A/N: This story is going to be about the background behind each of the quotes in the opening chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Chess.
2. The Second
Anatoly's eyes are haunted, Viigand thinks as he contemplates a move on the board set up in his hotel room. If he squints hard enough, he can see Anatoly sitting across the board, looking like he did before the World Championships. Back then, he and Anatoly were just acquaintances, up-and-comers in the Soviet chess world. They played the occasional game together, as did all the professional chess players.
"I want you to be my second," Anatoly had said, the day he won the Candidates tournament, the day he became the challenger.
"I don't want your leftovers," said Viigand, eyes focused on the ground, hands clenched into fists.
"Please? I'd like to think we are friends."
That was Anatoly's weakness- his need for companionship, affection. Viigand knew that his lack of such weakness would eventually make him the winner in the matches he played with Anatoly; at least, that was what he told himself.
"No."
It was the week before the chess match, and everyone who was anyone in the chess world was in Merano. Anatoly still did not have a second, and the Soviet officials who were assigned to shepherd him were worried.
The next day, Viigand walked out of his apartment in Moscow and found Molokov waiting.
"Pack your bags. We're going to Merano," said Molokov, turning and walking towards the black car at the end of the street, like he expected Viigand to follow.
"No." Molokov turned around slowly.
"And why not, Leonid?" Viigand flinched. The use of his first name unsettled him. You do not become unsettled. You are a chess player.
"I don't want to."
"And your wishes are so important? You rely on us for so many things..." The political games everyone played in the USSR tired him. Abruptly, he felt like he didn't really care anymore. Yet another dangerous impulse.
"Fine. I'm coming."
"Very good. I think you'll make a wonderful second, Leonid."
Review please!