It was mid afternoon and the sun shone just right in the sky. Nadir appreciated days like these, when conditions were good enough to let Reza venture out of doors. Even though Reza could no longer run like other boys his age, he still craved the outdoors. Nadir could see it in his son's dimming eyes. Of course, Reza had insisted they bring Erik along on what should have been a father and son jaunt around the gardens. Nadir, selfishly and not for the first time, had been glad Reza couldn't see his facial expressions. His jaw had locked, lips pursed, veins begun to bulge. But he'd agreed, however tight-lipped. And so, Nadir trailed behind his son and his… what? His friend? Yes, he supposed. There was no other word for how he felt for Erik. Other than annoyed. Or jealous. Yes, Nadir was getting jealous of the strange affection between Reza and Erik and it was no secret. He'd confronted Erik about it once or twice—but mostly, Erik got the dirtiest looks Nadir dared to give anyone.

Now, as they walked in the garden, Nadir shuffled slowly, arms folded almost defiantly. What had ever happened to privacy? Or the sanctity of family?

"Can you tell me which flower this is?" Erik's musical voice wafted through the air, much as the distinct scent of the flower he offered to Reza.

They seemed to have found a new game as Reza's sight failed. Erik would offer Reza a flower or food or perfume and the boy would tell him what it smelled like. Nadir rolled his eyes, but couldn't quell the thought: How does Erik know what it smells like? It's not as though he actually has a nose.

"It's a jasmine, right, Erik?" Reza's voice came after a moment's hesitation.

"Indeed it is. You are a clever boy, Reza."

Nadir scoffed. Not at Reza, but Erik. Unfortunately for him, both Erik and Reza had acute hearing. The masked man turned to face him, arms folded defensively.

"Daroga, do you question your son's cleverness, or do you have something to add?"

Nadir's mouth and lips were suddenly dry. His tongue was heavy and he suddenly could tell just how much he was perspiring. He swallowed hard and his Adam's apple was evident against his throat. As much as he wanted to hate Erik for snatching away Reza's affection, when those amber eyes met his, hatred slunk to the furthest corners of Nadir's mind in favor of other emotions, namely an irritated, but deep affection that rankled him to no end. It still wasn't fair - this friendship between Erik and Reza - but Nadir couldn't bring himself to deny either of them.

"No, neither. I just… coughed, Erik. That's all."

"Indeed." Erik's voice had that lilting amusement and some amount of disbelief and Nadir glowered at him.

"Erik? Can we keep going?" Reza asked, breaking what would have been an intense and uneasy silence.

"Of course we can. Come now, Reza."

Erik began pushing Reza's wheelchair again. For a moment, something flickered in Erik's eyes: something catty and petulant. Nadir shot him a look and threw his hands up in defeat and began walking the other way. When had he learned to read Erik's eyes so well? Had he truly made a study of the masked man's body language in the months since his arrival in Persia? And how was it that one glance from Erik could control Nadir's mood? It wasn't fair. But nothing about Erik was.

About half an hour later, Nadir crossed paths with Erik and Reza again.

"Are you feeling better now, Nadir?" Erik asked quietly.

Nadir lifted a brow at him. The half hour walking in the sun hadn't improved his mood; merely muddled it and left him wishing not to have run into Erik so soon. It would have been nice not to see him for at least another day.

"I suppose not," Erik said dryly. "Any particular reason for today's animosity? Or am I just so lucky as to catch you on a bad day?"

"Erik, let's not talk about this now." Nadir shot him a significant look and jerked his head towards Reza. He didn't know what "this" was anymore and Nadir never had been one to enter an argument unarmed. With Erik, most especially, since his armaments never quite seemed powerful enough to win against the Frenchman.

"If we don't talk about it now, it'll eat you alive. And then one day, you'll just explode! As entertaining as I might find it, for Reza's sake, don't bottle it up inside."

"Entertaining? You think it's entertaining that—"

Before Nadir could even begin to shout at Erik, a little voice rang out loudly from between the two men.

"Please, stop fighting! I hate it when you two fight!"

Nadir flushed and looked down at his son. He expected Reza to start coughing, lungs exhausted from the single instant of exertion. But, instead, the boy continued, quietly and fiercely.

"Families don't fight. Families don't hurt each other. Please, don't fight."

The silence that fell between Erik and Nadir was an uncomfortable one. Nadir gazed into Erik's eyes and saw an unfamiliar and unguarded emotion there. Reza hadn't just struck a chord with his father. Family. Reza had included Erik as part of their family. And something like gratitude shone in Erik's odd eyes. Nadir shuffled his feet awkwardly, trying to find a place for Erik in his small, broken family. Only moments ago, he would have accused Erik of taking his role as father. But now… Now he knew that Reza didn't see it that way. He saw Erik as something else. A… A brother, perhaps?

No. Erik couldn't possibly be Reza's brother. He couldn't have been so much younger than Nadir! Ten years? Twelve, at most? Perhaps he was meant to be Nadir's brother. They certainly competed enough, certainly argued enough, and Nadir felt a certain responsibility for the younger man. But Reza couldn't possibly know any of that. They'd avoided conflict in front of him—to the best of their ability, anyways. In fact, it surprised nadir to know that Reza had seen them – or more than likely heard – them fighting before. And Nadir didn't want to burden his young son with the complicated feelings he felt for Erik; feelings he didn't quite understand himself.

Was there anything between friends and brothers?

Nadir didn't think there was. Erik wasn't a cousin, wasn't a nephew. He wasn't anything to Nadir. Not by blood. Then what bound them together? One word swam ahead of the others, making itself clear and impossible to mistake for any other.

Love.

Nadir could feel it on the tip of his tongue, but he shied from the obvious answer and looked away from Erik. He couldn't love Erik! What a silly, improbable, and romantic notion!

"There's nothing romantic about friendship."

Nadir had said it himself; said it to Erik.

"Sentimental, then." Erik had replied.

But sentiment didn't make a family. It didn't bind people together with jumbled emotions of affection and tenderness and hate all rolled into one. Sentiment was maudlin and pedestrian; what Nadir felt for Erik was not so neatly described. It was a dust storm of feelings, built up of whirling particles of other emotions and destroying other thoughts in Nadir's mind until his thoughts were consumed only by those he loved: Reza, of course, and Erik.

Nadir struggled to look up.

"You're right," he murmured. "I'm sorry, Reza."

But as he apologized, he made eye contact with Erik again. He felt a sharp, internal tug and looked away, biting his lip until he drew blood.

"Enjoy your walk," he said, turning back to the house. "I'm going to check with Darius about supper."

"I'm sorry, too," Erik's musical voice called after him, stopping Nadir in his tracks. "I don't know what came over me."

Nadir almost turned around. Erik never apologized.

It's probably for Reza's sake, he thought as he walked from the garden and into the house.