Hey, it's a second chapter! Now I get to torture Scales! Should I feel bad about this...?

Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.

- o – o -

Chapter two: I Was Afraid

Dominic "Scales" Raoul knew he was unfit to be a parent. Hell, he had the scars to prove that he'd never learned how to be a good father. He wasn't…well, he wasn't very good at anything. Sure, he was good at physical labor, and he was really good at scaring the stuffing out of the other mob lords just by looking at them out of the corner of his eye… He wasn't fit to be a parent though.

Somehow, though, he'd ended up with an armful of sleeping child. The smuggler looked down at the tiny infant, wrapped in a pink blanket. He'd read that parents were supposed to feel love, or at least patient exasperation, when they saw their children. He, on the other hand, could only feel an icy hand of fear crushing his heart.

In his more rational mind, Scales knew that McClintock had done a number on him when he'd been a nipper. In his less-rational and more in-control mind, however, he suspected that he'd deserved it. Maybe he'd cried too much, or too little; maybe he'd said the wrong thing, or hadn't said anything. But either way, why had anyone in their right mind entrust him with an infant, just barely three months old?

Oh. Yes. That was because this particular infant was his.

Scales stared down at the three-month-old, chewing on his lower lip. Elizabeth Victoria Raoul had been almost a month premature. This was the first time since she had been born that the doctors had said she was well enough to come home. During the months between her birth (and her mother's death), and now, Scales supposed he'd been looking forward to this. Then he'd gotten the chance to hold her in his arms for the first time.

One tiny green fist poked out of the blanket, wrapped around his thumb. The smuggler didn't know how that had happened, and it kind of terrified him. Was this parenthood? The mind-numbing fear that came with trying to raise something more fragile than your average eggshell? If it was, Scales wanted no part of it.

He sighed and began trying to disentangle himself from his daughter's hand. Almost as soon as he had, the little girl began wailing. Scales blanched at the noise, terrified that he'd broken something important. Jesus, had he been like this as an infant? The smuggler rocked his arms a little, trying to remember all the instructions Mrs. Kazcanowiczk had given him about her. Nothing was coming to mind, and…

Hell. All of this had started when he'd pulled his hand out of her grip. Had…had he really upset her so much? Scales stared down at Elizabeth, who was still wailing to wake the dead. He really wasn't cut out for this…

Scales sat down on one of the stools in the kitchen, cradling his daughter in one arm. Maybe…maybe if he let her hold his hand again, she'd calm down. That was right, wasn't it? Feeling more worried and sick to his stomach than he should have, Scales wrapped his hand around Elizabeth's, marveling at just how tiny and fragile hers was.

Almost immediately, Elizabeth calmed down. Scales watched in surprise as she turned towards him, sucking on her free hand. She really did want him to stay in contact with her… He really couldn't believe it, and yet…

He sighed, feeling older than his thirty years. This was insane, he decided as he relocated to his easy chair in the den. But maybe… Maybe he could be a better parent than that tosser had been to him.

Scales smiled a little as he dozed off, Elizabeth still cradled against his chest.

- o – o -

So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Glad that Scales is getting over some of his past traumas? Drop a line and let me know.