Silco x Reader

Twenty

"How long have you been taking care of Jinx?", you asked into the silence.

Surprised that you wanted to talk to him, Silco looked up from his papers. It was strange how much he was working. Although he was already sitting on his bed, dressed to go to sleep, he still had something to do.

Or rather, he had the desire to do something.

"Am I supposed to understand this as a question or criticism?", he asked. "Is it so obvious that I am not a natural father?"

You didn't want to answer yes, but saying no seemed too harsh.

"I can see that you are overwhelmed.", you said instead of answering the question directly and tried to comb a knot out of her blue hair without waking Jinx. "Besides, her condition is far from your standards."

"I take care of her as much as I can."

"I never said otherwise. The fact that this seems to bother you shows that you at least care about her. That is good. Unfortunately, interest is not the only thing needed to help a child become a functioning adult."

A low growl made his chest tremble. It sounded like he was very much aware but did not wish to be lectured.

"Forgive me for not having as many kids as you.", he gifted you a glance that revealed a hint of the guilt he was feeling for not being able to provide the emotional support that Jinx needed. "I assume all of your kids are angels, raised by the perfect parents. To be bonded by blood must mean you're magically a better role model."

Huffing in amusement, you shook your head while your fingers started braiding new strands.

You did it extra slow, knowing exact that his eyes were following every single move.

It was obvious that Silco would have never admitted it but you could tell that he was trying to better himself. Not for everyone but at least for Jinx.

After all, she was his daughter now. He had decided so.

"Don't assume things. They aren't mine.", you said in a silent voice. "None of them."

Surprised to hear it, one of his eyebrows rose. With his head tilted, Silco eyed you from top to bottom. There was this shimmer of satisfaction in his eyes, the sweet satisfaction of knowing that you two were equals now.

"So, you're not even qualified for criticising me.", he leaned back, the hint of a smirk on his face. "We're the same bad, fake parents."

Again you had to shake your head. But before you responded, you fell silent for a moment.

It hurt to think about that day again. It hurt to recall the feeling of blood on your hands, to feel the warmth fading.

The blurred memory of his face crossed your mind.

The biggest pain came from the realisation that he was drifting further away year by year, slowly, until he was nothing but a blurry memory.

In that moment you realised that you did not even remember the sound of his voice anymore.

"I had a son once...", your voice was barely a whisper as you said it.

It felt like talking about him would shatter you into a thousand pieces. It hurt. It hurt so much you thought you were dying.

The pain was the same as it had been all these years ago.

Nothing had changed.

Except for your wish to die. That one had changed into the need to be useful.

Wrapped in silence, Silco eyed your face. It was calm, unmoved as if you were talking about what you had for dinner yesterday.

But he was able to spot the painful shimmer in your (E/C) eyes.

"Shimmer?", he asked with a hint of guilt in his voice.

"Enforcers."

His lips moved, curling. His eyes moved across the room. He was thinking, precisely picking his next words as careful as possible.

One wrong question could make him a worse man than he actually was.

"What's the name?", he finally asked.

Your fingers stopped braiding the blue strands. As your eyes fell onto him, there were tears shimmer in the corners. Realisation struck you.

It had taken you a few moments to remember. His name was slipping your mind just like the sight of his face and the sweet sound of his laughter.

"My son's name?", you asked, swallowing a whimper.
He closed his eye, taking a deep breath in.

"The enforcer's."

A laugh escaped you.

"I don't remember."

"Liar. Many people tried to kill me in my time. I remember every single one of them. It's impossible to forget the name of someone who killed your own flesh and blood."

Swallowing hard, you just smiled tiredly.

"I do remember his name. I even remember his face, the cologne he was wearing that day. Sometimes I can still smell it. But that must be my imagination."

His eye narrowed.

"Why are you protecting him?"

"I'm not. But knowing his name wouldn't benefit you in any way."

"True. But it might benefit you."

"I do not wish to see him dead."

"Why are you forgiving him?"

"Same reason as I forgave you for being the cause of my fathers death. Forgiving does me less harm than hating for the rest of my life. It's simple, you know. When my son was killed I fell into a hole of hate and self destruction. It took years to get out of it. I was a mess, closer to death than life. Both mentally and physically. I could keep hating him, but that would put me into more trouble than forgiving him. Forgiving him is one sharp pain to the chest that fades over time. The other is a long way of constant suffering."

As he listened to you, something on Silco's face changed. The cold, emotionless mask fell and a hint of sympathy appeared. His eyes moved, expressing protest and the will to object.

But he kept his mouth shut.

He might have been a monster, but even a monster had the decency to keep its mouth shut about a murdered child.