them?"
Biting the bullet? "I don't know what the world's coming to," House sympathized. He was fascinated. Was Lee asexual? Gay? Who knew?
From Lee's description, Claire sounded as if she could once have been his type of girl. In the past, lacking a conscience, he would have tried to get her number.
But that was before he'd met Peter and been re-homed on a pedestal.
That was before his erstwhile conscience had boomeranged back.
Smiling ruefully, House filched a sheet of paper from Lee's desk, folded it in two and stapled it neatly along the edges. Peter, Peter, Peter, he thought with fondness. If you realized how much power you wield, you'd probably need to be sedated. God help him in his later years! He was already viewing the world through gray eyes!
"I suppose you think that I'm an idiot?" Lee mumbled sheepishly, and House blinked.
"Huh? Well..... yeah." Something was amiss with the stapler. House looked down at it, realized he'd jammed it, and slid it, as unobtrusively as possible, back onto the desk. "Or, maybe, you're just shy."
Lee stared at him, caught unawares.
House struggled laboriously to his feet. He started towards the door. "Don't stress over tonight," he advised his friend. Hapless loser or not, House still liked him. "Live a little," he added over his shoulder. "Just see how it goes."
Shaking his head, Lee flapped a hand, dismissively, in House's direction. "Go on, get; I've got work to do." He had a sudden thought. "Unless you want to run an eye over this patient's file?"
House stilled, waging an internal battle. The door and its promise of freedom was so close. Oh, why was he even bothering? House rolled his eyes. He about-turned and started back towards the desk. "Sure," he said, crooking his fingers and beckoning for the paperwork. "Why not?"
*
October 26th, 2012, 16:10 hrs
House didn't know what to make of Brian. The boy was polite enough but oddly watchful. House decided to reserve judgment on him.
Billy was another matter entirely. When he'd picked the boys up from school, Billy had looked House over with an impudent sneer on his face. Billy - House had hated on sight.
Nor did that first impression change, over dinner. Billy was by turns, scornful, cocky, ungrateful, and he kept ridiculing Peter, every single chance he got.
After they'd finished eating, Peter tried to show his friends a magic trick, with his miniature deck of cards. "Pick a card," he said to Billy. "Look at it, but don't show it to me. Remember what it is."
Whilst Billy looked at his card, Peter cut the deck in two and discreetly looked at the card at the bottom of the cards in his right hand. He glanced at House.
House winked at his friend reassuringly and gave him the thumbs-up.
Peter smiled at him. He turned back to Billy. "Okay, give me your card back," he said.
Billy laid his chosen card on top of the pile in Peter's left hand, as directed.
Placing the cards he held in his right hand, on top of the cards in his left, Peter then loosely shuffled the deck. "Right, I'll tell you when I get to your card." Closely watched by the two boys, he started to lay his cards down carefully, one by one, until he reached the card he had memorized. Billy's card had to be the next one. Peter laid down the six of diamonds. "That's your card," he said confidently.
"Nope." Billy shook his head.
"No?" Peter stared at Billy, surprised. "Are you sure, Billy? It has to be that one."
"It's not. My card was the nine of spades." Billy looked disgusted. "That trick was useless."
Cheeks flaming, Peter looked over at House, unable to understand where he'd gone wrong.
House had seen and heard enough. "Peter," he said, his tone gentle. "Would you please go and fetch me my cell phone? I think I left it in my bedroom, in one of the drawers in my dresser."
"Sure, House."
The three of them watched as Peter scrambled off the sofa and disappeared out of sight.
House immediately turned to Billy, but the boy spoke to him, first.
"Nice piano," Billy said.
"Thanks." House smiled good-naturedly. "Bit large for your swag bag but take a look through my cupboards." He casually pointed towards his kitchen. "You might get lucky."
The two boys stared at him curiously.
"What made you say that?" Billy asked.
"Because you're greedy." House put his hand to his mouth and pseudo whispered. "And you're a thief."
Understanding dawned in Billy's eyes. Visibly unconcerned, he slouched back on the couch and folded his arms, casually, behind his head. "Peter told you about that, huh? Well, what do you expect me to do? One day, he just came over to me and offered me his lunch. He's been giving it to me, ever since."
"That isn't true." Brian glanced quickly at House, then stared bravely at Billy. "You came up to him one lunch time and more or less forced him into giving his lunch over. I know what happened; I was there."
House, who had never particularly approved of tattletaling unless he was the one doing it, suddenly warmed to the kid.
Billy threw Brian a glance that promised retribution.
House gifted Billy with a patented smirk of his own. "Your days of unfettered gluttony are over. Don't be surprised if, over the next few months, you start to shed a few of those excess pounds."
Fuming, Billy glared at him. "What's it got to do with you, anyway? Why do you even care?"
House leaned towards him. "I care because he's my friend."
Billy shrugged offhandedly. "Or is it something else? Why are you friends? He's six; you're an old man."
Bristling, House glanced towards his bedroom door. No sign of Peter yet; good. He turned back to face Billy. "Peter's a great kid. Something a mean-spirited child like you is never likely to understand. From now on, stay the hell away from him. For God's sake, he's just lost his mom!"
"So what? You wanna know what I think?" Billy sat forwards, small eyes glinting. "My mommy and daddy have told me that there are some dirty old men out there who like hurting little kids. I think you're one of them; am I right?"
House jerked as if shot.
Brian looked at Billy, thoroughly confused. "I don't know what you're going on about," he said.
"It's okay," House said. "I'm sure your friend doesn't know what he's saying, either." But inwardly, House was reeling. How old was Billy? Peter's age? A fraction older? He hadn't been expecting such an offensive accusation, not from the mouth of a young kid.
"Yes, I do." Billy didn't, not really, but he wasn't going to tell them that. He paused for effect. "I'm not the only one who thinks that," he said. "Everybody at the school's talking about it."
How dare Billy insinuate that he'd abuse Peter? How dare he? "That's enough," House said, voice ominously quiet.
Billy glanced at Brian, but the other boy was staring studiously at his knees. Billy turned his infuriating smirk back onto House. "That why you ask Peter to come over here, all the time? You think his daddy knows what's going on?"
"That's enough!" House slammed his cane down on the carpet - felt the impact jar the muscles, brutally, in his shoulders and back.
Both boys jumped.
Goaded beyond all reason, House had taken a furious step towards Billy when, for the second time that week, he was brought back to his senses by Peter's terrified scream.
"House! Stop!" The little boy ran to stand in front of Brian and Billy, arms outstretched as if to shield them. "House, what do you think you're doing?"
House swayed as if waking up from a dream.
Peter turned to face his friends who were both sitting, shocked and subdued, in front of him. Peter addressed Brian. "You both need to go home, now. Call your daddy and ask him to come and get you."
Brian hesitated, looking up at House.
"Go on, it's alright," Peter said. "He won't touch you. Please, go and call your daddy."
Whilst they waited for their lift to arrive, the boys waited, in tense silence, by the door.
*
"You were going to hit them."
"No!" House denied the charge emphatically. He rubbed his temples. "I promise you, I wasn't."
"You tricked me, House. You told me that you wanted to meet Brian and Billy. That's the only reason I asked them over."
"Billy's a bully," House said bluntly. "Brian doesn't seem to be too bad, but Billy's just using you!"
"He's not a bully, House; he's my friend."
"He's not your friend! He's a jerk! One's nice, one's hostile. How can you get them confused?" House realized that he was shouting. He made a huge effort to modify his voice. "He's been stealing your lunch! Where was Billy when that drink spilled all over your sketchbook, huh? You're too careful to let something like that happen. Where was Billy, then?"
Peter savagely wiped at his eyes. "He told me that it was just an accident, House. He didn't do it on purpose."
"Of course, he did!" House was yelling again, but this time, he couldn't control it. "He's not got a decent bone in his body! He had the nerve to accuse me of........" For a traitorous instant, his mind conjured up a picture perfect image of Wilson. Oblivious to House's deception, Wilson was stepping towards him, body open and wholly unguarded, his brown eyes shining with misguided joy.
Crap, not now, not now! House blinked away the memory and swiped at a mouth tasting of ashes. He tried to reassemble his thoughts. "You latch onto people that end up hurting you," he said dully. "How long did you stay in the marital home with Julie, after it was all over? Night after night, you kept on crawling back to her, and she didn't even speak to you during the last six months! In the end, she was finally forced to throw you out!"
He stared at Peter, his hand white knuckled where it was gripping his cane. House was sorely tempted to go to kindergarten with him. He wanted to attach himself to Peter like a shadow, like a second skin, and keep him safe for the rest of his days.
But he couldn't. No matter how much he yearned to protect him, he knew that he couldn't.
"You're exactly the same, now," House continued relentlessly. "You've come back to Earth for the second time, and you still haven't learned anything! You're an idiot! You don't know when it's time to let go!"
Peter had listened to this tirade in silence. He was dreadfully pale. "I'm not an idiot, House," he said, his mouth trembling, "but you made me look like one. You sent me in there." He jerked his head in the direction of House's bedroom. "Where is your cell phone?"
Despite himself, House's gaze flickered to his jacket, hanging up by the front door.
Peter followed his gaze. He nodded to himself. "I see," he said.
House looked down at the floor, chastened. "I needed to talk to Billy without you interf......"
"You wanted to attack him," Peter said numbly. He could hardly believe the depths of House's betrayal. And now, he had to face Billy again, on Monday. How was he ever going to be able to do that? "You've made things worse."
"No." House took a shaky step nearer to him but stopped immediately when the child flinched. Wounded, he hunched over, leaning extra heavily on his cane.
"Call my daddy," Peter said, crying openly now. "I want to go home."
House's heart was racing. He pressed his hand to his sternum. "No! I mean..... please....just.... just wait a minute, okay? Let's both take a step back. I was only looking out for you," he stressed softly. "Billy had to be stopped." He dropped his cane and held his hand out, his posture still that of an octogenarian's. "Things have spiralled wildly out of control. Billy said some terrible things. Admittedly, he took me off guard, but I swear to you, I wasn't going to hit him. I was just trying to protect you, that's all. Please, Pedro, come here."
Peter shook his head. "I want to go home," he said again, his tone flat and lifeless. He stumbled to the living room window and gazed bleakly outside.
Watching him, House knew only too well what the boy was looking for and felt queasy with grief. He covered his eyes.
House had to wonder if the world had stopped spinning, himself.
part 4