Days turned to weeks turned to months. Her little boy was growing up so quickly.

"Mama," Gustave reached for Christine, and she smiled.

He had been talking for nearly a month now - though all he could currently say was mama. She was his first word, and it delighted her to no end.

Still, this development brought a hint of anxiety with it - she knew Erik was desperately hoping that the boy would verbally acknowledge him soon.

"Papa," she corrected him. "Papa."

Gustave looked confused. She had spent the last week saying nothing but that word to him in the hopes that he would copy her.

She carried him out from the nursery and into the sunroom where Erik was. Erik smiled as they entered the room, and he put his book aside.

Christine set Gustave on the rug. He looked around until he saw Erik, and then reached his hands towards him.

Erik thought he would never get used to the feeling of pride that would bubble up in him when his son wanted to interact with him. He reached down, taking his little hands and pulling him up into a standing position. Although he couldn't yet walk on his own, he was able to take shaky steps forwards as Erik stooped over and helped him along.

After three steps Gustave sat down on the rug again. Erik tousled his hair, and he looked up at his father.

"P-p-p-" Gustave made a noise.

Erik held his breath.

Gustave looked at Christine, who gave him a firm look, willing him to form the word.

"P... Mama..."

Erik sighed, and Christine turned away, putting her hands over her face.

"Mama," Gustave said again, unsure why everyone was suddenly looking away from him.

Erik tried his best to pretend his feeling weren't hurt, but he was a bad actor. He sunk into his chair with a quiet huff and returned to his book.

Christine sighed heavily. She half wanted to chide Erik - what did he truly expect? Perhaps if he had spent more time with the baby when he was smaller, he would know his name.

"Erik, just play with him," she pleaded.

"It seems he'd rather play with you," Erik replied stiffly.

She rolled her eyes. He was being ridiculous, as usual.

She pulled a box of building blocks off the shelf and primly sat down on the rug with Gustave, glaring at Erik from the corner of her eye. Gustave, too, was looking at his Papa, hoping he would join him and Mama in playtime.

Christine set the blocks out in front of them, drawing Gustave's attention. She stacked a few together, two tall ones standing up with one long one stretched across the top, resembling a tiny doorway. She pointed a finger at it.

"Look, Gustave," she said innocently, as she felt Erik's eyes peering over the edge of his book at what she was doing. "This is called a horseshoe arch."

"Christine! No!" Erik's book fell to the floor with a clatter as he sprang forward, dropping himself to rug and frantically gathering blocks. "Don't tell him that! That's a flat arch, not a horseshoe!"

He had swiftly built a little arch of his own, one that used a number of blocks to make a curving arch at the top.

"Gustave - look-" he pointed a spindly finger at what he had built. "Horseshoe, horseshoe."

He pointed then at Christine's three blocks.

"Flat," he said with disdain.

Gustave gurgled happily, content that they were all playing together. He reached for a block of his own, and placed it carefully on top of another block.

Christine knew he would learn at his own pace, but Erik was very clearly distressed at his absence from their son's vocabulary. She was willing to do whatever it took to speed the process along, and it was a subject often in her thoughts. She was not about to pass up any opportunity to help him learn what he needed to say.

"Do you want Monsieur Bunny?" she asked one morning as she held the plush animal out to him and shook it gently.

Gustave's eyes lit up and he reached for it expectantly.

Christine pulled the rabbit back.

"Say it," she instructed. "Say Papa."

His little brow wrinkled and he opened and closed his hands in his effort to reach the rabbit.

She held it closer for a moment, only to pull it away.

"Papa," she said firmly. "Paaapaaa."

Gustave began to cry, putting one hand in his mouth and covering his eyes with the other. Why wouldn't Mama give him Monsieur Bunny?

Christine was pierced with intense guilt.

"Oh, Gustave! Don't cry!" she pulled him into a hug and rocked him back and forth. "Look, here is your bunny, it's okay."

He wouldn't stop crying even as he clung to her, and she felt another wave of guilt - she had made her own son cry.

Clearly, being around Erik for so long had caused her to become cruel. She nearly shed a tear over it herself.

But the next day her mind was working overtime once again, and during tea time she had an idea.

"Gustave," she said in a sing-song voice. "Come here..."

She curled a finger, motioning for him to come closer.

He smiled and walked on unsteady feet over to her, hands outstretched.

She reached down and grabbed one of his little hands, taking a spoonful of strawberry jam and smearing it across his palm and fingers. She quickly hid the spoon and let go of his hand, straightening up as though she hadn't done anything.

Gustave pulled his hand back, shocked at his Mama's betrayal of him. Jam on his hand! Unbearable!

His face crumpled and he began to cry.

"Mama! Ick! Ick!"

But Christine merely sat in her chair, her mouth set in a firm line. Suddenly Erik walked through the door, and Gustave turned to him, hoping to find the help his mother was adamantly refusing him.

"Ick!" he sobbed, reaching his hands towards Papa. "Ick! Ick!"

"Gustave!" Erik picked him up, hugging him close. "What's the matter?"

"He just started crying for no reason," Christine lied. "I can't imagine what's gotten into him."

She desperately hoped Erik wouldn't notice his sticky hands.

She also desperately hoped that this didn't make her a bad mother - Gustave was still crying inconsolably on his father's shoulder, his world shattered because no one was listening to him. But Erik looked so happy holding him, thinking that he'd been asked for by name. That wasn't too terrible, was it? Erik had been in such a mood lately, but just like that he was happy again. She only hoped poor little Gustave wouldn't be scarred for life by the experience.

"Christine, did you hear him?" Erik asked, a large grin forming on his face. "He knows my name! He said 'Erik'!"

"That's wonderful, darling!"

"Ick, ick," Gustave said through hiccoughs, wiping his jam covered hands on his Papa's collar.

Erik was beyond pleased that his little boy had finally learned his name. It made him feel important, that someone so small and helpless trusted him and wanted him around. Sometimes it bothered him that he was 'Erik' and not 'papa' or some other such term, but he would take whatever he got. Nothing was quite comparable to Gustave holding his hands out to him and calling for him by name. He knew he was ridiculous for imaging any deeper meaning to not being called 'papa' - the boy could barely speak, surely there wasn't some hidden rejection of Erik as his father, was there? Was there? He pretended very hard that there wasn't, because he was far too embarrassed to bring up the topic with Christine. His son called him 'Erik' and he didn't care about Erik's face and that was enough for him. He was proud of his boy no matter what.

They had Nadir over one day for tea, and Erik was intent on showing off his child. They sat around a small table in the solarium, a perfect cheery place for cookies and tea and talk.

"Look at this, Nadir - Gustave, can you say 'Erik'? 'Erik'?"

Gustave, who was sitting on Christine's lap, stared at Erik with a vacant expression.

Erik's smile faltered.

"Well, never mind. He'll do it soon enough," Erik said.

They returned to their talk of Erik's work and the weather and other small subjects. Christine couldn't help but notice how Erik's turned towards his son every now and then, always hopeful, always turning away again, disappointed. He really wanted him to say it.

Christine shoved down a sigh. She knew what she had to do - what she'd been doing every time Gustave had supposedly asked for his papa.

"He's walking now, too," she added to Erik's telling of Gustave's latest accomplishments.

She set him down, and, leaning under the table where no one could see her, she swiped her finger across an iced cookie and dabbed the sugar paste on Gustave's chin. He gave her a betrayed look, as he always did whenever she put something on him. He never seemed to expect such an action from his Mama.

He pulled back from her, knowing she was no help when something like this happened.

"Ick!" he said, walking as fast he could to Erik. "Ick."

"Oh! Listen, he's saying it!" Erik said, his face lighting up. "Come here, Gustave!"

"Ick, ick."

Erik picked him up, and, noticing he'd made a mess of himself eating a cookie, took a napkin and wiped at his face.

"Did you hear him? He knows my name!"

Nadir laughed, noticing how Gustave was pointing at the icing on his face as he spoke.

"It sounds like he's saying-"

Christine cleared her throat and shot him a warning glance. Nadir turned his laugh into a couch.

"That's- that's wonderful, Erik! What smart young lad."

He really was a smart young lad, or so his parents thought. It seemed every day he got a little more independent. Christine bought every book she could find on the subject of childrearing, wanting to do everything she could for him. Soon he was at the age where he could mostly sleep through the night.

Erik was keen on the idea of her finally staying with him the entire night through and not bringing Gustave into the room with them. He seemed old enough to sleep that long, and several books they had read agreed.

Christine put Gustave to bed that night and watched him sleep for a few moments. Sometimes he would seem like he was asleep only to wake a few minutes later, and he always called out to her. The general consensus seemed to be that she should leave him to fall back asleep on his own instead of picking him up when awoke, and she hoped she had the resolve to go through with that. If he started crying, she knew she wouldn't.

He was still, and she quietly left the room to join Erik in their shared bedroom.

"I'm sure he'll be fine in his own room, Christine," Erik murmured as he kissed the side of her neck.

"The book the midwife gave me did say he should be fine," Christine said. She had her reservations about leaving him, but he was so close, and they could hear if he needed anything. Besides, she hadn't had a full night to herself and Erik for ages, not since before Gustave had arrived.

She turned from the doorway and got in bed.

"He's always kind of sticky, isn't he?" Erik mused as he got in bed. "He always seems like he's got something on him. I hope he grows out of that."

"Oh," Christine said innocently.

"I don't know how he gets so messy all the time."

Christine half sat up.

"Did you hear something?"

"It's fine, Christine. Remember, the book said to leave him even if he does wake up. He'll fall asleep again if no one is there."

They had just settled in to sleep when they heard him moving around in his crib.

"Mama?" he called out.

Christine stayed still.

"The book said to leave him," she said softly, reminding herself. "He'll fall asleep in a minute, I'm sure."

"Mama!"

"Don't do it, Christine," Erik warned on a whisper.

"Mama?"

They held their breath. There was a long silence as Gustave realized his Mana wasn't coming for him.

"Papa!"

Erik sprang out of bed and scrambled to the other room, quickly returning with his son in his arms.

"He can stay up a while later, Christine!" Erik said cheerfully, and Christine groaned.