Anatoly

"Florence." It was a name that ran through his mind on a daily basis. "What if?" And that was the question to match it.

What if he had known that Florence's father was not alive? What if he had stayed by her side instead of being duped into thinking that he was helping her by going back to Russia?

As he lay in bed with his wife, he couldn't help but feel guilty, but not insanely so. He knew for a fact that she had cheated on him before. As soon as "his" daughters were born, he could tell that they obviously weren't his. Not wanting to confront Svetlana about it, he suffered silently for years, never brave enough to break it off with her. Until he met Florence.

At first glance he had thought she was beautiful, uptight, but beautiful. It stirred feelings that he wasn't aware that he had. And after that damned chess match that Fredrick ruined and the two of them were supposed to meet and make up, Only Florence had arrived. After sitting in such close proximity for such a long time, he had not been able to resist leaning over and placing a gentle kiss on her perfect lips. That kiss had ignited the fire which was still burning in his heart today. That kiss quickly lead to more, and soon, Florence had broken up with Fredrick to start an actual relationship with Anatoly. They had been very happy together in England after he defected to the free world.

"Fuck you Anatoly and your selfish desires." He silently cursed himself. "If you hadn't had to go to the World Chess Championship again then you would still be with Florence!"

Growing too agitated to stay in bed with his wife, Anatoly stood up and stumbled out of their dark room to his study to think. He had been plotting different ways to leave Svetlana and escape, once again, to be with his true love.

None of his plans had a particular ending. Any way he saw it, Molokov would find a way to stop him. The grudge between them had grown ever stronger since he had beat Viigand, his old second, at the World Chess Championship. Maybe Anatoly was just over analyzing everything too much like he always did.

Pacing back and forth on the plush, black carpet of his study, Anatoly decided then and there, that he didn't need a plan, just insane amounts of determination, and he had plenty of that. He was going to find Florence , regardless of what Svetlana said or did.

An hour later, Anatoly had packed everything that was essential and dear to him, keeping quiet as not to wake Svetlana. With a last glance at his past life, he crept out the door, hoping that "his" daughters weren't old enough to truly remember him or miss him. And though Anatoly had been extremely silent, what he didn't know was that Sveta had woken up when he first got up to go to his study.

Svetlana

She silently watched as he slid out the door, a solitary tear escaping her eye. She knew that she couldn't stop him, but more than that, she didn't want to stop him. He had been gone for over a year with that little Hungarian slut of his and then he expected to come back and have everything be okay? Granted Svetlana had gone to Bangkok to beg for him back, but still. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with guilt and regret. Here she was judging him when she had done the same thing, time and time again. How could she expect him to stay when she was really the one who had pushed him away so long ago. Softly crying herself to sleep, she regretted not loving Anatoly while she had the chance.

Anatoly

(AN- I'm only 13 and I've only ever been on a plane once so this is going to be a pretty crappy little part about him in the airport, so please don't comment on it. It sucks, I know.)

Soon, his taxi pulled up at the nearest airport. The taxi driver helped him unload what little he brought with him out of the trunk and proceeded to pick up a waiting couple a few feet away. Anatoly tiredly walked up to the front desk and asked when the next flight to the U.S.A. was (Florence lived there now in an apartment set up for her by Global Television). The manager asked to see his passport as he pulled the information up on the computer screen in front of him. "There is a flight leaving for JFK Airport in about an hour, and if you want me to book you the seat it will be a total of $1,042. Would you like me to reserve the seat for you?"

Not even hesitating for a moment. Anatoly pulled out his credit card and paid the hefty fee. This had been so easy. Wasn't anybody going to stop him? He realized that maybe getting there wasn't the hard part, but staying there would be.

Right before Anatoly began to doze off in his chair, the flight attendant announced, "We are now boarding flight A13 at this time, thank you." She said all this with a smile on her face at 3 o'clock in the morning. Anatoly had always wondered how they managed to never break their cheerful façade.

Rushing through the exit doors of JFK Airport, Anatoly desperately tried to hail the nearest taxi.

As he sat in the back of the bright, yellow taxi, he wrung his hands in anticipation. He was so nervous he couldn't form a coherent thought. He had told the cab driver the address that he had got from Walter at Global Television, but now that he was actually on his way there, he wasn't as confident as when he had started out. His brain had finally had the sense to come up with the thought, "What is she doesn't want me back?" He hadn't been thinking that maybe her feelings had changed after he left her.

The ride there seemed to last an eternity, and when Anatoly's cab pulled up to the apartment complex, he could have sworn his heart stopped. With a shaky hand, he paid his taxi driver, got his bags out, and walked towards the lobby.

When his custom leather shoes crossed the threshold, he came to a sudden stop. Apparently he didn't have to go up to her apartment. She was already there in front of him.

His eyes widened as he took it all in. Her tall frame, her long untidy, chocolate hair, and her beautiful face. That was where he stopped. Her beautiful face was not smiling, in fact, it looked downright deadly.

Without saying anything, Florence covered the distance between them in two long strides and slapped Anatoly across the face with everything she had, tears streaming down her face. Again, without saying anything, she turned to leave, and that was when he saw it. The subtle, yet obvious, bulge apparent under her black blouse.