#looking4thelight

            Viktoriya had never been the type to indulge in retail therapy, but as she walked out of her fourth Parisian boutique, she was starting to see the appeal.  There were several bags on her arm, some from vintage clothing store, others from the bakery – the place that did the most help so far, a shoe store, and most recently, a lingerie boutique that Vikenti was surprisingly comfortable in.  Viktoriya didn’t even know why he dragged her in there.

            “What’s the point, Vikenti?  We’re probably breaking up.  I bet he’s packing right now.” She sighed.  Viktoriya didn’t believe her own words, but she wanted to hear her friend argue.

            “You aren’t breaking up, Viktoriya. Stop being ridiculous.  Besides, you wore things like this long before you started seeing Eli.” Vikenti shook his head.  He had bought some things of his own, but she hadn’t seen what.  Vikenti had been up to something recently, but she didn’t know what.  He was amazing at keeping secrets when he wanted.

            “Do you think I was wrong?” She sighed. “Should I apologize?”

            “Do you think you were wrong?” Vikenti countered.

            “Well… No.  I just… It’s been so hard getting time alone with him, without everything else going on interrupting us.  But, with what he said… Do you really think he believes I just want him as some sexual conquest?”  Viktoriya tried to stay mad as Vikenti laughed, but his smile drove the anger away.

            “Sexual conquests are a night in a club.  You are in a relationship.  A good one.  But even good ones have fights.  You both want the same thing.  It’s obvious.  You always look like you want to rip his clothes off, and he’s always trying to touch you as much as possible.  It’s not easy living in a hotel like we are.  Especially with the ‘we’ that we are.”  Vikenti put his arm around her, giving Viktoriya half of a hug.

            “So you are saying that neither of us is wrong?” She looked up at him skeptically.

            “Or both.  You are both frustrated, and this was just the thing that sparked the fight.  You and Eli just need to talk about it calmly.  And I’ll talk to Gregori about leaving you and Eli alone.” Vikenti told her after planting a kiss on her temple.

            “Why did you tell me to lie to Eli?  I don’t feel right about that.”  Viktoriya pulled them into another store, this one selling imported books.  It reminded her of Eli.  Maybe she’d find him something, as an apology.

            “It’s not a lie.  Gregori did say some hate filled things about me.  But Eli doesn’t need to know that Gregori doesn’t trust him.  He probably would pack his things.  He’s got enough to worry about, he doesn’t need to feel unsafe in his own home.  Not again.”  Vikenti browsed the shelves, picking up a few books.

            “Is it really better that he thinks Gregori is his friend?” She looked up from paging through a book.

            “He does not think Gregori is his friend.  There is no question about that.” Vikenti offered a book from another shelf.  “I think he would like this one.  And I also think you have a serious decision to make about Gregori’s conduct.”

            Viktoriya hesitated to take the book from Vikenti.  They hadn’t talked about operations in a long time, not since they first arrived in Paris, and they rarely discussed matters of conduct.  He had a few years of service on her, so she usually took his advice, but it came so rarely that she was always surprised.  “Do you think I should issue a formal reprimand?”

            “A formal reprimand should have happened four years ago.  He should have been written out during training, but he is your responsibility now, Viktoriya.”  Vikenti tried not to be harsh with her, but his look was firm.  She could only nod.

            There was a silence between them for a while.  They each bought a selection of books, Vikenti more than Viktoriya.  She wondered when he would have time to read them all with all of his responsibilities for the team, his social time with her and Eli – both together and respectively, Vikenti’s workout routine, and his other daily tasks.  Wordlessly, they decided to take a table at a café, inside away from the November wind, and warm up with some hot drinks.  She watched amused, as Vikenti’s phone buzzed with a message and he poked at the screen to reply.  For all his wisdom and charm, Vikenti was helpless with modern technology.

            “Someone from Paris?” She asked, looking up from her tea.

            “No,” Vikenti said.  He noticed her gaze. “Someone from home.  A friend from Dad’s moved to Moscow, and my mom gave them my number.”  Even when he offered bits of himself, he chose what he gave.  It was so peculiar how open he was about being raised and living on a survivalists commune, but how guarded he was about friends he had outside of the PR.  She wondered if he had a serious boyfriend hidden from her.  Why would he hide something like that?

            Before she could say something else about Vikenti’s friend, her own phone went off.  It was Eli.  She didn’t know if she should smile or dread the words he sent.  Viktoriya opened the message, but took a sip of tea before her eyes actually read what he wrote.

            “Vika, I overreacted earlier.  I am sorry for it.  I’m not mad at you, and I hope you aren’t mad either.  Please let me make it up to you.  Tonight, at that restaurant where we shared our first meal in Paris.” She could almost hear his voice in her mind.  He would sound humble, and sincere.  If he were in front of her, Viktoriya knew Eli would have an apologetic look on his face, but that spark in his eye.  The spark she saw when he looked at her.  If he were here, she’d kiss him.

            “I’m not mad.  I was, but Vikenti talked me down.  I’m looking forward to tonight.  What time?” The smile crawled across her lips, but it was a struggle to keep it.  Somewhere close by, someone had scraped a knife across their plate.  Vikenti didn’t seem to hear it.

            “Six PM.  I made reservations.” Eli replied after several moments.  She wondered what he was doing, that would delay him so long.  He usually sent his messages back immediately.

            “See you just before six.   I’ll be waiting out front.” She promised him, trying to concentrate through the screech of brittle chalk on the sandwich board.  How could Vikenti be so immune to these distractions?

            “I need to get out of here, Vikenti.  I’m getting a headache.” Viktoriya got to her feet, gathering up her bags.

            “Don’t worry about Gregori, Viktoriya.  I will talk to him.  And you and Eli will be fine.” Vikenti reached out for her hand.

            “No, no.  Eli just texted me, we’re having dinner tonight.  But I’m really getting a headache.” She complained.  Another high pitched noise, this one seemingly out of nowhere, made Viktoriya cringe.  Vikenti was soon up with her, taking some of her things and helping back to her the hotel.

            Eli wasn’t there.  For a moment she was worried, but Viktoriya reminded himself that he wanted to take her out to dinner that night.  He was probably just getting his haircut or getting a shave.  He needed both.  She was also assured when she was greeted by Ceres and Dinah.  He would never leave his dogs behind.

            “When did he leave you girls?  Do you need to go out?” She found herself talking to them more often.  Sometimes she’d join Eli when he took the dogs for their walks.  Viktoriya found their leather leads, and brought them down to a nearby park.  The sharp wind bit at her cheeks and nose, and whipped her hair about.  Even Ceres and Dinah didn’t want to be out in the weather for too long.  Even for the short time they were out, Viktoriya’s headache worsened.  A rare wintering bird screeched at them in a harsh call, but the dogs, didn’t even grumble at the fowl.  Back inside, she let them free, fed the girls, and found them a warm place to lay before she retired to her own room.

            Viktoriya tried everything to banish the pain in her head.  The last thing she wanted for her dinner with Eli was to be distracted.  She tried some aspirin and glass of water, and attempted to wash the headache away in the shower.  Viktoriya put on some of her favorite music as she did her hair with hot curlers and selected her new red lace lingerie to slip into.  She pulled on black stockings and pulled on her dress, a slim cut, with black lace straight across her collar and down to her wrists and her knees.  Beneath the lace was red silk structured through the bust and hips.  Viktoriya was still plagued as she applied her lipstick and lined her eyes in black.  She took out her curlers, and shook out her hair.  It was almost time to meet Eli.

            She set the book on his pillow, and tried to smile.  Viktoriya told herself that seeing his smile would make her feel better.  It had to.  It was the only remedy she had left.  She stepped into her heels, and took one last look in the mirror before she stepped out into the main room.  Viktoriya started to doubt her dress. So much red and black.  She was afraid she looked too harsh.

            “You look beautiful,” Vikenti offered without provocation.  “He’ll think so too.  Can I drive you to dinner?”

            “Thanks Vikenti, I’d appreciate that so much.” She admitted as he handed Viktoriya her wool dress coat.  Her captain’s insignia was embroidered in with gold stitching.  “I still have that head ache.”

            Little was said on the way, mostly out of respect for Viktoriya’s headache.  Egged on by Eli buying the Audi, Vikenti rented a car of his own.  It was nice car, edging between luxury and economy.

            “Do you see him out there?” Vikenti asked, parked across the street.  It started to feel like a stakeout.

            “Not yet.  But maybe he’s in his car waiting for me.” Viktoriya suggested, getting ready to slide out of the car.  With her fingers on the handle, she paused.  She heard keys digging into metal.  She looked around but saw nothing.

            “….Eyes open.” She heard.

            “What did you say, Vikenti?” She looked over at her friend.  He was pawing at his phone again, unaware of anything strange going on.

            “I didn’t say anything.  Maybe you heard my phone?” He suggested.

            “Wrong, not him… Sima? …Sima?” A voice repeated.  “…Danger.  Watch… Eli… Danger… Already… got … Tina.”

            Viktoriya shook the sounds away.  She looked up and saw an Audi pull up to the valet.  Eli stepped out, handing over his keys with a smile.  She watched him look around for her.  Viktoriya opened the car door so quickly, she almost lost it to passing traffic.

            “Ilya!” She called out, darting across the street in her heels. “Ilya! I’m here!”

            Viktoriya ran right into his arms.  He caught her, sweeping her up in to a kiss.  For just an afternoon apart, she missed him.  Her hands found his face, smooth from a fresh shave.  His cologne was intoxicating.  She felt his hand slip around her waist, under her coat.  He was warm, reassuring, and gentle.  How she had missed his touch!  Eli kissed her back in a fierce passion.  Viktoriya was so caught up in his kiss that she almost didn’t hear the shot.

            A smart gunman would have waited for something to conceal his fire.  A car starting, fireworks, the screech of brakes or the blare of an ambulance.  This one came out of dead silence.  Two more rang out.  Eli felt heavily into Viktoriya’s arms.  She stumbled back in heels, struggling under his weight.  She heard a door slam, footsteps, cars stopping abruptly and laying heavy on their horns.  At once, Vikenti was at her side.

            The words became clear as her headache vanished, replaced with panic. “Keep your eyes open.  Something’s wrong.  They’ve almost got him.  Sima? Sima?  Eli’s in danger.  Watch out.  Eli’s in danger.  They’ve already got Valentina.”

            “I already called an ambulance.  As soon as I heard the shots.” Vikenti told her, lifting Eli from her arms.  Gently, Vikenti lowered Eli to the ground.  Viktoriya watched in horror as Vikenti checked for his pulse.

            “Nyet… Nyet, nyet, nyet.” Tears started to well in Viktoriya’s eyes.  She took Eli’s hand, and held it tightly. “Oh, Ilya! Ilya!”

            Vikenti looked around, throwing his own coat back to show off his service pistol.  If Eli’s shooters were still around, Vikenti made it clear that Eli would not be taken easily.  But no one was around.  Even the locals and tourists gave them a wide berth.  Viktoriya could hear the sirens in the distance.  Vikenti had already ripped Eli’s shirt open, pressing the already blood soaked fabric into a wound on his chest.  Viktoriya was afraid the bullet had hit something vital.

            Eli’s fingers curled around hers.  His face was twisted in a painful grimace.  When he coughed, Eli sprayed Vikenti’s cheek with droplets of blood. “Vika, Vikenti… Am I dying?”  Viktoriya couldn’t bring herself to speak.

            “No, Eli.  The fact that you’re asking me is good.  You’ve been shot, at least once.  You can feel me pressing on your chest?  I’m applying pressure to the wound.  The ambulance is coming.  Viktoriya will go with you to the hospital.  We won’t let you die.  You’re our friend, and we don’t like losing friends.” Vikenti assured him.  His words soothed Eli as they waited on the paramedics.  It wasn’t a long wait before Vikenti was ushered out of the way in favor of attention from some medical professionals.  But Viktoriya wouldn’t leave Eli’s side.

            The police were right behind the ambulance, and it was Vikenti that attended to the matter of the statement.  He’d seen just as much as either Viktoriya or Eli, and was in better condition.  He had a diplomatic way with other uniformed men.  She wasn’t sure what she heard, Viktoriya was far too worried about Eli, but she might have heard Vikenti ordering the French police what to do.  They were loading Eli into the ambulance when Vikenti returned to her.  His hands were still stained with Eli’s blood.

            “The police are looking for the gunman.  I’m going back to the hotel to get you and Eli some clothes, make arrangement for his dogs, things like that. Are you alright?” Vikenti asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.  She nearly broke down in tears in front of him.  She could only nod. “I’ll take care of things.  Everything.  I’m hereby relieving you of your duty until Eli’s in stable condition.  I only want you taking care of him.  I can handle everything else.”

            Viktoriya nodded again.  He turned to leave, but she reached out, grabbed his sleeve. “Vikenti? Before you go… Find Valentina.  She’s in as much danger as Eli is.  Maybe more.”

            “Da, Captain.  Your command.  Now get in there with him.  He needs you.”  Vikenti offered her a smile as he helped her into the back of the ambulance.  The doors shut, and one of the paramedics helped her into a seat at Eli’s side.  Viktoriya found his hand, and watched helplessly as the paramedic did all he could for Eli.

            Time stood still and passed in a blur at the same time.  With his wallet, she able to manage fill out most of his paperwork while she waited for him to come out of the room.  Which room, she wasn’t sure.  The emergency room, the operating room, the bathroom, her mind was such a jumble, she already forgot.  But she was relieved that the doctors had admitted Eli, and assigned him a room, and let Viktoriya wait for him there.  Wrapped in his coat – no warmer than her own wool coat, but it still smelled of his cologne, she had something of him to comfort her.

            Viktoriya decided that she should call his brother.  Levi should know what was going on.  He might even want to come to see his brother.  Viktoriya put her arms through his coat and dug into his pockets.  She found his phone, but something else as well.  It was a small light blue box, wrapped in a white ribbon.  She recognized the store it was from.  A jeweler.  An expensive, designer jeweler.  She didn’t dare open it.  The possibility of his intentions bore a hole in her stomach.

            Viktoriya forced attention over to Eli’s phone, suddenly heavy in her hand.  Another stab of pain struck to see a picture of them on the screen.  Pushing through, she found Levi’s number and dialed.  Patiently, she waited to hear Levi’s voice.

            “Eli! Eli, mate! You dialed me from your pants!” Levi shouted loud enough to make Viktoriya hold the phone away from her ear.

            “No, Levi.  This is Viktoriya Sima, Eli’s girlfriend.” She said, hoping he would lower his voice to a reasonable volume.

            “Eli’s girlfriend?  Eli never he told me he was seeing anyone.  Is this a prank?” Levi laughed.

            “No, Levi.  No prank.  I’m calling because Eli has had an accident.  He was shot tonight.” She held back her tears.

            “Shot? With a gun?” Levi’s mirth was gone.

            “Yes.  We aren’t sure by whom or for what, but I have a man looking into it.  I just… I though you would want to know.” Viktoriya concluded.  There wasn’t more to say.  She offered to send him the address of the hospital, and keep him posted on Eli’s health, but that’s all she had.  Viktoriya was left again with Eli’s phone, his cologne scented coat and the unopened ring box.

            It was late when he was returned to her. Drugged on pain killers and bandaged up like a mummy, he gave her a bleary smile as his hospital bed was wheeled into place.  She reached out and took his hand, smiling back at him.

            “Doctor, how serious was it?” She asked, daring to be optimistic.

            “God must like him.  Only three bullets, all removed.  One buried in his thigh, one is his arm, and we pulled the last from his liver, stopped by his rib.  He had a small fracture, but it was clean, we are very confident we got all of the bone shards.  There is much healing ahead of him, many tests, much blood work, but we are hopeful.” The doctor delivered the news.  He was tired, the same doctor that took Eli away, and probably was with him the whole time, but he was still trying to smile.

            “Thank you, Doctor.” Viktoriya felt her heart get lighter.  She never thought she’d be happy to hear that Eli had been shot.

            “You are welcome to stay with him.  We’ll send for extra bedding, but he needs his rest.  That is how he will heal.” With that he left them alone.

            “You had me so scared, Ilya.” Viktoriya said, gripping his hand as tightly as she dared.

            “Getting shot hurts, Vika.” Even his mind blurred, awash in drugs to take away his pain.

            “I know. Ilya. I’ve been shot too.  In the arm, like you were.”  She watched worry fill his eyes, “No, no! Not tonight! A few years ago.”

            “At least I’m not in a coma this time.” He offered her another hazy smile, trying to hold her hand.

            “Da, I’m so happy to see you awake. But you should try to sleep.  You’ve had a rough day.” She tried her best to smile at him.  She was genuine pleased with his prognosis.  It could have been so much worse.

            “You look beautiful.  Too beautiful for this hospital.” He told her.  Though he spoke mentally, she watched his lips tried to move along with his words.  Viktoriya had never noticed that before.  How long had he been doing that?

            “I’ll wear this again for you.  When you get out of the hospital, we’ll try this over again.” She promised.  Viktoriya didn’t dare mention the ring.

            “I’m glad I didn’t die.  I didn’t want to die with our last conversation being a fight over sex.” Eli confessed.  “I didn’t want to die.”

            Viktoriya was relieved when Vikenti entered the room, with a duffle bag over his shoulder. And steaming cup of tea in his hand. “Ah! Look at this handsome devil!”

            “Vikenti, I didn’t die, just like you promised.” Eli lolled his head over to look at his friend.  “Are you leaving?”

            “I am, I have a job to do.  But Viktoriya will be here with you.  I don’t know how long you’ll be here, so I put your girls in a dog hotel.  A nice one.  Three walks a day, real meat and eggs for their meals, grooming, everything.”  He walked over to the bed, putting the bag at Eli’s feet.  He passed the tea over to Viktoriya, and kissed her on cheek.  “I brought you some clothes, if you think you can get dressed.  And I brought you a gift, but it’s actually from Viktoriya.”

            “Thank you Vikenti.  How are all the arrangements coming along?” Viktoriya asked, pulling the bag over to her.  She let go of Eli’s hand, needing both of hers to open it.  He didn’t seem to notice.

            “Well.  My flight leaves when I get to Charles de Gaulle, they radioed me ten minutes ago.  The hotel knows of our situation, and is only charging us half for the room while we are barely there.  His car is valeted in the hospital lot, under your name.  The dogs are at the dog hotel, and you’ve got your stuff and Gregori has reported to the Russian embassy.  I got that call five minutes ago.” Vikenti reported.

            “Why is Gregori at the embassy?” Viktoriya asked as she pulled out some of her clothes from the bag.  She had not shame about slipping out of her dress in front of Eli and Vikenti.  After the day she had, it was nice to be in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt again.  One of Eli’s sweatshirts was in the bag.  Viktoriya chose it over her own.

            “For his safety, and others.” He looked pointedly at Eli, but he didn’t seem to notice.  “I can’t rule him out.”

            “Isn’t that harsh?” She worried, but Vikenti ignored her question.

            “Let the doctors take care of him.  Listen to them, ask for a second opinion if you need to, but trust them.  If they take him for tests or physical therapy, anything like that, you take that opportunity to go home and shower, change, get something to eat.  He needs you, but he needs you well.”  Vikenti ordered, with a meaningful look.  “Eli, you cooperate with your doctors.  They want you well.  I want you well.  You have nothing to worry about.  I asked your doctor where they took the bullets from, and I expect that you’ll never be able to tell you took three shots.”

            Eli nodded the best he could. “No catheters though.  Tell them no catheters.”

            “Alright, Eli.” Vikenti laughed. “Viktoriya, do you need anything before I pick up?”

            She shook her head, “No, but thank you.  Send me something so I know you’ve touched down safely.  Stay alert.”

            Vikenti kissed them both good bye, platonic gestures to the cheek, before disappearing through the door.  For days, weeks, Viktoriya and Eli had wanted only to be alone together.  Is this what it cost for their privacy?  Now, with him in the hospital bed, she desperately wanted company.  It was difficult to see him so weak, so vulnerable.

            “Where are you sending Vikenti?” Eli asked.  He reached for her hand again, and she offered it.  He gave her another smile.  Viktoriya wished he’d smiled this easily when there wasn’t a bag feeding pain killers into his blood.  No, that’s not true.  He had been smiling more over the past few weeks.

            “He’s going to find Valentina.” She expected a reaction of anger, or annoyance, but nothing came. “We think she might be in danger too.”

            “Oh.  Okay.  You still look beautiful.  Will you come closer?” He asked.  If it were under other circumstances, if this was just too much alcohol, his candor would be amusing.  Viktoriya moved closer to him, and closer again at his request.  When she was close enough, Eli leaned up and kissed her.  It wasn’t much, just their lips brushing against each other, but his intentions spoke volumes more.  Viktoriya kissed him back, the way she knew he wanted kiss her.  She gave as much passion as she thought his health would allow.  When she slid away, he was smiling.  Not his pain killer smile, but his real smile.  The one he gave her hours ago, when he saw her in front of the restaurant.

            “Can I see how bad it is?” She asked, and he nodded, letting her pulling back the sheet.  A thick bandage was wrapped around his thigh, slightly bled through in the back.  Viktoriya peeled away the awful thin gown they dressed him in.  The bandage on his arm, under his tattoo was still clean.  His whole middle torso was bandaged tightly, for stability she guessed.  There were too many layers to see if he was still bleeding from the wound that fractured his rib.  Viktoriya was confused by another bandage she found, on his other arm.  She didn’t want to call it his good arm.

            “Ilya, what’s this?” She didn’t want to touch it, afraid it was more damage from the shooting.

            “Oh! I got another tattoo this afternoon.  Vikenti gave me the idea!  I like it.  Want to see it?  It’s okay, you can, Vika.” Eli rambled again.  His skin was clammy and she thought he might be cold, dressed only in his underwear.  She wondered if she should help him into some clothes first, but he seemed so excited for her to see the new ink.  Viktoriya decided to oblige Eli and look.  She peeled the tape and gauze away. 

            It was a lot of gauze.  It was a big tattoo.  Not as ambitious as her dragon, but bigger than his previous piece, or Vikenti’s dragon.  Painted across his arm, over his well worked muscle was a scene that would have fit just as well on a lacquered Russian trinket box.  In the same style as such folk art, there was a troika scene, a sled drawn by three horses, chased through the snow by a lone rider.  Dogs harried the pursuer at the driver’s command, while the driver pointed an antique pistol at the rider.  There was a woman in the sled, holding a pistol herself.  After a moment, she recognized faces.  Eli was the driver, she was the woman.  The attacking dogs were Ceres and Dinah, down to the brown spots on Dinah’s flank and the one black patch over Ceres’s left eye.  She didn’t recognize the rider, but she knew, it was Horowitz.  A scroll beneath read. “I will not rest in peace.”

            It must have taken all day.  She was surprised he had time to get his shave, make the reservations or buy the ring.  Viktoriya thought of the ring again.  She would continue to think of it until she brought it up.  Viktoriya decided to ask him after he was released from the hospital.  He needed to focus on healing, and not on whatever that ring meant.

            “Aren’t you worried about having my face tattooed on your arm?” She asked, covering the ink up again.  Viktoriya went further to cover his legs and waist with the sheets and blanket.  She would try to dress him, but she was worried for his leg.

            “No.  I like it.” He yawned.  Viktoriya was thankful that he was getting tired.  He needed his sleep.  She went to get more linens from the nurses, asking for a warmer blanket along with something for herself.  When she got back, his eyes were closed.

            “Let’s get you ready to sleep, Ilya.  Are you comfortable like this?  Can I help you move at all?” Viktoriya asked, but she didn’t get an answer.  He was quiet as she put the extra blanket over him.  Breathing slowly, but steady, a strong pulse, but quiet.  Just asleep. 

            The prison was quiet while the Restorationist guards continued their search for Valentina and Elijah.  Of course, they could not let Horowitz know that they were idly waiting for results, so they continued to give Mischa daily beatings.  Years ago, Mischa would fight back, throwing men off his back, blacking eyes, dislocating jaws.  He didn’t fight back any more.  Mischa wouldn’t risk Valentina’s safety, but little did he know that she was already in danger.  It was getting harder to keep secrets for Mischa, seeing his friend battered and bruised, but Yuri wouldn’t risk his chance at freedom.  If Yuri even let Mischa know the progress he had made in repairing his mind, and Mischa confessed to the guards, that would only make Yuri a target for interrogation.  No, there was safety in his secret. 

            Five, or a man known as Searzy, was looking for Valentina with little results.  It had been weeks since he left with his sister and Four had only heard that they had found Valentina, and that they would proceed to interrogate her for Elijah’s whereabouts.  But Four was getting impatient and deployed other agents to look for Elijah on their own, and one team was accidentally on the right track.  Yuri was impatient to inform Elijah or Viktoriya of their situation.

            Finally, during what must have been the night shift, the guards left the hall.  There was only one man stationed outside of their rooms, and the guard, Six was a younger, more sensitive one.  He had shift every fourth night, and a routine to his duties.

            “Mister Sima?” He asked as he slowly entered Mischa’s cell.  “I… I had commissary duty today, and I noticed you didn’t come to meal call.  I brought you water and some bread, and… Well, they wouldn’t let me bring you meat but I got this baked potato for you.  And uh… Oh, I brought you some clean bandages and this snuck this antibacterial cream out of the pharmacy.”

            “Thank you,” Mischa would mumble.  Yuri didn’t know if Mischa was being rude, or if perhaps his lips were too swollen to speak clearly.  If Mischa was smart, he’d eat his bread and potato.  Six was too honest to try to poison them.  But even if he wasn’t, Mischa was of no used to the Restorationists if he died quietly before their movement could be consolidated, and Yuri’s death meant nothing.  His life meant nothing either, but that was beside the point.

            After a short time, the routine was repeated.  “Mister Utkin?”

            Yuri looked up from his book, he was trying to reteach himself French.  He used to speak it so fluently, but only now was it starting to make sense again.  He gave Six a wild look.  He was the only guard that would actually come into his cell since before Phillip happened.  Most would just open the door and slide food in or shout through the door.  Or not bother with him at all.

            Six was small.  Barely an adult.  He looked like he hadn’t even had his first shave yet.  His red hair was cropped short, and his blue eyes wouldn’t meet Yuri’s. “I… I had commissary duty today, and the guards didn’t bring you in.  I thought you might be hungry.  I brought some water, and some bread.”

            When Six put down the tray there was a lot more than just a plastic cup of water and a hunk of bread.  Wrapped in foil was a baked potato, some carrots and a more than generous portion of cooked red meat.  Beef, bison, venison, he wasn’t sure but it was there.  Yuri looked up at Six, catching his eyes.  He made the young man nervous.

            “Thank you.  The others are all too afraid of me to get me, or talk to me.  I guess they didn’t warn you?” Yuri asked, his English surprising even himself.

            “Warn me about what?” Six nervously rubbed his arm.  His uniform was too big for him.

            “I’ve killed several guards, doctors, all innocent people.” Yuri took the tray and sat on the bed.

            “No, they didn’t tell me.  All the others told me about you is that it’s Sima’s fault that you’re here, and that you’re like this.” Six looked like he was about to run from the room.

            “Da, it is his fault that I’m here.  But I do not blame him.  When Solange orchestrated the attempted murder of Mischa Sima, I protected him.  My brother protected him.  Our friends protected him.  Three of them died.  My brother is crippled, if he is not dead.  But he saved Sima’s daughter and wife. Then Solange made me kill Sima’s wife.  It is his fault I am here, but I have sinned against him in ways I cannot repent.” Yuri felt strange for his confession.  Maybe it was sharing his burden.  Maybe it was the meat, slathered in a rich sauce.  Maybe it was just the human company.  But he felt lighter.

            “Did… Did Miss Solange really make you kill Sima’s wife?” Six bit his lip.

            “Yes.  And Solange’s son, was taken from my body.  So she says.”  Yuri ate more food as Six took a seat in an unused chair in Yuri’s cell.

            “Are you telling me that Miss Solange raped you?” Six wrung his hands.  Yuri suspected that Six was doubting his loyalties.

            “Da that is what I am saying.  What is your name, little guard?” Yuri finished the steak quickly before it was taken away for him.

            “… Arne.  I’m Arne.” Six was reluctant to give him his name.

            “Thank you for my dinner, Arne.  You are better than what they think you are.” Yuri made quick work of the rest of his meal.  “That was the first solid meal I’ve had in a while.”  Yuri put all the emptied dishes on the tray and offered it back to Arne.

            “Oh... Um... Yes, you’re welcome, Mister Utkin. I... I should go before they notice I’m not at my post.” Arne took the tray back.  He looked back at Yuri, wanting to say something else, but not finding the courage.  Yuri nodded to the boy on the way out.  He was still anxious to find Elijah, but he could not be mad at Arne.  He might just be of use some day.

            It took some time to for Yuri to believe Six – no, Arne – would not be returning with more food or in want of information.  He settled into his bed and put his book aside.  In moments, Yuri was in the peace of his mind, walking the webs of his consciousness.  He would normally spend some time reviewing his accumulated memories and observances, but he needed to find Eli.  Thankfully the Brit was sleeping, or at least doing something that put him lost in his thought.

            Eli’s mind was structured after a museum, Yuri had been there several times before, but things were different.  Eli had added a new level, titled “Life”, and the hall titled “Heart” had been closed off.  The place was brighter, cleaner, cared for.  Eli was doing well it seemed.  Yuri started up the curved stair case, wanting to see what Eli was working on in this new place.  He couldn’t exactly say he was happy with what he saw.

            Eli had devoted this most recent hall to his time in France. Yuri lost count of how many memories were taken from dance clubs and bars.  These blurry distorted visions had an ever changing cast of women in them, and while Eli was having a good time, there was something missing.  But when that something missing was found, the situation became even more problematic.

            The trip to Cannes made Yuri worried.  He’d been worried since Viktoriya decided to join forces with Eli to find Mischa and himself.  He was pinning his freedom on them, and putting them together just made it easier for his hopes to get dashed.  And now, here was Eli, throwing his attentions at Viktoriya Sima.  Their return from their romantic weekend was sweet for both Eli and Viktoriya, both vowing to play whatever they had between them by ear, but it was clear to an outside observer that there was more than either could admit to.

            While they didn’t spend every moment together, they did spend every night in the same bed, no matter where that bed was.  The two spent their days doing work, whether it was Eli’s speech lessons, or Viktoriya’s stalled investigation into what happened to Mischa and Yuri, or individual sightseeing, exercise or time with friends.  Friends meaning Vikenti, neither seemed eager to spend time with Gregori alone.  They started taking more weekend trips together, trying to find time alone, but it wasn’t always easy.  A trip to Germany for Oktoberfest was interrupted when Gregori decided he wanted to go too.  Vikenti joined as well, though Yuri suspected Kozlov was only there to keep Gregori away from the fledgling couple.  It was a good time though, even with the extra company. It happened again on their trip to Normandy, Monaco, and Madrid.  Nice times were had, but they were rarely alone.

            With every passing scene of intimacy between Eli and Viktoriya – Ilya and Vika as they were presented to him, Yuri prepared himself for the moment he would have to avert his eyes.  So far, he had seen only kissing in varying degrees of intensity, but Yuri knew eventually, he would get to the main event, and he would have to look away.  He would do so, purely out of respect for his friends.  If Viktoriya was any other woman, not his commanding officer’s cousin, his friend’s girlfriend, and a friend in her own right, his eyes would light up at the chance to catch a glimpse of her pale skin and muscular body.  Yuri always had a thing for muscular girls.  Viktoriya had almost no fat on her body, a beautiful lithe form.  She would have made a great ballerina.

            “No, she wouldn’t have.  She doesn’t have the patience for the other dancers to keep up with her.” Eli’s voice came from all around Yuri.  It wasn’t booming or intimidating.  Eli had changed.  He no longer looked like he was holding up a coal powered train in Victorian England.  Eli’s mental image was now styled after his physical visage.  His hair was in need of a cut and starting to take a curl, even while dry.  He wore some stubble on his chin not quite a beard, yet not clean shaven either.  Eli’s clothes had modernized into his favorite oxblood button down, slim cut black dress pants, and a shoulder holster barely concealing a modern automatic pistol.

            “Nice to see you not pointing that at me.” Yuri joked, as much as he could manage, gesturing at the gun.  “How have you been?”

            “I’ve been better.” Eli’s glum tone surprised Yuri.  How could a man, seemingly so happy with Viktoriya, be so depressed.  Yuri looked around, expecting to see Valentina infecting his relationship.

            “It’s not her.  I haven’t thought about her since September.  Viktoriya and I had a fight.” Eli explained.

            “What are you fighting about?” Yuri cautioned, hoping he was not the cause.  He worried that the task of saving Mischa and himself had not put too much strain on the young people, and their relationship.  As selfish as his want for freedom was, he could not deny Eli and Viktoriya their happiness.

            “Sex.” Eli said bluntly. “Moreover, that we’ve been seeing each other exclusively for more than six weeks and we still aren’t there yet.”

            “Are you pressuring her? You know, she had a nasty ending to her last real relationship, and…” Yuri started.  Elijah waved Yuri’s words away.

            “I know about Tikhon, and she knows about Rhianne and Valentina.  It’s not that either of us aren’t ready.  We are.  We have been.  But…”  Eli interjected.  Yuri watched his fingers twitch, hands ball into fists, straighten out, make a fist again and then go for a cigarette. 

            “But?  If you both want it, what’s stopping you?” Yuri took a cigarette of his own.

            “It seems like everything.  The first time it was my dogs.  And we were both understanding about that.  Ceres and Dinah don’t know better, and they have needs.   The second time, it was Levi texting me incessantly.  Viktoriya started to get annoyed with him, but it still put her out of the mood.  The time we got the closest…” Eli had to take a drag off of his cigarette.  As he set the scene, the visuals played out in front of Yuri.   Before them, Viktoriya and Eli were in bed together.  He was stripped naked to the waist, or perhaps naked all together, and she was wearing a tank top and little shorts, already crawled on top of the sheets.  “We had just woken up, well, she was already up and decided to wake me up with a storm of kisses.  I was up pretty quickly after that.  And with the dreams I’d been having about her, Vika and I both wanted the same thing.”

            Though he stopped speaking, the memory continued to unfold in front of them.  Barely awake and full of passion, Eli pulled Viktoriya close to his body.  She ripped the sheets away from his body, kicking them off the bed.  Eli was wearing a pair of striped sleep pants that barely contained his intentions.  With both laying on their sides, facing each other, they kissed fiercely.  Eli had one hand gently, romantically cupping her cheek, while the other arm was slid around her back, with his hand brazenly slipped down the back of her shorts.  He tried to pull her closer but she resisted.  It wasn’t that she didn’t like his attention, not at all.  Quite the opposite, Viktoriya simply had business between their bodies.  Her own hands traveled his body, nails tracing patterns across his skin.  Finger tips migrated from his neck, over his broad shoulders, down his chest, traveling ever closer to the waistband of his pants.  Eli’s breath caught in his throat at the anticipation of her touch.

            Yuri startled slightly with the loud sound that came next.  What should have been Eli’s groan of pleasure, or perhaps a seductive whisper from Viktoriya, was the slam of a door.  There was a shouting match on the other side of their door, two harsh loud voices.  Gregori and Vikenti.  More shouting, more slamming, the sound of physical fight.  A sound finally came from Eli’s lips, but it was a sigh of frustration as Viktoriya left the bed.  Of course he wasn’t mad at her, she was going to break up a fight, but they were so incredibly close!  Not knowing how long she would be, Eli somehow got himself to the shower.

            “Is this what you fought over?  And what were the other two going on about?”  Yuri asked as the memory came to an end.

            “No, that wasn’t our fight, but I think it set up the fight.  And Vikenti and Gregori were fighting because Vikenti had come home, on the phone with a guy.  I guess Gregori can’t handle that, and he started to argue with Vikenti.  It escalated into a full on brawl.  We still don’t know who the man Vikenti was speaking to was.  It could have been his father for all Gregori knew.”  Eli explained.  His cigarette was nearly gone.

            “So, how did the fight start?” Yuri was making his cigarette last, relying on Eli’s memories for the sensation of the smoke in his lungs.

            “This afternoon, I was doing my lesson, and Vika was reading something out in the main room.  Vikenti’s away doing something down in the hotel’s conference center, and Gregori decided to go to an early supper.  So Viktoriya puts her book down and comes in the room and tells me, ‘We’re alone, Ilya.  I bet if we make it quick we can…’ Leaving the rest to my imagination.  It was the ‘make it quick’ part that got me mad.  It’s our first time together, or it would have been.  I don’t want it to be quick.  I don’t want to rush it in while Gregori stuffs his face.  I want be able to go slow, and take my time with her.  I want her to never want to get out of my arms, or my bed.” Eli sighed again, as he put out his cigarette, it disappeared from view.  “Then I was stupid and asked if that’s all I was, just a quick thing.  She got mad, I was mad.  Viktoriya left, and I came here.”

            “Well, what you said was stupid.  But you recognize that.” Yuri wasn’t used to being the optimistic person in a conversation.

            “Yeah, I was stupid.  She just… She confuses me.” Eli admitted.

            “Love will do that to you.” Yuri shrugged.

            “Love?  We’ve only been together for a few months.” Eli tried to argue with his friend, but Yuri had none of it.

            “Its love Eli.  You built all this, not me.  You don’t see how happy she makes you? And how happy you make her?  That little smile you get when you are doing your lessons, look up and see her watching you?  That mix electric thrill and nerves you get when she touches your arm or kisses your lips?  That you are in a fight with her, and are admitting you are wrong?”  Yuri laughed, assuring Eli of his feelings.

            “So, I love her.” Eli wondered aloud to himself, looking around at the scenes of love around him.  “I should apologize to her.  Let her know that I’m not mad at her, just the circumstances that are keeping us apart.  She needs to know how much she means to me.  Oh, I have so much to do… ”

            Even in late September, the weather was warm.  The view from the beach at Cannes was beautiful.  The sun was only just starting to set and cast them in a soft orange glow.  Many of the tourists had already returned to their hotels, getting ready for dinners or nights on the Riviera, but Eli and Viktoriya stayed behind.  This moment was too perfect to interrupt.

            Mere moments after he agreed to join her on this impromptu trip, Eli began to second guess himself.  She took him back to the hotel just long enough for them to throw some clothes in a bag, and leave a note for Vikenti before speeding off to the airport.  The flight was short, but when Viktoriya fell asleep – and Eli didn’t blame her after being up sick the night before, he had nothing but time to think.  As she slept on his shoulder, her lips moved, murmuring in Russian.  Eli wondered at her intentions of this trip.  Was this a romantic getaway?  He certainly wouldn’t object if it was, but it certainly would be a surprise to him.  If Viktoriya wanted him like that, she kept it well hidden.  Perhaps it was just a platonic trip.  Her way of cheering Eli up, the same as Vikenti giving him the money to take girls out.  Eli wouldn’t mind that either.  Honestly, he wasn’t sure which situation he wanted more.  Eli wasn’t sure if he was ready for a new relationship, but he sure was sick of being alone.  Ultimately, he decided to stop worrying, and just let the beauty of Cannes wash over him and enjoy this vacation with Viktoriya.

            The plan had served him well that afternoon.  Straight off the plane, they found a room in a nice hotel and checked in.  Eli’s heart skipped a beat when he opened the door for her, faced with just one queen-sized bed.  He had shared his bed with Viktoriya the night before, but that was different.  She was sick, and he was comforting her.  But he remembered his vow to himself.  Don’t worry about this trip.  He repeated it to himself several times while Viktoriya changed in the bathroom.  Once she opened that door and stepped out, he didn’t need to remind himself anymore.

            Viktoriya looked beautiful in her swimsuit, which wasn’t even that revealing.  The top was navy and white striped, three quarter sleeved with a high midriff cut, matched with a simple navy bikini bottom.  It was a take on a naval seaman’s uniform, and she made it look like she had stepped off a pin up calendar.  He couldn’t wait to have her on his arm.

            “I’ve never swam in the ocean,” Viktoriya told him as they walked across the sand.  “Not for recreation, at least.”

            “Really, never?” Eli asked, putting his words in her mind.

            “I was dumped in the North Sea a few times for training exercises, but I’ve never had a day at the beach.”  She smiled at him.  Eli swore he caught her looking him over from behind her sunglasses.  There was plenty to see, as Eli had elected to wear a pair of box trunks.  He knew he’d obsessed and got worked up over a lot in his life, especially in the past few years, but he had always felt comfortable in a swimsuit.

            “I’ll have to make this a great first beach day.” He promised.  With worry put aside, Eli focused only on having fun with Viktoriya.  He raced her down to the water, hearing her laugh.  They swam, splashed, and played in the water until the sun stated to disappear from the sky.

            Eli wasn’t sure why, but Viktoriya didn’t want to go back to the hotel yet.  Maybe she was afraid of the intimacy the room held.  Maybe she really did just want to watch the moon rise over the sea with him.  He might not know her motives, but he was happy just the same.  She laid beside him in the sand, on her stomach as she held a cigarette between her fingers.  Viktoriya let Eli’s hand wander under bathing suit top as his fingers caressed her back.  He thought he heard her let out a little sigh of pleasure.  Eli felt shockwaves of excitement race from his fingers to his brain each time he reached down to take the cigarette from her hand, and their skin touched.

            “Right now,” He started, taking a drag off of the cigarette. “I am happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

            “I agree, Eli.  Thank you for today.” She murmured.  Viktoriya’s eyes were barely open, but he caught her looking up at him with her eerily beautiful eyes.

            “I should be thanking you for bringing me here.” His finger traced up between her shoulder blades.  Blindly, he explored her skin, wanting to know every little birthmark, every smooth bit of scar, every goose bump, all of her.  Eli decided that if she did want a romantic relationship – or just a sexual one, he’d be okay with it.  He’d be more than just okay with it.  He’d never been able to just sit in silence with a woman and just feel happy.

            But their bliss was interrupted when Eli’s phone went off with a message.  He sighed, handing the cigarette back to Viktoriya.  Eli even had to pull his hand from beneath her shirt, having to dig through Viktoriya’s bag to find the nuisance device.

            “No phones, Eli.” Viktoriya pushed herself up, back into a sitting position.

            “It’s Levi.” Eli sighed again, tossing his phone back into her bag. “He wants me to come home so I can pub crawl with him, and help him find some new girls.  Girls.”

            Viktoriya looked over at him, watching his face as he struggled with the courage to put thoughts into words.  Well, and then to put those words into thoughts in her mind.

            “You aren’t going to go back to London, are you?”  She was honest with him.  There was no front or façade.  There was no one to put it up for, it was just the two of them.

            “No.  I miss him, and I need to be there for him, but not like this.  I don’t want to live like that.  Not anymore.  I want to be happy again.  I want to feel like this every day.”  Eli admitted.

            “You don’t want to get drunk every night, wake up in a new hotel room, with a new girl every morning?  Need to have your friends fill in the blanks of your evenings?”  She asked.  There was a gentle teasing in her voice, but she was asking him straight forwardly.

            “No.  That’s not who I am.  It never was.  I think for a while, I wanted to forget who I was.  See how someone else lives.  But I didn’t like it.  I don’t want that kind of life.  I just want…” Eli paused for a moment.  He reached over and took Viktoriya’s hand. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

            “You want take me to dinner?” She met his eyes, surprised.  But there was a smile on her lips.

            “Yes.  I don’t know what we’re doing, Viktoriya.  I don’t know if this is just a day at the beach, or if this is a date.  I don’t know if it’s the beginning of something amazing, or the start of a terrible mistake.  All I know is that I’m happy right now, and I want to keep being happy.”  Eli told her, not even needing to pause to summon his courage.

            “Eli, call me Vika.  And to be honest, I don’t know what I want.  But… I want you around for it.  I don’t have much experience with relationships.  My last one ended… Badly.  But I look at you, and part of me just gets… tied up.  And I like it.” Viktoriya confessed.

            “So, Vika? Dinner with me?” Eli smiled, pulling her close.  He put his arms around her, and kissed her cheek.

            She leaned against him.  Eli couldn’t be sure what they looked like together, but he imagined it as straight out of a cologne ad.  A beautiful woman in vintage-turned-modern style, all dark eyes and red lips, posed against his chest.  He hadn’t seen a barber since before Valentina left him, and his hair was getting long enough to take a curl, especially from the salty sea water.  He never thought himself to be especially good looking, but something about Viktoriya made him feel cologne ad-model handsome.  He waited for her answer, not rushing her.  Eli wanted her to say yes, and he knew she would.  Eli didn’t have to remind himself not to worry this time.  Instead, he reached for his phone, this he held it away from him, taking picture of them together.

            “How do we look together?” She murmured.  Viktoriya looked up, there was a little mischief in her eyes.

            “We don’t look like two people that feel lost in their own lives.” Eli laughed into her mind, handing her his phone.  The sunset backlit them with a soft pink-orange light.  The dark liner around her eyes, made the color of her iris stand out, and Eli was glad her sunglasses were perched in her hair for the picture.  Both wore a smile that looked foreign on their faces, but still natural.  Viktoriya took his phone to send herself the picture.  She also changed her name in his address book, she was now “Vika”.

            “We look happy together.” She mused. “Just ten more minutes, Ilya.  Then we’ll go get changed for dinner.”

            “Ilya?” He questioned, his smile growing.  “Doesn’t that just mean Elijah in Russian?”

            “Da,” she laughed, tracing her fingers up his arm. “But the others still call you Elijah, or Eli.  Only I will call you Ilya.  Only you will call me Vika.”  There was a certain thrill in that pact between them.  Something strangely intimate.  His mind immediately spun it into something more.

            “Ilya,” She beckoned from behind the door. “Are you ready?”

            He sat on the bed, waiting.  Eli poured out a bottle of wine into two glasses. “Stop teasing, Vika!  I want to see.”

            The door opened, the light from the bathroom contrasting against her silhouette as Viktoriya moved closer.  She hadn’t put on anything special for him, just the navy lace bralette she had worn beneath her clothes that day.  Her panties matched.  Eli put the glass in her hand, but after just one sip, she was done with it.  White painted nails and tattooed finger tips caressed his arm, traveling over his tattoo, a king in knight’s armor in profile, within a shield with the script “King and Lionheart”.  His hands found her hips, guiding her to his lap.  Her lush lips were on his neck, her fingers raked through his hair.  His eyes closed under her attentions.

            “Ilya,” She whispered in to his ear.   His hands explored her body.  Soft skin over muscles.  Her voice was urgent, desperate. “Ilya.”

            When Eli opened his eyes, he was on the beach again, Viktoriya in his arms.  Though he had promised himself not to obsess over small details, he did worry that his fantasy had been obvious.  However something else had Viktoriya’s attention.  Eli heard it before he saw anything.  The loud pop and smaller crackles.  Then another.  A ship out at sea was setting of fireworks.

            “What do you think they’re celebrating?” He asked.

            “Our happiness, wherever we may find it.” Viktoriya said as she watched the display.

            “To our happiness,” Eli toasted, planting another kiss on her temple.  At just that moment, Viktoriya lifted his phone and snapped a picture.  He thought she was capturing the fireworks, but he was wrong.  Viktoriya set the picture to display as the wallpaper, her face lit up in a smile as his lips pressed against her skin.  He took his phone back from her as he got an idea. “Go down to the water! I want to get a picture of you with the fireworks!”

            Viktoriya was more than happy to pose for him.  She slipped out of his arms, and jumped to her feet.  Eli laughed as the waves lapped at her legs, and snapped some pictures of her, the sky lit up behind her.

            “Ilya! Come out too!  Let’s take one together!” Viktoriya called.  He couldn’t resist her.  He made his way down to the water’s edge but Viktoriya grabbed his arm and pulled him further out.  Viktoriya took his phone back again.  With a display of fireworks behind them, she snapped a roll of pictures of them.  They smiled, they laughed, and he picked her up, sweeping her into his arms.  She put an arm around his neck, and then with a photo to prove that it wasn’t just a day dream, Viktoriya kissed him, right on his lips.  The air was filled with the sound of loud cacophony of the grand finale, the twilight sky lit up with brilliant colors, and Eli’s head was already full with memories of this day.  He never wanted to forget it.

            Of course, he kissed her back.  He nearly dropped her, but he kissed her back.  He didn’t want to stop kissing her.  Her lips were so soft, and felt so electric against his.  He couldn’t remember the last time a first kiss felt like he’d been brought back to life.  Eli’s most previous first kiss had been dulled by alcohol, and he barely remembered the kiss itself.  But with Viktoriya, Eli felt awakened.

            Inevitably, the moment ended.  The fireworks fell silent, the sky went dark, the kiss ended, their lips parted.  Eli reluctantly lowered Viktoriya to her feet.  As disappointed he was that his first kiss with Viktoriya was already just a memory in his mind, Eli knew that there would be another.  He watched the smile on her lips and the light in her eyes as she watched the grin on his face, the strange look in his eyes that was happiness.

            “Dinner now, Ilya?” Viktoriya seemed reluctant to leave the beach, but the cooler evening air was starting raise goose bumps on her skin. “That is, if you still want to take me to dinner.”

            “Of course I do, Vika,” He cooed into her mind.  Eli put his arm around her, guiding her back up to their spot in the sand. “Did you see any places that looked good on our way through town?”

            Their things were quickly gathered, packed up, and the pair back in their rented car – an Audi convertible Roadster in black, a sleek machine with a powerful engine.  Being behind the wheel of a German car almost made him as happy as having Viktoriya in the car with him.  He was thinking of buying it off the rental service before they left, and driving them back to Paris.  They never traveled too far from their hotel, and in a metropolitan city like Paris, the public transportation was more than adequate, but he missed his Mercedes. And this Audi supremely outclassed his old Mercedes.

            They stopped off at their hotel to change out of their swimsuits.  Eli insisted Viktoriya take the bathroom first, to get cleaned up and wash the sand from her body.  He took that time to pick out what he would wear, and then wonder over the lone bed in the room.  She kissed him.  She was being so affectionate with him.  She gave him a pet name.  What was next?  Eli wasn’t worried, or nervous.  He was excited.  He wanted to know what was next, while at the same time was enjoying the mystery of Viktoriya’s affections.  She was a wild untamed force of nature, but Eli saw more than just that.  He also knew her for the intelligent, determined, motivated and loyal friend that she was to him.  For the first time he wasn’t conflicted over her.  There were not two Viktoriyas in his mind.  Just different facets to her, and for every new side he saw, he was grateful.  She was not this open with everyone.

            Their dinner, when they finally got there, was a meal that took hours, but felt like a place out of time.  They found a little café with an open terrace and a view of the beach.  Again, Viktoriya’s beauty astounded Eli.  He had well seen her as a tough girl with a nice face, dressed in her uniform or a hoodie over a cotton top and jeans.  He’d even gotten used to the vintage pin-up Viktoriya on the beach that day.  But now, tucked under his arm was a beautiful woman, dressed in feminine V-neck dress, three quarter sleeved, and flowing just to her fingertips.  The black of her dress made the bold colors of her tattoo stand out more, but she wore both with pride.

            The moon was hung high in the sky as they laughed over red wine and a never ending line of food.  Unable to choose just a few things to try off of a menu featuring so many seasonal and regional dishes, they asked for the chef to prepare them his favorites.  They were even treated to recipes that were absent from the menu.  Over such rich, flavorful foods and aromatic wine, their conversation came easily.  They spent the time talking about anything they could think of: Music they listened to, books they had read, movies they’d seen, times they’d embarrassed themselves, bad jokes they’d heard.  Even the silence was comfortable.

            Viktoriya’s head rested on his shoulder as they shared a cigarette.  She held his hand, her tattooed fingers idly toying with his.  It was well after midnight, but neither wanted to be one that suggest the night come to an end.  The bottle of wine was soon empty, their plates picked clean and cleared away.  Even the candle on their table was close to burning itself out.

            “Tonight has been wonderful, Vika.” Eli broke the silence, in his way.

            “Do you always treat your dates to dinners like these?” She asked, trailing her fingers along the collar of his shirt.  Her touch lit his skin on fire.

            “Something this nice?  No. This is a first for me.  But this is the first time its felt so easy to have a good time with someone.  Anyone, really.  I don’t think there is anyone I’d rather have shared this night with, Vika.” He was honest.  Not even Levi was this easy to talk to, and usually Eli could tell his brother anything.

            “I’m flattered, Ilya.  You know, I’ve never…” Viktoriya paused, choosing her words. “No one has ever taken me on a date like this before.”

            “I’m sure your dates have always tried their best.  Not every man has Cannes, wine and fireworks on their side.”  He laughed.

            “Nyet, they did not” She laughed with him. “But that is not what I meant.  I’ve never actually been on a date before tonight.  And this one has been so amazing.”

            “No wonder you don’t want to let it end.” He mused.  “I guess you didn’t have much time to date with your duties to the Prizrak Rytsarya?”

            “Or perhaps I simply wasn’t with the right men.” Viktoriya flirted.  She picked up her phone and gave him a smile. “Just one more picture, and then we’ll go.”

            Though their pictures from the beach turned out well, Eli flagged over their waiter.  In addition to paying the bill – which Eli didn’t even look at before handing over his card, he asked the waiter to take their picture.  He took a few of the smiling pair, once again ending with kiss.  It seemed like a fitting way to end the night.  With their bill settled, the wait staff all thanked them for their patronage, and even the chef came out to thank them.  Of course, Eli and Viktoriya thanked him in return for the meal.  Now there was nothing for them but to return to their room.  Eli wondered what would happen in their bed that night.

            Back in their room, it was Eli that made it to bed first.  Not sure what Viktoriya expected of him, he stripped out of his button down shirt and trousers, dropping his belt and shoes to the floor, and changed into a pair of sleep pants.  He sat in bed, with just the dim beside lamp on.  It was strange not to have Ceres and Dinah begging him for a walk, or a treat.  Eli missed them.  He wanted to send a message to Vikenti, asking him how his girls were behaving, but it was late and Vikenti was probably sleeping.  Instead when he look at his phone, it was practically filled with messages, the little icon of an envelope seemed to be shaking with anger for all the unread notes.  Most of them were from Viktoriya, simply sending him pictures from her phone, but there were a few from Levi mixed in there.

            Still upset from his breakup, or from breaking up, Levi was still set on wanting his brother to share in his misery.  One of the messages was from less than twenty minutes ago.  Levi was probably still awake.  And most likely still at the pub.

            “I think you are going a little overboard, Levi.  Slow down.” Eli warned his brother in a message.

            “Eli, I proposed to her.  And she slept with doctor fuckwit.” He could feel his brother’s pain through his words.  Eli knew well what it was like.  Had Valentina not left him, if she’d only stayed with him weeks more, she’d likely have a ring on her finger.  It was the first time that day, or in a long time that he’d thought of Valentina.  He didn’t miss her anymore, he didn’t mourn her, he didn’t think of her.  She was now in the ranks with James, Rhianne and the other girls of his past, just people he’d dated.

            “I know, Levi.  I know how bad it stings.  But sleeping with pub slut wasn’t the right response either.  You should have talked it out with Lin.  She said no, but she didn’t break up with you.  Not until you cheated.”  Eli tried to reason with his brother.  Perhaps it was Levi’s stubbornness, or maybe it was time of night, but Eli was exhausted.

            “What would you know about talking anything out?” The barb stung.  Levi didn’t usually tease Eli about being mute.  Not like this.  Another reply came quickly.  Eli expected an apology, but instead he read, “You’ve never had to start or end anything in your life. Rhianne asked you out, and Rhianne broke up with you.  I introduced you to Denvellia, and Utkin expelled you.  Valentina slept with you and Valentina left you.  You aren’t living Eli, life just happens to you.”

            Eli put his phone down with frown.  Levi had brought down his spirits with just two messages.  But it was the truth, and truth hurt.  It stung more coming from someone trusted, like Levi.  He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even hear the bathroom door open, or Viktoriya slide into the bed. 

            “Ilya?” He jumped at Viktoriya’s touch.

            He wanted to tell her everything that was wrong, but he didn’t want to spoil her night.  Nor did he think he had the time.  Eli looked over at her, wordless.  She’d removed her makeup, pulled her hair back and was wearing a loose tank top over bit of lace and pair of shorts.  The colors and prints of her clothes went together well, but it didn’t look like she agonized over the decision to wear them together.  Like everything she did, there was beauty in the way that she didn’t seem to try to be beautiful.  She just was Viktoriya.   Levi’s words hung in his mind.  He’d never started anything in his life. He wasn’t living.  Life just happened to him.

            No.  Levi was planting seeds of worry, and Eli had vowed to live without that burden.  No second guessing his choices anymore, no living in doubt of a decision, he wanted to live.  He shook his brother’s influence out of his head and focused on what was in front of him.  Or rather, beside him.  He touched Viktoriya’s face.  He watched the concern vanish from her face, replaced with a smile. 

            He’d almost never seen her without her red lipstick.  Her lips were a soft shade of pink.  Her eyes were not rimmed with their normal smoky black, but were no less beautiful or eerie.  Eli leaned in, guiding her closer though he did not need to coax her much, and met her lips.  More messages from Levi found their way to Eli’s phone, but they were ignored.  The only thing he wanted on his mind was Viktoriya, in whatever form that came in.

            In Eli’s’ history of nights spent kissing, it was probably one of the more chaste evenings.  He felt her body pressed against his, his hands traveling over her lithe form.  At some point the light was turned out, and at another they slipped beneath the blankets, and at yet another moment he found Viktoriya laying a top him, as they kissed sleepily.  Their mouths slowed against one another, until Eli was reasonably sure Viktoriya sleeping.  Gently, he rolled to his side, putting Viktoriya next to him but not letting her out of his arms.  Their last kiss of the night was given when Eli kissed her forehead.

            “Mmm, good night, Ilya.” She murmured, settling against him.

            Somewhere in the hotel room, Andrej Searzy’s phone was beeping incessantly with an alert.  Valentina Lytton was somewhere nearby, but he wasn’t ready to meet her yet.  He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, covered with pictures of Elijah Coates, all taken from poor quality security footage provided to him from Mr. Horowitz, taped around the edges.  He still didn’t look enough like Elijah.  Andrej pulled at his chin, tugged at his nose, but there was only some much his gift could help him with.  Rubbing a hand a long his jaw line, the shadow of stubble helped hide the imperfections.  He combed at his hair, turning brown under fingers, getting thicker.  Eli’s eyes looked back at him.  Eli’s face looked back at him.  Almost.  The nose still wasn’t perfect. 

            Andrej gave up, walking over to the bed where his suit was waiting.  He hated suits.  It felt like being in a straightjacket.  Layers of straightjacket.  Andrej had never been to England.  He wondered if it was really that cold in London.  Undershirt, underwear, socks, button down shirt, trousers, belt, leather shoes, vest, and then a coat.  He forgot his tie.  Andrej scowled at the tie, wondering how crucial it was to being Eli.  Could he get away without it? Would Valentina see through him?

            Andrej wondered what fooling Valentina would mean.  He was hoping it would be as simple as showing up.  That she would exclaim what a surprise it was to see him in New York, and ask why he wasn’t in wherever he left London for.  From there it would be a simple job of offering to walking her home, drug her and put her in bed.  Let her wake up to think it was just a weird dream, while he was already flying back with a win for the Restorationists.  One step closer to finding Elijah, meant one step closer to having the hostage turned over to them.  One step closer to their movement being recognized as victims, exiled from their home, and scattered across the world.  One step closer to freedom.

            Andrej had been raised in the movement along with his sister, Jovana and so many other children they had never met until recently.  More than twenty years ago, their parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, older cousins had been peacefully living in an isolated paradise, where people like them – people born with gifts, could live together, publically, using their gifts for the betterment of society.  This ever-growing Eden continued for many, many years.  They saw one of their own rise to a position of leadership in the community, and threw their support behind him.  They were prosperous, healthy, and happy.  There was no crime or violence.  But everything changed when some new pilgrims arrived – a young man in particular.  In those next five years, their peace was broken, shattered, profaned, blasphemed, and then culminating with the assassination of their leader.  This wretch took their leader’s place, ruining their society, destroying their values and breaking apart families and in his final terrible act, disbanding their settlement.

            Militaries from many countries sent planes and helicopters to collect their expatriates, reclaim their runaways and return them to their prisons.  Many tried to return on their own accord, as they had arrived originally but they found the property blockaded off, guarded by armed men.  Resentment planted the seeds of a new movement.  All over Europe, these dispersed peoples formed a network, a new organization, the Restorationists.  They sought to restore the society that was taken from them.  They would rebuild, but first they needed justice against the man that had ruined their lives.  They would put Mikhail Shashenka Sima to trial for what he’d done, and let a jury decide his fate.

            For Andrej, Jovana and the other children of the Restorationists, they were raised on stories of the former glory of the society, and the promise that it would come again.  Most of the next generation drank up the words, and sang the praises themselves.  But there were some that did not share their parent’s dream. 

            Then, just months ago, an opportunity presented itself for the Restorationists to take Sima in to their custody.  All they had to do was provide a contingent of their youth to act as guards in a compound, and when the contract was fulfilled, Sima would be turned over.  The youth would even be paid for their services.  Andrej and Jovana Searzy were offered up from their family.  Their parents had a particular hatred of Sima.  However the contract was ever changing.  They became more than mere guards, serving as interrogators, servants, janitors, babysitters, and soldiers.  The next change came when their communication, already limited between a non-disclosure agreement, and bad service, was cut off from the Restorationist core.  And then their dealer altered the agreement again, only promising Sima when a young man, Elijah Coates was delivered to him, dead or alive, though there was monetary incentive for a live capture.

            And now Andrej stood in a hotel in New York City, ready to drug a young girl for information.  Information to help him end a young man’s life, or at least his freedom.  They weren’t even told what Coates had done to earn their dealer’s ire.  What had he done to seal his fate?

            Andrej was disturbed from his thoughts by Jovana barging into his room.  Her long light blonde hair – not as light or as thin as his was – was pulled back in a severe pony tail, and her light grey eyes – not as light as his, or set with eerie red streaks – were narrowed.  She tried to fit into the New York as much as possible, wearing a pair of jeans and plain long sleeved shirt.  He envied her.

            “Last chance to drill.” She told him, taking the tie from his hands and slipping it around his neck.  Jovana frowned as she tied it.

            “If we must.” He sighed.

            “Don’t speak out loud to her.  She’ll be able to hear your accent.” Jovana shook her head.  It was true, they both spoke English with thick accents.  “What is your name?”

            “Elijah Peter Coates.” Andrej answered dutifully.

            “How old are you?” She demanded.

            “Twenty-eight.” He answered.

            “Your brother’s name?” Jovana crossed her arms over her chest.

            “Levi Coates.” Andrej rolled his eyes.  They had done this for an hour last night.

            “Where are you from?” His sister slapped his face, and for a moment he was worried about the integrity of his disguise.

            “London, England.”  He stated, walking to the mirror to check Eli’s face.

            “What is your job?” This time it was Jovana that rolled her eyes.

            “I am student, studying the nature of gifts?” Andrej guessed.  They didn’t have much information to go on.  They did know he was mute, and hopefully that would help cover much of Andrej’s deception.  “What do we do if she isn’t fooled?”

            “Then we kidnap her, and deliver her instead.  Let the better interrogators get the information out of her.  We’ll still get our bonus for getting her.” Jovana shrugged.  Andrej didn’t understand how his sister could be so callous.

            “What if she asks about my telepathy, and why I’m not using it?” Andrej asked.  Nerves started to get to him.  He went to his luggage, digging through the bag until her found an unmarked bottle of pills.  He really wasn’t sure what they were – he had stolen them from the clinic’s pharmacy, but they were occasionally given to one of the prisoners when he started to get anxious and violent.  No one would miss a single bottle, especially since that prisoner was rarely seen anymore.  Andrej shook a few pills out into his hand, and swallowed them dry.

            “Make something up.  I can’t do everything for you.” Jovana huffed.  She grabbed the bottle out of Andrej’s hand, examining what he had taken.  “You better hope you stole the antipsychotics and not the pills they gave him when she wanted the baby.”

            Andrej’s eyes widened, and for a moment he feared what might happen during his meeting with Valentina.  Then he worried about maintaining his disguise while trying to control his body.  He wasn’t sure if he could do it.  Andrej feared Valentina’s reaction when she saw the real him.

            “Let’s go.  She’s on this block.” Jovana grabbed his arm and pulled him out into the hallway.  “Don’t speak.  Write to her if you need to.  Don’t rush anything, you’ll get nervous and things will go wrong.  Stay calm.  Do what you need to do to get the information.  I’ll handle the clean-up.”

            After his lecture, Jovana pushed her brother out of the hotel’s door and on to the city sidewalk.  He stumbled, but kept on his feet.  Andrej looked around, there were so many people.  They were everywhere.  How was he ever going to find Valentina in this huge city?  Andrej had never been to America before, and so far, he didn’t like it. It was loud, dirty, impolite and crowded.  People pushed past him, grumbled about his gawking, calling him a tourist.  Behind him, someone pushed him hard enough to get him moving.  It was Jovana.  She gave him a pointed look before disappearing into the crowd.  Just another faceless girl in the massive sea of bodies.

            Andrej started walking, his eyes searching the crowd for Valentina.  Across the street, he heard a woman call out to a man.  Neither were of concern to him, but he was jealous of the ease they had.  If only he could just call out for Valentina.  She was supposed to be nearby.  And why couldn’t he? His accent?  Eli was supposed to be mute.  She doesn’t know what his voice sounds like.  Sure, a Serbian accent is unlikely, but she couldn’t prove it otherwise.

            Lost in his argument, Andrej didn’t realize the foot traffic in front of him had come to a stop, waiting for a crosswalk signal.  Something small collided with his chest, stopping him.  He looked down to see a pair of big brown eyes.

            “Ow! Watch where… Eli?” It was that simple.  He had literally walked into Valentina Lytton.

            Andrej smiled with Eli’s lips, and tried to wear the other man’s emotions.  Apologetic, confused, excited to see her.  He could only hope that it rang true.

            “Oh, Eli! I’m so glad to see you! I was so worried about you!” She rambled in her accented English. “When your brother sent me that message that you were leaving, I had no idea that you were coming here!  It’s a sign from God, I just know it!”

            Unable to respond, Andrej simply smiled, and placed his hand on her shoulder.  He wished he had better acting abilities, or more information to go on, but he was left with to work with what he had.  He gave her a nod.

            “I know I messed up.  I have so much to apologize for.  We have so much to talk about! I need to know everything!  I was just on my way home.  You’ll come for dinner, right?” She spoke too quickly for him.  He was still worried about how to communicate to her, but Valentina must have been used to Elijah’s silence.  She took his arm, and tucked herself against him. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!  I’ve missed you so much.”

            Paris had changed Eli, and perhaps not all in a good way.  Maybe it wasn’t Paris, maybe it was the influence of the Spetsgruppa Drakon Pushki.  Or maybe it was just Eli’s opportunity to live a life without expectations or consequences.  This was the radical rebellion of his late teens, or the bad decisions of his early twenties.    

            He flirted with women in nightclubs, buying the women drinks and dancing with them.  There were nights when he wouldn’t come home with the rest of the group.  Viktoriya assumed he was with one of these girls.  He was always back in the morning, in the gym or the hotel pool, and with them for breakfast.  No one ever said anything about where he’d been the night before. Viktoriya didn’t even know why it bothered her.  Vikenti behaved the same, except for the gender of his dates, but she did not hold it against Vikenti.  Eli was an adult, and as long as these women were also consenting adults, there was nothing to be upset about.

            Viktoriya found herself watching Eli sleep.  Unable to sleep herself, she just watched him.  It was dark, with just the moon and lights of the city through the open balcony door, but Viktoriya’s vlast’ let her see him perfectly.  He slept on his side, the bandage of a fresh tattoo on his right arm from a night with Vikenti.  His blankets barely covered his shins.  His two dogs were curled against him, one against his back, and the other against his chest, in his arms.  Eli’s glasses were neatly placed on the night stand, next to his phone.  His laptop was on the floor, half covered by the pair of jeans he had worn out that night.  She was barely awake when he came in, a little drunk from his night out, peeling off his tee shirt and dropping his pants, before crawling into bed in his underwear.  Viktoriya could see each line of the muscles of his back.  Each curve and plane.  She noticed the little curl of hair on the back of his neck.  She wondered if it tickled him.

            Tikhon used to watch her sleep, she always fell asleep before him.  She would occasionally wake up to use the toilet and find Tikhon’s eyes on her.  He would always be concerned for her, worried for her.  Viktoriya remembered being annoyed at Tikhon for it.  Annoyed at his concern, at his attention, at his love for her.  Now she felt a stab of pain when she thought of it.  Viktoriya didn’t realize that she loved Tikhon until he was gone.  He was gone in a way that he wasn’t coming back.

            Her stomach turned.  With a groan, she threw back her quilt and kicked at the sheets.  Kicking only made it feel worse.  Viktoriya held her mouth, rushing to the bathroom, and slapping at the wall until she found the light switch.  She fell to her knees in front of the toilet, ignoring the pain in her legs as her dinner came up on her.  Viktoriya couldn’t remember the last time she was sick like this, or what could have brought this on.  Soon, Viktoriya was sure she was vomiting her lunch and breakfast too.  Her throat hurt, her chest hurt, her stomach hurt.  She began to wonder how much she had left to give.

            Viktoriya was surprised as her hair was lifted away from her face and off her back.  There was a hand on her back, gently rubbing her through the tank top she had worn to bed.  Before she could look up, the mystery was solved by a voice in her mind.

            “Are you okay, Viktoriya?” Eli asked, getting down on the floor beside her.  Viktoriya started to feel bad that she had woke Eli up, but before she could apologize, she got sick again.  She was embarrassed to sick in front of him, for him to find her hugging the toilet bowl in an old tank top and pair of gym shorts, without her makeup, her hair a mess.  But she didn’t know why she was so embarrassed.  She was there another ten minutes, and he was there the whole time.  When it was finally over, Eli helped her wash her face, then offered her a glass of water from the sink.  While Viktoriya sipped it, Eli put a hand to her forehead, pushing a frizzy clump of black bangs out of the way.

            “I don’t feel like I have a fever.” She said, looking up at his hand, and then at him.  Eli had put his glasses on, but nothing else.  Her eyes had drifted along his muscled arm, to his chest, nothing but muscle under some chest hair, and then forced herself to look up at his face, instead of drifting down toward his abs, or further.  Viktoriya didn’t feel so bad about her appearance after looking at Eli.  His own hair was stuck in a million different directions.  He smelled like beer.  His chin was covered in a dark brown stubble.  There was a stain on his cheek.  At first she thought it was lipstick, but upon closer inspection, Viktoriya realized it was ketchup.  She took the wash cloth, and wiped the condiment from his face.

            “I was just worried.  I heard you get up.” He gave her a smile.  “I’ll let you get cleaned up.”

            She watched him leave, struggling with a new feeling inside.  She didn’t want him to go, not even just into the next room.  Viktoriya hauled herself to her feet, and brushed her teeth, washed her face again, and contemplated a shower.  Instead, she decided to go to bed.  Maybe now she could get some sleep, and sort out these feelings.  She turned out the bathroom light on her way back to her bed.

            Viktoriya began to pick up her blankets when she heard him again. “Viktoriya, come here.”

            She looked up at Eli, waiting for her, sitting up in his bed.  His glasses were off again, but he had pulled on a pair of sweatpants.  She was grateful for that.  Viktoriya wandered over, careful not to trip on his computer.  Eli reached out for her arm, pulling her into his bed.  She tumbled into his chest, surprised.  Eli pulled the blankets around them both, and settled against the pillows.  Viktoriya, wrapped in his arms, found a comfortable spot with her head on his shoulder.  He rubbed her back again.

            “When I would get sick, when I was little, Levi would be there for me.  He used to sit on my bed and rub my back until I fell asleep.” Eli told her.

            “Did you lay against Levi like this?” Viktoriya managed a joke, just above a whisper.  She wasn’t so much concerned about the others hearing her, than she was just hoarse.

            “Of course, “Eli laughed. “It’s part of the comforting.  Some time he would read to me.  When he got older and learned to play guitar, he’d sing to me.  But there were other times when Levi would just rub my back and he didn’t have to say anything at all.”

            “When I would get sick, my mother would give me a warm bath, and she’d put these nice smelling dried flowers in it.  When I got out, she’d wrap me in the warmest blanket, one my grandmother made.   She would comb out my hair, and braid it.  Maybe braiding my hair didn’t really help, but for a little bit of that day, I had all of my mom’s attention.  That warm feeling in my heart eclipsed the pain in my stomach.” Viktoriya didn’t like to talk about her life as Ania, but here she was letting words spilling off her tongue.

            “That sounds relaxing.  Do you want me to run you a bath?”  Eli offered.  Viktoriya blushed at the idea.  She imagined Eli, without his sweatpants, leaning over the large marble bath, filling it with warm water.  He would test it occasionally, not wanting to scald her and adding herbs and dried flowers.  When it was ready, he led her over, gently tugging her shorts down, and peeling off her tank top.  Beneath was the pink lace bralette and panties to match.  Eli’s hands started on her thighs, fingertips tracing up, over her hips, her sides.   He pulled her closer, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on her lips.  Her stomach tightened, but with the thrill of excitement as he removed the last bit of her clothes.  Her eyes were still closed as he helped her into the bath, letting her sink into the warm water, and relax. 

            After a moment, Viktoriya felt the stir of the water.  She was not alone in the large tub.  As her blue eyes opened, they did not fall on Elijah Coates.  Tears welled instantly.  Tikhon Minikoff gave her a smile like he hadn’t seen her for years.  In truth, he hadn’t.

            “Oh Yaya, you look so beautiful.  Your hair got so long.”  He reached out to touch her hair. Out of fear, she swatted his hand away.

            “No… no…” Viktoriya stammered, her stomach twisted again.  She looked around for Eli, but he was nowhere to be found.  All she saw was Tikhon’s worn and torn white briefs, far from the practically painted on navy boxer-briefs that Eli had been sleeping in.

            “Oh, but it does look nice, Yaya.  And that tattoo! Did it hurt?  And it must have taken a long time!”  Tikhon’s enthusiasm grated against her nerves.  His presence was unwelcome.  He brought so much pain with him.  Any beauty in the memory of their love was too tightly intertwined with the pain of his death.

            “Tikhon, you can’t be here.  You are dead! Dead!  You can’t keep haunting me like this!” Viktoriya shouted, standing up in the tub.  Water sloshed and spilled everywhere.  She gathered all her anger and courage, wearing it like armor and wielding it like a weapon.

            But it all fell apart when she saw the sad, wounded look in Tikhon’s eyes.  Tears rolled down his cheeks.  He didn’t want to meet her gaze.  Meaty arms covered his chest, protecting his heart.

            “Yaya, I never wanted to serve.  I just wanted my own ship.  You were the only good thing about serving.  I always hoped that… Well… That when it was over, you would marry me, and go back home with me.  And we could have had a family.  We could have been happy… If you had only…” Tikhon, stammered.  His lips were blue.  His skin was blue.  He was shivering.  He was dying, freezing to death.

            “No, Tiko.  That could never have been my life.  I gave up everything to make this life a reality.  I would never give it up.  I have friends now.  I have a purpose.  That’s something you never would have understood.  You deserved much better than what came to you.  I should have told you that I loved you before you died.  But I can’t stay chained to your memory.  Tikhon, you have to go.”  Viktoriya reached down to touch his face.  At once he was gone.  Viktoriya should have felt free, lighter or happy.  Instead, she fell to her knees, sobbing loudly, her tears lost in the water of the tub.

            Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Viktoriya opened her eyes.  She was surprised to be dry, warm and constricted.  The sunlight was harsh to her sensitive eyes, but she recovered with a blink.  It was morning. She spent the whole night in Eli’s arms, sleeping against his chest.  Their legs were tangled together.  She could still smell the last linger of the cologne he had worn out the night before, mixed with the faint hint of cigarettes.  Viktoriya looked up at him, still sleeping, his head gracelessly thrown back against the pillows.  She was reminded of her dream, the part when Eli kissed her, just before it became a nightmare.  Viktoriya wondered if she would feel the same spark if she really kissed him.  She slipped out from under his arm, sitting up, and leaning in.  Viktoriya crawled up his chest, her hands placed on his shoulder, her body grazing against his.

            Just as Viktoriya’s lips were about to meet his, a familiar and unwanted rumble came from her stomach.  She didn’t know what was left in her system, but she was afraid she was about to find out.  Viktoriya removed herself from Eli’s bed as quickly as she could.  She hadn’t run from bullets that fast.  Viktoriya barely had time to pull her hair back before she retched bile into the toilet.  She was thankful for only the little bit of nausea, and decided to get a shower before her stomach rebelled again.

            It felt good to be clean again, the warm water running over her skin, and through her hair.  Viktoriya took her time, exfoliating her skin before rubbing a moisturizing body wash into her arms, legs and wherever else she could reach.  She massaged shampoo into her hair, then a rich conditioner.  Viktoriya felt like herself again, as if the bad memories were chased down the drain with the water.

            She stepped out of the shower, and wrapped herself in one of the hotel’s plush towels.  Eli was still asleep, with no signs of waking, so Viktoriya took her time to dress, considering what she wanted to wear.  But just to be safe, she slipped into an emerald green bra and panty set, made of a fine mesh and ribbon.  No one would ever see it, but it gave her a secret confidence.  After looking in every one of her bureau drawers, several of them more than once, Viktoriya ended up in a pair of black skinny jeans, and grey heather tee shirt promoting one of her new favorite bands.  She pulled on a pair of socks and sneakers, and with a sound stomach, Viktoriya walked out into the common room.  She was just in time to catch Vikenti slipping out from his own bedroom.

            “Oh good, you’re still up here.” She said, meeting him in the kitchen.

            “Good morning to you too, Viktoriya.” Vikenti laughed, fetching a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Da, for the moment I am here.  Did you need me?”

            “Just to talk.” Viktoriya told him.  “I had something of a bad night.”

            “What happened?” He asked, concern pushing some of the mirth from his voice.

            “How long is long enough to heal a broken heart?” Viktoriya’s tone was wistful.

            “Viktoriya, I know you don’t approve, but I think it’s really helped him get over her.  He was so caught up in love, and in that love lost… He just needed something to cleanse his palette,” Vikenti defended, though realized he and Viktoriya were not talking about the same subject. “You… Aren’t talking about the girls are you?”

            “No, I wasn’t.  So he has been out with those girls?  Are you setting him up with them?”  Viktoriya felt seeds of anger and jealousy start to sprout.  Jealousy?  Why was she jealous?

            “Not exactly.  I only gave him the,” Vikenti paused to carefully choose his next few words, “opportunity to have some new experiences with other people.  People that aren’t Valentina.”

            “Well… I wish you wouldn’t have.  It’s not healthy for him.” Viktoriya’s reasons were lame, and she knew it.  She didn’t even know why she was making excuses.

            “Eli’s sexual past, present or future is none of your business, Viktoriya.  You respect my privacy if I don’t come back to the hotel room.  You owe him the same.  Besides, you didn’t think this behavior as wrong when you were doing it a few years ago.  Unless this does have something to do with you?” Vikenti’s eyebrow arched.

            “It was different! I was just trying… Wait, what? No! Vikenti! I… I came out here to talk about something else entirely.” Viktoriya insisted, her cheeks burning bright red.

            “Alright, Viktoriya.  So, what was the thing you wanted to talk about?” He leaned against the counter.

            “It’s Tikhon.  Again.  Still.  The stupidest little things remind me of him, and I don’t want to be reminded of him anymore.  He haunts me.  The guilt haunts me.  Not any guilt that I killed him, but the guilt that I didn’t love him as much as he deserved, and that I couldn’t.  He just wasn’t meant to be that person in my life.  And I wasn’t meant to be that person for him.” Viktoriya let it all out, leaning down on her elbows, holding her head.

            Vikenti put his hand on her shoulder, offering his comfort. “Maybe not, but loving Tikhon does not stop you from someone else, or trying to love someone else.  Your guilt is your own, and it’s not easy to put aside, but you have nothing to feel guilty for.”

            “Then why do I throw up when I think about kissing lips that aren’t his?  Why do fantasies turn into nightmares when he shows up in them?” Viktoriya raised her head, only put it on Vikenti’s shoulder.  He put his arm around her.

            “It’s not Tikhon holding you back, Viktoriya.  It’s Ania.  Your past, just parts of you, you can’t forget.” Vikenti held her tightly. “You’re afraid.  So take that risk.”

            “What if I don’t make it?” Viktoriya sighed, leaning heavily into him.

            “Then I’ll just have to brave the bullets, fire, water, or whatever else I need to do to pull you out and back to safety.  But you should take that risk.” He planted a kiss on her forehead with a smile. “Eli thought we were dating, or at least sleeping together.  He seemed pretty happy when I set him straight.”

            Viktoriya looked up at him, hopeful but questioning.  She pressed her lips together.  “It wouldn’t be against any regulations but…”

            “No buts.  When has anything ever stood in the way of Viktoriya Yaroslava Sima from getting what she wants?  Well, except for the time you wanted that questionable alcohol, and I literally stood in your way.” Vikenti laughed as he pushed her away to stand on her own feet. “Go.  Go do something young and irresponsible that will end in you being drunk and barely dressed.”

            Viktoriya laughed with him as she returned to the bedroom.  She gave a little knock as she walked in.  She had overheard some people in one of the night clubs talk about their weekend on the French Rivera, an on the fly trip that resulted in a raucous blur of drinking and hooking up.  The idea of sharing that with Eli was enticing.  Viktoriya put on all her confidence as she walked through the door.

            Eli was awake, sitting up in bed with his two dogs around him.  He had his glasses on as he tried to read something on his phone.

            “Hey, Eli.  Good morning. So I was wondering if you wanted to,” before Viktoriya could finish, she registered the look on Eli’s face.  He was concerned and sad as he ran his fingers through his untamed hair.

            Eli looked up at her, putting his phone down.  He let out a sigh as he stood up, and connected to her mind. “I’m sorry, Viktoriya.  Levi sent me some message last night while he was drunk.  I can’t really tell what it was supposed to say.  So, what would I like to do?”

            “It’s really nice out today.  I was wondering if you’d like to go to the Eiffel Tower.  I know you’ve wanted to see it.” Viktoriya’s courage faltered.

            “Yeah, that sounds great.  I’m just going to take a shower and get cleaned up.  We can have breakfast on the way?” Eli asked.  He pushed down his sweatpants and threw them aside.  They had some-what changed in front of each other before, usually just removing the outer most layer of clothing.  The other would turn their back, or look away in privacy.  This time was different.  Viktoriya caught herself staring at his body.

            Somehow, she pulled herself together.  Viktoriya grabbed a light jacket off her bed.  “Okay, I’ll wait for you out in the…” She stammered as she backed out of the room.  Eli was already in the bathroom, the water running a moment later.  Viktoriya wandered back into the main room, with her nerves on edge.

            Later that morning, Viktoriya Sima stood on the balcony of the Eiffel Tower with Elijah Coates.  She had expected more.  More smiles, more levity, more laughing, just more.  He looked so handsome in his burgundy cardigan and grey tee shirt, and she smiled to see him in jeans.  But the smile on his face wasn’t real.  Just put on to make Viktoriya think he was having a good time.

            “I guess it isn’t as beautiful from up here.  Sorry Eli.” Viktoriya leaned against the rail beside him.  He gave her a small smile, and she smiled back.

            “No, Viktoriya.  This is amazing. I never thought I’d get to stand on top of the Eiffel Tower.  And I never would have guessed that I’d have a beautiful woman beside me.” Eli’s smile was more genuine, but still not what she expected.

            “So why don’t you look as happy as you say you are?” Viktoriya asked, meeting his eyes.

            “Levi is having some trouble.  I guess I’m just worried he’ll do something stupid.”  Eli told her, his smile fading again.

            “What happened?” Viktoriya put her hand on his arm, trying not to enjoy the feel of his muscles too much.

            “He bought a ring, and was ready to propose to Lin, his girlfriend.  He’d been wanting to do it for a while, but he said he didn’t want to do it in front of me after Valentina left.  To protect my fragile feelings.  So he popped the question last night, and she said no.” Eli explained, rolling his eyes.

            “You don’t think they should get married?” Viktoriya asked.  With Vikenti’s recent help in Eli’s life, she would not have been surprised if Eli had given up on relationships.  She began to even doubt what she was doing with him.

            “It’s not that.  I don’t think they’ve know each other long enough, and they met over my comatose body.  But it was more complicated than that.  As it turns out, Lin had been having dinner with a new doctor at the hospital, these dinners started as him, and a few of the other doctors and the floor nurses, but after a couple of times, it was just them.  I don’t know all the details, but she was probably complaining to him about Levi, and he probably got the wrong idea and gave her bad advice.” Eli ended it with a sigh. “This is so ridiculous.  She said no to him, not because she doesn’t love him, but she doesn’t think they’re ready.  And I agree with that.  Levi makes enough money to take care of himself, but not to start a family.  But what throws me was his response.  I know he was hurt.  How could he not be?  But after Lin explained, he left.  He walked out on her.  After he watch my heartbreak and sorry over what Valentina did to me, he just walked out on her.  Lin is a wreck, Levi’s a wreck, neither one is talking to the other.  He got so mad, or so stupid that he picked up some girl in a pub and slept with her.  Then Lin found out and slept with that doctor.  So, they are broken up.  Levi told me not to ever fall in love again, and he’s been texting me with new reasons why he loves being single.”

            Viktoriya’s eyes widened. She’d only met Levi a few times, but Eli talked about him a lot.  She couldn’t believe that Levi would be so brazen with some girl’s heart.  Now that she knew the burden Eli carried, she understood why he wasn’t smiling.  The fact that he was caught in the middle of his brother’s personal drama was childish.  Eli didn’t deserve that.

            “I’m sorry Eli.” Viktoriya started, but he shook his head.

            “No, don’t be.  This isn’t your problem.  And it’s not mine, either.  Now, I am having a wonderful time, but I don’t think you were going to ask me to come here today.”  He smiled at her, a real one.  It touched his eyes.

            Vikenti Kozlov never really considered himself a loner, but there was a certain peace in the solitude of the hotel gym just after dawn.  Maybe it was the twinge of nostalgia he got, remembering the way his father would wake him up before the rooster, and start his training while the dew was still fresh on the grass.  Sometimes he missed the feeling of the wet grass under his feet as he ran laps around the compound.  Or the weight of bundled firewood on his back.  Vikenti could get strangely homesick for the wilderness he grew up in.  He looked forward seeing his father and mother again the holiday homecoming was always a nice reunion.  However, Vikenti was not excited to see his sister again.

            “Papa should have let you die.”  Those were the words Natassia Kozlova last greeted him with as she opened the yellow door of the house she had rented with Prizrak Rytsarya funds.  He had tracked her for eighteen months, from Moscow to Copenhagen, following a trail of money she had tried hard to keep hidden.  This mission was his first assignment after completing his training.  Natassia’s cruel blue eyes were colder than the November rain.  She was severe and beautiful, graced with thick glossy cinnamon colored curls, and freckles painted across her nose and cheeks.  She was nearly his wife.

            Vikenti’s memories of childhood before the age of six were mostly lost.  His most distant memory was panicked and desperate.  At only five or six, he was being ushered on to a helicopter by some guards.  His parents didn’t want to leave.  Little more than a baby, Vikenti was pushed into his mother’s arms.  He started to cry as the helicopter blades started to pull the craft off the ground.

            The air in the cabin was hot, and the small helicopter was overfull.  It smelled of vomit and desperation.  Other children fussed. Adults complained of wanting to go home.  Someone screamed, but it was silenced by another person’s hand.  A man had a gun.  Fear filled the cabin.  The stench of urine found Vikenti’s nose.

            The gun fired.  The shot’s echo was the last thing about the memory he could remember hearing.  The helicopter began to fall from the sky.  Some of the men tried to right the vehicle, but they were tossed by the trees.  The crash was violent.

            Vikenti remembered feeling warm.  A fire had broken out during their abrupt landing. He’d been thrown from his mother’s lap.  He tugged at her dress, but she didn’t respond.  Her apron and his hand were both stained with a brilliant red.  She was dead.

            He wasn’t sure how he escaped the helicopter, or the fire, or how he survived the next part of his journey.  Vikenti was found by his adoptive father fifty miles from the crash site.  Alone and unprotected, Vikenti had wandered through two feet of snow in the harsh western Russian forest.  He was bloody, dirty, crying, naked and hungry, but he was unburnt.

            Natassia was there too, scowling at Vikenti from the comfort of her fur lined coat.  She listened to her parents discuss the fate of this lost little boy.  Natassia was eager to have her own thoughts considered.

            “Where are his parents?  This poor little thing!”  Their mother fussed over Vikenti.  They decided later to call him such.  Until that point, he did not remember having a name.

            “We’ll take care of him.  At least, until someone comes looking for him.”  His father told a sweet lie, putting his own wool coat around Vikenti’s pale shoulders.  No one ever came for Vikenti.

            “We could just shoot him now.” Natassia said.  Her mother was aghast.

            “Nyet, Natassia! Don’t be cruel.  Vikenti could be your husband in due time.”  Their father scolded.  He made no empty threats either.  When it became clear that Vikenti had been orphaned – his father had conducted a search party while his mother nursed his wounds, the arrangement had been struck.  Vikenti was raised as their son-in-law, with every intention of marrying him to Natassia when they were both of age.

            Engagement to Natassia aside, Vikenti had enjoyed his childhood on Ivan Kozlov’s compound.  Located close to the Russo-Finnish border, Kozlov and a few other like-minded families had established a survivalist community, with little electricity and relying heavily on their own skills to hunt and fish for their wild game, and raise their own crops and livestock.  Vikenti had grown up knowing how to defend himself, treat his wounds, hunt a caribou, build a cabin, and birth a calf.  Laima Kozlova, his mother, saw that both her children know how to cook their food, mend their clothes, and knew what love was and more importantly, how to respect what love is.  Vikenti appreciated the skills his parents had given him.

            After the night the Spetsgruppa Drakon Pushki had, out until two in the morning dancing and drinking in a Parisian night club, Vikenti was surprised to see anyone awake and functioning any time before ten.  However, before Vikenti’s green eyes, Elijah Coates was stepping up to the treadmill beside him.  The men exchanged nods, as Eli began to run.  The Englishman didn’t quite meet Vikenti’s eyes, which was not normal.  Since unofficially joining the Drakon Pushki, Eli had always made eye contact with anyone he was speaking to, even if he was signing, and using Viktoriya as a translator.

            “Good morning, Eli.” Vikenti offered with a warm smile.  It was a genuine greeting, he did like the young man.  He chuckled to himself, considering Eli a young man, as they were about the same age.  Vikenti did not know how old he actually was, but his parents had decided he was six when they found him, making him twenty-eight now, older than Eli by mere months.  Maybe.

            “Good morning, Vikenti,” Eli replied, into Vikenti’s mind.  He had been communicating telepathically with him and Viktoriya for two weeks now, and it was becoming normal.  Eli’s voice was quiet, perhaps from being hung over.

            “Last night was fun, da?” Vikenti asked with a smile.  Eli went a little pale, and for a moment, he was afraid Elijah would vomit in the gym.

            “Yeah, fun.  I um…” Eli paused in Vikenti’s mind. “I’m sorry about last night.  I don’t usually drink that much wine, and I wish I could blame it on the wine, but that was me.”

            Vikenti was confused.  He tried to think back to the night before, at any of Eli’s behavior that would require an apology in the morning.  They had dinner at seven, in a beautiful restaurant just across from the disco they would be in hours later.  All four of the Drakon Pushki were laughing over their meal, joking and toasting. 

            After they drank a bottle of wine, the group took their festivities to the night club.  As with many of their outings to dance clubs, Vikenti offered Eli a small sum of money, for the event that he should find himself successful with a young woman, and want to take her some place private – impossible in the shared suite they were staying in.  Vikenti gave the money willingly, with no expectation of being paid back.  He only asked that the arrangement be kept secret from Viktoriya.  Though he had accepted on four of their six previous outings, Eli didn’t take the money last night.  He didn’t take a girl out either. 

            Vikenti thought about why Eli hadn’t found any success with the young French girls that found the Brit irresistible.  Eli had spent the whole night with Viktoriya on his arm.  Particularly fond of the DJ playing that night, Viktoriya only stopped dancing to either have a drink or a cigarette.  Vikenti could remember several times that evening, looking up from the bar or a conversation and seeing Viktoriya dancing with Eli, or the two slipping outside to smoke.  Was that what Eli was apologizing for?

            “Oh, no Eli.  Don’t worry about it.  We all had a good time, da?” Vikenti wasn’t really sure why Eli felt guilty.

            “Yes, but… I just feel like I over stepped a boundary.  I mean… Viktoriya is your…”  Vikenti was impressed by Eli’s ability to run so quickly while looking so sick.  He usually only saw that when Gregori’s stomach turned on him.

            “She is my… Commanding officer.  My friend.  Occasionally a pain in my ass.” Vikenti laughed.

            “You and Viktoriya are not dating?” Despite speaking telepathically, Eli’s mouth hung open.

            “No, of course not! She is my commanding officer! What could make you think that she and I are dating?” Vikenti was as surprised as Eli.

            “Well, there was the train car, when I accidentally saw you and her dressing.  And the room arrangements when she wanted to share with you.  I always see you on the balcony, whispering and … I just thought… You never want me to tell her about the money you give me… I thought that was because you share an account.”  Eli rambled.  His pale face flushed a bright red.

            “The train? Whispering?  Eli, I’m not sure what you’ve seen but, she and I are strictly platonic.  She is my captain, and friend.  Nothing else.  I might dance with her, drink with her, smoke with her, and occasionally, yes we do share a room some times, but just as friends.”  Vikenti explained.

            “So you aren’t sleeping with her?” Eli, if Vikenti was hearing him correctly, almost sounded hopeful.

            “Eli, I am homosexual.” Vikenti laid the words out bluntly, and braced himself for Eli’s reaction.

            Vikenti had known he was gay since he was sixteen, or somewhere around that time.  He was caught, by his mother, behind the grain silo coaxing another slightly older boy for a kiss.  He came out formally to both his parents that night.  He expected disappointment or rage from Ivan and Laima, to be thrown back into the wilderness, or worse, to have his revelation ignored.  Instead they both embraced him.  The marriage arrangement was dissolved, and they called him son, their son.  There were no more secrets between the family, not about his sexuality, his vlast’, or his desire to join the Prizrak Rytsarya a few years later.  Ivan, a former soldier himself, let Vikenti go, blessing him even.  Laima kissed him on the cheek and warned him not to let the cute soldiers distract him.  She teased, but with love.  She said the same to Natassia when she left for the Moscow, and the PR just the year before.

            He experienced the same positive attitude when he came out to Viktoriya.  The two were sitting in a Moscow bar, having just completed an assignment.  The rest of their team was celebrating, but there was an uneasy tension between them.  Viktoriya had just received her command, and was still finding her voice as captain.  Their team was six then, and all men beside Sima.  The rest were fresh recruits, all with their first team assignment, they were eager to please Sima, to receive high marks ands and recommended for their own promotions.  Vikenti was the veteran, with eight years of experience.  He was placed specifically in her service. 

            “I didn’t mean to cry that night.” She broke the silence with shame in her voice.

            “No, you didn’t.  But there was something worrying you, and it couldn’t be helped.  I used to cry in the shower during training.”  Vikenti admitted, offering his own embarrassed past.

            “Why?  Were you homesick?” She finally lifted her eyes from her vodka.

            “A little, but that’s not why I cried.  I am gay, and I don’t hide it, but I was afraid of the reactions of the other men.  I was afraid of the violence.”  He met her eyes, giving the truth a deeper meaning.

            “I hope no one ever hurt you, Mister Kozlov.  You are a very sweet man.” She offered a smile.  She did not ignore his comment, but she didn’t dwell on it either.  Viktoriya accepted him.  “It makes no sense.  That Prizrak would judge others for simply being different.  We of all people should understand each other in that way.”

            Gregori, however did not share Viktoriya or his parents’ understanding.  He told Gregori in private, while the two were unpacking their bags into a hotel dresser.  It was the first time the two shared a room, right after three men left the Drakon Pushki.  Vikenti told him in a simple statement, the same as if he’d just told Gregori that he was blonde, or that he was a Prizrak.  Gregori didn’t say a word, at least not at first, just unpacking his bags.  Vikenti didn’t press the subject, but ten minutes later, ten minutes of Gregori’s thoughts building in his mind, his teammate unleashed a torrent of hateful terms and criticisms of Vikenti’s life choices and a threat not to even think about Gregori in a sexual way.

            He was brought back to the present by Eli’s voice in his mind.  “Oh.  You are?  I’m sorry I assumed you were sleeping with Viktoriya.”  Eli even laughed telepathically. “Now I suppose I really only should be jealous the platonic attention you get from her.”  His words came without judgment.  Just like Viktoriya, acknowledged but his opinion of Vikenti did not seemed to be changed.  Or if it was changed, it was not in a negative way.

            “You don’t need to be jealous of me. Eli.”  Vikenti laughed. He watched the other man’s complexion returned to normal. “We all have our virtues and our flaws.  Some of us just hide what we don’t want others to see.  I hide my flaws.  I notice that you hide your virtues.”

            “My virtues?” Eli asked, keeping pace as Vikenti increased the speed on his machine.

            “Oh, da.  You are smart, curious, and you always want to do the right thing.  You tried to hide away in that school, and if you had, you would have wasted your talents.  You are also far more handsome than you think you are.  And funnier.  You’ve really opened up since you’ve joined us.  Even through your pain.  But it’s good to see you smile, Eli.  It’s been a while since I’ve made a friend I’ve liked as much as you.”  Vikenti confided in Eli.  He enjoyed the proud smile that crept over Eli’s face.

            They spend the rest of their morning making small talk over their work out routines.  Eli mostly focused on a cardio circuit, but did offer to spot Vikenti while he bench pressed some weight, and even tried a few reps of his own.  The two even ended up having breakfast together in the hotel’s small café.  Eli was amazed at the large array of food Vikenti ordered.

            “Do you always eat so much for breakfast?” Eli asked curiously.  After weeks of the telepathy, Vikenti considered Eli’s voice normal and natural.

            “Da.  I grew up in a secluded place.  There was a lot of work to do, chopping wood, tending to animals and crops, sometimes there was a new cabin or barn or store house to put up.  But there was always work, so always a big breakfast.” Vikenti explained.

            “You lived on a farm? Like Viktoriya and Captain Sima?” Eli spoke while taking a bite of his egg whites and sausage.

            “Something like that.  The Simas have a proper farm and ranch.  I think it used to be a government subsidy back during the soviet period.  The ranch might still be owned by Captain Mikhail Sima’s family, but I’m not sure if his father has passed, and if he has, whom the ranch passed to.  But aside from the farming and livestock, they live totally normal lives, with normal every day amenities and luxuries.  My family lives as survivalists, on a commune.  Barely any electricity, only hot water for cooking or if we were sick and needed a warm bath, we truly depended on ourselves.”  Vikenti was always happy to talk about the way he was brought up.  He never saw it as strange.  That was his home.

            “What did you do in your free time?” Eli asked, curious for a life that wasn’t his own.  Vikenti smiled as he swallowed a mouthful of bacon.

            “There wasn’t much free time.  If the sun was up, it was time to work, with the exception of lunch. My mother would pull me in by my ear, always making sure I had my lunch.  But at night, we did have fun.  When I was little, I would play soccer with the other boys.  When I got a little older, I played cards with the men.  Sometimes I would just stay in and listen to my mother tell me stories, and make fireside cookies and warm milk.” Vikenti laughed to himself.  “It was an incredibly simple life, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything else I’ve seen or heard of.”

            “Maybe I should be jealous of you after all,” Eli joked, but Vikenti could hear the truth beneath.

            “What is your home like?” Vikenti asked, offering Eli a piece of French toast.

            “It’s a hotel in Paris, a suite shared with three Russians.” Eli laughed as he took the bread.  “But the place where I was raised was a miserable monument erected to disappointment.  My father was never accepted that I was mute, and he used to beat me.”  His words were blunt, and for a moment Vikenti felt defensive for Eli.  He couldn’t imagine someone so nice would be subjected to such cruelty.

            “Oh, Eli.  I am sorry.  I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have asked if I did.” Vikenti apologized, but Eli waved it away.

            “No, Vikenti.  It’s okay.  But it’s part of the reason I was content to hide at school.  He couldn’t get me there.  And no one cared if I was mute in university or at Denvellia.  But my childhood wasn’t all bad.  I have my brother.  We made our own family and home in London.”  Eli took a piece of Vikenti’s bacon.

            “I suppose it is one of those things that makes you stronger, da?” Vikenti gave him a smile.

            “Yes, I agree.  It did make me stronger.  As did your childhood.  It’s what childhood is for, turning young children into strong men.” Eli realized belatedly his words were a toast.  Vikenti heard it too and raised his cup of coffee to Eli’s cup of tea.  Both men laughed.

            Valentina was out of bed by noon.  A new personal best.  She wasn’t dressed yet, but one step at a time.  Laying on the couch, she watched some romantic comedy starring some TV actress-turned singer-turned fashion designer-turned movie actress, while spooning large servings of Boston cream flavored yogurt into her mouth.  She wasn’t feeling particularly motivated to do anything, except eat yogurt and watch movies.  There was a new terrible ache in her heart.  Watching fake romance, and living vicariously through leading ladies was all that could keep her from crying.

            When Valentina woke that morning, she felt like she could think clearly for the first time in months.  Unfortunately, that also meant her break up with Eli felt fresh.  She had a new perspective on old memories, and wasn’t sure how she’d ever remembered it differently.

            Vividly, she could see herself storming into the apartment she shared with Eli.  It was his apartment.  He’d graciously asked her to live with him.  Valentina made him get a puppy before she’d move in.  Looking back at that, she felt so embarrassed.  She was never truly good to him.  Playing at what he wanted. Valentina enjoyed the nice parts of their relationship, the nice restaurants, his nice car and apartment, the sex, playing house.  But Valentina realized that’s exactly all she was doing, just playing house.  Eli was in love with her.  He was trying to build a future with her.  God! He was probably trying to find Mischa so that he would be there to walk her down the aisle at their wedding.  And she pointed a finger in his face, and threw an ultimatum at Eli.  Me or my father.  What kind of decision was that?  And now he was gone.

            Valentina looked at her phone, tempted to send Eli a message.  She wondered if he’d even respond.  If Eli had treated Valentina like she had treated him, she’d never want to speak to him again.  But she probably would.  She was still taking Billy Duke’s calls well after she knew he had cheated on her.  Valentina had always thought of herself a nice girl.  After the fiasco with Billy, she thought she was too nice.  Now she didn’t know what to think.  She had been so cruel to Eli.

            Other memories returned as well, related to their break up.  A conversation with Levi Coates, after she had badgered him to let her into Eli’s apartment while he was at work.  For days Levi had insisted that Valentina should confront Eli herself if she had wanted her belongings back, but finally he relented and agreed to meet her at his brother’s apartment in the late morning.

            “Why are you doing this?” Eli’s older brother asked.  He sounded so sad, sharing his brother’s emotions.

            “I’m not just going to leave all my clothes here.  They’re expensive.  God! Men don’t know anything about fashion.” She muttered to herself.

            “No, I mean why are you leaving him?  He loves you.”  Levi crossed his arms over his chest.  Quite the feat for a man made of mostly muscle.  He watched her carefully as if she actually would steal anything of Eli’s.

            “No, he doesn’t.  He made his choice.” Valentina snipped at him, shoving thousands of dollars’ worth of blouses into a suitcase.

            “No, you made his decision for him.” Levi sighed. “I know he’s not the best at communicating how he feels.  That’s kind of part of Eli being Eli.  And I don’t know if he ever told you about Rhianne.  I know you know about our father.  You should know that Eli doesn’t really trust or love easily.  You were something very special to him.  And throwing it all away like that… Valentina, I’m worried he might do something stupid.”

            “If he does, then he’ll succeed in finding my father.” Valentina winced at the memory of the last thing she said to Levi Coates.  Had she really told him, in a sense that she didn’t care if Eli committed suicide?  The more she turned the line over in her head, it started to sound like she wished it.  Of course, she didn’t want Eli to kill himself!

            Valentina was stirred from her thoughts by the elevator door opening.  She didn’t look up, but already knew who it was.  She heard the sound of heeled shoes on the hard wood of her penthouse floor, and the huff of a sigh.  Her best, and only friend was there.

            “Oh my God, Valentina!”  Leibe Schwartz judged her friend. “It’s bad enough you are wallowing in this stupid break up, but are you trying to get fat too?”

            “It’s just yogurt, Leibe!” Valentina groaned, pausing her movie.  She pushed herself off the couch and looked over.  Leibe was wearing a loud floral print blouse, and a black skirt that was too tight around her hips.  Evan was now nearly three months old, and Leibe still wore the weight from carrying her son.  However, the vain girl refused to admit she’d ever put on any weight, no matter how legitimate and still insisted on wearing her pre-pregnancy clothes.

            “A bucket of yogurt in the morning, a bucket of ice cream at night…” Leibe threw herself into a chair.  “You’ll be trying out for the lead at Sea World in no time!”

            “Leibe…” Valentina was hurt by her friend’s accusation, but there was no use calling her out on it.  She never listened, at least not to any voice that wasn’t already in her own head.  She took what she wanted, which is how she ended up with her son, Evan Duke.

            “Get up, Valentina! I finally ditched the poop machine for a day, and I want to go out and have fun! You remember what fun is, right?  What we use to have before you got all married to that guy.” Leibe examined her nails, which were flawless, but acted like she’d just dug a garden without gloves or tools. “Mani-pedis?  You could use a whole make over.  Maybe one of those fat busting sea weed wraps?”

            Valentina was taken aback by how mean her friend was being, but said nothing.   She tried to change the subject to something more positive.  “Where is Evan today?  Did Billy take him to the park?”

            “No! You know he won’t do anything to help me with him.  He’s happy to shake some keys in front of Evan’s face, but nothing real.  You know the only reason he has a job is to keep my dad off of his back.  He still flirts with other girls!” Leibe sounded like she expected better of Billy Duke.  She should have known better when Billy went to bed with her while dating Valentina.

            “Is he doing well at the office?” Valentina shut the movie off completely, then turned off the television as well.  It was clear, Leibe was taking over her day.  At least she wouldn’t have any time to cry over Eli if she was too busy dealing with Leibe’s remarks.

            “No, of course not!  My Uncle Larry says if Billy screws up one more client call, that he’s letting him go.  I’m out of uncles, Valentina.  He’s already pissed off Uncle Adam, Uncle Ariel, Uncle Gideon, Aunt Rachel and Aunt Beth.  Don’t even get me started on what he said to Poppy.  He told Poppy that Bubby’s coffee wasn’t good, and no wonder the deli wasn’t closed if they expected people to wake up to that.  Poppy looked at him like his name was Billy Hitler.”  Leibe slumped into the chair.  “Fired from the law office, the podiatrists, the orthopedist, the family practice and the pharmacy.  If he loses his job with Uncle Larry’s agency, I don’t know where he has left to go.  Poppy won’t give him a job in the deli, not even as a busboy, and I don’t think Daddy will give him a job at Mom’s bookstore.  I know he doesn’t want him anywhere around his practice.”

            Leibe came from a large family of well-networked New York born-and-bred German Jews, the Schwartz clan.  Poppy Shimon, her grandfather had immigrated as a child, and with a little help from his parents, had opened the Schwartz Kosher Deli, which was still open, after three generations.  He met his wife, Sarai, and together raised four children, Joseph – the cardiac surgeon, and Leibe’s father, Gideon, the lawyer, Rachel, the orthopedic surgeon, and Ariel, the pharmacist.  Many of Leibe’s cousins worked in the deli after school, or during the summer.  For Leibe it was never even a thought.  Her own mother, Jennifer never worked and taught Leibe that a socialite’s work was done over brunches, luncheons and dinners, though Leibe nearly jeopardized her place in society when she got pregnant.  It took all of her mother’s grace and favor to keep them on the right side of the gossip.  Valentina had always been jealous of Leibe’s large collection of aunts, uncles and cousins.  Until very recently, she thought her family had only been her mother, now deceased and her father, Murroh.  Oh, how wrong she had been.

            Over the holiday, Valentina had been shocked to learn that Murroh, the man that had always been her father was not actually related to her by any blood.  He was her godfather, but her biological father was missing, possibly dead, maybe alive, but taken prisoner when she was just five.  Uncovering her real father was just the start.  Months later, while looking for her father’s fate, her cousin appeared, Viktoriya Sima, the youngest of seven siblings, meaning that Valentina had six other cousins out there, and an aunt and uncle, and maybe still some grandparents.  But Viktoriya’s reception, cold as the Russian front she came from, did not leave Valentina with an optimistic outlook.

            “He just needs to find what he’s good at,” Valentina offered, knowing it wasn’t enough.  “But he should apologize to your Poppy and Bubby.”

            “He should.  But he won’t.  Now shut up and get dressed!  Your apartment is depressing without your beefcake dad around.” Leibe threw her head back, tossing her thick curls around.

            “Please don’t talk about my dad like that.  Besides, he’s married, and I’m pretty sure his wife has killed people.” Valentina halfheartedly argued with her friend as she got to her feet. 

            She cleaned up her yogurt, somehow obeying Leibe, even though she didn’t want to.  It wasn’t long before Valentina was cleaned up, made up and dressed in a painted silk dress, and in a taxi on their way to a salon.  In what seemed like a moment later, Valentina was in a chair, soaking her feet while having her nails done.

            “Leibe, do you think I’m a callous person?”  Valentina asked, looking over to see the annoyed look on her friend’s face.

            “A little self-centered, yeah, but not callous. Why would you even ask that?”  Leibe rolled her eyes.

            “No, Leibe, I mean it.  Do you think I was needlessly cruel when I broke up with Eli?”  Valentina insisted.

            “Valentina!  Why are you still so hung up on him?  Unless you lied to me, wasn’t it you that broke up with him?”  Leibe didn’t like talking about relationships that she wasn’t in.  “Just forget him and find someone new.  You know, after you lose those breakup pounds.”

            “Well… Yes, I mean… Yes, I did break up with him, but now I’m worried I was too mean.  And also I’ve been thinking that…”  Valentina was cautious not to give Leibe too much information, or anything that might get used against her later.  “That maybe I was wrong to break up with him.  I want him back.  Maybe.”

            “After all that?! That whole dramatic break up, packing up in London, and moving back to New York, after all that, you want him back?   You said that he lied to you and that he manipulated you!” Leibe threw her hands up, smearing her nail polish.  She gave Valentina a venomous glare.

            “Leibe, I’m sorry.  Just… Never mind.  Forget I said anything.” Once again, Valentina wondered why she was even friends with Leibe.  Why did she continue to let the other girl treat her so badly?  Leibe’s stare continued, until finally Valentina added, “I’ll pay for everything today.  It’s all on me.”

            Satisfied, Leibe’s attention returned to her nails.  She was speaking again, something about her nail beds, or cuticles or the color of the polish she had chosen, but it was more for her own benefit than for Valentina or her manicurist.  Valentina ignored her just the same, lost in her own thoughts.  Thoughts of her break up with Eli.

            Since she woke up that morning, from a really confusing dream, Eli was all she could think about.  A knot of guilt took up her stomach whenever Valentina closed her eyes.  His face was practically painted on the back of her eyelids.  The look of pain and confusion he gave her as she walked out of their apartment, and their relationship haunted her.  Valentina tried to shake the bad thoughts away and focus on the happier memories, but she could only remember all she had done to hurt him.

            Levi had sent her a few messages a couple of days ago, but Valentina had just ignored him at the time.  What if something bad happened to Eli?  What if it had taken all of Levi’s emotional strength to send those words to Valentina, and she had simply pushed them aside?  What if Eli was dead?  The thought that Eli went to the grave thinking Valentina was a callous monster pulled the knot tighter.  She was suddenly aware of the weight of her phone.  Her fingers itched, her mind burned.  She needed to read those messages.

            Leibe kept Valentina out most of the day, treating herself to a manicure, pedicure and facial, lunch, and her hair cut and styled.  Everything was Valentina’s treat.  She tried to leave before dinner, but Leibe received a text message from Billy Duke.  Billy decided to spend the night out with some friends he’d made since moving to New York, and wouldn’t be home.  Leibe immediately assumed the worst, and that Billy was really with some girls.  Dinner led to drinks in a hotel bar, and Leibe left Valentina to pick up the tab.  As selfish and conceited as Leibe was, Valentina wasn’t even paying enough attention to complain.  She only wanted to see the messages from Levi.

            With just seven minutes until midnight, Valentina was finally alone.  Her phone called to her, but after waiting for hours, she decided she could at least change out of her clothes before.  It didn’t take Valentina long to shed her expensive clothes and find her way into a matching set of silk pajamas, before she slid into bed.  Nerves stole her breath, tied her stomach in a knot, and brought a sweat to her forehead.  With her phone in her hand, she opened the messages from Levi.  Valentina hesitated before she actually read.

            “Valentina, I think you should talk to Eli.  He’s talking about selling his car and getting out of his apartment lease.  I don’t know what he’s thinking.  He won’t tell me.  Maybe you can get him to think straight,” Levi had written more than a week ago.

            “Alright, you really need to talk to him.  He’s a mess.  He said he’s leaving London.  Do you know what this is about?  He’s acting weird.  Please, just talk to him.” That message came in just two days after the first.

            “Valentina, Eli’s leaving today, at 11am.  I know whatever happened between you went poorly, but I think it would mean a lot to him if you were there to say goodbye.  There’s no talking him out of it now, but at least you can try to give him a little peace before he goes.  If you can make it, text me back and I’ll tell you where to meet us.”  The last message was from only a few days ago.

            At once, Valentina was relieved to read that Eli was not hurt.  Well, at least not physically.  His brother described him as a mess and acting weird.  Many people had described Eli as weird, and he often described himself as a mess, but it was always Levi that dismissed the words.  To be fair, Eli was indeed a mess.  He never believed in himself, he depended greatly on his brother for emotional support, and Eli didn’t even believe he had earned the right to be happy.  Also, he believed he had to earn the right to be happy.

            Valentina remembered the night when Dr. Anton Utkin had returned to Denvellia.  It was the night Eli changed in a lot of ways.  Though it never formally happened, Eli believed that Utkin expelled him from Denvellia that night.  She watched him cry, and tell her that any happiness he allowed himself cost him something.  Eli was sure his next happiness would cost him Valentina.  Neither of them knew how prophetic his words were.  Eli was supposed to go to a meeting with Dr. Utkin that next morning, but blew it off.  Instead, he met Valentina’s father, Murroh for what turned out to be a job offer.  His opportunity was doubled when some Russian associates of Murroh’s joined the meeting and offered Eli another paycheck working for them as well.  Valentina objected, even though the job was to find her birth father, but Eli took the work for the CIA and Prizrak Rytsarya.  The investigation or her.  That was the ultimatum she put before him months later.

            Yuri Utkin had no idea how much time had passed.  He knew he had been held captive for roughly fifteen years, but Mischa had told him that.  Basic, yet complex concepts like time, and spoken language were taken from him, along with his mind.  Now he was taking them back.  He would never get his fifteen years back, he might never get all of his sanity back, but Yuri would give no man – or woman, the satisfaction of having all of him.

            He couldn’t remember if they took his mind all at once, or slowly over the first ten years, but he’d been used as a tool for torture.  His captor, Solange Marchand, and her men pushed him, beat him, and punished him until he broke.  Yuri took two lives when he was reborn as the psionic monster they created.  He took another, a doctor, two days later.  Then a third guard that got too close to him.  Solange took advantage of how easily Yuri could, and would kill.  She used him to intimidate guards that were reluctant to take a stand against Mischa, or to scare guards that had gone soft.  Yuri could not remember how many guards he murdered.  Only one death hung in his mind.

            Five years ago, or so – Mischa could tell him better, Solange decided that a baby would make her happy.  Since the man she truly wanted would not sire anything but rage toward her, her second choice was Mischa, still handsome and athletic in his middle age.  However, even in the face of such despair, Mischa was stubbornly faithful to his wife, Malena.  He paid dearly for his refusal.  Solange came to Yuri, whispering orders in his ear, using a voice she must have thought was attractive.  The kill order came, and he obeyed.  Malena Sima died of an aneurysm in the kitchen of her Winterthur home while cooking dinner.  She fell to the ground in front of her daughter, Valentina, just fourteen years of age.  The sausage burnt on the stove, as Valentina cried out at the loss of her mother.  Solange had already take the girl’s father away, and now she took her mother.

            Solange was not finished.  Yuri was in shock, laying in the narrow bed of his cell, wearing a stained white tee shirt, and black scrub pants that were their uniform.  He hadn’t bathed in a long time, and somehow fostered a colony of lice.  Yuri didn’t eat, and spent most of his time either sleeping, or just staring up at the ceiling.  He was growing thin, and sickly.  For Solange, that wouldn’t do.  He was taken from his cell, and brought to the medical bay.  Doctors treated him for a minor infection he’d suffered from.  The doctors shaved his head, dirty curls falling to the floor – once an enviable auburn shade, and killed the lice away.  Yuri was fed a calorie rich paste, as if he were the baby she so desired.  Her team could make him look well again, but until they treated his mind, he still just sat and stared, his light grey eyes empty and distant. 

            But Solange didn’t care about his mind.  She only needed his body to function.  After a month of his “therapy” – that’s what the doctors would call it, Yuri was invited up to the house.  Even with his fragmented mind, Yuri could remember pieces of the night.  Two guards came for him a short time after Mischa returned from the evening meal.  They approached him cautiously, helping him into a clean tee shirt and pants.  He was barefoot, but they didn’t seem to care.  They talked on either side of him, as if he were not there.

            “I feel guilty.  This isn’t fair.” One said.

            “Orders.  Just orders.  You know what she’ll do if we don’t.” Two warned.  Two was afraid of Yuri.

            “There’s a better way, though.  She could just, you know… Ask the doctor to get it, and then… You know like a donor?” One offered.  He looked at Yuri with pity.  One was ashamed of what he was doing.

            “Stop.  Just stop.  There are only two ways.  Miss Marchand’s way, or death.  Do you want to die?” Two was guilty, but self-preservation was taking control.  He was a smart man.  Well, perhaps not entirely, as he did find himself working for Solange Marchand.

            “No.  But he shouldn’t have to do this.  Does he even know what’s going on?” One tried not to look at Yuri any more.

            “Don’t think about it.  Don’t think about him.”  Two walked with eyes ahead.

            The prison level of where ever they were being held was a labyrinth. Someone, likely not Solange, wanted to make sure that no one ever accidentally wandered up to the house.  Yuri was still mad at himself that he couldn’t remember which door led to which hall that fed to the freight elevator.  In the house, they led him through a pantry, and a kitchen and up a curling staircase.  One and Two hesitated in front of a door.  One was sweating.  Two knocked.

            “Miss Marchand?  As you requested, we have brought Utkin up.” Two offered, nerves in his voice.   The door opened, and Yuri was practically pushed inside.  One and Two waited outside, in the hall. 

            Yuri stood at the entrance of Solange Marchand’s bedroom.  The door slammed behind him.  Solange was draped across the bed, clad in white silk lingerie as if it were her wedding night.  She was ready to consummate their union.

            “Come here, Yuri.” She offered sweetly, sitting up.  Solange was not an unattractive woman, but she was not aging gracefully, and begun a regiment of plastic surgery to restore her youth.  Yuri had once been the handsome ladies’ man of the Prizrak Rytsarya.  When their team went out for drinks, Yuri would always be lost in a flock of young women, fawning over his auburn curls, his muscles or his beautiful eyes.  A young woman once described them as “the sky, right before a snowfall.”  The attention always brought out a jealousy in Yuri’s older brother, Anton.  Those same girls would not give Yuri spare change if he begged on the streets if they saw him now.

            Obediently, Yuri approached the bed.  He knew why she wanted him in her room.  Why he was approaching her bed.  Yuri never wondered how he would be punished if he refused.  He had no wife, no child.  He didn’t even know if Anton was still alive.  But Yuri didn’t refuse.  Solange had broken his will, shattered his mind, and now wanted his body.  This occurred a few more times, until all at once he was forgotten.

            What he assumed to be a year later, Yuri was called up to her bedroom again.  This time, he wasn’t fed or washed or changed in preparation.  Solange no longer cared for his health, she got what she wanted.  Yuri was introduced to an infant Phillip James Marchand-Utkin, and was told the boy was his son.  He stared at the child with no paternal connection.  He barely recognized it as a human baby.  Yuri was never offered a chance to hold the child, nor did he want to.  He simply stood in the room until he was dismissed.

            Mischa did not seem to see Yuri anymore.  At least, not as a person.  He was a cause to fight for.  To fight over.  Despite losing his wife, Mischa still toed the line with Solange.  Never so far that he would tempt her to punish him, but enough to frustrate her, annoy her, to ruin her day.  He would use Yuri as a point to raise, outraged over the starving of Yuri Utkin, the health of Yuri Utkin, the rape of Yuri Utkin, the death of Yuri Utkin.  Yuri was still very much alive, though for all Mischa actually paid attention, he wouldn’t know.  Mischa didn’t seem the recovery that was going on inside Yuri’s mind.

            There were many nights recently that Yuri would wake from his trance to find Mischa trying to spoon feed him applesauce, or being washed with a damp cloth.  It was true, if not for Mischa protecting and helping Yuri, he would be dead of starvation or illness. Yuri appreciated those acts of kindness, but he didn’t need Mischa anymore.  Of course, he wasn’t ready to let Mischa in on how far he’d come.  Keeping secrets from his friend was hard, but a valuable asset.  Yuri’s only asset.

            His new psiony granted Yuri enough power to actively monitor the world around him while he worked on repairing his mind, and even sometimes while Yuri was sleeping.  Yuri could overhear conversations outside of his room, and actively seal the memories for processing at another time.  In the relative peace of the night, Yuri traveled the web of mind, looking for cocoons he had not yet examined.

            For the average telepath – not that Anton had ever found an average telepath in his studies, an enormous strain would be placed on a mind trying to simultaneously be conscious, connect to several other minds, and create elaborate structures with in itself.  When Anton taught fresh Prizrak Rytsarya recruits how to construct mental barriers, the act required several sessions of meditation, often aided by sensory deprivation. 

            Yuri had a memory, somewhere, of walking into Anton’s first laboratory, before he and Yuri had been selected for the Spetsgruppa Yaysto.  It was a repurposed storehouse, main floor taken up by fourteen sensory deprivation tanks, seven on either side.  In the loft above, Anton’s office was held.  Stacks of papers would always be strewn over his desk, and they would always seem to multiply.  He had monitors for each of the fourteen chambers, surveillance with both video and audio, as well as sensors for brainwaves, heart rate, and breathing patterns.  Anton studied his students in every way he could.  Detailed profiles were kept on anyone that set a foot in his door.  Yuri used to wonder then if had ever conducted secret experiments on those students.  The idea used to be absurd, a silly science fiction fantasy in the mind of a bored soldier.  Now Yuri worried for Elijah Coates, a student of Anton in the present, and possibly an experiment.  He wondered if Anton’s lab had reopened since his return to Russia.  Was that school Eli attended just a cover for Anton to revive his research?

            Yuri had met Elijah by happenstance.  Mischa, not a telepath by birth, had discovered away to tap into a telepath’s power once the telepath had connected with his own mind.  He often took advantage of Yuri’s wandering raw energy in the late hours of the night, to practice reaching out to others.  The first time he tried to reach Colonel Murroh Lytton, an American telepath, turned psionic, and Mischa’s best friend.  Unfortunately, Murroh’s psiony, and the American’s fear of his power kept others out of his mind.  After a few more unsuccessful tries, he moved on to his daughter, Valentina.  This time, Mischa found his way easily, aided by Yuri, Valentina’s lack of a mental barrier.  The second time was even clearer, when Valentina found her way into a relationship with a strong telepath. 

            That strong telepath was Elijah Coates.  Yuri, even in the fragmented disconnected web of his mind, took note of Eli, and laid out a thread to connect them.  Weeks later, that thread saved Eli’s life when a disturbance caught Yuri’s attention.  He sent Eli every warning he could, and even went as far as taking control of Eli’s body – a feat Yuri played by ear, to get the younger man out of danger.  The risk and uncertainty paid off, and while Eli did suffer several months in a coma, he suffered no mental or psychological damage, and minimal physical injury.  At least no new psychological damage.  Like Yuri, Eli had suffered his father’s temper, and looked to his older brother for guidance, protection and support.  Yuri was always grateful that Eli never had to see his father hanged with a belt, taking his life after years of anger and depression.  In the note he left, Yuri’s father placed the reasons squarely on the shoulders of Anton and Yuri, both born into telepathy.  Another memory wrapped into a cocoon in Yuri’s mind, his father’s body slightly swaying from light in the kitchen.

            Saving Eli was unintentionally Yuri’s first step in saving himself.  It was Yuri that locked Eli in his coma, giving Eli time to heal his mind in peace without interruption.  Together, Yuri and Eli worked to repair the damage done to Eli’s mind during a physical attack on his body.  It took several weeks, but Eli was able to return to his normal life, with a renewed effort to find Mischa and Yuri.

            Yuri found the stash of cocoons from that days memories. He took a seat on the web, making a hammock for himself.  With the stack the day’s thoughts, he opened each one carefully.  The first was from outside his room, as two guards conversed.

            “He hasn’t moved for a while.” Three reported to his supervisor.  “I’ve been in four times today, and he just… Lays there.”

            “Does he have a pulse?” Four asked.

            “Well, yes but… Sir, should I alert the medic?” Three worried.

            “Unless he’s not breathing or his heart isn’t beating, I don’t care.  Did you check on Sima?” Four dismissed Yuri’s meditative state.

            “Yes, Sima isn’t in his room.  He’s in the gymnasium, doing that wrestling thing he likes to do.” Three seemed to regret his words the moment the sounds left his mouth.

            “What?! Why didn’t you escort him back to his room?  With the new restrictions, Utkin and Sima aren’t supposed to as much as use the toilet without permission.” Four hissed.

            “Should… Should I go get him?” From the hitch Three’s voice, Yuri could tell Four was giving him a very harsh glare.

            Yuri sealed the cocoon up again, working the threads of spider silk between his fingers.  He put some of his own energy in there with the memory, turning it into a mental mine.  If anyone but Yuri tried to open it, the party would be hit with a dangerous psionic blast.  Each cocoon was trapped in such a way.  Yuri would plant the memory some place later, but until then, he moved on the next memory.

            “Where is he?” Four demanded, this time he was not bullying one of his men.

            “I don’t know whom you are looking for!” Mischa told him, defiantly.  He would pay for that.  The guards had been getting meaner since the management changed.  Once Abraham Horowitz arrived, many changes had been made, and none for the better.  Their free time had been restricted, as had their freedom of movement.  The generous portions of food from the cooks had diminished, and the generous portions of violence from the guards had increased.

            “Elijah Coates!  Where is he?  We know you can track people!” Four’s heavy hand met with flesh.  Mischa’s face, Yuri imagined.  It took Mischa a moment to respond.

            “I can’t track just anyone.” Mischa spit. “I need to have met them.  I’ve never met Elijah!”

            “But you know him.  So who do you know that knows where he is?” Four was getting a threatening tone in his voice.

            “I don’t know him!  He’s just some kid from England! Why are you even…?” Mischa was cut off with another hit from Four.  The sound of boots on the floor of the cell.  More violence.  Mischa groaned in pain.  Four stepped into the hallway.

            “He’s either lying or he’s useless.” Four told another guard.

            “What do we do, sir?  Utkin won’t be of any help either.” Five asked.  He was not as fearful as Three had been.  Yuri wondered if Five ranked higher than Three.  He was clearly ranked lower than Four. 

            “The Restorationist movement needs Sima, if we want to be taken seriously.  To get Sima, we need to bring Horowitz the body of Elijah Coates.” Four explained.

            “Yes, sir.  For the Restorationists.  But how do we find Coates if Sima can’t track him?” Five found his answer before Four did. “Wait, sir… There was someone with Coates at Fairgarden.  He didn’t travel alone.  The girl.  Maybe he’s with her, or she’ll know where he is.”

            Yuri could see the twisted smile on Four’s face without having to use his eyes.  “The girl.  Wonderful, Searzy, good job.  Go get her.”

            Yuri closed the memory quickly.  Cautious of the evidence he had uncovered, he sealed it with more of his energy than usual.  This one would have to be hidden especially well.  There were other cocoons to open, but nothing seemed like it would contain anything as important as what he just found.

            Yuri got to his feet, stowing both cocoons in his web, and sealing them in with more silk.  His fingers worked at the strands, making them strong and braiding more of his mind through the web.  If anyone touched his memories he’d know immediately.  Yuri left the rest of his thoughts for another time, but he had something more important to attend.

            Traveling to a strange mind was always a new experience.  Mischa had used Yuri to travel to Valentina’s mind before, but this was his first trip on his own, and his first with his eyes open.  An open sprawling park laid before Yuri.  It was idyllic, swans gracefully moving across a lake, butterflies gracing the air, birds singing in the trees.  All around Yuri were rolling hills, sparkling water, flowers blossoming in every color and a sweet scented breeze blew through the trees.  He’d remembered places like this only from fairy tales.  This was the place a hero would meet the maiden, as she was running from a witch or demon.  It made Yuri uncomfortable.

            He searched for the manifestation of Valentina in her own mind.  He wanted to hurry, but a smash and grab was not what was here for.  He had to move carefully, just like his first time in Eli’s mind.  But there was a difference.  He liked Eli.  He considered the young man almost to be a friend, at least as much as Yuri could have a friend.

            Valentina looked out of place.  In a brilliant world of color, she was in grey scale.  In a shapeless dress, she wandered along the lakeside, dangerously close to the edge.  Her eyes and ears were covered in an iron mask, locked on tight.  As he got closer he could hear her chant in a whisper.

            “Eli is a liar.  Eli hurt me.  Eli hides the truth.  Eli never loved me.  Eli is a liar.  Eli hurt me.  Eli hides the truth.  Eli never loved me.  Eli is a liar.  Eli hurt me.  Eli hides the truth.  Eli never loved me.”  Valentina’s lips moved, repeating the words in her ears.  She was on the verge of tears.

            Yuri knew he should feel bad for her.  Clearly, Valentina was the victim of some mental manipulation, but he was sure it was not Eli that had done this.  As she repeated her mantra, Yuri shook his head.  How could she believe such lies about the man that nearly gave his life for her?  Yuri vividly remembered how fondly he thought of Valentina.  He was sure that was no longer the case.  Eli’s mind had been increasingly hard to enter after she had broken up with him.  He’d never asked Eli what happened, and Eli had never supplied it.  Yuri wondered if this had something to do with it.

            Valentina would not stop walking, but Yuri easily kept up with her.  The difficult part was picking the lock while moving.  The tumbler was strange, intricate but familiar.  He’d seen this lock before, but Yuri could not remember where.  As a child, Yuri had always enjoyed puzzles, and Anton always tried to find the most difficult for his brother.  To Yuri’s astonishment, the lock came open, falling to the ground.  It hit the grass with a soft thud, then tumbled into the water.  The mask came apart in pieces, and Valentina stopped.  Her color returned, the honey color of her hair, the chocolate brown of her eyes.  She truly looked like her mother, though her eyes were distinctly Mischa’s.

            “Who are you?” Valentina wondered at Yuri looking up at him.  He saw a little fear in her big brown eyes.

            “A ghost.” He supplied.  He didn’t owe her his name.  “You should be more careful whom you let into your mind.  Not all have good intentions.”

            She stepped back.  Valentina was afraid of him. “Are you here to hurt me?”

            “No.” Yuri forcibly stopped himself from rolling his eyes at her.  How could two adults so smart and cunning produce a daughter so dim? “If I wanted to hurt you, you would be dead.”

            “Then why are you here?”  She wanted to protect herself from him, not that she needed to, but did not know how to form a weapon with her mind.

            “I may not like you, but you deserve every chance to defend yourself against the coming danger.  Make your decisions carefully.  You aren’t as meek as you look, almost deadly with your callous words.  Learn where to use them, and on whom.  You might just survive.”  Yuri came out a little over dramatic.  Maybe that was something he learned from Eli.  His mouth turned up in a little smirk, enjoying the coincidence.  He left Valentina in the confusion of his words.