{Summary; He knew-he knew-that everything in Chernobyl would go wrong. He knew and yet no one believed him. Nikolai left home-both Pripyat and Russia-for America, with hope that their medical aid would be better... and finds much more than he could have ever wished for.
Guess what? I still don't own DP. If I did, this wouldn't need to be here. . . or maybe it would. who knows?

Chapter 2! More stuff happens! We meet people! Sofiya and Ivan are so sweet, you'll like them. :3

R&R please and thanks. Uhm. Don't know what else to say so I guess, on with the chapter?}

"Is he waking up?"

"I don't know; I think he is. Should I shake his shoulder?"

"No, leave him. Let him come to on his own."

The words hit his eardrums in a way he could only describe as fuzzily. Everything seemed too soft, too muted; his head felt like it was filled with cotton and his body was aching yet numb. He tried to move his fingers, open his eyes, but his eyelids were still too heavy and he couldn't tell if his fingers had moved at all. He tried to push a word past his lips, any word, but everything lumped up in his throat, refusing to move. There was no point in trying to force anything. He let his eyes remain shut and focused instead on just breathing, the sound of his harsh but impossibly tiny breaths. Vaguely aware of a light jostling, he wondered where he was—there was also a low, fuzzy humming in his ears. It seemed familiar in some way, although he couldn't remember where he might have heard it. His lips felt dry and he wanted to wet them with his tongue, but he still couldn't move much. Everything behind his eyelids was dark. The sound of the two others speaking was softened by his cotton-filled ears, but he made no effort to try and distinguish their words.

After a moment he tried once more to open his eyes. He managed it just slightly; they opened a sliver and granted him a blurry view of the interior of somewhere. He wanted to frown but his muscles refused to let him. He tried to open his mouth and speak, but no sound came out. It was frustrating. He tried to talk once more, and managed a rough squeak. Embarrassed, he closed his mouth and eyes quickly, but his companions noticed and began speaking quickly and excitedly to each other. His fuzzy brain couldn't keep up, so he only caught bits and pieces of their conversation—"finally awake", "we have to feed him something", "where is he from?"

He knew he could answer that, if only his body would let him speak. He slowly began to move his lips, forming the words on his tongue. The two fell silent, and he assumed they were waiting intently for some form of communication to pass his lips. Several times, he tried to sound out "Pripyat" but couldn't. He stopped his attempt at speech abruptly, trying to focus. He would not let himself fall mute.

"Can you hear us?" Said one of the voices. It was low and thick, the voice of an older male. "Where are you from, boy?"

"P-prip… Pripyat," came the rough and feeble reply. "I'm from Pripyat."

"What's your name?" Asked the other voice; this one was female.

There was a long moment of silence as the reply struggled to come, but the older man cut him off, speaking to the woman. "No, don't make him work so hard to speak. He needs rest." Then, directed back to him,"We found you on the side of the road; what were you doing?"

"Belarus." It was hardly more than a whisper.

The man and woman spoke quietly to each other for a while, whispering hurriedly. Finally, they fell silent. Perhaps they were observing him, though he didn't bother to open his eyes to look. The woman spoke: "We are heading to Belarus right now. I am Sofiya; my husband Ivan is driving us. Your town, Pripyat, was evacuated earlier today. Were you with them?"

He didn't want to speak, so he shook his head lightly. The woman sighed a little.

"You shouldn't have traveled alone; didn't you hear about Chernobyl?"

A nod.

"Well, you should have been with someone. You've probably got that radiation sickness." Sofiya was quiet. The car hit a small bump and jostled them a little; he felt Sofiya's hand hold him still on the seat. "We'll be in Belarus soon. We'll bring you to a hospital."

"Thank you," he managed.

"Are you up to telling us your name?" Sofiya's tone changed from solemn to light and friendly. She put a hand to his head lightly, probably checking for a fever, and drew it away after brushing his bangs lightly to one side.

"Nikolai Akimov," he muttered.

"Nikolai," Sofiya repeated. "A nice name."

"Thank you." Nikolai opened his eyes a little. Everything was somewhat blurry, but he managed to blink a few times and things slowly cleared. He was lying down in the back of Sofiya and Ivan's car, his head in Sofiya's lap. She looked down at him around a bump in her belly, her long blonde hair falling just past her elbows. Her eyes were pale brown and she smiled at him, one hand to her stomach and the other brushing back her bangs.

"Hello there," she said. "You must be feeling a little better if you can open your eyes."

From the front, Ivan piped up, "He's got his eyes open? Good, good. We are almost to Belarus, the doctors will take good care of you."

"Thank you," Nikolai said again. Then, to Sofiya, a small smile on his face, "I don't want you to be too uncomfortable, I can sit up." He tried to gesture with one hand towards her stomach, but only managed to twitch his fingers. Sofiya laughed.

"The baby and I will be fine. won't hurt either of us." She smiled and patted Nikolai lightly on the head, and rested the back of her hand on his forehead for a moment. "You still have a bit of a fever. Would you like to sit up a little to try and drink something?"

When she mentioned drinking, Nikolai suddenly seemed to notice that his throat was actually rather dry; it accounted for part of why he was having trouble speaking much. He gave a light nod. Sofiya shifted and helped him sit up against her shoulder; he tried not to lean too heavily on her, but his muscles still felt like gelatin. He tried hard to keep most of his weight off of her, but he couldn't manage it. He frowned, trying to shift a little. "Sorry," he muttered.

Sofiya shook her head. "Don't worry about it; it's not your fault. Just try to relax, okay?"

"Sure," Nikolai replied. Sofiya opened a water bottle and held it near his lips.

"We'll have to do this slowly, so you don't spill anything, okay? Small sips." At Nikolai's nod she gently tipped the bottle towards his mouth, allowing him a small sip before moving the bottle away. She waited for a moment after he swallowed and gave him another small sip, tipping the bottle gently towards and away from his mouth at semi-regular intervals.

The water felt refreshing as it slipped down Nikolai's throat, and it no longer felt as dry as it had before. He smiled with relief. His stomach seemed to have settled while he had been unconscious, because it made no protest to the water. He swallowed and let out a small sigh, closing his eyes a little. He heard Sofiya close the water bottle and set it to the side as the car jostled lightly, bouncing him against her shoulder. He tried to open his eyes to look up at Sofiya and thank her again, but his eyelids were suddenly much too heavy and he found himself falling asleep.