Summer holidays began today, so hopefully I'll be able to get a few more things written and posted! Can't promise anything though, I'll be away on holiday for quite a bit of it...but anyway, here you go: short and depressing.

You died this morning, Boris.

In a way it was a good thing. It's a relief to know that you aren't suffering any more. That they can't play with your mind any more. That they can't hurt you any more. You're free, Boris, away from all this pain and hardship. You've moved on to better things. Heaven, I like to think.

They're not going to let us have any time to grieve for you- God forbid we disturb the practice and lesson roster- but in my spare moments between things I've been thinking about you. About what you looked like, with your stupid boots, your beloved fur, your hair, your eyes, your smile.

I only ever saw you smile once, Boris. It was just before you faded away. You gave my hand a squeeze so gentle it was barely there, coaxed your lips into a tiny smile, and closed your eyes for good. It was such a beautiful smile. I'm sorry I didn't get to see it more often.

Still, when else would you have had the motivation to smile in this place? It's bleak, always has been and always will be, and I'm happy you don't have to spend your life being dragged down by it any more. You were too beautiful for this place, Boris, too kind and too trusting. You were so beautiful they had to make you ugly by messing with your head until you couldn't tell good from bad. Until all you knew was how to be an obedient little soldier. They made you into a monster, Boris. A monster and a plaything.

You never said as much, but I knew. Being called away late at night, refusing to go anywhere alone for days after, watching everyone around you with fear...your face told me everything, and my head told me there was nothing I could do about it. I tried, though. I always let you come and sleep in my bed if you had nightmares, and I held you and comforted you whenever I could. Sometimes I took the blame for you, if you were tired and messed things up. I took a lot of beatings for you, Boris, and I don't regret any of them.

I don't know if you ever noticed, but that was all I could do. All I dared to do. I hope it helped. I hope it made you hurt less. It always seemed to make you feel better, when I held you. You would snuffle and dig your way into my arms, and let your own cross behind my head. I liked it when we hugged. It made me feel safe, and...wanted.

At the end, the only thing I could do was hold you, like all those other times. Grasping your bloodied hand as your broken, battered body shut down. It was a cruel way to kill you. It took a long time for you to go, and every second of seeing you in that pain hurt my heart. I did wonder if I should finish the job properly for them- after all, it wouldn't take much of my strength to put my hands around your throat and strangle you- but I couldn't. I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself, knowing that I'd killed you. All I could do was stay with you and tell you it would be okay, even though I knew it wouldn't. I hope it made it better, me being there. Even if I was too weak to end your suffering myself.

I'm being shouted for now. I can't help but wonder if the person shouting me is the one that killed you. I suppose I'll never know. One thing I do know, though, is that I'll never forget you.

You died this morning, Boris.

Rest in peace.

Fin

Short, I know. R&R please! Oh, and it was supposed to be from Yuriy's point of view, I forgot to mention that...