AN: I am incredibly nervous about posting this as my first fic on here. Primarily because my fandom friends aren't just all on AO3 and not this site, but they're all posting fanfic for literature and high-brow movies while I have in the works fanfic for not just cartoons, but kids' shows at that. So I admit, there is a high chance I will continue to be overly nervous even though from what I can see, this is a perfectly civil fandom.

I also know nothing makes readers turn away and run faster than the singular couplet of words 'love triangle'. But I am a slave to my plot bunnies, so with this idea's continual inability to leave me, I give you this fanfic in all its' overly tropperiffic glory.

It was often said in Russia that God liked trinities. The phrase was roughly equivalent to the phrase 'good things come in threes' in English. Anatoly Yurasov was hardly a religious young man, so his knowledge of such phrases came from his defiant great-grandfather, who refused to abandon the old faith for political safety.

That said, if God liked trinities, then there was a dark side to it his praded hadn't informed him of. This was indeed his third time meeting with Linka in a surprising context, but he would hardly call this a good moment insofar as such things went. That their mutual first impulse was to embrace as Russians rarely did in public told him he was not even remotely over her; that he shut his eyes and buried his nose in her hair for a moment told him there was no possible way they were going to get through this without the past resurfacing, and then when he opened his eyes and caught sight of the gob-smacked look on one of the other Planeteers' face, Anatoly knew that this was going to be one of those days where only God knew how things would end and perhaps even He wondered.

"Lenoshka," he said, good cheer prevailing even as he felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. "Zvyozdochka, you should have told me you were coming to Moscow. I could have arranged something a bit nicer than a meeting in the office – perhaps I could take you and your fellow Planeteers out for lunch? My grandfather would likely sign off on it as a business expense now that you're an international superheroine."

She laughed, punching him in the arm. "No more 'zvyozdochka' from you, then! I am not so little anymore. But I'm afraid we've come for business, not for food, Tolyan."

Things clicked in his head then, and he sighed, his face losing its' good humor as hers did. The nuclear power initiative proposed in the last week had made headlines and was of course going to be poorly received by the Planeteers. They had fought against nuclear waste and similar things in the past. This time, though, it was all going through official government channels instead of being handled or hampered by madmen who had grown into fully fledged supervillains. So for once they would get to talk something out which, while likely a welcome change of pace from fighting, was also going to be significantly more sensitive to handle. At least Linka was Soviet born, meaning the whole situation wasn't doomed from the word go. Unfortunately, one of the Planeteers was American born, meaning the situation was going to be at best a difficult win... and even more unfortunately, that was the same Planeteer who had yet to quit glaring at Anatoly like he'd stolen something his-

Wait.

Anatoly did a mental comparison between himself and the American. Redheads, pale, taller than Linka, slightly older than her, well dressed for their own definitions of that term, hint of a dimple, and likely someone who voiced his opinions clearly given that scowl. It hit Anatoly like a punch to the gut that she had essentially found an American version of him and within a month of their breaking up, no less. Unsure how to feel about that, he did what he'd been taught by his mostly-male family a good Russian man did: he buried the stab of pain and betrayal inside and got down to business for the sake of not appearing weak in public. The sooner they settled this and got Linka out of here, the sooner he could go back to pretending he'd moved on with his life.

He straightened up and looked directly into those perfectly blue eyes, the ones that had nearly made him throw his career away once. "Just because I represent Novosibirsk's economical needs and requests to Tovarisch Yeltsin doesn't mean I'm any more capable of stopping this on my own than you are."

"So you are against the plan to jump start the economy through nuclear energy," the sleek Asian girl on the other side of Linka said. Anatoly gave her a cold look. Apparently they weren't as politically savvy as he'd hoped.

"I have yet to give my position on any such issue; the declared plan is too new and still under analysis," he responded with almost second-nature levels of cool dismissal. The darker-haired redhead turned to his childhood friend and launched back into Russian, mixing his idioms to boot in a way that would make his great-grandfather proud. "Volka nogi kormyat. V nogakh pravdy net."

Linka nodded, her hair framing her face differently than when he'd last seen her – it had grown a few inches, he noted. "Come on, let's go get lunch. As they say in America, it will be on Anatoly." Away from the prying ears of the office, they might actually be able to get something done.

Assuming Anatoly didn't die of jealousy at the sight of Linka looping an arm through Wheeler's.

Ma-Ti rubbed at his temples, feeling the beginnings of an incredible headache.

The second Anatoly had set eyes on Linka, his entire body language had shifted, but deeper within him, in his mind, his mood had shifted as well. There was a flood of conflicting and dueling emotions running through him, all overruled by love and happiness. They'd been in Russia for an hour navigating proper channels to get to any official. Ma-Ti had not seen a single hug or kiss since they'd arrived, yet the young Representative of Novosibirsk could not open his arms fast enough for Linka. She had radiated uncertainty, hope, affection and happiness all in equal measures. Wheeler had been broadcasting enough jealousy, confusion and insecurity to power an entire city on its' own. He had hoped that over the last six months Wheeler had gotten over those things, had gotten used to the idea Linka was dating him and only him. Jealousy made Ma-Ti physically ill if he had to be exposed to it for too long. It was also, honestly, completely incomprehensible to him that Linka would automatically prefer an old friend to her boyfriend.

Admittedly Linka and Anatoly were not making it better by discussing the building changes to Moscow since they were young. So far they had commented on three stores, a park, the repaired and restored old fashioned fixtures on the street lamps, the neon signs and graffiti, and a high-class bakery that apparently they'd both gotten sick from once.

"They redid the icerink? Ah, if only my brother was here," Linka sighed, nostalgically.

"What, so he could get kicked out again? I'm amazed he doesn't have a scar from that night."

The blonde looked out the window wistfully. "Remember when Boris used to drag us to that theater?"

Immediately, the mood of everyone in the limo plummeted. Wheeler put an arm around her, letting Linka sink back a bit. Anatoly bit his lip for a moment before nodding. "Da. I haven't been able to watch Moscow Does Not Believe In Tears since..." the auburn haired man trailed off, shutting his eyes. He still had a VHS copy of the film, Boris' favorite, unplayed back at his apartment. "I should have had him stay with my family. He had friends in Novosibirsk, he would have been safer there. Happier." His guilt was obvious even to those without the power of Heart. "He could have taken up any number of classes at the private schools there. I could have helped him plot out a future and now we're stuck with remnants of the past. I'm sorry, Linka."

Wheeler finally chimed in. As much as the two set each other on edge there was, it seemed, a common ground in guilt. "Hey man, I'm the New Yorker. I grew up seeing that stuff and I didn't think 'hey, maybe I oughta tell Linka what her cousin's gotta be dealing with'. It didn't even occur to me until way, way after we got there."

Anatoly offered him a grim, mirthless smile. "Americans didn't invent drugs, Wheeler. Nor did you invent loneliness. If you think that our cities don't have those same problems, then the media has done its' job perhaps a touch too well."

"You are both being ridiculous," Linka noted, quietly shaking her head. "Wheeler, we have been over this. I mentioned Boris to you all of three times; you don't have the ability to see the future. Tolyan, you promised me you would stop torturing yourself over what ifs. Now, unless Boris is relevant to our political purpose here – you have got to kidding me," her voice rose in volume and anger when Anatoly winced. "They aren't going to politicize that to shoot down the entire Planeteers as a whole."

"That's hardly all they're going to politicize," he shot back, clearly incredulous. Only Ma-Ti caught the undercurrent of worry. "All your skeletons will be dragged out of the closet, and you could not have conceivably picked a worst person to be the advocate for your team's environmental stance. Did you really not think about the obvious ways this undermines your cause? Not only are the purposed nuclear power plants in my oblast, which means everything I say is biased by default, but reporters aren't going to have to dig deep to find how far back and deep the two of us go. Or how far we nearly went."

Ma-Ti could feel the migraine turning into a headache as Wheeler asked with utter and mounting horror, "What's that supposed to mean?!"

The older redhead pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling. "Linka and I were engaged."