A/N: The inspiration for this fic came from the marvelous story "Love's Sorrow" by Aachannoichi (check it out!). The character names of Lilith and her father, and members of the Wisemen's Committee, are her creation. I'd like to dedicate this fic to her, and all the hard work that's gone into creating such a wonderful story.

"The deepest definition of youth is life as yet untouched by tragedy." – Alfred North Whitehead

Nursery

Today was a very important day for Lilith and her father. Today was the day the Wisemen arrived in her home for their annual meeting. She wasn't yet a twinkle in her father's eye the last time the Wisemen chose her home to conduct their meeting, and on this occasion, she intended to make an impression. In the days that had led up to today, her home had been alive with activity, with cleaners and caterers coming and going. Even her adoring father had been busy, almost too busy to lavish affection upon her as usual. She pretended not to care, but secretly, she missed his comforting embrace. She had spent most of the morning being primped and pampered by her nanny. Such a fussy old lady, she'd nearly pulled all of the child's lovely blonde hair out of her skull with her excessive brushing! She'd also trussed the youngster up in an uncomfortable white satin dress with a pale blue sash around the waist, and matching bow. Her new black shoes were too tight for her feet, and her head hurt from the brutal grooming she'd received. Her hands and face had been scrubbed to positive luminescence! How she wished she could climb a tree! She was almost nine years old, she should be able to do what she wanted!

Yet, it was all worth it, as the Wisemen had finally gathered downstairs in the drawing room, and Lilith was to be introduced to them shortly. She had heard them arriving, watched their cars pull up in the long driveway of their Virginia mansion in Vienna, heard the butler greet them and take their coats while her father waited to greet them properly in the foyer and escort them to the drawing room. She was ushered down the ornate staircase by her nanny, who opened the door to the huge, high-ceiling room. There were only twelve men inside, including her father, some standing, some sitting, some smoking, some with drinks, some talking and some laughing. Her nanny disappeared from her side, and for a moment, she was anxious. Her father approached her, and her anxiety evaporated.

"Ah, Lilith!" he exclaimed, and the room full of quiet platitudes fell silent. He took her hand and led her further into the room. The sun streaming through the great glass window at the end of the room caught the various colors of the suits in the room, reflecting a rainbow of different shades on the clean walls. She stuck close to her father's legs, smelling the smoke and soap that perfumed all his clothes, hiding one half of her body.

"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce my daughter, Lilith." Her father said, his face glowing with pride. There was a ripple of noise from the assembled group, nodding and mumbling. Now was her moment. The moment she'd practiced for months! She gathered the hem of her dress, and gave a small curtsey, just as her etiquette tutor had instructed.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I'm delighted to meet you all." She said, remembering every word her elocution tutor had taught her. She hadn't expected their reaction. Each one of them proceeded to break into laughter! Not light laughter either, but hearty guffaws… and at her expense! Her cheeks flushed cerise at her unknown mistake, and she sank further behind her father's legs. Before her father could calm her distress, another man walked into the room. He was tall, very tall, with cropped blonde hair and solid jaw. Lilith noted that he smelled faintly of charcoal. He was sharply dressed, in a military uniform that she didn't recognize. His medals caught the light and hurt her eyes. The room fell into scornful silence again.

"Please excuse my lateness, gentlemen…" The man began, in English, but with a heavy Russian accent. At this age, Lilith was fluent in German, French and Japanese and was making startling progress in Russian and Chinese. She easily recognized that there was a strong Baltic intonation in his voice, very distinguishable from the Slavic overtones of central Russia. "My driver had some trouble with the directions you provided." He concluded with the reason for his lateness, and there was a disgruntled mumble of acknowledgement amongst the group. Lilith emerged somewhat from behind the safety of her father's legs, to look up at the Russian giant standing at the door. He glanced at her absently, and she disappeared again.

"No harm done, Commander, - " Her father began, gesturing towards an empty seat around the table. He was cut short by an interruption from Mr. Sloan, from Philadelphia, who stood with a pipe in his mouth, clicking it against his teeth, in a manner that Lilith found most irritating.

"We understand…" He said, pausing intentionally so that his voice boomed over the mutterings of discontent in the room, and silenced them completely. "…that your son is with you."

"Yes, I - " The Russian started, then hesitated, as the accusation in Mr. Sloan's voice and the silent indictment of the other members sank in. His imposing brow furrowed slightly. "I thought it was for the best. He shouldn't be left alone at such a critical stage." He looked to Lilith's father, as if seeking some defense from the tirade of displeased expressions. He received none. Mr. Sloan grunted, and puffed a cloud of smoke into the room. Commander Tsang, from China, took up the assault. He was a much more compassionate man than Mr. Sloan, who rarely had time for any perceived nuisances. Commander Tsang put it down to him being American. Americans had time for nobody. And Mr. Sloan was a particularly ill-tempered American.

"How is he?" The Chinese general inquired gently yet firmly, his kind old face showing only the faintest signs of anguish. The Russian inhaled, his massive chest rose and fell and his jaw clenched.

"He's fine." He said curtly, his voice indicating that he was not prepared to speak much further on the matter. And for a moment, no one seemed to want to challenge him on the subject. He was not the kind of man to challenge on a whim. Click, click, click. Mr. Sloan was about to speak again.

"You realize that the group cannot and will not condone your… experimentations on the boy?" he said, one of his eyebrows curved slightly. "We will not risk you drawing attention to our business." His voice was perturbing in its stoicism. "And there is the boy's well-being to consider..." he added in an afterthought, placing the pungent pipe back between his teeth once more. A dozen pairs of eyes turned carefully to regard the Russian. His lips twisted, and he drew himself up to his full height, which was a terrifying sight. Yet, when he spoke, despite the fact that he looked like a wild cat about to make a kill, he was remarkably stolid.

"Have a little faith, gentleman." He appeased them, even managing to crack an insincere smile. "It is precisely our business that I'm trying to protect. For one day, my son will prove to be an unfathomable guardian of our legacy." There was a minute murmur of approval, but noticeably not from Mr. Sloan or Lilith's father. "Just like little Lilith here…" he finished, turning to smile at the little girl, who in response buried her face in her father's legs.

"Very well, Commander Volgin." Her father placated the Russian wearily, instinctively lifting his daughter into his arms, and kissing her forehead lightly. "Lilith, dear? Would you like to keep the Commander's son company in the nursery?" he asked of her softly. Lilith had finally got a job that she could do, and she intended to do it well. How hard could it be?

"Yes, father." She said, obediently, smiling her sweet, innocent smile. He kissed her rosy apple cheeks, and lowered her to the ground. As she exited, she refused to curtsey again, as it had caused so much hilarity the first time, so she nodded briefly, careful to avoid the big Russian man. "Good day, gentlemen." She said confidently, closing the doors behind her.

She wished her father hadn't referred to it as the "nursery". It hadn't been a nursery since she was three years old. Now, it was full of books and papers, where she studied and took her lessons. It was at the far end of the marbled foyer, in a room that was identical in its dimensions to the drawing room which she had just left. It had a beautiful lacquered Steinway Grand Piano in the corner, and her violin. She hated playing the violin, but had found that she was rather good at it. As with most things she endeavored to try. Her little white hands found the ornate camber of the carved doors and pushed them open, her black leather shoes clacked insistently upon the floor, until the surface turned to polished wooden floorboards, and the noise dulled slightly.

She didn't see him immediately, but she heard him. In the corner of the room, where the Grand Piano sat, there was a boy, with his back turned to her, playing the same note over and over again with his index finger. He was around her age, give or take several months and wore a charming navy blue outfit, with sweet little shorts, a matching cap with black edge and curiously, a pair of navy blue gloves covering his small hands. He had obviously been preened as much as she had. Peaking out from under the cap were several wisps of curly blonde hair, as soft and flaxen as a baby's, although the rest seemed to have straightened with age. Lilith cleared her throat, straightened out her dress, determined to be a gracious hostess and approached her young charge. Drawing closer, she realized that he was at least two inches shorter that she was, as most little boys were at this age. No doubt he would end up as tall as his father, if not taller. He continued to bang absentmindedly on the single ivory key with a gloved fingertip, not hearing her approach, or resolving to ignore her.

"Hello." She began with poise. "My name is Lilith. What's yours?" She fancied herself extremely good-natured in her introduction, and was more than a little disgruntled when there was no reaction at all from the boy. Her nose wrinkled. Then it hit her, he was Russian! He probably didn't understand a word she said. Immediately intending to rectify her silly mistake, she asked her question again in his language, very slowly. This time, he reacted. He finally left that overplayed key alone, but refused to look at her.

"Vladimir." He replied, in his tuneful Russian voice, looking abstractedly at the open music book on the piano. Lilith interjected furiously.

"No it's not! My father told me your name was Yevgeny!" she exclaimed rather prudently. When there was no response, she added, "My father says people who lie about their name are attempting to disguise their soul." This time, he whirled about on her.

"I suppose you listen to everything your father says!" he spat, in such a venomous snap that Lilith was quite taken aback. He was evidently more fluent in English than she was in Russian. His boyish voice was completely mismatched with the rancor of his tone. Lilith regarded him vigilantly for a moment. His face was screwed up in hatred, which she thought was a shame, because it was such a naturally smooth, downy surface, except for one mark that laced down from the corner of his left eye, and met the corner of his lip. Lilith deduced that the gash must have been substantial to leave such a profound scar, as the injury was now quite old. It was only upon closer inspection, that she noticed a network of fresh abrasions snaking along his bony, pallid legs. She knew she shouldn't stare, but she only realized that she was when the boy shifted faintly and fidgeted self-consciously with the hem of his shorts.

"Oh." She managed to say. The boy frowned, his face darkened. "Do they hurt?" Lilith inquired, her bright, inquisitive eyes observing him with a child's curiosity. There was no insincerity in that youthful voice, only the most legitimate concern. It was the honesty of her concern that seemed to disconcert the young Russian. He was unsure how to react to this unprecedented question. His expression changed from indignation to confusion, and settled finally upon suspicion.

"Sometimes." He answered truthfully, looking out from narrowed eyes. Like his father, he was determined to be tightlipped on the topic. Until the urge to spill his frustration became too much for the child to handle and he spoke again. "When they get wet… they hurt me." Some of the hostility left his ashen face with those words, and his fiercely squared shoulders loosened. Lilith nodded in understanding, hesitant to ask the question that demanded to be asked.

"You must hate taking baths." She said, one side of her lip curving slightly. The boy looked wary, and distrusting of her smile, looking back at her with an expression that bordered on puzzlement. Lilith grimaced. Her attempt to entertain him was not going to plan. "Do you play?" she asked, desperately, gesturing to the piano. One of his blonde eyebrows slid skywards, mockingly.

"Does it sound like I can play?" he growled, impatiently. Honestly! His father was right about these dim-witted Americans. Why the Russians had to consort with them on their business was a complete mystery to him. All they knew how to do was bicker, smoke and grow fat. Deplorable pigs! By the look of her, this girl had never seen hardship in her life. Yevgeny, as young as he was, had seen some deceptively lean years. America's fool-hardy approach to their economy had seen the entire world fall into chaos in 1929. When the Committee had called an emergency meeting in Prague, the international finger of blame had been pointed squarely at Lilith's father and his countrymen, although it was little to do with them. Tensions had run dangerously high, and the meeting was adjourned. That was almost three years ago, and the Wisemen were still squabbling amongst themselves. The Depression was tearing them apart.

Yevgeny's father was not a wealthy man. Colonel General Boris Mironovich Volgin was Chief Treasurer for the Red Army as well as being a highly decorated and respected officer, and although vast amounts of money had crossed his hands, he had touched none of it. However, times were getting leaner and temptation was getting stronger. The military could only pay what they could afford, after all, and it wasn't much. In desperation, Boris had agreed to subject his son to scientific tests, for a substantial amount of money.

Dr.Lev Davidovich Landau was a young scientist from Baku, whose work focused upon quantum electrodynamics. His newest theory was that the human body was like a natural battery, and when exposed to enough raw energy, in this case, electricity, should eventually be able to retain and control it. All he needed was the physical proof. Boris hadn't been able to watch the first time. The blood-curdling screams as the boy struggled against his leather restraints made the war veteran queasy. The scientists assured him that the child would remember nothing of the tests.

"Electricity temporarily short circuits the nervous system, sir. Any memories he has will be more or less annihilated by the charge."

More or less.

They failed to predict the flesh wounds that occurred when the electricity cracked against his skin like a whiplash, opening gashes that bled to the point of almost killing him. He was left on the brink of death every time, convulsing, vomiting and smoking. It broke his father's heart every time he visited him, and he asked why he wasn't dead yet, battling to see freely through the lymph and blood that cemented his singed eyelashes together.

But to their credit, he didn't remember. Or if he did, he didn't say so. And that concerned Boris the most. Thanks to the tests, they had enough to see them through the sparse days, but many others were starving. Today's meeting was called largely to prevent what happened on Wall Street happening again, and to put into effect what was fundamentally a savings program, whereby the Wisemen would begin pooling their country's resources and stashing it away for a metaphorical 'rainy day'. Commander Volgin had been chosen for the job, and consequently had become one of the Committee's most important and revered members.

The effects on his son were mixed. In the last few months, the child had wanted for nothing. He had also grown taller and stronger. Almost unnoticeably so. Only a father would notice. What most people would have put down to an improved diet, Boris accredited to the effects of his 'treatment', and decided to carry on with the experiments, overseeing them himself. When the Wisemen found out about it, there was uproar. They could not afford rumors of 'inhumane practices'. The uproar quickly died down when they realized that they could little to dissuade their Russian counterpart when so many of their interests relied on his integrity. The Wisemen's Committee had been wordlessly blackmailed into silence. Only Mr. Sloan had the fortitude to make his feelings known, and clearly, the tension between the two was as rife as always. The others were of the opinion that bowing out was the safest option. The majority of them, asparents, were disgusted. Especially Lilith's father, but for his peace of mind and that of his daughter, he had kept his nose resolutely out of the Russian's affairs.

Lilith stared at the boy, whom she knew so little about, blinked her long lashes and put her hands decisively on her hips.

"I could teach you?" She said helpfully, maneuvering herself onto the piano stool. For a brief moment, the boy looked as though he may reciprocate her enthusiasm for something. Then his nose turned up and his brows furrowed.

"That's boring!" he uttered, delving his hands into his pockets and scuffing the wooden floor with his shoe. Lilith sighed elaborately, throwing her hands up in defeat. This boy was wholly horrid! Despite having promised her father that she would entertain the Commander's son, she was beginning to think the task was entirely impossible. She swung around on the stool to face him, her white hair whipping around her oval face.

"Well then, what do you enjoy doing, you silly Russian boy!" she snapped, stamping her feet on the ground as she got up, looking down on the smaller child. It was his turn to be caught off-guard. His already pale face blanched completely, his lower lip quivered faintly, and for a horrifying moment, Lilith suspected he might cry. Yet, just as those first shaken tears were forming in the corner of his eyes, he blinked them away, stiffened that betraying lip and fished out from his pocket a thick disc-shaped object with a string.

"This." He mumbled, wrapping the string around his middle finger, then grasped the object and dropped it, watching it climb the string again and return to his hand. Lilith smiled, clasping her hands together.

"A yo-yo!" she said, jubilantly. He looked at her, and blinked leisurely, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Is that what you call it…?" he said, his blasé attitude well feigned. She nodded eagerly, bouncing up and down on the tips of her toes. Although nearly impossible, her dazzling face had lit up several notches.

"Can I - ?" Before she'd even finished her sentence, he looked at her sharply, as though he may take her hand off if she came any closer. She flinched, fixed him with disappointed eyes. He glowered at her, rolled his eyes, and then reluctantly held the toy out to her. She squealed with glee, grasping hungrily at it, only for him to lift it out of her reach. She glared, he smiled, they laughed.

He placed the toy in her hand, and she recoiled harshly. He reacted, as if stung, retracting his hand abruptly. "You just shocked me!" she exclaimed in bewilderment, nursing her hand. There were signs of panic behind his eyes, but they vanished upon hearing her jovial laugh. "Do it again!" she cried, taking his hand hastily and erupting into cheerful giggles when the small static charge passed through her digits again. He smiled meekly. Little did she know that a touch from his ungloved hand would not be a laughing matter. He'd found out the hard way. Lots of screaming, crying, pain and confusion followed by the inevitable need for gloves. As it was, liberated by her delight and lack of fear, he passed his hand over her head, and she collapsed in a fit of racking sniggers when her hair stood on end.

It was then that the door opened. It was Lilith's father, looking completely exhausted. It was obvious that the meeting had broken down yet again, and in such a short space of time.

"Lilith, dear, say goodbye to your friend, the Commander is getting ready to leave." He said, jadedly, pressing his fingertips to his aching temples. Lilith began to protest, but was silenced by her father's fatigued face. Yevgeny shrugged and offered his hand, which was promptly pummeled against his chest when Lilith embraced him with gusto. His cheeks reddened, but he ignored it. Footsteps sounded in the foyer, and Yevgeny's father burst into the room, taking his son brutally by the wrist and ushered him out of the room, the youngster's feet barely touching the floor. Lilith's father put his hands up in a vain attempt to stop him.

"Please, Boris… do reconsider your actions!" he begged, following the Commander back into the foyer, where Lilith heard a barrage of Russian insults. She climbed onto the chaise longue at the window, to see the boy being practically thrown into the backseat of a black Traction. Lilith's father and the Russian were arguing in the driveway, pointing angry fingers at each other, though their voices were blissfully muted behind the glass. From the backseat of the car, the boy waved dolefully and Lilith waved back with a small smile, just before Commander Volgin got into the car and it drove off. She plopped down in the chaise, her satin dress giving a little airy puff, and played with the yo-yo. She was good at it, too.

-----

33 Years Later

There was a long silence on the line before the international call connected. Two clicks, then a dial tone. One ring, and the receiver was picked up. Nothing but a breath on the other end, slow and sturdy.

"You're a hard woman to get hold of…" he said. She smiled on the other end.

"And you're very persistent…" she replied, waiting for the chuckle. It was dry and labored, as she'd expected. Dead air. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant Colonel?"

"Colonel, now…" he corrected, leaning back in his armchair.

"My, my…" she said, hoarsely. "My records seem to be out of date."

"By at least a few months…" Silence. "Do you still have my yo-yo?" Another smile.

"I don't have many things from my youth, Colonel…" she answered, dragging her fingertips along her parched lips.

"We didn't lose anything we really needed." He said purposefully. She crossed her legs on top of the table, moistened her lips.

"On that, Colonel Volgin, we'll have to agree to disagree…" She squeezed her eyes shut, preparing to weave the details of yet another treachery.

"So be it, so be it…" he acquiesced. Silence. "So, Boss, let me put something to you…"

End notes:

- Eek! I finally tackled this story!

- Yes, 'abstractedly' is a word. I didn't believe it myself.

- I'm developing an unhealthy obsession with this electrical man.

- I'm completely fine with that.

- Please, don't flame me. The madness is contained.

- Read "Love's Sorrow".

- I don't hate Americans.

- As far as I know, Dr.Lev Davidovich Landau did not experiment on young boys. I hope his family don't sue me.