A/N: I think I'll do updates on Tuesdays and Fridays, barring internet problems, travel plans, or the apocalypse. Thank you for the reviews!
Chapter 4
Nadir came back. Erik's remarks had cut, but then, tact could not be expected from such a man. Especially in such a state. Nadir had forgiven him always, if reluctantly and inexplicably, and he would forgive him now.
Besides, he wanted to make sure Émilie still lived. Christine had often proclaimed that Nadir would be the child's godfather if she had her way. Neither Erik nor Nadir's religion would permit such a thing, but the Persian felt fond responsibility nonetheless.
He found Émilie asleep in her crib and Erik asleep on the divan. The baby looked alright, healthy if a bit pale.
Erik looked terrible. Worse than usual rather.
He had removed his mask to sleep and the face below had somehow become more awful to look upon. The deformed features were drawn and the uneven cheekbones protruded further than normal. And then there was the fact that he had slept right through Nadir walking into his house. The great assassin, sleeping on his parlor sofa because his daughter had tired him out. Nadir tried and failed to stifle his laugh.
Instantly there were hands on throats and death threats. Nadir accepted all patiently until Erik turned away, panting heavily. As he stalked off to retrieve his mask and tie it behind his head, Nadir commented mildly, "No more lasso, my friend?"
"Too many surprises with a wife and child."
"And I thought you loved surprises."
Erik turned his blank face to his guest. "I suppose you'll be wanting tea?"
"Please."
When Erik returned with the tray, it was to find Nadir with Émilie perched on his knee, grabbing at his beard and babbling happily. Erik gave them a glare before sitting down opposite.
"How old is she now?" asked the Persian.
"Seven months next week."
Nadir turned back to the child, speaking now in that same, lilted voice Christine had used with her child, and said, "Émilie, you're growing up so fast. You'll be a young lady before your papa knows it. Can you smile for me?" She didn't smile, but reached confusedly for his lips. When she reached them, Nadir kissed each fingertip and earned himself a delighted squeal before the little hand withdrew. Then he stuck out his tongue.
"What are you doing?"
The two spared Erik barely a glance. "Making faces at her-"
"I wonder what she would think of the faces I could make."
"And talking to her," Nadir continued, poking Émilie's stomach so she giggled. "And making her laugh. She's a cheerful baby. Reza was never so easy to smile."
"That's only because you're here. When it's just me, she won't stop crying."
"Have you tried-"
"She doesn't like me to touch her." It was almost perfectly dispassionate, but he'd said it too quickly and the smallest note of despair and betrayed hurt could not be hidden.
"So sing to her."
"I will not sing."
"Talk to her at least. You do talk to her, don't you? She needs to hear your voice. It will calm her and that is how she will learn. She will learn what you teach her."
"Teach her, yes."
At that point, Émilie grew impatient at the lack of attention bestowed on her and let out an indignant scream. Nadir obligingly returned to her games and Erik returned to his stoic silence. It seemed the Daroga had come for no other purpose that to play with his child so Erik volunteered no conversation until Émilie quietly slipped into sleep.
"Make yourself useful, Daroga," he said then, rising to collect the unused tea things. "Go find the Giry woman and tell her I am hiring her services again. Once a week she is to provide me with supplies from a list I will give her. But say nothing more."
"Very well." Nadir sighed and set the sleeping infant on the sofa and stood. "I shall come again at the end of the week."
"I suppose you must since you insist on prying into my…our affairs."