Raikov woke up as pale light, obscured by clouds, shone through the window. He sat up, wiping drool off the corner of his mouth and immediately searching for Volgin. His eyes focused on the still sleeping man, and he sighed again. Now that the blissful high of the drug was gone, Raikov began to think about what to do with his day. He knew he couldn't stay in the hospital forever, so he decided he needed to get out for a while. He got up and dressed with learned military efficiency, pulling on clothes that once fit him well enough to almost tease people who saw him, but the same clothes were now somewhat baggy on this thinner frame. Josephine had noticed, and was slightly concerned for the boy because he was losing weight so quickly, dark circles now almost constantly under his eyes. Raikov pulled on a large jacket, and the sleeves easily reached down past his fingers, and the bottom was practically at his knees. This was not because he'd lost weight, but because the jacket had used to belong to Volgin. It was somewhat of a gift a few years back, and Raikov still treasured it. He walked into the lobby, shoving his hands into the pockets and finding his wallet there. He knew he had enough money to get by for now, but he didn't want to have to ask his brothers for any.

He walked into town, trudging through snow and not caring if the jacket was warm enough or not. He stopped in a small convenience store and bought a pack of cigarettes and some matches. He figured while still unhealthy, it was a little better to just be smoking rather than stealing from a hospital. After he paid, he stepped out into an alley that had a small amount of snowdrifts and leaned against the wall to smoke. He inhaled deeply, watching the smoke and his breath (chilled by the cold air) intermingle as they drifted up into the air. Raikov turned his head to look when he heard someone whistle sharply to get his attention. The person in question was a rough-looking man, and Raikov assumed he was probably homeless. He figured he didn't look much better, so he didn't say anything rude.

"Got one of those to spare for me, beautiful?" the man asked, making Raikov narrow his eyes and raise an eyebrow.

"Excuse you, but I am NOT a woman." He huffed, taking another drag off his cigarette.

"Could've fooled me," the man muttered, stepping closer. Raikov straightened up to his full height (which was only 5'7", and nothing too intimidating) and dropped the cigarette before he was done with it, grinding it under the heel of his boot.

"What did you just say?" He demanded, stepping up to the man.

"You heard me, kid." The man said. Raikov was almost never one to deny a fight, and this clown was practically begging for Raikov to deck him. What the hell, he needed something to take his mind off things.

"Look, I'm not in the mood for your shit, so if you're not going to take that back and walk away, you're going to get your ass kicked."

"Aw, that's cute. Where did you learn those words? Day-care while your daddy was off working because he didn't love you?"

"I don't know, jackass. Where'd you learn your manners? The fucking barn animals that raised you?" The man's face fell, and he grabbed Raikov by the front of his jacket, picking him up so his feet couldn't touch the ground.

"You're dead fucking meat, you little bitch." The man growled, and Raikov let out a laugh that sounded like tinkling bells in the frosty air.

"Seriously? You don't know a thing about fighting, do you? You gave me a huge advantage just now." He said, and swung his leg forward, kicking the man in his most sensitive place. He dropped Raikov, who hit the ground with a gasp as the air left his lungs. He pulled himself up, and walked over to the man, who had gotten himself up too. The man swung unexpectedly, and Raikov felt a gush of blood and the man's fist connected with his nose. They brawled for several minutes until the police came to drag the two bloodied men off to the station. Raikov was smiling when they cuffed him and shoved him in the back of the car.

Raikov got one call. He knew he had to make it worth it. He thought of calling one of his brothers, but quickly dismissed it. They were both too far away to be of any actual help to him, so he decided to call the hospital and have Josephine come get him. She was the only person he could think of. Raikov sat in a holding cell next to the other man, and his feet didn't touch the floor when he sat on the bench in the cell. He figured that when he got back to his hotel, he would call one of his brothers. This whole ordeal had made him realize that he actually missed them a lot.

"Well, well, well," sighed a voice, and Raikov looked up to see Josephine looking angry with her arms crossed, "I didn't think you were the fighting type, honey."
"You must not know me very well then." Raikov grumbled as the police let him out of his cell with a warning.

Josephine drove him to his hotel, and Raikov went up to his room, cold, stiff fingers fumbling with the key as he unlocked the door. He flopped down on the bed and kicked off his boots, stripping down to just his underwear and socks. He curled up under the blankets and grabbed the phone to call his brothers. Who first? He debated it for a moment before going with Alyosha first since he was the oldest. Raikov punched in the number.

"Hello?" his brother's familiar voice inquired.

"A-Aly? It's Ivan. I wanted to call and say hi." There was a small noise on the other end, and it was almost a gasp. Raikov hadn't called either of his brothers since he left at age 15, and he knew he should have, but…

"Ivan! Oh, God, how are you? We missed you so much! We haven't heard from you in ages! Where are you? Are you okay? Is Mr. Volgin taking good care of you?" the older Raikov rushed, obviously very concerned about his baby brother.

"I'm good," Ivan chuckled, "I'm in… uh… Well, I don't quite know exactly where I am, but I'm okay, really. Volgin is… He's fine. We're fine. He's been very good to me." He said, fumbling over his words. The conversation was short, but it made Ivan feel worlds better than he had before. It was moments like this when he remembered that he was still only 17. After he hung up with Alyosha, he called Stas, and the conversation went about the same, but Ivan found out that his brother was engaged to a woman named Darya.

"Stas, that's good! I'm happy for you! I think Mama and Papa would be too." A small silence followed, but his brother returned quickly.

"Yes, I think so too! Oh, Ivan, you should meet her. She's amazing! Speaking of, have you found a special woman in the time you've been gone?" Ivan actually snorted in laughter. Sometimes he forgot how oblivious his brothers could be when it came to how incredibly gay he was.

"Ah, no… But there's someone…" He accidentally let it slip, being too damn in love and preoccupied with concern about Volgin to hold himself back.

"Oh? What is her name?" Ivan felt his stomach churn. His sexuality wasn't something he liked to talk about, especially with his cookie-cutter straight brothers.

"Well, that's the problem…" he breathed, his heart pounding and head spinning, "This person isn't exactly… um… female…" He said, feeling the familiar nausea he felt when he ate something bad. Silence. Ivan felt tears well up. This was where he got disowned, shamed, thrown in jail without Volgin there to protect him. He just knew it.

"…O-oh?" Stas said, sounding more than a little uneasy himself, "Is it someone we-?"

"Yes! Okay, you've got me. I'm not going to lie anymore. I'm a homosexual! There, I said it! Now you know why I never had a girlfriend. It's part of the reason I left! Volgin and I, we were in love… I'm sorry… He took me in, and… I love him, Stas. He's the best thing that ever happened to me! I don't care if you and Alyosha disown me. Hell, I probably deserve it! I know I'm a disgusting monster! So go ahead, tell him. You can cut me off, you can turn me in, you can do anything you want, but that won't change the fact that I love him! He's my whole world, Stas. He keeps me going, he's the air I breathe, he's the love of my life, and he's probably going to die now! So… there. I said it." He sobbed, tears dripping hot and fast down Ivan's cheeks. Another uncomfortable silence followed, and Ivan didn't want to have to hear his brother's words.

"…Ivan…" Stas' voice made him uneasy again, and he slammed down the phone, putting his face in his hands. He ran to the bathroom and threw up, sobbing. He flushed the toilet and then brushed his teeth, washing his mouth out. He pulled on a hotel-issued robe and crawled into bed, his eyes sore from crying. The phone kept ringing, but Ivan ignored it. He didn't want to hear it, and he didn't want to be crucified just for falling in love. He didn't want to be the weak link that destroyed his family's good-standing reputation. The ringing stopped around 2 AM, and Ivan fell asleep around 3:02.