Love In Exile

by MartyMuses

Historical AU: Two young men one Russian, one Japanese, are drawn together on Sakhalin Island, a Russian penal colony off the northern tip of Hokkaido. Their stories couldn't be more different, but they share the common loneliness of exile. A series of strange events brings them together to weather the long, cold Sakhalin winter and they must face their feelings and the future.

7. Part 7: Victor

Sakhalin Island, Korsakovsk Post, Spring 1888 - V.N.

I should not have been surprised by my arrest. To be completely honest I suppose I wasn't surprised. If anything my surprise came at its timing. I thought - erroneously - that I still had more time. And I had hoped that by the time I ran out of time it wouldn't matter anymore.

But Grankin's patience with me had worn thin earlier than I'd anticipated. Or maybe this wasn't about patience at all. More likely it was about power. My arrest had been arranged only so that he knew that I knew it could be done. Even as far away from Alexandrovsk as I was, I wasn't out of his reach. As I'd hoped I had been.

In retrospect that hope seemed both desperate and naive.

Once I returned to Korsakovsk, I did what I could to reestablish and ingratiate myself to Bely and the others. But a famous dancer isn't much good if he can't dance, and the weather wasn't yet good enough to expect visiting officials who might be interested in my simple notoriety, good looks, and charismatic conversation skills.

Grankin's letters and their contents weighed heavily on my mind. He insisted that I get things moving by the spring when the shipments between the mainland, Alexandrovsk, and the other districts would increase. And if I didn't have some sort of plan to our mutual benefit by that time he had plenty of colorful threats in mind. He would have me flayed, send Gilyak mercenaries to drag me back to Alexandrovsk by my neck, have me flogged, have me imprisoned, ruin me in various creative ways, ensure I was returned to Alexandrovsk in chains, or worse, sent to the Tymovsk district or the coal mines of Duay.

Most of this I took as the ravings of a small, fat, unhappy megalomaniac.

But there was one threat I took very seriously. The threat that he would find ways to do harm to those I cared about. As far as he knew the only person I cared about was Yuri, but that didn't mean he didn't have eyes on me in Korsakovsk. Or that he couldn't or wouldn't find out about Yuuri if I resumed my frequent visits.

Staying away from him and the minshuku was a conscious decision. One that ate at me day and night. I ached to be with Yuuri, just to see his face, so much that if it wasn't for the rest of the mess of my life to keep me distracted, I might have quite literally gone insane.

Knowing that my absence and silence would also hurt Yuuri was worse still. But I was terrified that rumors would spread. That news of our attachment would catch and somehow he would become embroiled in this mess.

It's ironic that fate waited just long enough for me to return to him before playing its hand.

I'd only gone down to the docks, because I knew Yuri was returning on the Baikal that day. I wanted to welcome him home, but he was still working, helping unload the freight. So I watched while I waited.

He's much stronger than you would expect of someone so small and wiry. It's hard work, but he never flinches from it. He worked alongside another young, dark haired boy, and I don't know why but I got the impression that they were close somehow. They didn't talk much, but maybe that is what made them seem close: despite very little verbal communication they worked side by side seamlessly.

They smiled at each other.

I didn't recognize the other boy. He wasn't a settler, not from Korsakovsk or Alexandrovsk anyway. Part of the ship's crew then? Someone Yuri had worked with before or only just met during the last sailing?

A friend? Something more? A secret he'd kept from me?

Could he be the reason he stayed longer in town when the mail came in?

My train of thought intrigued and troubled me. I would be happy if it was true that Yuri had a friend. There are so few young people on Sakhalin. But why not tell me?

Caught up in my thoughts I did not notice the guards going through the unloaded goods. Nor did I notice when their attention suddenly turned to me.

"We found it! Like the telegraph said! A crate of contraband. Vodka!" one of them called out. I looked at them, curious as to what they'd found, and was unnerved to see them staring directly at me.

"That is unfortunate. Detain Mr. Nikiforov."

The voice of Mr. Bely came from behind me. Turning, startled, I saw him standing with two more guards further up the dock. They had rifles. He was looking at me with a mixture of disappointment and contempt.

"What?" I asked stupidly, and had only a moment to brace myself before the guards were on me, grabbing arms and twisting them behind my back. My muscles spasmed and I gasped in pain, clenching my teeth. "Wait! What are you doing?! I haven't done anything!"

"Take him to the cell in the prison office. I wish to speak with him there."

The guards pushed my head down as they propelled me forward. All I could do was splutter. "What is this about?!"

"Victor!" Yuri's footsteps on the dock were fast and loud. "What are you doing? Let him go!"

I strained against the men holding me, trying to twist around and look over my shoulder. "Yuri, don't! Stay back. I'll get this sorted out."

My words didn't deter him. He threw himself at one of the guards, grabbing his arm and trying to yank him away from me. "Let him go! He hasn't done anything!"

"Yuri, stop!" Surprisingly it was another voice that said these words. Still craning my neck around, I saw the dark haired boy running after Yuri just in time to catch him as the guard shoved him back.

I heard the click of a rifle being primed and panicky fear welled up in my guts, cold and awful, threatening to choke me. "Yuri, stay back!" I shouted again, a tinge of desperation in my voice. The two guards beside Mr. Bely had both readied their guns.

"Control yourself, young man, or you will find yourself arrested as well. If one of my men doesn't shoot you first."

I couldn't help the snarling sound I made between my teeth. Yuri's face twisted in rage and for a moment I was terrified as it seemed he was about to spring forward again. But the dark haired boy's arm snaked around him, holding him firmly in place. He said something in his ear, and my little brother crumpled a little.

I didn't know his name, or what he meant to Yuri or vice versa, but I thanked him from the bottom of my heart.

"It will be fine, Yuri," I said as glibly as I could, just before the guards grabbed my hair and shoved my head forward and down again.

I was escorted none too gently to the prison office and deposited into the small holding cell kept there for disruptors of the peace and questioning. There was nothing in the cell. No bed. No chair. Only the floor and the bars, which clanged shut loudly behind me as I was shoved through the cell door.

I turned around immediately, wrapping my hands around the bars as Mr. Bely came to stand before me. The guards took up silent positions to either side of the cell.

"I am disappointed by this turn of events Mr. Nikiforov," he said calmly, twisting his lips, and there was a note of sincerity in his voice.

I looked at him evenly. "I wish I knew what turn of events you were speaking of Mr. Bely. My sudden imprisonment is a bit of a surprise."

He made a thoughtful sound and then produced a neatly folded telegram from his pocket. "I received this several days ago from Alesandrovsk Post." He unfolded it slowly and then began to read. "'V. Nikiforov known kulak. Smuggling to Korsakovsk. Shipment suspected among Baikal cargo."' I watched Mr. Bely as he folded up the telegram paper and put it back in his pocket. "What can you tell me about this telegram?"

I pursed my lips and shook my head. "Nothing. Though apparently you found something among the cargo you think you can attribute to its veracity."

"A crate of vodka, apparently." He met my eyes evently. "As you know distribution of alcohol by anyone but the government is illegal on Sakhalin, Mr. Nikiforov."

"And you think I would be stupid enough to be so obvious? I would at least make some attempt to disguise what I was smuggling." The words were out of my mouth before I could think better of it.

"Spoken like a man who has had some experience with such things."

I stared at him, pursing my lips, but didn't make any response.

"And there is the curious fact that you were at the dock, watching the cargo being unloaded, as well as the fact that your younger brother just happened to be working on the ship carrying this particular crate of illegal goods."

"Yuri had nothing to do with any of this," I ground the words between my teeth.

Mr. Bely canted his head to one side. "And how could you possibly know this if you had nothing to do with it yourself?"

I took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. "Neither of us had anything to do with it. Leave Yuri out of this." My nostrils flared as I clenched my teeth, filled with rage not only at the implication that Yuri could be at risk, but at my own powerlessness. "Who sent the telegram?"

Mr. Bely's eyebrow arched a little. "Why does it matter?"

"Was it Ivan Grankin by any chance?"

His other eyebrow rose to join the first.

"That man is a worse crook than any of the criminals in your prison," I spat. "If you found 'smuggled' vodka in the freight it's because he put it there himself, and then sent you that telegram to implicate me.."

Mr. Bely was quiet a moment. "I know very well that the officials in the northern districts do not appreciate the letter of the law in the same way we do here in the south. I know how Alexandrovsk is run, and it disgusts me, Mr. Nikiforov. That is why I do not take incidents such as these lightly. I have rooted out every attempt that has been made to bring that corruption to my district. Ivan Grankin is a crook, you're right, as are all of the officials in Alexandrovsk. This, too, I am aware of. But I can see no reason why it would be to his benefit to sabotage his own smuggling operation."

I took a deep breath, grasping now at the slim chance that I might actually win Bely to my side. "There is no operation. Grankin agreed to my transfer thinking I would help him and the other officials spread their smuggling operation to Korsakovsk. But once I got here, I refused to work for him, and this is his retaliation. I have no desire to see the corruption of Alexandrovsk brought here! He sent that vodka and that telegram knowing it would lead to my arrest. That's the only reason!" My knuckles had become white from gripping the bars.

Mr. Bely was quiet again for a moment and then looked down at his feet, tapping one thoughtfully. "Strangely enough I don't find what you say to be entirely preposterous, Mr. Nikiforov. But regardless it is your word against his, and the quickest way to be rid of this problem is to simply be rid of you." My blood felt like ice water in my veins. He looked back up, meeting my eyes. "I don't want you in Korsakovsk any longer. I don't need you or Mr. Grankin causing me headaches or sewing disorder in my settlement. I will be sending you back to Alexandrovsk where you and the Prison Overseer can deal with each other directly."

My stomach sank like a stone. "You can't do that," I croaked. "I came here to get away from that place. My... my brother..."

"Is a free settler, and welcome to do as he wishes. Whether that means returning to Alexandrovsk with you or remaining in Korsakovsk. He is old enough to be considered an adult and a free settler. His work on the docks should be enough so that he can support himself." He smiled a little grimly. "Of course, that is assuming you are correct in your assertion that he is not involved in these underhanded business practices."

"I told you, he has nothing to do with any of this!"

"Yes, that is what you told me."

I stared at him through the bars, and after a moment I closed my eyes, trying to keep the overwhelming feeling of despair welling up inside me at bay. He was dangling Yuri in front of me like some kind of bargaining chip. I didn't know why, or what it was he wanted from me in exchange for my brother's safety. "Mr. Bely, please. I am begging you. Yuri is a good boy."

We stared at each other for a long moment and then he grunted. "I won't look further into his potential involvement granted that he behaves himself, and that you accept your fate and leave Korsakovsk without a fuss. You are popular and well known, and I don't know who else you might have been working with here. The last thing I need on my hands is some kind of uproar among the prisoners and settlers because of you."

My brows rose at that. So that's what he was afraid of? Some kind of riot? On my behalf, or whipped up by me? The thought seemed ludicrous. But if it was truly a fear of the District Governor then perhaps there was something I didn't know.

The Korsakovsk District was orderly and free of corruption, but the officials were also known for being heavy handed when it came to punishment and discipline. Unpopular prison wardens and palachs, the men who carried out floggings, had been killed in the past by unhappy and vengeful convicts at many prisons. If you were already convicted of murder and sentenced to serve a life-sentence of hard labor, where was the harm in adding another murder to your score?

I smirked faintly. "I think, Mr. Bely, you overestimate my popularity and the influence I might have here. I've been in Korsakovsk barely a year, and much of that was spent convalescing with the Japanese. I don't think you need to worry. Nobody will even notice I'm gone."

He grunted again. "For my sake I hope you are right, and that you will serve as an example to remind the others that corruption is not tolerated in Korsakovsk."

My eyes flicked up to his, an unpleasant feeling roiling in my stomach. "What do you mean by that?"

"You have committed a crime in the eyes of the officials, Mr. Nikiforov. And crime begets due punishment-"

"You said you were sending me back to Alexandrovsk," I cut him off, the unpleasant feeling becoming something more like fear.

"And so I am. But before you will have a date with the palach. A public flogging will serve as a much better deterrent than your quiet disappearance from the settlement, especially if - as you say - no one will even notice you are gone."

I had never been flogged before, but I had seen it and I had heard it and I knew that men had died from it. The rozgi. The plet. The knout. These are the weapons of the palach, each more terrible and severe than the last. Strapped face down to the kabila bench a man loses not only all ability to defend himself, but all dignity.

A weak feeling made my knees buckle and I slumped forward against the bars. I heard Mr. Bely make a soft, tutting sound. "I know this is unfortunate, Mr. Nikiforov. In all honesty, I liked you, and was glad to have someone of some interest in my settlement. They keep all of the interesting people for themselves in Alexandrovsk. But you have to understand that maintaining order in this settlement and within my prison is my duty to Russia, and to all those who are in my care. If it makes you feel any better I will instruct the palach to go easy on you."

To my mortification, I was trembling.

Mr. Bely tutted again. "Until arrangements can be made I think the cachots noirs will be the best place to keep you, Mr. Nikiforov. That will save us both the trouble of shackling you and keep you out of any trouble with the other prisoners."

Sakhalin Island, Korsakovsk Prison, Spring 1888 - V.N.

The one blessing I cling to in all of this is the knowledge that Yuuri will not be witness to any of it. He is, and hopefully will remain for some time, blissfully ignorant of my fate.

This is the thought I comfort myself with now as I sit in the utter darkness of my singular cell, the cachot noir, cut off from the other prisoners and most sound and light, reflecting on what put me here.

Is Yuuri still happily dreaming of our future together? The one that I recklessly promised him?

Is Yuratchka cursing me for stealing his own future? If only I had been able to send him to St. Petersburg before all of this happened. I hope he escapes this island. Perhaps, once everything has come out, he will go with Yuuri to Japan and leave the dark memories of Sakhalin behind.

Or maybe he will stay with the dark haired boy from the dock. I am sad that I will probably never know who he is or what he means to my little brother. Unless he returns with me to Alexandrovsk - assuming that I will survive the flogging. Thinking of being there again without him, without anyone, fills me with selfish loneliness.

I am a wretched man.

I worry Yuri is making a scene, challenging the officials, that he will get himself thrown in here with me. Will he come to my flogging? The thought makes me sick to my stomach, but there is nothing for me to throw up. They have not fed me. I don't know how long I've been here.

Surely no more than a day, but it's difficult to tell when it's so dark and quiet.

It is terrible being alone with my thoughts and the anticipation of my fate.

First the flogging. Thinking of it fills me with a visceral, physical terror. I know it makes me a coward to fear something other men in this place endure frequently. The knowledge of my cowardice only makes it that much worse.

And then the return to Alexandrovsk. What will Grankin do with me once I am sent back there? Have me flogged again? Shackle me and put me in prison like a common convict? Or simply make me return to his service, to my old way of life?

I wonder if I will ever see Yuuri again. Might he come to see me off? Would I even want him to?

I close my eyes in the darkness and think of him, drawing up every detail of his face and body in my mind. His dark eyes, the way they sometimes sparkle. How his round cheeks color when I tease or compliment him. His charming lack of self-awareness. The simple gracefulness of the way he moves.

His kindness. His patience. His gentleness. His humility. His softness. His fear of horses.

I laugh softly, and it makes me feel like crying. I wanted so badly to know him so much more.

I wanted to give him everything. To protect him from any more disappointment and loneliness in his life. But who am I to protect anyone? I could not even protect myself. I think of how, so often in my life, I have failed the people I care about.

Disappointing and shaming my parents. My blithe disregard for the feelings of my admirers. Not giving Yuri the life he deserved, or keeping my promise to him. My lack of conviction in the beliefs Ignacy died for, even though they are the reason I now sit in prison.

Strange to think of him now. Not that I don't ever think of him. I still do. I still puzzle over what it was that he really wanted from me. Why did he bring me along that day? Did he think it would change me into a true believer? Or did he just want someone nearby? Someone he knew would be watching? Someone he knew would grieve for him if he was caught or killed?

I try not to think he just wanted me to get caught, though it has crossed my mind. It is too bleak a thing to believe, and makes my memories of our time together too sad.

I'm lost in my thoughts about all the disappointments of my life when the key to my cell scrapes in its keyhole and the door opens, flooding the dark interior with light that is so blinding to me that I must close my eyes.

"Get up, Nikiforov. It's time to go."

No. I don't want to. Please don't take me to the kabila.

The thought races through my mind, and I mean to say it aloud, but nothing comes out. I shrink away from the guard when he enters the cell. He just looks at me and sighs, like he has done this a hundred times before and is tired of his job.

He grabs me around the arm and hauls me to my feet. He propels me towards the cell door and I stumble out into the hallway, still shielding my eyes from the light, which is actually not very bright at all. It is only the candle light from a few wall sconces.

Impossibly the air out in the hallway is worse smelling and heavier than that in my cachot noir. If I hadn't already felt like gagging, I surely would have now. The light and smell makes me dizzy and disoriented. My weak leg is aching from sitting and lying on the floor.

"Let's go," the guard says again and gives me a push from behind. I make my way forward, surprised there is not another guard to help escort me. I suppose they don't assume I'm much of a flight risk with my lame leg.

He leads me through the prison and out into the prison yard. The light of the sun is truly blinding now. So much so that I have no sense of what time of day it is, only that it is bright. When I falter in the light he takes my upper arm again, pulling me forward. His grip is tight, but not that painful.

It isn't until we've gone some ways that I realize he is not taking me into the part of the prison yard, where most floggings are conducted. He seems to be taking me towards the main part of town and the prison office. Bely must have really meant it when he said 'public flogging.' Such things can practically turn into a festival for the townsfolk.

I groan softly. There is no way Yuri will not see it now. My heartbeat grows faster and faster, fear balling in my stomach the closer we get. Then the prison office is before us, but strangely, through my shaded eyes, I do not see the palach nor the kabila set out in front. Perhaps they intend to do it in the main square and Bely wishes to escort me himself.

All this pomp is now beginning to seem ludicrously overkill. I almost laugh as we mount the office steps and the guard holds the door open, pushing me inside with a large hand on my back. The prison office smells like wood polish. I heart soft, faint voices as the guard escorts me to Mr. Bely's office.

And the sight that greets me there leaves me utterly bewildered.

"I've brought him, Mr. Bely," the guard says, giving me one last little push into the office.

Mr. Bely, standing behind his desk and looking rather sour, looks at the guard and then dismisses him with a wave of his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Petrovitch."

The guard leaves, but I barely notice. I'm staring dumbfoundedly at the three men in the room with Mr. Bely: my Yuratchka, Yuuri, and, strangely, the Japanese Consul, Mr. Suzuyama. They are all staring back at me. And perhaps strangest of all is that Yuuri is wearing a suit. An unfashionable and ill fitting suit.

I stare at him, feeling dazed, and yet drinking him in. The face I thought I might never see again. Those bright eyes looking back at me, burning behind his spectacles. I want to run to him, but my legs feel like wood.

"What... is happening?" is all I can think to say.

Mr. Bely makes a clucking sound and raps his fingers against his desk. "It seems, Mr. Nikiforov, that you have made good friends at the Japanese Consulate."

I drag my eyes away from the other three to look at Mr. Bely. I don't know what to say, because I don't know what this is about. It's then that I notice the small pile of letters on his desk and I recognize them immediately as the letters from Grankin. My eyes snap back to Yuri and he looks back at me, somewhat smug.

Now more confused than ever I look back at Bely with furrowed eyebrows. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bely, I'm not following."

"It seems Mr. Nikiforov, that you were most likely not lying when you told me that Mr. Grankin may have set you up. These men have presented to me numerous letters in which Mr. Grankin has threatened to take such or other vindictive action against you."

His words still confuse me. He'd as much as admitted to my face that he didn't care whether I was telling the truth or not. He only wanted my troubles with Grankin to not be his troubles. Why would the letters change anything?

Mr. Bely clears his throat. "Mr. Suzuyama and Mr. Katsuki have also expressed concern for you. They feel quite responsible for your well being after having cared for you so graciously during your convalescence. Mr. Suzuyama has especially vouched for your character and laments that your return to Alexandrovsk would deny the Consulate of your company." I can tell from his tight lipped expression that Mr. Bely is not happy about what he is saying.

"And Mr. Katsuki has confirmed that you indulged to him in confidence your pre-existing troubles with Mr. Grankin and your desire to leave the corruption of Alexandrovsk behind you. Provided with this information, and the assurances of the Japanese Consulate regarding your character, I find that I was likely hasty in my assumption of your guilt."

I look at Suzuyama and Yuuri, understanding now that they have somehow orchestrated my release, and either convinced or strong-armed Mr. Bely into reversing his decision to send me back to Alexandrovsk.

"I see," I say after a moment, the words leaving me in a rush of air. My relief is so great that I feel weak and wish I had something to grab onto. "Then I am deeply in the debt of both Mr. Suzuyama and Mr. Katsuki, who certainly did not owe me this great kindness. I am now even more deeply in your debt and that of the Consulate."

I bow, knowing from Yuuri that this is the proper way to show my appreciation. It is an odd feeling when both Suzuyama and Yuuri bow back to me.

"It is our pleasure, Mr. Nikiforov," Suzuyama says. "I was quite shocked when I learned of your predicament. You should also thank your younger brother for having the presence of mind to seek our assistance in demonstrating your guiltlessness. He is a very bright young man."

I straighten up and look at Yuri, who looks as pleased by the praise as he does defiant. Only my Yuratchka can embody such conflicting emotions so perfectly at once. "He is a very bright young man. I am very proud of him."

Mr. Bely clears his throat, irritated to have lost all of our attention. "Yes, it is fortunate such information was brought to my attention so quickly." He looks sharply at me now. "But you will understand, Mr. Nikiforov, that for now I do not wish for you to leave Korsakovsk Post unaccompanied. I still have a number of concerns regarding this matter, and while I trust the judgement of our Japanese friends, it is my prerogative to keep you where I can see you."

I hear his words, but I know what he is really saying: Don't go trying to hide behind the Consulate's skirt again. You may be free from prison and remaining in Korsakovsk, but I can still make your life hell. I don't like being embarrassed in my own domain.

"Of course, Mr. Bely. I am very grateful for this turn of events. And I will do whatever I can to prove to you my sincerity."

He grunts and then waves his hand, dismissing me. "You are free to go. Please try not to make any trouble, Mr. Nikiforov. And I hope your leg continues to heal. I do so hope we will get to enjoy seeing you dance again."

Those words make my skin crawl. I know my worth to these people. Without it I have little to protect me. I just smile wanly back him.

As we begin to file out of the office Suzuyama turns to Mr. Bely with a broad grin and extends his hand. "Please don't forget about my going away party. We are very much looking forward to seeing everyone at the Consulate."

Mr. Bely laughs and extends a hand, shaking Suzuyama's vigorously. It is as if he has forgotten all of the unpleasantness in the room. "I will not, my friend. I have a full crate of contraband vodka that needs to be disposed of." He laughs and winks at the Japanese Consul, and I have that crawling feeling in my skin again.

The shipment of smuggled alcohol that nearly destroyed my life, now Mr. Bely's party favor.

I suddenly need fresh air and I turn, walking as quickly as I can out of the prison office. I stand in the street, gulping in great breaths. I close my eyes. The world feels like it is spinning around me.

"Victor?" Yuri's voice is alarmed as he hurries after me. "Are you alright? You look very pale."

I nod, trying to slow my breathing, closing my mouth and breathing through my nose. I feel him put his arm around me. "Victor, let's go home. You need to eat and drink and sleep. You've been in prison nearly two days."

Two days? It had been that long. Had I slept at all?

I look around for Yuuri, suddenly afraid he is simply going to disappear before I can see him, speak with him. He is standing by the office steps trying not to stare at me. Suzuyama follows him slowly out of the building.

"Shall we return, Katsuki-san?"

Yuuri glances at him and I can tell he is nervous about what he is about to say. "I... would like to accompany Mr. Nikiforov home. Just to ensure he is alright and see if there is anything I can do for him before I return to the minshuku. I also was going to speak with some of the people at the port. I need to begin making arrangements for my return to Japan."

Suzuyama smiles, and it seems a sad smile to me, even though it is mostly hidden behind his mustache. "Yes, of course. No reason not to since you are already here. Please come by the Consulate later if you can."

"I will." He looks at Suzuyama for a long moment and then bows to him more deeply than I have ever seen him, or anyone else, bow. He holds that position for a long time until the Consul very shallowly returns the bow. They exchange words in Japanese and then Suzuyama heads towards the east road out of town by himself while the three of us silently make our way to my house, which is closer to the docks.

My head is still spinning by the time we are inside. It seems completely unreal that I have been released. Fifteen minutes ago I was certain I was about to be flogged nearly to death.

The door shuts behind us and for a long moment I just stand there in the relative peace and safety of the house I bought when we moved to Korsakovsk. It's lavish by the standards of the settlers, but nothing in comparison to the house I grew up in. It hardly even compares to what were the servants' homes.

"Victor?" Yuri's voice draws me out of my scattered thoughts again and I look first at him and then at Yuuri, the both of them standing, looking at me worriedly. And I completely lose control of myself.

Face in my hands I sink to the floor, dissolving into sobs of relief, released fear, and incredulity.

They surround me, wrapping me in their arms, anchoring me with the reality of their embraces, their smells, the warmth of their breath on my skin, and the sound of their voices in my ear. All mixing together in a blanket of the two people I love more than anything in this world.

Eventually I am able to cling back to them, wrapping them in my arms and squeezing them as tightly to myself as I can. My joy at their existence is overwhelming. For a long time we just crouch like that on the floor, holding each other, reassuring one another.

Finally, when I'm able to compose myself to some extent, they help me back to my feet and deposit me on the couch in the sitting room. Yuri goes to the kitchen to bring me some food and water.

Yuuri stands in front of me struggling out of his suit jacket and dropping it on a nearby chair with a sound of disgust. I stare at him, now in just a buttoned up waistcoat and shirt and what I think is meant to be an ascot.

He must feel my gaze, because he looks at me sheepishly. "I know. I look ridiculous. I hate this suit, but I didn't want to stick out too much coming into Korsakovsk. I don't know how Europeans can dress like this all the time."

I chuckle softly. "I don't know about ridiculous, but you certainly don't look... like yourself."

He twists his lips at that and I take his hand, pulling him onto the couch next to me. "Hold still," I murmur softly, leaning over to undo the ascot and unbutton the top two buttons on his shirt. He looks a little less like he is going to strangle himself to death. "There. Better?"

"Mmm." He looks into my eyes and then reaches up, slim fingers touching my forehead as he brushes my hair back from eyes and tucks it behind my ear. "Your eyes are red from crying." His hand cups my cheek. "It must have been awful, whatever they did to you."

I close my eyes and swallow, shaking my head a little. "They didn't really do anything to me. Not physically. I just thought I was never going to see you again. I thought..." My stomach twists and I pause, taking a deep breath. "I was going to be flogged and then sent back to Alexandrovsk. And I had no idea what Grankin would have in store for me there."

"What happened when you were arrested?"

I sigh, telling him about the telegram, the shipment Grankin planted, how they arrested me off the docks.

"I tried to tell Mr. Bely about Grankin, but he told me he didn't care whether I was lying or telling the truth. He just wanted to be rid of the problems I would cause him, and use me to set an example for the others." I shudder a little in spite of myself, still unable to shake the fear of the kabila.

Yuuri's soft, warm lips press against my cheek and I feel his fingers smooth through my dirty hair. "It's going to be alright. You're safe now, Vitya."

I snort softly at that. "With both Bely and Grankin looking over my shoulder? I doubt it." I sink back into the couch and look at him. "How did you know I was arrested? How did you convince Suzuyama to help you? He hardly said two words to me the whole time I was staying with you. I got the impression he viewed me as an irritation."

Yuuri laughs faintly at that. "Yuri came to me almost as soon as you were arrested. He wanted your pistol. I think he planned to try to break you out of the prison himself."

I snort. "I'm glad you didn't let him try."

We smile wryly at one another. "He was furious with me at first, accusing me of cowardice and all kinds of things. When I finally calmed him down and had some time to think about a plan... getting the letters and going to Suzuyama was really all I could think of. The letters proved that Grankin wanted you working for him, that you hadn't done what he wanted, and that he was threatening retaliation. But I knew that even with that it wasn't likely Mr. Bely was going to listen to Yuri and me. We were nobody to him."

He takes a deep breath and reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together in my lap. "But I knew Mr. Bely wouldn't want to upset Suzuyama-san and the Consulate. Besides wanting to maintain good political relations, he relies too heavily on the Consulate for other things like entertainment and sake."

He's quiet for a moment and he looks down at his lap. There is a red tinge to his cheeks and ears.

"I knew that Suzuyama-san felt guilty for telling me I had to leave Sakhalin when he was the one who convinced me to stay all those years ago when my family left." I study his face as he twists his lips. "It didn't... it wasn't very respectful for me to use that against him. It was underhanded, but it was all I could think of to save you. I played on his guilt and his sense of owing me something to convince him to do me this favor on your behalf. I think he realizes now the depth of my feelings for you. What I asked of him was... very shameless. He must know I wouldn't have done it for just anybody."

I can't claim to really understand Yuuri's obvious guilt and shame. I learned how to manipulate others at a very young age. Using what I know about others to get what I need from them seems like second nature. I wouldn't have thought twice about it.

Here between us stands another cultural chasm.

Even though I don't really understand why, I do understand that it was very difficult for him to do what he did for me. I squeeze his hand. "Thank you, Yuuri. You have saved my life twice now. And you have given more of yourself for me than anyone else ever has."

He looks at me, wide eyed and flushed. "Victor..."

I smile at him wearily and touch my forehead and nose to his. "Thank you, my love."

He makes a soft, strangled sound in the back of his throat, and if I were less exhausted and less traumatized from the past two days of my life, I might not be able to resist the temptation to show him the various ways in which a couch might be employed in the art of love making. But as it is, it is all I can do to just breathe him in.

"Victor." Yuri's voice is flat and unamused. "I need you to untangle yourself from Katsuki and eat and drink something. And then we need to talk about what we do next."

Yuuri and I both look up at him. There is a sort of grimness to his young face, and when I glance back at Yuuri I see the same expression mirrored there.

Yuri carries a tray with some salted fish, broth, bread and a glass of water on it. It doesn't look very appetizing, but if I really haven't ate or drank anything in almost two days I know I need to. I start with the water as Yuri comes to sit on the chair next to the couch.

"You can't stay in Korsakovsk," he says simply. "We got you out of prison, but Bely was obviously not happy about it. Suzuyama won't be around much longer, and then you won't have the opinion of the Consulate to protect you."

I take a deep breath and lift my head wearily, looking at my younger brother with a faint smirk. "You're right. And now that Grankin has played his hand and ensured my uselessness to him, there is nothing to stop him from retaliating in a more... permanent way. Should he desire to do so."

Yuuri looks at me with furrowed brows. "Do you really think he would go that far?"

I shrug, poking at the fish and then deciding instead to sip the broth. "It wouldn't be difficult for him to hire a Gilyak mercenary or bribe a convict to kill me. And Bely probably wouldn't care."

"The sooner we leave this place the better," Yuri says, his face set determinedly in a scowl. "The longer Victor stays here the more opportunity Grankin - and Bely - will have to make his life hell, or put him back in one of the prisons."

Yuuri takes a deep breath. "So then... you're talking about running away. Escaping Sakhalin altogether."

"Of course that's what we're talking about, Katsuki. Try to keep up," Yuri snarls.

"Yuri." My tone is an admonishment.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Yuuri rubbing the palms of his hands on his thighs. "Where... will you go?"

I look up from my broth, blinking at him. He looks back at me with an almost fearful expression. "To Japan. To be with you. Where else would I go?"

His expression relaxes and he smiles softly, looking down into his lap. "I don't know. I just didn't want to assume that's what you would want. Japan is... I mean... You wouldn't know anyone else there and you don't speak Japanese and it's very... very different. Even I'm not sure how much I'm going to like it, and I'm actually Japanese."

I lean over to kiss his shoulder. "Of course it's where I want to be if you are there."

He glances up towards Yuratchka. "What about Yuri? You can't just assume going to Japan is what he wants, too."

Yuri makes a grunting sound. "I'm the one who originally suggested it."

I look at my little brother, furrowing my brows. "You can still go back to St. Petersburg. The Baikal can take you to Nikolaeyovesk and from there -"

"For the last time, Victor," he growls at me, "I'm not leaving you to go back to St. Petersburg. So stop bringing it up."

I stare at him for a moment, feeling all of my dreams for him slipping away, but knowing also that they are my dreams only. After a moment I nod. "Fine. So where does that leave us?"

"Getting out of Korsakovsk and making the crossing to Hokkaido," Yuuri says. "So... first of all we need a boat; then we need someone who can actually sail it across the Souya Strait; and then we need to get you out of Korsakovsk and to the boat and across the strait without being caught or killed... or drowning."

"Doesn't sound too hard," Yuri says nonchalantly.

Yuuri purses his lips. "The waters of the strait are known for having very strong currents. Fishermen used to drown in the waters outside the bay all the time when I was growing up. Making the crossing is dangerous. The only kind of boat we're likely going to be able to get our hands on is a small vessel from... maybe one of the Ainu villages or... scavenged from an abandoned fishing village. And none of us are exactly seasoned sailors. We might be able to hire one of the Ainu to take you, but even then it's still dangerous, and there's always the chance that they'd turn around and sell you back to the Russians for the escapee bounty."

I look at Yuuri, pursing my lips and then smirk. "Like Yuri said, doesn't sound too hard."

He smiles at me lopsidedly and then sighs. "It would be much safer if we could find a way to smuggle you aboard one of the steamers actually sailing for Hokkaido."

I twist my lips and there is silence for a few moments.

"I might know someone," Yuri says suddenly, his voice cautious. "Someone who could help us. With the sailing thing and... maybe with the smuggling thing."

We both look at him with the same expression, brows raised, incredulous. He scowls.

"I've been working on and off the ships for a couple seasons now. What? You think I didn't get to know any of the sailors?" He purses his lips. "I think I know someone who might help us," he repeats. "I can bring him here."

"I don't know that getting someone else involved is a good idea," Yuuri speaks up. "Every other person who knows is one more person who could betray you to the officials."

"He wouldn't do that." Yuri is responding to Yuuri's words, but he's looking only at me, his green eyes blazing. "You have to trust me."

I look back at my little brother, seeing in him the child he used to be and the young man he has become. He is fierce and loyal, and I know he would never do anything he thought would put me at risk. I also know instinctively that he is talking about the dark haired boy from the docks. I think of how he put his arm around Yuri, holding him back, keeping him safe. He is someone that would protect my Yuratchka.

I nod. "I do. Go get your friend. I'll finish eating. Then the four of us can talk, and maybe make a plan."

Yuuri shifts next to me. "Victor you need to sleep." I feel his fingers push through my hair. "And you could also use a bath. Maybe this should wait until tomorrow. You'll be thinking more clearly. You've been through a lot."

Yuri stands up abruptly. "You think because he trusts my judgement he isn't thinking clearly?!"

Yuuri's head snaps around. "What? No! That's not what I meant! I just think that if we're all planning something this dangerous then we all need to be as sharp as possible. Victor's been locked in a dark cell thinking he might die for two days. That he would never see either of us again. He needs to get some rest!"

Yuri makes a tsking sound and crosses his arms, but he offers no rebuttal. He just glowers at us.

I suddenly feel very weary. I close my eyes for a moment and then look back at my younger brother. "Yuuri is probably right. Why don't you go and speak with your friend now? Bring him here if you need a private place to talk. Explain to him the situation. Find out if he is even willing to help us. If he is, then tomorrow we will all talk and make a plan. In the meantime, I'll get cleaned up and get some rest. Nothing is going to change between tonight and tomorrow."

Yuri makes a huffing sound of frustration and throws up his hands. "Fine. I'll go talk to him. I just... I hate this fucking town and this fucking island. I want to leave them both behind as soon as possible."

"I know," I say softly. "We will. I promise."

Yuri looks back at me with a narrow expression. "I will make you keep that promise." Glancing once at Yuuri, he stalks away, grabbing his coat as he leaves the house.

As I finish eating Yuuri heats up water for a bath. "This is barbaric!" he calls from the bathroom.

"What is?" I call back with a smirk of amusement, walking down the hallway. I notice his shoes are sitting neatly outside the bathroom door.

"This entire room. This tub is tiny and there is nowhere to wash off and what is that?" he is pointing to a porcelain chamber pot. The luxuries of indoor plumbing now so common throughout Europe remain by and large a fantasy on Sakhalin.

"It is exactly what it looks like." I stand in the doorway, leaning against the door jamb.

He gawks at me. "But... you bathe in this room. That's not... it's not..." His hands mill the air like he's searching for something. "It's not hygienic!"

I smirk at him, amused at how frazzled he looks, and at the fact that he is still in his waist coat. "What can I say, Yuuri? All Europeans are filthy barbarians. Even me." I chuckle tiredly as I walk into the bathroom.

He groans. "At least take off your shoes, Victor..."

I walk up to him, very close, and look into his eyes as my fingers begin to undo the buttons on his waist coat. "You're going to get this all wet."

He falters and gawks at me, cheeks faintly flushed. "I... I wasn't going to take a bath. I was just... getting some hot water for you."

I continue to slowly undo the buttons. "You won't even stay to help me wash?"

He lets out a little huff of breath, his eyes flicking to my lips and then back to my eyes. "Well... I was going to go... back to the minshuku."

I slide my hands under the waistcoat and push it off his shoulders. He doesn't resist as I help him shrug out of it. "Why? Stay here with me."

Yuuri swallows, and I reach for his hand, pulling his arm up so that I can undo his cufflink and begin to roll his sleeve back.

"I... I didn't think it would be alright for me to stay in Korsakovsk. I'm not Russian and..." He lowers his eyes, frowning softly. "I don't want you to get in any more trouble."

I take his other arm, rolling back the other sleeve. "No one knows or cares that you are here. Please," I murmur softly, waiting for him to lift his eyes again before I say, "stay with me tonight."

My voice is more pleading than I mean for it to be, but the thought of not having him close is too much for me. Everything is so precarious now. Thinking I had lost him... knowing that I still could, I need every moment I can get.

He holds my gaze for a moment and then swallows and nods a little. "Alright. I'll stay."

He lets me kiss him softly, his hands now on the front of my shirt, undoing my buttons. It's so thrilling to feel him undress me. My hands find his hips, squeezing and pulling him closer.

He grunts softly against my mouth and I feel him squirming in my grasp. "Vic...tor..." he mumbles, between my kisses.

"Hmm?" I query against his lips. He giggles and tries to pull away from me, turning his face.

"Stop! You smell like a barn and you need to get in the bath tub."

I graze my teeth against his jaw. "What do you expect when you start undressing me?"

He snorts and yanks my shirt out of my pants. "I'm undressing you for the bath, because I thought you were tired." He puts one hand on my face and pushes it away. "And you can do the rest yourself, because you obviously have plenty of energy despite not having slept in nearly two days."

I laugh and step back, sliding my suspenders off my shoulders and pulling my shirt off. Yuuri looks away modestly. "How can I help myself? I thought I would never taste your lips again."

I watch color spring into his face and he looks at me out of the corner of his eyes as I continue to disrobe. "You... can taste them later. After your bath."

My eyes hood. "Don't think I won't."

Sakhalin Island, Korsakovsk Post, Spring 1888 - V.N.

Despite how weary I feel, sleep does not come easy. Even with Yuuri at my side I only drift fitfully in and out of the shallowest sleep. Every time I begin to sink deeper it is as if I am sinking into the darkness of the cachot noir, and I come awake again with a little start.

Each time I wake Yuuri is there to stroke his fingers through my hair and murmur to me softly in the darkness. It reminds me of when I first began recovering at the minshuku. The nightmares, the feverish dreams, waking confused and disoriented, and always Yuuri there to soothe me and tend to my needs. His cool fingers on my face and stroking back my hair. The sharp taste of tea and laudanum gently held to my lips. A faint song in a language I didn't understand, with melodies so strange and lilting that their beauty haunted me.

How could I do anything but fall utterly in love with him?

Just after dawn, when my bedroom has begun to fill with a gloomy, pale light, he speaks, soft and low, "Are you having nightmares?"

I blink my eyes tiredly, having come awake again for what feels to be the hundredth time. My head rests on his chest, my ear close to his heartbeat. "No. It's more... my body just won't let me go fully to sleep. Every time I almost do I come awake again."

Beneath the heavy quilt I run my hand lightly over the small swell of his hip and the faint dip of his waist. "Am I keeping you awake as well? I'm sorry."

"No. I can't sleep anyway. Your bed is too high off the floor. I keep feeling like I'm going to fall out of it as soon as I close my eyes."

I can't help but smile faintly at that. I wrap my arm around his middle snugly. "I wouldn't let you fall out."

He kisses my hair and strokes his fingers around the sensitive skin behind my ear. "Once we're in Japan, we'll only ever sleep on futon, and I won't have to worry about it," he murmurs teasingly.

"Once we're in Japan..." I repeat the words, drawing my hand up to rest on his chest. It seems like a far off dream.

"We're going to make it, Victor. We're going to have a happy life together."

I smile at that, almost afraid to believe him. There is so much that could go wrong, and my recent experiences still hang over me like a dark cloud. "I just wish you'd actually taught me some Japanese like I asked."

He sighs and chuckles. "Well, had I known I probably would have." His fingers gently rub my ear. "We still have some time. What do you want to know how to say?"

"Mmm..." I prop myself up on my elbow, resting my cheek on my hand as I look down at him. His short, dark hair fans out prettily against my pillows. "What do you think I need to know?"

He studies my face in the dim light. "Maybe... how to introduce yourself?"

"Ok. How do I do that?"

He grins and then giggles, wrinkling his nose. "This feels very silly." He clears his throat and then says slowly, "Ore wa Bikutoru Nikiforobu desu."

I arch an eyebrow. "That didn't sound anything like my name."

"Most Japanese people will not be able to say your name properly," he chuckles.

My eyes widen and I grin. "Oooh. Maybe I should take a Japanese name then." I waggle my eyebrows. "What do you think."

He touches my face and smirks. "I think... that wouldn't suit you at all."

I frown a little. "But if people can't say my name, what will they call me?"

"Mmm... probably gaijin-san," he chuckles.

"Meaning...?"

"Mr. Foreigner."

I snort at that. "How will people know they are talking about me? That's so vague."

He takes a deep breath and then sighs softly with a little laugh. "Where we are going, Victor, you and Yuri will be the only gaijin-san around. Everyone will know who you are." His dark eyes hood a little and he strokes my cheek. "Maybe they will call you Katsuki Yuuri no gaijin-san."

"Meaning?"

"Yuuri Katsuki's Mr. Foreigner."

I laugh out loud at that and lean down to kiss him with smiling lips. "Yes. That is what I am. The beautiful Yuuri Katsuki's Mr. Foreigner."

He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him tightly, kissing me back. It is early and I have barely slept, but my want for him is almost desperate.

"How do you say," I murmur between kisses, "I love you?"

He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat. "That's..." he huffs softly, "a complicated question. The Japanese have different words for love."

"Oooh? Tell me more. This is intriguing."

He smiles and kisses my jaw. "Mmm... you can say, suki desu. It means to like or love something or someone. Or daisuki desu means you like or love it a lot."

I try the word. "Dai ski dez?"

He giggles. "Close enough."

I grin. "How else?"

"Koi. It means love, but... this kind of love." He rubs his leg against mine and squeezes me. "Wanting this kind of thing with someone. Wanting them physically. But you would very rarely say koi desu or koi shite'iru. I sounds... strange and kind of lewd."

I make a purring sound of interest in my throat. "But what if it's true? What if I very much koi dez you?"

He starts to laugh, and I can actually feel him shaking under me. "S-stop, Victor. That's not how you say that."

"But it's true!" I grin and kiss him again, nibbling at his lips. "I koi, koi, koi dez you!"

Yuuri buries his face in my shoulder, laughing for a few long moments and then he gasps for air and falls back in the pillows, grasping my face between his hands. "No! That's not right. Forget I taught you that."

I grin at him. "I will not forget."

He is flushed and obviously embarrassed either by my terrible Japanese or my lewdness or perhaps both. I love that I have made him laugh and smile so much. I stroke his face. "And what else? Is there any other way to say 'I love you' in Japanese?"

He smiles at me, but it softens as his gaze becomes coy. "Yes. There is the word ai. It is... love. It can be an abstract concept. But when you say you feel ai for someone else, it's a deep love, love with your heart. A romantic feeling."

I gaze at him softly. "So it is different than the... ski and koi love?"

He grins a little, probably at my terrible pronunciation. "Yes. You can suki a favorite food or a pet or a family member or friend. And you can feel koi for someone that you don't feel ai for - like all of the lovers you used to have, but said you didn't really love. Koi is like... desire, maybe is the best word."

"And this ai? This is true love? Not just desire?"

He nods.

"How do you say it? In Japanese. That you love something with that kind of love? With ai?"

He purses his lips and flushes almost darker than I have ever seen him blush before. "It's," he croaks a little, "very embarrassing to say. You wouldn't usually say it out loud."

I gaze at him steadily, my eyes soft and hooded. "I want to say it anyway."

He bites his lower lip and looks back at me, furrowing his brows. I wait patiently. "A-ai... shite'iru." The words quiver as they leave his lips.

"Ai shtayru."

He blinks at that and then lets out a kind of nervous laugh. His arms wrap around my shoulders and he pulls me down further, leaning up to press his lips close to my ear, saying slowly with clear enunciation. "Ai shite'iru."

I press my own lips to his ear and repeat softly. "Ai shite'iru."

Yuuri makes a soft choking sound and his arms tighten around me even more. I hear him sniffle and I gently wrap my arms around him, moving to lie on top of him as his legs part to cradle my hips. He is trembling.

"Ore mo," he whispers, voice strained in my ear. "Victor no koto ga ai shite'iru. Itsumo."

Though I don't fully understand the words, I understand the depth of them. My Yuuri, my love. He feels for me as much as I feel for him. I press him into the bed, holding him tightly as I move my hips against his to rub our bodies together in a mimicry of love making.

There is no oil handy to accommodate taking him. But this is more than sweet enough, moving our bodies together as our arms and legs entwine, kissing and touching, as we share the heat of our skin. We take our time, assuring ourselves and each other of the reality and permanence of being together.

And when it is over, we are both finally tired enough to sleep for a few hours before rising for the day.

As we descend the stairs the smell of breakfast and the sound of voices are both coming from the kitchen. Yuri and the dark haired boy from the docks are sitting at the table, talking. The smile on Yuri's face is not one that I have seen recently. It makes him so beautiful.

"Good morning," I say casually as I step into the kitchen, Yuuri trailing after me curiously.

Yuri's smiling face sobers and he stands as if he's been caught doing something he shouldn't. "It's about time you got up. I've already made breakfast."

"So I see." My eyes move to the other boy and he looks at me with an even, almost stern gaze before standing and offering me his hand.

"I am Otabek Altin. I work on the Baikal," his voice is not as deep as I expect it to be for some reason. He has such a stern sense of gravity about him that I expected it to hold more gravitas. But it is lighter than Yuri's and it makes me realize he is probably not that much older than my little brother. Not yet twenty, surely.

I smile at him as I shake his hand. "You're Yuri's friend. Thank you for restraining him the other day."

His brows rise, obviously surprised, either that I'd remembered or that I'd noticed in the first place. "I didn't want him to get hurt."

"Neither did I."

Yuri seems fidgety and nervous as he starts to move food from the stove to the table. He looks at Yuuri with a smirk. "Now you will know what real food tastes like."

Yuuri just snorts and sits down at the table.

I release Otabek's hand and gesture for him to sit again before sitting myself. "And this is Yuuri Katsuki. He is attached to the Japanese Consulate here. He is..." I glance at him.

"Your lover. Yuri has told me quite a bit about both of you."

Yuuri flushes at that and we both turn our attention on Yuri. "Oh? Has he? How interesting seeing as he has not told either of us anything about you, Mr. Altin," I say with a grin.

The young man now also glances at Yuri, who looks back and forth between the three of us for a moment before scowling and practically throwing a pan of sausages down on the table. "What? I don't have to tell you everything about my life."

I chuckle and pluck a sausage out of the pan with my fingertips. "Yuri has never had a friend before," I say conspiratorially to Otabek.

"Mm." He nods a little and then begins to help himself to the food.

Yuri is scowling at me as he sits down. "If I didn't want off this island so bad, I wouldn't have subjected him to you in the first place."

"Yuri told me about your plan," Otabek says. "I have to say that I wouldn't recommend trying to cross the Souya Straight yourself. It's very dangerous and to avoid being spotted you'd have to go at night, making it even more dangerous."

I raise my brows, surprised that the young man has headed straight into the topic of my escape without any hesitation. I take another bite of my sausage and watch him as he chews a mouthful of eggs.

"I see. And is there something else you would recommend?"

He nods. "I know the captain of the Baikal. I've been working for him since I was a boy. I know that he has taken other escapees from time to time. I could talk to him - in generalities of course - to see if he would be willing to take you. There would be money involved."

I smirk faintly. "Of course. I wouldn't expect a free ride."

He nods again and I notice that Yuri's eyes remain fixed on him nearly the entire time he is talking.

Otabek takes another bite of his breakfast. He seems very at home in my kitchen. "Because you are already on the bad side of the officials, it would probably be too dangerous to try to smuggle you directly out of Korsakovsk. The guards monitor who comes and goes off the ship very closely. But, after the Baikal leaves port, it could anchor outside the bay, and I could tender you out to it. That would be much safer than trying to cross the full straight."

I sit back a little bit. "And you would be willing to do this for me?"

He looks at me with his sharp, dark gray eyes. "Not for you, Mr. Nikiforov. But I would do for Yuri. Gladly."

"I see." I look at my younger brother and he is looking embarrassed, pleased, and cross all at the same time.

"There are several places along the shore of the bay that we could leave from. It's just a matter of picking one, and then coordinating our timing. Depending on what the Captain says it would likely be this sailing or the next."

"This sailing?" Yuuri speaks up. "That's only a couple days from now. I haven't made any of my arrangements to leave the island." He glances at me, his anxiety plain to see on his face. "You'd be alone in Japan until I could make the crossing. It could be weeks, or... a month or more! You don't speak any Japanese. You might... get lost or robbed or... or something could happen. Something could happen and I'd never know what happened to you."

I reach out to take his hand, squeezing it. "Relax, Yuuri."

"It's worse to stay in Korsakovsk, isn't it? Besides, he wouldn't be alone. I'd be there with him," Yuri says.

I purse my lips and look back at my little brother. "No. I think you should wait and come across with Yuuri. Buy a ticket on the Baikal. Even with Otabek's help the smuggling business will be dangerous. If I'm found out or something else happens, it's better that you're still here and safe."

He scowls at me. "That's stupid. Why would I stay here if you aren't here?"

"To take care of our affairs for one thing," I say, sitting back and crossing my arms. "It would be suspicious if I start selling off the house and our belongings myself before I leave. So you'll have to take care of all of that. You'll also need to sell Shadow and pack up my trunk and the things I left at the minshuku. I doubt I'll be able to take much with me when I escape. There are a lot of reasons I need you to stay behind. I know you don't like it, but I need you to do this for me."

Yuri continues to scowl, but then after a few moments he grunts and nods. "Fine. If it's because you need me to take care of things I'll stay."

"Thank you, Yuratchka."

We're all quiet for a moment, chewing our food slowly, consumed in our individual thoughts. Then Yuuri takes a deep breath, and speaks. "Now the question is just how and when do we get you out of Korsakovsk Post."

I twist my lips. Staying in Korsakovsk poses certain risks at this point. Bely will surely have sent Grankin another telegram, informing him of the outcome of my arrest and the Consulate's intervention. He will also let him know he is watching me, which makes me utterly useless to Grankin for the time being. Staying in Korsakovsk makes me an easy target for him. It also means that there is the opportunity for something else to go wrong. For our plan to be found out and for me to be apprehended and imprisoned again before the sailing.

But fleeing is dangerous, too. I could return to the minshuku, but it is likely the first place anyone would look for me, and I do not want to put Yuuri in that kind of immediate danger. So where would I go? Where could I hide safely for what could be weeks before the Baikal's next sailing across the straight? If I wasn't stopped by the guards or tracked down by men from Korsakovsk there were still the Gilyak mercenaries to avoid. They knew the wilderness better than any of the settlers, and certainly better than I did, and they were constantly on the lookout for escapees who always fetched a bounty - dead or alive.

I sigh heavily after a moment and look around the table, but mostly at Yuuri. He's giving me an anxious look. "I'm not sure. I guess that will depend on the Captain's decision regarding this sailing or next sailing. If it's this sailing there's no point in trying to leave before then. But if it's not until the next sailing in three weeks, then we might need to make another plan." I shake my head. "I can't shake the feeling that I shouldn't stay in Korsakovsk any longer than I have to."

Yuuri nods slowly and reaches under the table for my hand. "Then we'll wait to hear what the Captain of the Baikal says."

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Historical Notes

1. The Baikal - This was a real steamer that went between the Russian mainland, Alexandrovsk, Korsakovsk, and Japanese ports. It's the ship that Anton Chekhov rode when he visited Sakhalin. I used it in the story partly because it's historically accurate, but mostly because I had no idea how to make up a name for a Russian ship.

2. Palach - This word translates to "executioner." This was the individual who carried out corporal punishment at the prisons. According to historical records most convicts paid regular tribute to the local palach (money, alcohol, contraband, etc.) so that should he ever get sent to him for a flogging the palach would not beat him severely enough to maim or kill him.

3. Rozgi - birch rods used for whipping. Usually dipped in salt. (Cause being whipped with a regular birch rod isn't awful enough.)

4. Plet - a whip or flog that usually had several tail with pouches of lead tied to the ends. If one of these pouches connected with your kidney or broke your ribs, puncturing your lungs you could easily be killed.

5. Knout - similar to the plet the knout had metal hooks attached to the ends of the whip tails. Although use of the knout was technically outlawed in the mid nineteenth century, historical records indicate that it continued to be used in remote places like Sakhalin well into the later half of the century.

6. Kabila - a flogging board to which an individual was strapped face down after having had their pants and shirt either pulled down/up or removed altogether. After being strapped down they would have been flogged with one of the above instruments. A very painful and humiliating punishment.

7. Cachot noir - the "dark cells" were basically the solitary confinement of their day.

8. Gilyak mercenaries - Rather than waste men and resources on tracking down escapees themselves, the prison officials relied on the indigenous people to do it for them. The prisons offered bounties of money, food, and other goods for escapees, and the Gilyak in particular were well known for being ruthless in their pursuit of escaped convicts. Crossing paths with indigenous hunters was an escapee's worst case scenario.

9. The chamber pot - Japanese people do not go to the toilet in the same room where they bathe. In a Japanese house the ofuro and the toire (toilet) are in two completely separate rooms, usually nowhere near one another. The fact that westerners put their toilet and shower/bath in the same room is something that dumbfounds and kinda grosses out a lot of Japanese people.

10. Ore mo. Victor no koto ga ai shite'iru. Itsumo. - Me too. I love you, Victor. Forever.