Sins of the Father
by raile
Summary: In the quiet, Diane is able to think.
Disclaimer: The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.
Rating: T, to be safe
The towering trees readily absorbed the last rays of the sun and brought about dusk upon the quiet expanse swiftly. In the fading daylight, not too far from the path of what was now another place to call home, Diane Lockhart hugged herself tight as she moved through the gentle foliage. A shiver traveled across her body and she hugged herself tighter, but did not stop walking, her gown dancing across her ankles as she meandered through the quiet path. Undaunted, she walked, letting the quiet take her even as the gentle night breeze danced past her as she moved.
She found the path she'd taken twice since she'd allowed herself to get acquainted with the land that had nearly overwhelmed her the first time around. She had never been quite so exposed to nature so much before and it had taken some time but she had discovered that she could appreciate some things about it that she had not allowed herself to do so the first time she came there.
Finding the break in the forest that she had kept in the recesses of her memory, she paused only when she heard strange noises made by an animal some distances away. She stopped and looked around, but found nothing so instead, she merely smiled and shrugged. She kept moving until she found herself ready to stop, keeping along the break she'd found and allowed herself to breathe.
How silly she felt now remembering how reluctant she had been to come there. She was from the city, born and bred, but she was learning to appreciate the country more now as well. It was quiet and peaceful, without the unnerving quality that came with whenever such rarity should occur in the city itself. Here, when it was quiet and peaceful, it was because it was the way it should be. There, back where the hustle and bustle came day in and day out, such quiet and calm could as much easily be taken as some sort of calm before a storm.
But then, the quiet and peace also brought about something that she wasn't entirely sure yet she was glad to have: time. The one thing that she didn't always have in the city was time—time to think, time to breathe, time to remember but here, in the generous expanse of nature and calm, she had all the time could want.
There would be no ringing of phones here, not in the quiet company of trees. No partner calling for her attention, no case needing focus, no crisis ready to launch an onslaught of consuming distraction.
In the midst of the fading light, she was indeed alone, alone with herself and her thoughts.
Diane closed her eyes.
She bit the inside of her cheek as her own thoughts—the same ones she had been trying to ignore the past few days, now threatened to take over her completely. Father. Blinking, she opened her eyes, unsure if she was willing to allow herself down that path. She'd done quite a good job of keeping those thoughts at bay, but now, it seemed she'd reached her threshold and the memories were ready to be released like a dam waiting to explode.
Why? And suddenly, with such a simple question, everything seemed to burst. She was old enough then to remember, but not quite fully understand. All those months, the late nights, the silence—it seemed all too clear to her now. And yet… You were so worried. So quiet. Sometimes, even so pale. I thought you were just afraid. She shook her head, pushing her hair behind her ear and looked up at the stars—what little of it she could see under the thicket of leaves and tranquility. Maybe you were.
She had admired him so much, emulated him in so many ways. Her mother, dear as she was, whom she trusted just as implicitly, could never quite understand why she couldn't be like other daughters. But her father did because they were alike in so many ways. Alike so what does that make me now? He had taught her everything she knew, taught her lessons she could never get within the four walls of her classroom. He was her guiding light, her mentor. Nobody had ever come close.
But those months, those nights. He had withdrawn so quickly and she had been there for him. Jake had been his best friend, he was often at their house and they spoke and laughed together. Jake had been like a brother and when everything fell apart, so did Jake and her father had stuck by him through it all. Because you believed he was innocent, that you made a mistake? Or because you didn't want to get caught? Was it guilt? Or hypocrisy? She remembered when her own father seemed to struggle at work, just for continuing his friendship with Jake. His own work had suffered, bleeding right into his ties and friendships around the university. He had stuck by his friend, but he had paid a heavy price doing so.
And then one day...
Diane shut her eyes again.
A bullet through the roof of his mouth and right to his brain, shattering through his skull—a holy mess. You didn't even know he owned a gun. You kept asking where it came from. She remembered how her father could barely eat even days after, could barely come to pay respects to the dead. I had never seen you fail before and I never thought you did, but mother…mother said you took his death as a failure on your part because you couldn't be there enough for him. The day of the funeral, when her father, her pillar of strength, she found crying in her mother's arms. She was so afraid for you, did you know that? She cried, she was so afraid—I'd never seen you both so afraid. It scared me awake for nights.
She remembered running to her parents' bedroom—a habit she had broken in a sudden bid for independence at the age of nine—just to see that they were still there. How the terror kept her awake. Losing her grandparents hadn't affected her as much, but Jake had. Somehow, seeing someone who was as old as her father, who had once been so alive, be gone so quickly, had shattered her sense of security.
And her father had suddenly seemed so weak. Was it because it was your betrayal or because you didn't see it coming? It terrified her. Did you do it readily? Did you spend sleepless nights in agony about what you were about to do to your best friend? Didn't you call him your brother once? Why?
In the distance, a lone call of an animal was the only sound that came as an answer to her questions. So many of them, so suddenly. Her heart felt heavy, not just for what happened, but what else could have been. She wondered what could drive to such a decision. And she wondered if she was so capable. At work, it was different—it was work and ethics stood at a value. But with her father, what had been at play there?
She knew, even as one question seemed to multiply after the other one, that she was never going to find the answers. It didn't help and instead, made her heart hurt even more. Hurt for Jake, for father, for mother…everything. And she wondered if this hurt stemmed not just because of the pain of the past, but also because she was facing a level of disappointment in the man she had shaped her own destiny over, that she never expected to. Have I put you in too high a pedestal? She never knew he could cause her so much pain, even from the grave, even when he hadn't meant to because she believed he didn't, at least, not with her.
He loved her, that much she knew. And I still love you, dad, and I always will. She liked to believe that even though he had done what he had, it most likely cost him so much more, even before Jake had done what he did. You couldn't have known…but if you had, would you still have done it? And so, more questions and a tear fell, a warm trail burning down her cheek in the cool chill of the night.
In the end, what does it make her?
Her drive, her determination, her beliefs, her principles—those were under her parents' influence. It was not just biology at work, no. There were things they strived hard to cultivate within her, regardless of what may have or had not happened. They had shaped her into becoming who she was now and they encouraged the good and guided her through whatever bad that may have lurked within her. If it was darkness that drove her father into his own actions, she liked to believe he himself had taken to the task of not leaving her quite as blinded. Was that enough? Or was it just a vain attempt to comfort herself in the midst of such turmoil?
"Diane?"
She didn't jump, even while so immersed with silence, and instead allowed him to wrap his arms from behind her. Diane allowed herself to fall back against him, letting herself take comfort against the warm body that readily accepted hers and closed her eyes in his embrace.
"I was getting worried," he said quietly.
She turned in his arms, resting her cheek against his shoulder and breathed in deeply. The light clean scent of the woods was replaced by his own, heavy and spicy, something like musk that was just so uniquely him. She would know that smell anywhere and she would take it wherever her heart desired because in her opinion and general views, it was essentially hers. It belonged with her.
"Are you okay?" he asked and accepted the mere nod he got in return.
He kissed the top of her head and held her, unsurprised as she stayed silent in his arms. He knew what troubled her, especially these days and he kept silent. It would not be wise to push her and, as he was beginning to find out, he wouldn't really have to anymore. She now felt more comfortable coming to him and allowing herself to be more vulnerable around him now, which was new but truly nice though daunting, considering the level of trust she presented to him. Not that he had any intention of breaking that trust but it was still quite something, knowing she let him into a part of herself he knew barely a handful of people were allowed.
Keeping that in mind, he allowed himself to settle there contentedly. He held her as they stood together and he did not feel too concerned yet, knowing she would come to him and he would be right there, ready for her.
"I was just thinking," she said, squeezing him a little before pulling away so she could see his face.
Kurt McVeigh did not quite expect her to take to being in his home so easily, but here she was, wandering by herself already without going stir crazy or impatient. There was something about her whenever she was there, something about how the calm seemed to soften her. It was rare to see her so serene, but these days, especially in moments like this, she was. And it was remarkable knowing what he knew weighed heavily in her mind.
"About?" he prompted, pushing a lock of hair aside as he looked at her.
"My father," she answered honestly.
He wasn't surprised. And while he didn't know quite enough about the man to have a clear image of him, he couldn't find himself to readily crucify the man for what little he knew. He had done something that was quite abhorrent, especially considering what it tragically led to, but this was also the same man who helped make the woman he so loved be who she was now. He couldn't completely fault the man, not when she was standing there in his arms.
"He would have liked you, I think," she said, placing a hand on his cheek.
This time, he couldn't help the skeptical look from appearing on his face, "Yeah, uh-huh."
"I really do," she smiled, "He was a good man. He was honest, he stuck to his beliefs and he was a fair man. He was also determined and he…he was strong. You're both alike, in so many ways."
"Yeah?"
She nodded, her hand warm against his skin as she continued to touch his face and look at him, "He…made mistakes, but he was a good man, Kurt. Like you."
"He was human," he nodded, "But yeah, I bet he was."
She smiled, "He would have enjoyed talking to you. He liked to laugh, you know? He had such an infectious laugh…"
"Like someone I know," he said, "You're a lot like him too and that's enough to make me want to have met him."
"He wouldn't even have minded knowing you were a Republican," she chuckled, "And mother…well, mother would have just loved you. She was a strong wonderful woman."
"Again, like someone I know," he pressed a kiss on the side of her head, "I would have liked to meet them too, Diane."
She allowed him to hold her close once more as she breathed in deeply against his skin, "I would've liked that too."
He held her, giving her some semblance of peace like no other. She took it all in, greedily, knowing he could quiet those quiet those questions, even just for a moment, and she wanted that peace. She wanted him, more than anything now, and she allowed herself to think of just her for once and found that she didn't regret her selfishness.
So, in his arms she stayed, for as long as he would hold her.
And she felt peace.
