It took time to adjust to life in Russia. A month wasn't enough. Then six. A year later, and Nadezhda was still struggling. This fact surprised Mikhail. He had assumed that with her loyalty to the homeland for all of those years, the assimilation would take place almost instantaneously. Losing their children was a huge blow to their mental and emotional stability, but he hadn't expected the effects to linger as long in Elizabeth...Nadezhda as long as they had. He would often catch her staring off into the distance in silence. Sometimes a faint smile would produce a spark of something on her face, but a frown would quickly blanket it. Eliz...Nadezhda would smile and laugh and even act playful, but it always felt like it was coming from the end of a deep, echoing hallway. She was there, but not all of her.
Henry Jennings awoke in a sweat. Startled by something...a sound? A dream he may have been having? Something had jolted him awake. His hand shot to the light switch on his bedside lamp and it illuminated his small room with a yellow, buzzing glow. Nothing was there.
Three hours later and this time Henry was awakened by a chirping alarm. Just as he went to snooze it, Stan called from the kitchen. "Henry! Breakfast!"
A knock at his door. It was Renee.
Henry greeted her groggily. "Morning."
"Hey. Stan made breakfast.."
Henry raised his eyebrows and sat up a little taller.
"I know. I know. It looks questionable so be nice and we can sneak out and get some hash browns or something once he leaves for work." She winked and closed the door.
Henry got to the bottom of the stairs and felt a blow to his chest. It wasn't a punch or a kick. It was a Christmas tree across the room. Renee must have put it up last night or early this morning. The last time he saw that tree….
Henry was frozen on the stairs. He was cycling through emotions he had ignored for quite some time.
His parent's...those people. The spies? His mom and dad had left last Christmas, and it was for good. There were so many questions hanging in the air, but he still felt betrayal and anger too strongly to sort through them. That last phone call. He didn't know. If he had known he wouldn't see them again...Would he have cried? Screamed? Would he even have picked up if he had known? The interrogations that followed the news of his parent's secret lives still affected him. He still gets calls from reporters that Stan and Renee attempt to shield him from, but they can only do so much. Everyone, anyone, could only do so much.
"Henry? Oh." Stan followed Henry's gaze to the colorfully lit Christmas tree and furrowed his brow. There was a pause, then "I'm so sorry, Henry."
Henry nodded. "It's...Let's eat."