Moonlight was the only illumination in the room as he inched his way through the normally secure doors. He could see the light glinting off the blond curls as she slept; a perfect slumber for such a perfect girl. His heart leapt at the sight of her now, his expectation so keyed to this moment. If he were honest with himself, this was an intrusion into a life on which he could lay no claim. The evidence of that was in the manner in which he was seeing her now; sneaking into her room to steal a glimpse of her while she slept. The certainty of it being a solitary event caused him to move closer, an irresistible urge coming to take her in his arms and encircle the body of someone so precious, yet so distant from his own life.
Suddenly and without a sound, she awoke and he was confronted with eyes so much like his own that he gasped in recognition of who lay before him. He reached down and then stopped himself from touching her. He knew he wouldn't relinquish the child if he were to take possession now. He didn't have a right to this, to her. She belonged to this home, this couple...
Illya took one last look at his daughter, this small little version of himself who would be raised as another man's child. He would not return here, would never apply to her for affection or presence in her life. This one time was a gift. He sighed as he turned to leave, the trail of moonlight still stealing into the room. Like so many other things in the Russian's life, she would now become his past; a memory with no place in the present, nor a hope for any future. His consolation was that he had a legacy; as the years passed someone else would look out on the world with his eyes.
Marion would see to that.
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