Parentage (Peter, Liz with Aly and Jacinta) Rating: PG-13

[father-peter.livejournal.com]

Peter was not used to parents. Well, he was used to Liz fussing, but actual parents that flittered around and fussed over your weight and whether or not you had colour in your cheeks and if you were feeling well...that wasn't something he'd dealt with since he was 11 years old. After his sister's death, his mother had cared about little else besides waiting for poor dead Margaret to return to them, and his father had survived in a drunken stupor for the next 3 years. So when Aly's parents came over with the kids in tow and immediately started fussing about how ill he looked, despite that fact that he thought he looked fine...much better in fact, he finally excused himself and slunk in to the library downstairs. It had been his father's office, but it was bigger than Deirdre's library and the books inside hadn't been touched in years. Of course...it was gloomier than Deirdre's library too, and he sneezed immediately upon entering.

Liz eventually noticed Peter had escaped and she excused herself too. He'd been gone for a good twenty minutes and she was beginning to worry. She herself thought Aly's parents were wonderful, but then again, Peter was very weird. She searched all over the house for him. The last place she expected to find him was the library-well...second to last place...but that's where he was, sitting crosslegged on top of their father's expensive cherrywood desk because Peter knew that would really piss Klaus off. "Peter?" She asked cautiously.

"Hmm?" Peter looked up from what he was reading and he smiled. "Oh, hello, Liz!"

Liz raised her eyebrows. "You...escaped?"

Peter nodded. "Oh that. Just...Not looking forward to being informed that I resemble a...clam or a monkfish or some other sort of unattractive deep sea creature."

Liz laughed. "They said you looked pale, that's all. Which is true. And you do have a cold you know. They're just looking out for you."

"Well...it's weird." Peter uncrossed his legs and he hung them off the edge of the desk. "Aren't they supposed to look after Aly?"

Liz shook her head. "I think Aly's parents would look after anyone. They're lovely. And Jacinta seems to like bossing people around. Something I can relate to." Liz winked. "What's the matter, you have a problem with authority figures?"

Peter chuckled. "Traditionally, yes. Look here." He held up the journal he was holding. "Father kept a journal like I do."

The smile fell from Liz's face. "Peter, you don't want to read that."

Peter looked perplexed. "Why not? He can't ground me. Oh god! Are you going to ground me?!" Peter looked momentarily terrified.

Liz snorted. "No, Peter. You just...some things are better left unread." She made a grab for it and Peter, not wanting this to dissolve into childishness, let the journal slip into her fingers. "Did you come in here looking for this?"

Peter shook his head. "No. I came to see if there were any worthwhile books in here. You know father was into religion big time, and I thought maybe there might be some mythological books or something. They're all law books though. Useless, unlike the mythological tomes. It's nice to read them and look for similarities with reality...we can see which authors actually knew what they were talking about when they were writing of demons and angels and if you look closely you can see some were writing in code and...what?" Liz was looking at him oddly.

"Nothing. You just...remind me of him sometimes." Liz said, pointing to a photograph of their father hanging on the wall.

"Ew!" Peter yelped, letting all hope of it not dissolving into childishness fly out the window. "Take it back!"

Liz laughed. "I just mean...you're both very driven. He used to work into the late hours of the night and you do the same thing."

"Yes, but he ignored us to do that. I take family time." Peter was careful of that. He didn't want his kids to think they came second like he always had.

"You do, which is admirable. I'm just saying...sometimes I think it was his job that drove him to drink. He did it long before mum locked herself upstairs, it just wasn't as evident. You should give yourself a break once in a while."

Peter sighed and he looked down at his hands. "You think if I don't I'll go round the bend?"

Liz nodded and she leaned against the desk beside Peter. "Possibly. You already did once. And you're not allowed to lock yourself upstairs." Not to mention hang himself again...

"God, I don't want to lock myself anywhere." Peter grabbed the journal back from Liz. "I wanted to know if it said anything about me."

"Peter, don't." Liz cautioned, though she wasn't going to take it away. If he wanted to look, that was his right.

Peter opened the diary and though it was written in German, he understood every word. He flipped pages until he found one with his name on it. It was dated July 27th, 1981. Peter would have been 9 years old. Almost 10.

I worry that my son Peter won't amount to a thing. He refuses to be interested in the law, instead spending his time watching ridiculous television shows about lower class negro Americans. I had high hopes when he was born. I wanted a son. An heir. Ever since that day, however, I have been disappointed. Peter is not the strong young man I hoped he'd be, but a shy weakling with no obvious talents. I do worry that he is going to be like those homosexuals making the news in the US lately. Those men dying of this AIDS have no one to blame but themselves. They're going against God and nature and they deserve to die. If my son is going to be one of those disgusting diseased miscreants, I'll have him kicked out before he can say-

Liz grabbed the journal from him. She'd watched Peter's face growing whiter and whiter as he read. "I did tell you not to."

Peter looked up. "Apparently I was shy weakling with no obvious talents. At 9."

Liz nodded. "I know, I read it. You should hear what he called me." She said, gripping the journal with both hands. "Mum said it was just him taking his frustrations about cases out in a private little place. That he didn't mean any of it. I'm not so sure. But it doesn't matter, anyway. Because you're not any of the things he said. He was an angry, bitter, bigoted man."

Peter nodded and he sighed, leaning back on the desk. "I'm not any of the things he said, but I'm like him?"

Liz shook her head. "Peter...what I was trying to tell you is that I can see you...turning into someone like that if you're not careful. Whatever else you can say about Father, he had a lot to stress about. He ran a law firm and he handled high profile cases. He had a young daughter diagnosed with leukemia. And in order to handle it all, he drank. You're the same way. You have all this stress and then you drink and the other day, you lied about it. And sometimes you do snap and say horrible things." She held up the journal. "Not horrible things to this degree but...don't you think it could get there?"

Peter suddenly felt very empty. The problem with not being used to parents and not having them around, was that it was hard to learn from their example, whether good or bad. He had learned how not to treat his children by the way his father had reguarded him. He knew how it felt because he'd seen it all through the eyes of a child. That was a lesson he had well under control. But not knowing his father as an adult meant he'd never realised that behind the disdain and harsh words there was a trapped man who didn't know how to claw himself out. And he was dangerously close to falling into the same trap. "Fuck." He said softly.

Liz turned to look at him. "Maybe you should read this." She said, pushing it back into his hands. "Just know that none of what he says is true." Maybe he just needed the example. His father wasn't here for Peter to see what could become of him. But his words still exsisted. "He could have had a lot of joy, but he refused to see any of it." Liz put her hands on Peter's shoulders. "You have a wonderful wife and amazing children. I just want to make sure you don't lose sight of that. And if you do, I'll have to kick your arse."

"Uh...please do?" Peter muttered, terribly disturbed.

Jacinta poked her head around the corner and she glanced at the both of them. "Oh, Peter! You shouldn't be in this dusty room with your cold! You'll make yourself more ill."

Peter smiled and hopped down from the desk. "I was looking for a book."

Jacinta clicked her tongue in disapproval and she led Peter and Liz out of the room. Aly was leaning against the wall just outside looking amused as Jacinta chastised Peter for being silly and inhaling dust and someone shouldn't be so pale and goodness gracious me oh my. "Now you just go back to the sitting room with Aly, you two. I'm making tea."

Peter turned to her and then he kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, Mum." He said flashing her a smile.

Jacinta headed towards the kitchen, looking intensely pleased.