They slept like the dead. They ate as starving animals. They woke like drunks.

Andrei and Dmitri slept within the very same room, because to be separate would simply be unorthodox. They rose about the same hour, that pretty clock singing out a melody as it ticked out beats upon the wall.

No attention was paid to that chamber drenched in those expensive decorations and kept in a constant state of beautify. Either felt sick to their stomachs, knowing that selling any one of those pleasant artifacts could feed a family an entire week. Perhaps a month. It was money utterly gutted and bled out.

Regardless, those brothers met up with their father, who resided beneath those many blankets and fought through wild fits of coughing. The chairs lingered from yesterday, remnants of company.

The siblings assumed their places. Because they had been called in, as though they had made an appointment with the Tsar.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. We were tired."

Andrei did not move his voice from his throat.

"I'm sorry. Who is who again?"

"I'm Dmitri."

The other was left to assumption.

"I see. Andrei, do you speak often?"

"Usually, yes. But this is a very solemn time in my life. I don't feel much like talking."

"Hmm…" There was understanding found about the father's expression. "Well, I thought about what should be done, and I want to offer this home to either of you. You're welcome to stay, if you like. Or, if you'd rather live somewhere else, my doors will always be open for a visit. And if you never return, well. I can't say that I blame you. I'm not certain what I would feel if I was caught in the same fate." Solace was granted within those blue eyes printed against the faces of the pair. "I'd like to get to know both of you. I'm so happy to find that I have family…" A pause. "Do either of you have work today?"

"Yes…We do."

"Where do you work?"

"In the soap factory at the far end of the city. I package the soap while Andrei makes the dye…"

"Is that why your hands are red?"

"Yes. That's exactly why my hands are red."

Again, that man held thought, then a short coughing fit. "My driver can take you. What time do you have to go in?"

"Today, at nine."

Ivan regarded the whispering clock on the western most wall. "Then you should get going. It's eight thirty-two now. Unless your boss wouldn't mind you being a little bit late."

Andrei could not help his laughter. "A little bit late could cost us our jobs. They'll tell us, 'we'll hire men who can show up on time.' We've been late once before."

That aristocrat was unsure of how to formulate response.

So he managed to come from his sheets.

As those heavy legs were thrown from the side of that bed, the man's stomach lurched, pain twisting that visage and squeezing those eyes well shut.

"You can tell us where to go…If you're in pain."

"It would take longer to explain…" The cane was taken, the ivory rod keeping that large man from the floor. "What time to do you come home from work? Maybe we can have dinner together."

"Nine."

"So long?" a few steps were completed. "Did they give you a choice in working so many hours?"

Again Andrei had to stifle mirth. "Нет. Of course not. But it's not like we would work any less. We had someone to look after."

Suddenly, those doors spread and a woman dressed within a nurse's uniform arrived, stamping her little boot against those tiles. "Mr. Braginski. What do you think you're doing out of bed?"

"What's the matter with standing up?"

"Nothing, but you know I have to give you medicine soon. And Franz will want to do another test. You knew this was scheduled for this morning. Why do you have guests?"

"They were surprise guests. And they need to go to work. I was going to show them to my car."

"Well, you know the doctor will have a problem with that." Those piercing emerald sights studied those odd siblings, their visages, and their builds. "Are these your relatives?"

"Oh yes…My sons."

"Sons? You have sons?" A sweetened German accent curled about those syllables. "Don you tell me those sorts of things! I'll have a heart attack!" A snow white palm grasped at that petit chest. "Where did you get sons?"

"The ghetto." Andrei.

"Oh, how sad. You'll have to tell me all about it. I never knew Mr. Braginski had any family." The beauty mark upon her cheek seemed to yell in all that eccentricity. "Did you two say had to go to work? I can take you to the garage. Because Mr. Braginski knows he's supposed to be in bed."

"Alright, alright, alright." Ivan lowered himself against those marred sheets. "You win. Go show them the garage. You know where I'll be, Ellis."

"Yes, sir." The petit girl cast a warm grin to either of those misplaced souls. "Just follow me."

And they did.

Both Andrei and Dmitri studied that strange and youthful thing. She was quite small, the average height for a woman, but thin. There were still curves about her figure, however little her frame may have been, and that lily white flesh seemed to make those blaring green eyes even more apparent, as well as those plump lips amplified by that demure spot.

She would be stunning nude.

"What was your name?"

"I'm Ellis. What are you names?"

"I'm Andrei and my brother is Dmitri. Where are you from?"

"Oh, I'm from Vienna. My brother, Franz, is here with me too. He's one of the finest doctors in Europe, so when they called him to Russia to diagnose Mr. Braginski, I had to come along. We got here about a year and a half ago, and look. I can already speak the language." They turned a corner. "I didn't know hardly any Russian before I arrived." There was a brief silence occupied by the input of shoes. "Tell me about yourselves. Why didn't I know of you two before?"

"Well…" Dmitri's words clung to the base of his throat, choking him. "It's a long story."

"You don't want to tell me?"

"The wound is still fresh."

"I see. Well, that's alright. Maybe we can speak later…" Ellis turned around a moment. "You two are so tall. I bet Mr. Braginski is proud to have sons like you."

Dmitri's heart was breaking through his sight; Andrei only offered a gaze conveying comfort.

'It will be alright, Dmitri. I promise. Everything will be alright.'

They worked well together. Dmitri would quell rage and Andrei would pull his brother from the mud. They saved one another; supported one another. Loved one another when the whole of Russia could find no sympathy. They played the role of shields and swords and warriors, all parts to the same whole.

"Well, here we are. The driver is usually in."

"Thank you, Ellis."

"Of course. Не за что."

The little woman ran away and the young men came into that chamber, witnessing a man standing near a handsome black automobile, reading a novel and smoking a cigarette. He looked up, perplexed.

"We need a ride to work."

"Well, I need a lot of things, but that doesn't seem to matter, now does it? Who are you two?"

"We're Andrei and Dmitri Braginski." Those last syllables burned like hell fire. "And we need a ride to work, comrade."

"Braginski, huh? Where do you work?"

"St. Petersburg Soap. I don't think it's too far from here."

"I know where that is…Get in. We'll be there soon."

"Thank you."

So they got in. So they left. So they sat in silence as the city engulfed them, all that bitter snow and pretty women dressed within their handsome furs.

"Andrei, what should we do?"

"I don't know, Dmitri. What do you want to do?"

"…I'm not sure if I can stay in that shack much longer. We don't even have beds." Misery infected his noise. "If our father wants us to stay, we should stay. It's so much better than lying on filthy blankets and drinking filthy water and fighting filthy snow. If we keep our jobs-" He had to pause. "Maybe we can buy a decent coffin for our mother."

"She's already been buried…"

"I know, but we can have someone take her out, can't we? I mean, it just seems wrong that-" Palms served as a mask for that coiling expression Dmitri squeezed his eyes closed.

"It's alright…" Andrei stole his brother into an embrace. "That's a great idea, Dmitri. That's what we'll do. But you have to be strong. Only for today. Just be strong for today. And then we'll come back and you can be as upset as you want to be. But for now, we have to be strong, for our mother."

But that distraught worker only seemed to exhibit more of that aching sentiment.

"It's alright, Dmitri." Andrei fastened his lids and drew the other in nearer. "It's alright…"

They were three minutes late, but no one had noticed. Then they went their separate ways and got to working, Andrei to his dye and Dmitri to his wrappers. The labor took their minds from all that had passed in so few hours; their mother, their father, their poverty, the pain. All became cleaned within that scented realm, as though it all had dissipated in a fog of that rich perfume.

No one had ever complained of their scent. Always, either man smelled of blooms, some days lavender, some days rose, some days lilies. But Andrei's palms were constantly scarlet, and Dmitri's were always soft.

Natasha loved it when her darlings would return home, taking their hands from them and surrounding her face in that scented flesh. "My sons smell nice," she would observe, as though a conversation was held with another. "But my poor Andrei and his hands…" Then she would embrace them, and tell them dinner would soon fill their stomachs.

The day wrenched on.

And hours later, the prisoners were emancipated.

The driver was waiting for them.

"Were you here the entire time?"

"No. Mr. Braginski remembered that you were off at nine." The door was held open. "He wants to speak with you as well."

"Please don't hold the door open. You don't have to degrade yourself in such a way."

The driver gave them an odd look. "Why are you two going to work? Your father has more money than he knows what to do with."

"We met out father yesterday. Before that, we lived in the slums. It's up to every citizen to do something for the community, even if their fathers are well off, even if it's just working in a soap factory. And we've got hands. We can open a car door."

The porthole was closed. "Of course. But let me take you home."

And for the second time in their lives, Andrei and Dmitri rode inside an automobile, either folding beneath exhaustion, far too beaten to even enjoy experiencing such a rarity.

They returned with tired wells and voided energy.

But Ivan was still found.

The lower class fell before the higher, inhabiting ornate chairs.

"You said you wanted to speak with us."

"Yes…I was wondering if you made a decision. If you'd like to stay or not. You're welcome here anytime. And it would be fine if you'd like to move in. I know it's hard to be somewhere with so many memories, and it might be better to simply start over." There was a certain solace within those gazes. "I'd like to have breakfast tomorrow morning, before you go to work."

Neither were certain of what to say.

"Are you leaving?"

"No…Would you mind if we stayed?"

"No! No. Of course not! Please, stay as long as you like. Do you want to collect your things and bring them here? I can have that taken care of…"

"We can get it ourselves, thank you."

The kindly man was quieted.

"Thank you for offering." Dmitri knitted his numerals together. "We can go tomorrow after work."

"But that's so late."

"That's alright…"

"Well…Do whatever you like. If you want something, don't hesitate to ask."

"May we go to sleep?"

"Of course. You don't need to ask about that. But aren't you hungry?"

"We're even more exhausted then we are hungry."

"Have you eaten today?"

"No."

Mr. Braginski took a bothered expression.

"Please have dinner. And please ask your manager tomorrow if you can work a little less. It's not right to spend so many hours busy and have almost no time to eat. You don't have to live that way…Not if you don't want to. I'll take care of you." That mouth coiled into a strange line. "Please. I would appreciate it."

Before Andrei's rage could boil and spill over, Dmitri answered. "We'll ask tomorrow."

"Thank you." The aristocrat rested. "I'm glad I met you both. You're free to do as you please."

"Thank you, sir."

And a grin parked against the older man's visage.