Natasha sat staring at the large brown jacket. Having riffled through the pockets she laid them out spread around. A lighter, a pack of cigarettes, some papers written in a foreign language- English, or one of the western languages she guessed. There was also a bag of candies, a mix of licorice, chocolate and jelly beans, a package of gum, multiple pens, old used tissues. No wallet only the passport and visa papers that she couldn't read because it wasn't in Russian.
She had spent the day crouched there trying to figure out how to wash the coat. Finally she had given up fretting about if it could be washed with water and she grabbed a bat beating out the dust. The door creaked open as thin man walked in, his hair limp and clinging to his sweaty forehead. He carried a large bag filled with spare amount of food, but mostly stuffed full of paper. Throwing off his long abused coat he howled into the silence.
"Bad day?" Natasha asked not looking up at her roommate.
The man groaned running a hand through his long brown locks, he rubbed his wrinkled forehead, "God, I hate my job."
Natasha looked up finally at her roommate, "It's not that bad Toris."
"How was school?"
Glancing down, she fondled with her fingers staring intently at the broken nails, "Fine."
Toris groaned throwing his heavy bag at the floor, like it mocked him. Muttering quietly he crouched down in front of Natasha, she peered up through her thick lashes.
"You will not be a prostitute" Toris swore, he never broke her gaze, "Look, if you want to make Vanya happy go audition for the ballet school."
"I hate dancing." Natasha wrinkled her nose in disgust, "They care so much about weight, and they are so nasty."
"But you are amazing at it. And Vanya loves it." Toris sighed rubbing his face leaving a small smile, "I'll even walk you to all of your practices. I'll go all your performances that I can get into without paying. Please just go back to school, I know your trying to help your brother out of his debt, but believe me he wouldn't want you to be hurt."
Natasha grumbled flushing, she played with her hair, "Shut up, or I'll break your fingers."
Toris smiled sweetly nodding as he stood up; they both knew he won that argument. Toris pattered around the apartment carefully taking out his grocers, pulling out several pans.
Natasha returned to staring at the coat.
"I have to return this. How do you wash it?"
"Hmm?" Toris peered over the table in the kitchen, he frowned, "Is that leather?"
Natasha nodded fingered the jacket, "Da."
Toris hummed thinking, "I might have to give it to Feliks. He'll be able to take care of it."
Groaning Natasha rocked on her heels, "Do we have to? You know how I feel about Feliks."
"Oh, he's not that bad" Toris chuckled as the pan sizzled and popped as he dabbed some lard in the hot pan, "He's very sweet."
"You only think that because he's your boyfriend."
Toris jumped flushing deeply scowling he buried himself into his work. Natasha grinned triumphantly flashing her pretty grin. Standing she wandered over to Toris smoothing out her skirt.
"Oh quit it." Toris groaned slapping down some older meat, "Yes, yes I know."
Chuckling she leant on the counter watching him work. There were times she wished Toris wasn't gay. When she had first come to live with him she had constantly though he was hitting on her, and she threatened him constantly. But then when she met Feliks she had realized that Toris was actually gay. Vanya probably knew, it explained why he seemed to naturally hate Toris. But, Toris would never try anything on Natasha so he could stay.
The whole flirting thing had ended also when Natasha realized that Toris was just nature overly sweet to everyone he met. Like a mother hen he took care of everyone he could. She honestly really enjoyed his pampering even if she quipped out sharp retorts.
"So hand it back tonight, or do you want to go over to Feliks' over the weekend?"
Natasha looked at the large pile of paper, she lifted an eyebrow, and "Can you manage it? That looks like a lot of homework."
"It's is not homework" Toris grumbled, "But, I can always make time for you or Feliks. So let me know."
Natasha commented, smiling, "You will work yourself to death. So what do you have to do?"
"Oh filing, writing a few reports, interpreting some fancy accounting. I will be visiting Alexander quiet often." Alexander was their type writer, Toris had named him bitterly saying that the typewriter deserved a name considering how much attention it got from Toris.
"Tell Alexander to write his own reports." Natasha muttered bitterly, she wanted some attention. She had spent the entire day alone in the empty flat.
Toris chuckled shaking his head, "We'll go to Felix's tomorrow first thing in the morning, after that we can go try and get some food, I got a little extra money, and we can get you something nice or save it for something even better?"
"It's your money." Natasha commented trying to hide her excitement of getting something new, Toris should get something for himself, "You get something for yourself."
"I see that look. What do you want?" Toris mused chopping up beets quickly throwing them in a large pot. "I saw a pretty dress on the way back home today, would you like to go see it?"
Shaking her head Natasha refused. Walking over the cupboard and pulling out a large bowl and spoons setting them on the old worn table.
"How about, we visit Iryna?" Toris asked. Natasha' head snapped up she nearly burst some her sudden excitement. "We can use the money for a train ride out to Kharkiv."
Pausing she forced her happiness to hide, "We can if you insist."
Laughing Toris dumped the beets into the pot. Natasha grinned pulling out a large strip of bacon she set about cutting it apart enjoying the small talk about Toris' day.
True to Arthur's word, the little devil had not drank any more alcohol that evening. Instead, Alfred had half listened to a long conversation that involved a lot of crude language little threats and bribery before Arthur got bored of who ever he was talking to then called up Port and they spent the entire night practically screaming sexual innuendos at each other. Though Alfred didn't mind as much as he probably should have, it was one of the best entertainments, a prefect soap opera.
Alfred on the other hands, was trying to type up a report for his boss. He soon gave up made himself some tea, and bitterly drank it while typing down Arthur's flirtatious conversation with his girl-not really a-friend.
Like he said, most of what they said, really was the perfect soap opera stuff. Cheesy, suggestive- Alfred was writing a book with this stuff. Might as well try to make a bit if he lived long enough to publish.
The early morning light filtered through the gray windows promising another cold day. Well, no one likes change, and apparently the weather here had an affinity for keeping the day's stone cold and the nights even colder.
Cracking his back Alfred blinked his blurry eyes. Peering up he spotted the long words typed, a melodrama.
Smirking Alfred shuffled over falling back onto his bed. Tired he had nothing to do, so do nothing.
Then his covers where ripped off. In a fit of rage Alfred flew up roaring in discomfort.
Suddenly shrieking as a bucket of ice water splashed across his face. Alfred stumbled off the bed cursing vividly, shivering in his boxers and shirt.
Arthur snorted laughing, "Get up idiot, we have work to do."
Well there was the one disadvantage of a sober Arthur, drunk Arthur would sleep for a long time. Sober Arthur never slept past 5:30 am, and by 7:00 he figured that was sufficient sleeping in time.
Much to Alfred's disapproval.
Which he proclaimed with passion.
Groaning and numbly awake Alfred blinked through bleary eyes, the world still spinning, and Arthur's voice echoing through his head like an empty cavern.
"Get up you git"
Alfred blinked slowly processing, those words weren't English.
Which meant they were another language. Which meant it was work related…. Which meant bosses and…. Forgotten papers, Arthur.
The piece slowly flied back together, the little men in is head sluggishly throwing the pieces together in Alfred's head.
"Oh for god's sakes." Arthur snapped disappearing into the kitchen, "I'll make us breakfast."
Arthur- kitchen.
KITCHEN
Leaping to his feet Alfred bulldozed his way into the kitchen. Body slamming Arthur down, Alfred squeezed the little guy shaking his sopping hair on Arthur's face.
"Alfred! Quit it! Let go of me! You're making me wet-! YOU GIT Let go!"
"That's what you get for your stupid trick!" Alfred snickered, "But hey, don't cook man. I want to keep the insurance deposit."
"I'm not a bad cook."
"No, I'm a bad cook" Alfred grinned slowly inching his arms from around Arthur, "You my friend are the Worst."
Arthur tried to struggle, and Alfred had to dodge a few punches, but his point did get across.
Soon after breakfast (courtesy of Alfred) the two bustled back out into the streets as Andrey and Nikita Tolstoy. Arthur had his head own, frequently glancing into his little black book ad muttering under his breath. He led Alfred to the main center, then turned around seemly heading towards nowhere.
"Nikita where are you going?" Alfred called bored of wandering aimlessly.
"To a friend of a friend." Arthur snorted humorlessly, "I made some arrangements let's say."
"And I get to do the talking?" Alfred grinned, falling instep the Arthur.
He nodded, glancing down at the little book, "This person has quiet the name here. Got a reputation for being one of the best shots during the Winter War; he's retired but still a well-known assassin for the mafia and government. Does all their dirty work in return for them turning a blind eye to his coming and going between the USSR and the West."
Arthur lowered his voice, "He's got quiet the record, and a perfect one too. Never misses a shot. They call him the Kotka."
"And we need a master assassin because?"
"Only person my contacts know of within the Soviet Union. He'll know where to go for forgers and who to watch out for."
"Oh, ok." Alfred hummed going through the words, "But this Kotka guys sounds like a shady character, what's our bargaining chip?"
"His family is in the west."
Alfred nearly fell on his face stumbling with his legs he balked at Arthur, "Are you serious? We're going to threaten an assassin? That's just stupid man."
"If you've got a better idea let me know."
Alfred swore as they stepped on the train falling deathly silent. Glaring at the other passengers through their black coats and worn faces.
The woman might have been beautiful in Russia, but the men always looked ready to murder someone, Alfred thought struggling to fit in this a nasty frown on his face. He just never could frown for a long time, it just slipped away like butter to a wide grin.
They sat on the train silently communicating with slight glancing's and head jerks. Finally Arthur stood up and led them off into the street.
It had begun to snow, and the little houses where brightly coloured, warm yellows and baby blues. Old fashioned and tiny they sat jovially in stark contrast to the dandy grey blocks that where just two streets away. This area was a richer area, and Alfred felt that had more to do with the assassin being under surveillance than him actually being rich.
The street was quiet and empty, everyone enjoying the early morning Saturday before they went off to work.
Arthur turned up towards a robin blue house. The cottage was surrounded by dense branches, the chimney piping away like the house itself was chugging and breathing.
The walked up onto a white porch knocking at the dark wooden door.
The door opened slowly.
"Yes?" a man asked. He was short, shorter than Arthur. His accent was thick, like he wasn't Russian. His eyes where dark brown but his hair fair.
He opened the door letting the two men into the entrance.
Glancing up, Alfred could see another man, a thin gaunt looking one covering in thick sweater. The man standing the hall fidgeted nervously with his glasses. The man holding the door opened said something and the man in the hall retreated back into the depths of the house.
"Yes gentlemen?" the first man asked.
"Hello, I am Mr. Andrey, and this is my brother Nikita." Alfred began, "We would like to discuss our situation with you."
The man shook his head, "No can do. Good day gentlemen."
He started to close the door to emphasise his point, Alfred stuck his foot in the door smiling as he forced it open.
"No you see Mr.…"
"Mr. Väinämöinen." Arthur prompted.
"Mr. Väinämöinen," Alfred smiled, "We are merely looking for an acquaintance of yours."
"No, and that's worse." Mr. Väinämöinen snapped, gesturing again to the door, the wind slipping into the warm house. "You're letting out all the heat."
They stood rooted to the spot each waiting for the other to give in. Alfred felt the cold wind clamber up the back of his coat as the door remained wide open.
"Well then, we will go Andrey." Arthur said suddenly tugging gently on Alfred's coat, "I will have to explain to Anderson the situation."
Suddenly the door slammed open.
"Anderson Køhler?" Mr. Väinämöinen murmured, he breathed deeply his eyes narrowing, "Come in."
Mr. Väinämöinen closed the door tightly turning to look at the pair his face in a deep frown. Alfred could smell something sweet like baking wafting in from the kitchen and he was distracted. Taking a big breath of the air Arthur coughed then kicked Alfred when Alfred forgot about where he was.
"Sorry, smells amazing and I… well, you know, anyways. We need some documents." Alfred stated bluntly.
"You understand my situation." Mr. Väinämöinen said slowly, "I'm not in a fond position to be aid forging spies."
"Who said we're spies?"
"Anderson lives in Denmark. You're from the West and if you've come to me knowing I have connections you're spies. I could turn you in right now." He shook his head pinching his nose between his fingers before looking back at the pair, "I don't want to hear how you got the information from Anderson, but please relay my utter disgust and betrayal that he would tell you where my home is."
Arthur smiled chuckling, "Of course."
"The man you are looking for goes by the name of Feliks. He lives just outside the city on a ranch. It is 3 miles east, on the northern side." He nodded, "He should be home today."
Alfred laughed shocking the smaller man he shook his head, "You know I knew you'd side with the Americans."
Mr. Väinämöinen scowled his words scalding, "Don't go around parading with such arrogance, or I just might regret my decision."
Puffing out his chest Alfred bit back a vile retort after Arthur grabbed his sleeve shaking his head. Gritting his teeth Alfred nodded and opened the door wide to let out all the warm air he could. He knew it was childish and if his brother was he would be chastised for it, but Alfred could help it. The guy struck a nerve.
He marched out back into town and got him and Arthur a wagon out to the little village where this Feliks guy was supposed to be.
The drive out was stupidly slow.
Green, grey and white the snowflakes circled around the dense forest muffling the sound of the carriage horse. Despite being wrapped in wool Alfred still shivered. He was certain now he would never truly defrost in his bones.
But worse was the mind numbing drive out.
Seriously Alfred had to consciously force himself to not throw himself out the back of the cart
Well Arthur helped in that aspect, threating to break Alfred's legs if he did try anything. Alfred almost called bluff when Arthur found a hammer. Somehow they made it without any injuries, only Alfred spotting a sore head from where Arthur punched the fool in the head.
The farm was actually sweet. A little cottage surrounded by a border of trees and a large pasture with a farm on the other side, horses decorating the back. Geese waddling around in a pen close to the house the chickens behind that.
They were welcomed by a large monster of a dog that bolted at them in full speed. Or at least Alfred guessed it was a dog. The thing was like a gigantic white mop, one of those exotic dogs with dreadlocks, but this one was three times bigger than the little black mops.
Barreling towards them barking loud enough to make Alfred's chest vibrate, Arthur looked like he was going to pass out. Alfred was going to make fun of him when he noticed the dog was growling. Like going to take off a leg growling.
Just on the inside of the gate Alfred shrieked bolting back over the fence. He leaped crashing onto the ground as teeth snapped inches away from his face on the other side of the chain linked fence. Arthur was panting beside him.
They were both about to make a run for it as the massive beast kept running alongside the fence his once hilarious dreadlocks now seeming transforming him into The Blob of Death.
"Mihai! MIHAI!"
The monster of a dog slammed its paws down inches in front of Alfred. Alfred again thanked the fence or else he just might have wet himself. Stepping back into the yard he was suddenly aware that he could not see the eyes, and it un- nerved him. Alfred was good with animals, he could sort of get what they wanted by their eyes.
But he couldn't with this beast, and he was positive that the monster was trying to challenge him glaring stared at him without shame. A growl kept him prancing smartly on not pausing to admire the little house.
Alfred saw a man standing out on the deck with three other people close to the door.
"Mihai come!" the man was shorter, with long blond hair hanging limply around his head. Alfred waved smiling weakly.
The dog Mihai left trotting up to the man with its stupid fur sailing around. The man bent down to pat its head and stepped down from the deck with the other three following.
One was a delicate girl with long blond hair that was braided back off her face, beside he stood the man that called off the dog. Behind them another man, brown hair and shorter….
Wait.
It was Mr. Branginski's secretary.
"Good day!" Alfred smiled brightly staring down at the blond one, he was slightly shorter than Arthur too "You gave me quiet the start with your dog."
"I like, saw." The blond said his green eyes unimpressed
"I have some business I would like to discuss privately."
"We are standing on a ranch. I would say you're pretty safe talking here." The man said when Alfred gave an expectant look he sighed running his hands through his hair. He spoke sharply in a strange language, Alfred felt he had heard this one before, from his childhood.
"What is your name?"
"Andre and this is my brother Nikita Tolstoy." Alfred smiled again "And you are Feliks I presume?"
The man nodded Turing back he motioned the house warily "Come in. Toris can you take Nat out somewhere?"
Continuing on in the strange language the man (Branigski's) chuckled softly nodded and rolling his eyes in exasperation. Suddenly the younger girl interjected joining in the weird language
Arthur snorted his black note book out jotting down notes "It's amazing how many people don't speak Russian here."
"What are they speaking?"
Arthur shrugged "Mr. Väinämöinen was Finnish. Maybe they are speaking that?"
"It's sounds different though. They sound like liquorish."
Arthur shot a look of disbelief at Alfred.
"What? It does! Easy to chew but kinda tangy and yummy!"
"Did someone scoop out your brains and replace the important things with mashed potatoes?" Arthur scoffed stepping into the warm house. Alfred thought about that for a second, "Well I hope they're good mash potatoes at least."
The kitchen smelt fantastic. Bread was cooling on the stove a pot boiling away merrily promise good food.
Feliks entered after them gesturing to the table. Scooting around the small wooden table he slipped towards the boiling water pulling out two chipped tea cups and putting tasteless tea into them pouring the water over the loose tea leaves.
"Here" he grunted placing them down on a mat covering the table. Next he reached into a pantry shooing away a mouse lazily and scooped out a tray of stale cookies.
"Be happy, the tea's from Beligum." Feliks bragged placing honey also on the table "The honey cookies are from… god I don't like remember. Sometime just after the war."
Alfred spat out the cookie gagging. The war. The Second World War.
"Lord, how have you not died?! It's 1961!" Alfred spudded crumbs everywhere.
"Hey! If you're going to spit out the cookies don't eat them!" Feliks snapped stuffing his face with the stale half- eaten cookie. He seemed to have no problem eating cookies which a mouse had also had a taste with. A life style Alfred guessed.
"Must be nice to be able to waste nice things like cookies and I'm like, starving in line for a loaf of bread." It came out so fast and sharp Alfred nearly missed it. He scoffed rolling his eyes at the man, some people where so petty. Maybe he was just cheap, like Arthur.
"So Feliks, we need some papers and we were told you could get them to us."
"What do you need?" Feliks asked through his third cookie and second gulp of the dirt tasting tea.
"Citizenships, visas, passports."
He smirked snorting "American. What did you like lose all your junk and stuff?"
Alfred nodded taking a sip of the tea. Man, it did taste like it had been steeped with dirt and snow. Carefully he put it down not daring to take another sip.
"Ok. But you totally owe me big. And I'm going to collect." Feliks leant back stretching.
Arthur nodded writing down swiftly in his notebook and Alfred took charge of the conversation, "Of course. What did you have in mind?"
Feliks paled at the sight of the book "What are you writing?"
"That is none of your concern." Arthur smiled "Do not fret."
"But- but your Americans. Your capitalist right?!" Feliks seemed to panic. "Oh my god."
"But you see Nikita and I were born here, we moved to America but have moved back." Arthur smiled fondly "Mother Russia is quite a sight compared to the United States."
Feliks seemed to grow paler by the second and Alfred was half afraid he would pass out. "What fee did you want?"
As if snapping out of a terrified trance Feliks looked at the two. He was wringing his hands around his sleeves and Alfred couldn't help but laugh, "No need to be shy now!"
"I…" The man whispered something but it wasn't Russian shaking his head he finally grunted the words but they came short and gruff, "I'll collect."
"Excellent let's sort the details." Alfred carried on ignoring the man with a sort of hopeless look smeared across his face, "We needed these papers by Thursday, and you need information correct?"
He nodded mutely and they set to work.
It was dark when Alfred finally stood up and grabbed his coat and hat off the chair. Feliks looked completely worn though.
"Where did you come from?" Alfred asked
"Poland. I lived in Warsaw then Krakow during the War."
"Is that when you made your reputation?"
Feliks nodded picking up Alfred's full cup and half eaten cookie, "I helped Jews and gypsies escape to Hungary."
He sorted laughing bitterly Alfred felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He unconsciously stopped tying his scarf. It was such a churlish sound suddenly Alfred felt shame roll around in his belly, he looked at the display the Pole had laid out, cookies going back into the tin, tea he scoffed at.
"Where did you get those cookies?" Alfred asked his voice sounding freakishly loud even to his ears.
The Pole looked at the tin the paint chipped and scratched off, he ran his thumb over the lid, "My friend she made them for me. One of the resistance, I don't know what happened to her I heard she ended up in Birkenau, I heard she's alive after escaping a ghetto; all rumours though, I lost contact."
Alfred wasn't entirely sure what to say. He just stood there feeling the guilt worm around in his belly. It struck him then that this man in front of his was older than he looked and in the low light of the kerosene lamp and the yellowish glow off the window with the sun bleached and filthy drapes how young Alfred still was. He thought he'd seen everything after Korea.
Alfred might have stood there all night had Arthur grabbed his arm and gently guided Alfred back to the door. They paused outside.
"Thank you for your time Feliks." Arthur nodded, "We will be back on Wednesday afternoon for the papers."
Feliks nodded, "Good night."
As they were stepping down the step Alfred turned and blurted, "I'm sorry."
Feliks eyes widened in the dusk light then his face fell again and he nodded, "Yeah, me too."
Alfred scampered off the property as fast as he could.
Toris came back two hours later. Laughing heartily at Natasha jokes they were not very shocked at the sight in front of them. But at the same time, startled beyond belief. Feliks was sprawled out across the table an empty bottle of strong vodka in his arms. He was starting blankly at the wall tears rolling down his cheeks as he sang softly.
Flying into a frenzy Toris dashed over to his lover's side shaking the drunk Pole Flik blinked hazily looking up.
"I'm going to die!" he wailed slumping into Toris "I messed up, like totally, really, really badly."
"Hush, it's ok. What happened?" Toris whispered back as Natasha came forward slowly pulling the bottle and shot glass from Feliks' arms.
"They are communist. I said enough to get life in prison." Feliks wailed hiccupping through puffy red eyes "I'm going to go join Erzsi, and like what I will do with Mihai? What about the chickens the geese?"
He broke off into grotesque sobbing "I hate them all!"
Toris began running his hands through Feliks' tangled hair , soothingly combing and braiding his hair "It's alright. It's going to be ok, we'll get through this."
"Vanya will help." Natasha added pulling up a chair beside Feliks. , "Besides Khrushchev is in charge there is more freedom now."
"But- but, oh god. Don't let them take me Toris, please Natasha. Don't let them come." Feliks sobbed horribly "I've got too much dirt on my name, this will only seal the deal."
"It is your own fault for joining the Polish October." Natasha whispered, "And helping all those people leave in East Berlin and Hungary."
Feliks turned to look at her his eyes where glassy but a piercing intensity took them, "It's never enough is it? And yet always too far."
He morphed back into a hideous blob of hysterics. Natalia left for bed anger burning in her stomach.
