When: 23rd October 1980
Where: The Robards’ Home
The house was oddly quiet when Percy entered. Not unusual, given the ridiculous size of the building that housed one man and the nanny he kept around despite all his children being long grown up. But normally, on the rare occasions he had to bring Billie here for Anna to watch, rather than her coming to his flat, music could usually be heard, tinny as if coming from far away. Anna could always be found at the source, singing along and dancing in a shuffle as she did her work. She’d always been the warm contrast to the coldness here. There was none of that this time though. Which was fair enough, given the last minute call he’d had into work, the zero notice with which he was there. Anna was probably enjoying her time off, and John was off doing whatever he did - of which Percy had no idea and didn’t care to. The nonsensical babbles coming from Billie were the only thing to break the silence, and Percy bounced her lightly on his hip. “Let’s go find Anna, yeah?”
He still hated going to that house. Or more so, he hated what it represented. It was a brutally large and gaudy reminder of all the awful things he’d done in his past years, and the final act it had accumulated to. A physical representation of the secrets held close to his chest, never to be revealed, of the horrible mistakes he’d made. Fortunately though, or unfortunately, depending how you looked at it, Percy’s thoughts were not able to stray too far in that direction. Because as soon as he pushed open the door to the living room, he came face to face with a sight that was equally unexpected.
An innocent sight to most, a couple enjoying dinner, sitting close on the sofa, was enough to cause Percy to take a jolted step back as he took it all in. Because it wasn’t just any couple, it was his dad. His dad and Faye McKinnon, of all people, looking way too comfortable for this to simply be a dinner between friends. He looked between the pair, who were looking back at him with the vague expression of being caught out. It felt like a weird case of role reversal, seeing that expression on his fathers face when Percy was the one who so often gave it growing up. “What the fuck?” The words tumbled out of him as his brain fought to catch up.
His father recovered quickly, his trademark condescending expression settling on his features, as if he hadn’t just been caught in the middle of doing something he shouldn’t be. Because it was obvious enough to Percy, pieces slowly slotting together, that whatever this was wasn’t new. “Percival.” John rose from his spot, “What are you doing here?”
Percy’s jaw rose in a stubborn defiance, like it always did on instinct when faced with his father. What Percy didn’t know though, at least yet, was that he had the upper hand here. “Looking for Anna. I got called into work. What are you two doing?” Really, he didn’t need an answer.
The answer John did give however, caused Percy’s fist to clench at his side. “We’re having dinner.” It was a good thing he was holding Billie, that she was there at all, because even just the look on his fathers face — the one that signified his opinion that Percy was too stupid to understand, that he didn’t deserve a real answer — was enough to make Percy want to wipe it straight off with his fist. Every interaction he had with John, his fuse got shorter and shorter.
“Bullshit.” He took a steadying breath, placing Billie down on the nearby lounger. She was much more occupied playing with the cushion there than with the scene playing out in front of her. But she was a living reminder for Percy to keep his cool. It wasn’t even that he cared if his dad had starting seeing Faye, or whatever the fuck this was, knowing about everything that had happened with Atticus recently. But he was reaching the end of his tether on letting his father push him around, no matter how much he needed him. Or more so, needed his money and his nanny. “What’s going on? Here, with you two?”
“John,” Faye’s voice came from behind them, gentle, pleading almost, and Percy could see the way his fathers expression visibly softened. It only caused Percy’s anger to bubble closer to the surface, for which he had no idea why. John sighed, looking over his shoulder at the witch then back to his son, whose jaw was still defiantly set, blue eyes that mirrored that of his late wife staring back at him. The only difference was the way Percy’s burnt, like flames under the ocean, when Susan’s had merely simmered. “Faye and I — we’ve been seeing each other. For quite some time now.”
“How long?” Percy shot back. He had never been one to believe much in the idea of marriage, or the long term loyalty, or commitment. He would switch from woman to woman without a care or thought. Except once, short and fierce, and look how that turned out? No. But John and Faye weren’t him, and his mind couldn’t help but go to the woman who had barely cared enough to raise her own children, yet had given her all to the man standing in front of him, or the godfather that was always there to be the relief that John never was.
John hesitated, and Percy could tell he was delayed telling the truth, seeing how he could twist it in his favour. “A few years now.”
“A few —“ the answer was caught in a laughter, one that bubbled out from the pit of his stomach, void of any humour but full of twenty-three years of bitterness. “Fucking hell. Of course you have.” The answer from John didn’t surprise him in the slightest, and now Faye was lumped in with that. He shook his head, already moving to pick Billie back up. It was only with a little protest from the toddler, who was wiggling her arms towards her grandfather. No, Percy wouldn’t be having that.
“You two have fun with that.” Percy shot towards the pair as he turned to leave, words like the punch he wished he could give, although he did gain some sick satisfaction from the expression on John’s face -- a mix of shame and embarrassment, one that he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen from his own actions, only ever in response to his children. Yet he was no better than any of them.
In a rare moment, Percy couldn’t help but think of Susan, wondering if she knew, if she’d spent the last years of her life giving everything to a man who was sneaking behind her back with a best friend. If he was more self aware, or if he allowed himself to focus on it, he’d know it was the guilt of his own that caused those thoughts. After all, it was his fault Susan was no longer here, no longer able to even find something similar to whatever this was that John and Faye had. The thoughts were quickly squashed down with a frustrated huff as he moved to push the door open.
If it had been up to the two Robards men, the conversation would have ended there. Percy would have left, found someone else to look after Billie. Probably gone to Gawain, and then later Clem once he’d calmed down a bit. And John would have continued on exactly as he had been doing, no care for the fall out that may have come. But then Percy heard it again, Faye’s urging, a quiet “John,” and then footsteps were following him. Even his fathers name in her voice irritated him.
“Percival.” The voice was stern, calling after him as if he were the one who’d done something wrong. Even the tone was enough for Percy’s defence to rise even more so, like hackles along his spine. He didn’t bother though, like he may have in his youth, to hide his eye roll as he turned back to face his father, jaw square and set. He didn’t bother saying anything, his expression saying everything.
“I would appreciate it --” John’s voice was strained, as if the words were somehow so difficult to say, as if asking anything of Percy was the hardest thing. He knew his son, the one who was the disappointment, not the golden child he was so proud of, had the upper hand, and it killed him to even ask. “ -- If you didn’t tell your siblings.” The laughter that came now was somehow even more sour than the one before it. If Percy hadn’t grown up with this, he’d have been shocked at the gall of it all. He adjusted Billie on his hip. She had begun to whimper, obviously being able to sense the tension. It only made Percy madder.
“Why the fuck should I do that?” His voice was hushed, but the words were sharp enough to cut through ice.
John looked from Percy to Billie as she began to unsettle, a small smirk settling on his face, as if he was holding the winning card but no one knew it. It was enough to set Percy on edge. He’d seen that look before. When John wanted something of him growing up, when he used Percy’s allowance to make sure he joined the Warlocks. Most recently, when he tried to ensure Clem would apply to the Academy, lest he cut her off completely. In the past, it only caused Percy to fall into line. First to pay for his vices, and now to support Billie. But in that moment it only caused his blood to boil, holding the scissors to a string already so close to snapping.
“Don’t forget everything I do for you, Percival. That you need me.” There it was. The threat, barely veiled. He briefly wondered if Faye could hear, if she stood by the way John treated his children, just like Susan had, or if she’d oppose. Not that it mattered much, Percy knew it wouldn’t make a difference. John was who he was. Keep his secret or else. But John didn’t know Percy had already been thinking about that. Figuring out ways he could make it without his fathers help, if you could call it that. It did more harm than good, to any of them. The way Billie curled into the crook of his neck now only proved that. No, John Robards had damaged enough lives.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” The words were measured, no angry impulse behind them. Percy didn’t miss the small flicker of shock in his fathers eyes. He hadn’t expected Percy to say so. The shock quickly disappeared though, replaced with a pitying amusement. It was now John’s turn to laugh, the sound dripping with contempt. “Am I? Is it not me who pays for that flat the two of you live in? And is it not me who allows you to use my staff to look after your child every day?” He shook his head, his own defenses, the ones Percy had inherited, coming up as sharp blow by sharp blow. “You really think you’re capable of giving her the life she deserves? You can hardly --” he didn’t get to finish his sentence, two things happening at once.
The first was his son, suddenly much closer than he had been seconds before, a large step forward and fist curled in the air between them, the rage clear as day on his face. John may have felt a sick sense of satisfaction from it, if it hadn’t been Billie’s loud wails suddenly erupting that had snapped Percy out of it. Taking a shaky exhale, Percy took a step back, and then another, attempting to sooth Billie as he went. He felt awful, and John’s words only mirrored the things he regularly thought, that he wasn’t enough for her. That maybe she’d have been better off if he’d let her go when it first came to it. He shook his head, pulling Billie close and gently rocking her side to side in a bid to sooth her tears. It did no good to go down that trail of thoughts, to let John further his insecurities. He was already backing away, his voice low.
“I do, yeah. She’s better off without your help.” The world help was spat like an insult. He was making good enough money at the Academy to get by, and he knew more than enough people who he could afford to pay to babysit. Above it all though, he knew he would be more of a father to Billie than John had ever been. And that was a promise. “I don’t need it. I don’t want you anywhere fucking near her.”
He’d scared even himself, the way he’d just reacted, the way it had affected Billie. No, if he had anything to say for it, John would have nothing to do with his daughter. But his voice was sure, solid. Percy knew John knew he meant it. “You tell them. Soon. Or I will.” And with that he was gone, wanting to get Billie far from that house. He knew the rest of his siblings would be more affected by this than he ever would be, and he wasn’t going to be the one to hold his fathers secrets.
No. John Robards would have to face the consequences of his own actions.