Title: Out of the Heart of Darkness

Rating: R

Spoilers: None; Slightly AU; set pre-series

Pairing: Peter/Elizabeth

Warnings: Rated for mentions of childhood abuse (physical, sexual), and for non-graphic mentions of sex.

Notes: Written as comment fic for Elrhiarhoden's Prompt Fest. Prompt: Peter - Heartburn. I expanded it and gave it a title. Title comes from a quote by Jean Giraudoux

Sadness flies on the wings of morning and out of the heart of darnkess comes the light.

Trust and faith had vanished from his life when he was ten. His piano teacher, Rob Hinkley, gave him special lessons - ones he would never forget. He went to his mother for help, but she was lost in her bottle and was busy with phone calls to someone named Henry. She couldn't or didn't care. His father was buried in work and wouldn't be bothered. He told him to talk to his mother about it. The church tried to mediate but things got worse. God couldn't help him, and no one else would.

Ridiculed, harassed by others, he transferred schools. One detail his parents forgot: Rob remained his teacher. Two more years passed. One day Rob told him that he was too old and finally he was released from the physical torment. The psychological pain - the heart pain - lasted for a much longer time.

He was thirteen when he found his mother's body in the kitchen, the bottle that had finally killed her still clutched in her hand. She had been a pretty woman, but as he looked down at her he felt...nothing. Maybe he felt a little sorry for her, but he had barely known her. Dimly, he wondered if that made him a bad child, but he didn't dare ask his father and he didn't know who else he could ask.

The ambulance came and went, and his father stayed at work to finish important business. He made dinner on his own, and fell asleep on the sofa. He remembered waking to feel his father press a kiss to his forehead, the one time since he was a small child he could remember his father touching him. They didn't talk about his mother the next day, or any day after that. There weren't many people to attend the funeral; his mother and father were both only children and their parents were dead. His father returned to work an hour after the funeral and left him to his own devices.

The rest of Peter's childhood was remarkably dull aside from the usual teenage traumas. He had girlfriends but things never went very far (PTSD was not something they talked about). There were sports, and a broken arm (no more music, thankfully), and then graduation with the second highest GPA. His dad managed to go to his graduation, and he got a car for a gift in lieu of a party.

He went off to college, and found he didn't fit in. He was awkward, unsure and shy around other people. He tried and failed miserably in the dating world. He still couldn't let go around them, so he tried dating guys and realized he was even worse at that. He attended all the right classes (dull, every one of them), intent on taking the path of his father. On a weekend home during his third year of school he looked at his father and all he could see stretched before him was a miserable, lonely life without purpose.

He wanted more. His father scoffed at him, but didn't totally discourage him as he took his own path. His fourth year in school he was found by the FBI. Training, followed by more training and then he was placed in the white collar unit. He loved it; it challenged him and it was something he found he was good at. His very first solo case he met Elizabeth. She was...amazing. She made him feel alive again for the first time in years - maybe his entire life.

He fumbled, tongue-tied around her as he mumbled about Italian food. He couldn't ask her out; couldn't bear the thought of rejection. She was way out of his league; classy, beautiful, strong. He had a forty dollar suit, manners that bordered on boorish and he was empty, his heart burned and crumpled by life.

Peter left her that afternoon at the gallery but couldn't get her out of his mind. The next day he began to tail her. He knew that his behavior was wrong, possibly (probably) dangerous, but he needed to see her. Elizabeth was the one. He was sure of it, but he couldn't trust her yet. He needed to know if she were free; he wanted to see who she was before he asked her out.

One day two weeks later, she held up a sign for him, and it changed everything. She wanted him too. Why, he had no idea. But she did. His heart came alive like never before and for the first time he felt a small stirring of hope. It was fragile and beautiful, and something else he thought had died long ago.

They dated; they kissed. Peter was awkward but gentlemanly, and she laughed with and at him in such a way that he finally relaxed around her. A month of dating stunned him; it was his longest relationship yet and she didn't seem to want to go anywhere. She invited him upstairs one Friday night, and they watched a movie. She kissed him. He kissed her, and his hands naturally slipped up under her shirt. She moaned and pressed herself against him, and soon their clothes were on the floor and they were on her bed.

Things went badly and ended with him struggling for air as panic closed in on him. She talked him through it, held him, comforted him and she didn't laugh. She didn't leave and she didn't demand he explain himself to her. Because she made no demands, because she was good and light and beautiful, he found himself telling her everything. His piano teacher, his parents' indifference.

He cried once. She cried the entire time, and never let go of him. She kissed him tenderly and then Elizabeth did something incredible. She let her guard down too, and showed him that he wasn't alone. She told him about her past, showed him the scars (mental, physical, heart) that she bore from her father's temper. They cried together then, relieved and sad and joyful. They kissed and fell asleep on her bed tangled together so it was impossible to tell where Peter began and Elizabeth ended.

The next three months they learned how to put each other (and themselves) back together. They pieced together their hearts slowly, carefully, and guarded each other fiercely from outside pain.

They made love one rainy night and it was as if they were made for each other. It was perfect. They cried anyway from the beauty and grace of that moment and fell asleep wound tightly around each other.

One day a week later he handed her a ring. He didn't ask her anything, she didn't say a word. She simply slipped the ring on her finger. They were married a month later and they never looked back.

fin

Thank you to everyone who has read this, thanks to everyone who has reviewed! I really appreciate it!