Chapter Text
A/N: This will be a series of one-shots based on something that likes to niggle in my mind at times. It’s very AU, so timing will not always match up, but the main thing to know is that Peter Stone and Scott Tracy are one in the same. The Thunderbirds foundation in this is the 2004 movie, but it does incorporate the other media. It will feature other characters and eventually OCs, but is mostly Scott/Peter based.
Disclaimer: I mean, duh.
This first one is based on an old prompt “A major protagonist's father suddenly drops by” so here you go!
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Peter was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of a firm knock on his office door.
"It's open," he called out, pushing aside any feelings the unexpected text message had surfaced.
"Here are the notes on the Hoffman case. When are you prepping Angelica and Sandra?" As usual, the SVU lieutenant jumped straight into business.
"Sandra is coming in at two this afternoon, Angelica at five. I would like to go over statements with both you and Carisi again at some point."
Liv opened her mouth, but settled on a nod, "I'll get back to you on that," before swiftly exiting his office.
With the room once again to himself, his hand unconsciously unlocked his phone. His eyes read and reread the message he couldn't get out of his mind. He felt a rush of nervous energy, chased by anger. He blew out a breath, rubbing a hand through his hair and drew in a quiet gasp as he felt tears prick his eyes. Ten years. Ten fucking years since he had seen or spoken to his father and suddenly, suddenly he wants to meet. The man couldn't even be bothered to call, simply texting 'Will be in NY Thursday for TI meetings. Meet me for lunch at 1'.
Peter felt another surge of anger, this time directed at his father. Ten years and the man couldn't even pretend to ask, as if he had a choice. A voice inside told him he could ignore it-there was no reason to go. Nothing drastic had changed, he had no pressing drive to make amends. But too big a part of him longed for that connection. Despite everything, he missed his father immensely. He missed his entire family. He regretted walking away from them the second he did it, but if he hadn't, his relationship with his father, and his family as a whole, would likely be irreparably destroyed.
He chose not to respond for now, so he could come up with an excuse later if needed. Plus, it gave him time to figure out exactly how his father got his cell number. For now, though, he turned back to his present workload.
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It was nearing midnight before the pilot-turned-attorney reached his Chelsea waterfront apartment. After hours spent prepping witnesses for trial, followed up with drinks and discussing case details with two of Manhattan's finest, all he wanted to do was crawl straight into his bed. He stripped down and brushed his teeth before curling under the covers, trying not to dwell on the holes in his case. The SVU detectives are good and no one doubts their guy's guilt, but the lack of clear-cut evidence is always a risk. As his mind faded away from the case, he realized there was only about 13 hours until he was supposed to meet with his estranged father. Nope. Not the time for that. He thought, once again shifting his mind. Anything but that.
Peter woke 10 minutes before his alarm, as usual. After a short internal battle, he forced himself out of bed, into his workout gear, and out the door. He pounded out three miles on the pavement before slipping into his current favorite coffee shop. He chatted with the two baristas as he waited for his coffee and breakfast sandwich and then sat near a window to people watch as he ate. After finishing, he jogged back to his apartment much slower, regretting the twinge in his leg.
When he got back, he tossed his keys on the kitchen counter and made his way to the shower. Within minutes, he was wrapping a towel around his waist and standing before the mirror. He stared at himself for what felt like hours before shaking out of his stupor and grabbing the shaving cream. By the time he was done, he had well over two hours before he needed to be into work, but since he would likely be taking time for lunch, he left early.
By 10, he had poured his third cup of coffee, finished his final report on a prior case, and was preparing for the trial that would begin Monday. He was surprised and relieved when Carmen let him know Hoffman's defense attorney, Nikki Staines, was outside, wanting to meet.
The defense got straight to business, offering a guilty plea to assault in the third, one year jail time. Peter scoffed at the offer, but felt strengthened that she was presenting something with jail time at all. There has to be something they haven’t found yet, something that jeopardizes her case. Even so, he isn't confident about taking it to trial. After nearly an hour and a half of back and forth, the opposing attorneys agreed to third degree rape with an open court allocution and 4 years in Rikers.
As Ms. Staines left, he tried to push down the sense of guilt, of not doing enough. Before he had taken three steps toward his desk, Carmen knocked on his door again, motioning to Lieutenant Benson standing behind her. Peter nodded his approval, allowing her in.
"Peter. I saw Nikki Staines on my way up. What was that about?"
He leaned back against his desk. "She came to offer a plea deal. Third degree assault, one year sentence. I managed to get it up to rape in the third. He'll serve four years."
"Four years? Peter-"
"It's not nearly enough. I know. But at least it gets him on the registry."
"Why didn't you call me?"
"You didn't need to be here. You have open cases; this one was about to go to trial. I know Hoffman deserves a hell of a lot longer than that, but it's his first offense, the victim initially consented and there's a video of her doing so. I know he's guilty, Liv. We all do. I'm just not sure that a jury would convict on what we have."
She shook her head, sighing with disappointment. "I'll let Angelica know." With that, she left once again.
He sighed, sagging against his desk in relief. He really couldn't deal with an argument from SVU. Not today. Glancing at his watch, he felt another set of nerves when he realized that he only had an hour left.
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Peter approached Tracy Tower from the back entrance, praying his old credentials would still give him access so he didn't have to go in via the lobby secretary. His prayers were answered when the automatic door cleared him. A brief moment of concern for the family company's safety was overridden when the head of security, Carl, came around the corner.
The older man stopped in surprise. "Scott! It really is you. I thought there had to be an error when I saw your I.D. accessed the building. What brings you here?"
"Um," the younger man was caught off guard. "My father asked me to meet him for lunch. Any idea where he is?"
There was a beat of silence as Carl, having always been part of the Tracy's inner circle, took in that information. "He's still in his office. You can head up there or I can let him know you're here if you'd prefer to meet in the dining room?"
"That…would actually be good. Let him know I'll be waiting down there for him. Thanks, Carl."
The two men shook hands before heading their separate ways. A few minutes later, Peter was walking into the smaller of the building's dining rooms, accessible to higher level employees. Jeff Tracy preferred that his executives were available to all staff, but couldn't help but acknowledge the benefits of occasionally getting a private meal without new employees or visitors asking for autographs, pictures, or projects.
The young prosecutor chose a small table in the far corner, placing himself to see all the entrances while still being able to leave quickly if needed. He asked the waiter for a water and sat to wait. Nine minutes and 38 seconds later, the man he came to see entered the room. Jeff didn't see his son immediately, and Peter took a deep, shuddering breath, eyes welling up with tears. The mere sight of the man who raised him made him want to curl into a ball and beg for forgiveness. Before he could do anything, bright blue eyes locked in on him.
The seconds seemed to drag on as Jeff approached the table and stopped just short of his seat, where time snapped back into focus, "Hello, Scott."
"Mr. Tracy." His voice was clear, not reflecting the agony swelling inside of him.
The shock in Jeff's face was obvious and his eyes were ringed with sadness, but he brushed over the moment as he took his seat.
"You look good, son."
Peter, Scott, scoffed, "Why am I here?"
"It's been long enough. You are my son."
"That's not an answer."
The two were interrupted by the return of the waiter, who quickly took their orders and made himself scarce.
The older Tracy sighed, "Scott-"
"Peter."
He froze, looking up. "What?”
"Peter. That's my name now. I'm sure you know that already. If you are going to interrupt my life, risk my anonymity, the least you could do is pretend you care about keeping the press away from me." The fear and sadness was still burning inside him, but so was the anger.
"Your name is Scott! You can pretend all you want but you are still a part of this family. You are still hurting this family." The patriarch's voice began to rise, but he quickly gained control, ever aware of curious ears.
"I'm hurting them? You're the one who dragged everyone into your dream. You're the one who wouldn't budge about secrecy even when it endangered your own fucking family. I'm just trying to make a life of my own and the only way I could do that was to leave because of you."
"Watch yourself." The man's tone was sharp, the same one he used throughout his kids' childhoods to put them in their place. "I didn’t force any of you to sign up. That was your choice."
"But it really wasn't, was it? You knew there was no way I would let you send them into danger without me there to watch over them. You knew it and you asked me last so I couldn't turn you down. You made me send my little brothers into danger until I couldn't take it anymore and you didn't do anything. You let me walk away. You care about your mission, your secrecy, more than you care about their safety. That is on you, not me. I had to leave, I had to keep myself sane." He inhaled at the end, ready to continue when his phone pinged. "Excuse me. I have to get back to work."
He left swiftly, not looking back. He held his head high and back straight as he walked, taking a few seconds to sag against the wall outside once he was clear. His mind was racing, but a sense of calm settled over him. His biggest worry was that he would see his father and all his feelings would be cast aside for want of his family back in his life. If that happened, he was sure he would fall back into his old mental state.
But he didn't.
He held on to his cause and his pain. He wanted to forgive his father. He wanted his family back.
But things needed to change.