It's been a while since the last update. But I do plan to finish this story. Thank you to all who have taken the time to read. I really do appreciate it!
The pair stayed awake long into the night, low tones accompanying the crackling flames opposite them. The conversation consisted of mostly Christine talking, and she could tell it was what he preferred. She could tell he just wanted to resume his life, a wish they both shared. But the years of his life that were missing from her knowledge, they did nag at her a bit. It could wait, she reminded herself. If anything, she had learned patience during these slow years, and she had faith in that someday, the truth of his past, his entire past, would be revealed to her. Including their most recent separation.
Keeping this in mind, Christine contented herself with his reactions to her stories and anecdotes of the children over the years; Josephine's birth, her first word; normal rites of passage for a young child. His eyes shone. She took his hand in both of hers, smoothing over the ragged planes.
"It is not your fault. She will understand. She does understand."
She expected more of a reaction, sharp words, or at least a negation. Instead, his thumb merely stroked her palm, back and forth, eyes locked on their intertwined hands.
"Your hands. They are calloused." Simple words, but they carried a weight, their delivery heavy.
"So are yours."
The look in his eye urged her to understand his sentiment.
"Really, I do not mind the work. It was good for me, I suppose- kept my mind off things, made me focus on the day-to-day."
"I suppose I attempted the same." Attempted. If Christine knew one thing about her husband, it was that words always carried precise meaning.
"Erik- how...how did you manage- everything?"
"I should say the same to you." He said.
It was then he pulled away. Back firmly pressed into the mattress; he realized he had missed this. The simple pleasures a grounded life had afforded. He never wanted to lay upon a horrid cot again, much less the ground. The fire's warmth spread further into the room.
She noticed his expression fixed on the ceiling. Blank. She chose to wait.
"I had one goal. That drove me forward. I would do anything to return. It was a longing, a need I had to fulfill. Only one thing superseded it: Christine and Alexandre."
She sat up, hoping looking upon him would reveal more to her. His face revealed nothing.
"There were times, I was nearing the Austrian border. They were close. I wanted to ride west, so much I had almost risked everything. They would have followed me, already raiding post offices, attempting to track letters I may have sent, questioning townspeople.
His eyes closed. She grabbed his hand, kissing the knuckles.
"So I turned back." Her grip tightened.
"It was the hardest thing I've ever done, Christine. I never knew when my next chance would be. I contemplated confronting them, killing them all." He said.
Their gazes locked.
"The killing. It had gotten me into this mess in the first pla-" He began to say.
"Erik, you were defending yourself. That horrible man was going to order your death! Going to hurt Alexan-" She was crying again, tears apparent.
He rose, brushing the drops aside with his thumb. She was making excuses, they both knew. He would carry the weight of those sins for the rest of his life. She would too, in a way.
And there was no way to help, no way to fix it or make it better. It was not her place to. Her husband had committed terrible evils in his life, justified or not, and neither of them could change that. She once contemplated if hers was a poor attitude to have, giving up, as it were. But now she knew it was just a blatant truth, like her father being dead. A painful one at that.
She had witnessed him trying to lead a better life. His selflessness with her, the children. Her loving him was never questioned, and neither was her need for him to be in her life, but Christine often wondered if her choices were ethical, to say the least. She was a parent, and responsible for her children's sense of morality. She knew it was easier to accept her husband because she loved him. She had chosen to love him. But their children, were they to know? Should she ignore his choices? How were they to tell the children? Those were truths she was loathe to face alone. And then he came back.
Her husband had killed people. And yet to her he was a good man. It was all very gray. All she could do was hold him.
"There were ten of them- even- even if I had decided that killing them was the right course of action, I had no idea if I could have taken them alone. I am sorry, Christine." He said.
"Sorry? Enough, Erik! God gave you back, and that is all that matters. You must be free of this guilt towards me. And you do not owe me anything. Just be here, with us. That's all I want." She cradled his face in her palms.
"Oh, Christine." He breathed, almost overwhelming her with his embrace.
The following morning he woke up sometime after dawn, a comforting peace settling deep within his chest at the sight of Christine, hair fanned out, a small hand resting on his chest. Surprisingly, he felt refreshed, despite only securing a few hours of sleep. His wife stirred, mumbling softly as he sat up.
"Erik- let me.. Make you some breakfast." Always so selfless. He was lucky she would put up with him.
"No, my love-" he whispered. "I must speak with the Daroga. Go back to sleep." He said, softly kissing her on the temple.
And so he would. He supposed he had treated the man rather ghastly. But Nadir's presence definitely had stirred fear in his heart. He had not expected him there- his friend with his wife and children. Perhaps Nadir had moved on after telling them, he thought. Of course, he knew Christine and the Daroga would never-betray him-like that. The problem lay in Nadir's role to the children. Especially his son and daughter referring to the Daroga as 'Uncle Nadir'; now that had only fed his insecurity towards his own relationship with them. The Daroga knows your daughter better than you do. And most likely your son. He resented the fact. And so he had largely ignored his friendly acquaintance with bitterness.
Dressing for the day, Erik relished the feeling of clean clothing, tying his cravat with great care. Another minor relic of the past he had missed.
The mask had fallen to the floor sometime during the night. He put it on.
His footsteps were louder than usual coming down the stairs. Those steps would have to be worked on.
Nadir was dressed formally, a silver embroidered waistcoat snugly fitted atop a white shirt. Square bifocals accompanied the ensemble, making the older man appear a seasoned professor. His beard was neatly trimmed. Perhaps he was tired of dressing in rags, Erik mused.
"Up for morning prayers, Daroga?"
"Why yes, Erik. And you?" Nadir said from his perch at the kitchen table, reading a paper.
"I was done sleeping." Erik said.
Nadir smiled. So the sarcasm hadn't left his friend after all the hardship. He took it as a good sign, that Erik might be able to achieve normality, well, Erik's version of normality, after all of this.
Nadir had an idea as to where this was going. Erik stood awkwardly, obviously mulling over how best to say something.
"Well, stop lingering in the stairwell, come sit. I made coffee."
Erik rolled his eyes, internally acknowledging the value of this man's friendship over the years. Saving his sorry carcass more times than he could count. Opening his family up to a vagrant and assassin. Erik was always confused by this.
"Actually, Nadir, I wish to- uhh…". Erik was mumbling. Nadir had to stifle a laugh. He would take it as laughing at him. Best avoid that argument altogether. And besides, he was curious. What had gotten in the way of Erik speaking, ever?
"Uhm… I…,apologize." The last syllable got very quiet, evidence to his friend's wounded pride. Oh, Nadir would milk this.
"Whatever for?" Nadir said patiently.
Erik scowled, huffing in annoyance. Fine. He would get the damn thing over with.
"You did me a favor. I suppose I did not treat you with the most respect."
"No, I suppose you did not." Nadir said, sipping his morning drink. And then he waited a little longer.
Erik practically glowered.
Breaking the heavy silence, the Daroga couldn't take it anymore. He almost spit out his coffee. Eyes shining with mirth, he quickly spoke.
"Thank you, my friend, I do earnestly accept your apology." Nadir said, placing a palm across his chest. He thought Erik's eyes would permanently stick facing the back of his head were they to roll any farther.
Pride muffled, Erik sat down, snatching the paper out of the older man's grip.
"It is good to see you are back to your old self." Nadir said.
"Hmph." Erik replied.
They sat in companionable silence for a while, until the pair heard small feet echo down the stairs. Josephine clutched her small toy horse, cleaned for yesterday's trying adventure. She eyed the two men sheepishly, shy despite her extroverted blip in meeting her father the morning before. Her thin fingers twiddled the horse's mane, hesitant. And looking to his right- so was Erik.
Nadir broke the strange tension.
"Good morning, Josie"
"Good morning, Uncle Nadir." Barely audible.
Josephine would often wake up early, and he would usually fix her a small breakfast of some sort. Christine would feel terrible, claiming that he didn't need to 'babysit' her children, but in reality, it gave him joy to offer some kind of help. It reminded him of being a father, and of taking care of someone. It was closure, in a sense. He was enjoying the moments that were stolen when Reza got sick.
Despite this, he sometimes felt as if he was intruding into his friend's family. Christine insisted otherwise, but secretly he felt guilty towards Erik. They both knew the pain of having their family taken away.
The small girl approached Erik wearily. As Erik glanced towards Nadir, he noticed the inkling of a smile begin to spread across the man's face. Erik glared at him.
"Papa?" Josephine said.
Erik's eyes snapped back at his daughter, his gaze softening immediately. The child hadn't seemed frightened the day prior, but perhaps she seemed a little nervous now, eyes downcast and hands fidgeting. He would not have his children being scared of him. No, that would not do.
"Yes, my dear girl?" He said, as softly as he could manage.
"Can you...can you make me some eggs?" Erik smirked.
"Yes, of course."
As he started to leave for the stove, he noticed that the Daroga's idiotic grin had failed to dissipate, as well as a small form treading towards him.
"You wish for me to teach you?"
She nodded. A most serious look plastered across her features.
"Come." He said, waving a hand briefly as to indicate his sentiment.
Once at the stovetop, he noticed something.
"I suppose you cannot see much all the way down there. Here-" He gently lifted her up, supporting her with one arm as he began the meal.
"Papa?" Josephine said.
"Yes?" Came his hushed reply.
"You smell nicer." He couldn't help but laugh at that.