Pytor Vladimirovich, as all the adults were calling him, had fallen through the looking glass into Sasha's crazy world. He had found out his family name had been anglicised for the stage by his father, as Tchanchikov was totally a bit of a mouthful. That was one piece of information of note that at seventeen, daddy had his eyes sat on the New World and ballet had been his ticket out with some bullshit of a Scottish ancestor. Pyotr would be the first to admit it had been a steep learning curve and he had taken a couple of days to get up speed over the cultural change. The difference in outlooks had caused a bit of a bumpy ride to begin with, but he had adopted Sasha's game plan. This is me, deal with it,
So much for staying with Alia, they were guests in the Dacha of Katya Borisovna, who was treating Sasha and Petrushka as favoured siblings, not strangers. There was no wailing, all agreed that Boris Anatolyovich had lived a full and happy life and a good passing. The full house of friends and family were talking of Papa, Grandfather, Uncle and faultlessly generous Borya and their recollections were peppered with laughter and tear filled eyes of the pain of remembering many good and bad times. Sasha was silent. Pyotr was sat holding his brother's hand, both of them with an untouched glass of vodka in front of them. A glass that would be drunk before they left for the funeral, for Boris.
The fifteen year old pulled at his black tie, for Auntie Katya to notice and ruffle the boy's blond hair and reassure him that later this afternoon he could relax and play football with his 'cousins'. Uncle Timur arrived to say the cars were ready. A state funeral, this high school kid from Manhattan was going to a State Funeral of His Excellency, President of the Russian Federation, Boris Kiriyenko. A man he had only met on his deathbed, three days ago. A man who treated Sasha as his prodigal son. The olds man's last words had been 'I was a selfish fool. Forgive me, Sasha. I should have adopted you. If only we had both seen through our masks then. How different would our lives have been.'
…..
The Roscoe Industries Ansat helicopter flew straight from Vnikovo Airport to the helipad on the roof of Moscow Central Clinical Hospital. During the short flight, the teenager could see Sasha grow tense, emotionless and put his guarded mask in place. Pyotr muttered "Stop hiding, Sasha. You remember, no masks. I don't care who these people are. The line has been drawn. Acceptance and nonconformity is the new you. Do you want me to call Annie for you?"
The stiffness did not fully leave the dancer and tension was still present, but he did smile weakly and squeeze his brother's hand for reassurance. "What is Boris going to think of me? I'm not the man he knew, I never was. I am the antithesis of all he thinks is good and right. Should I not give a dying man what he wants and expects."
The fifteen year old decided to play tough love, thinking that the truth above all was needed to shatter the comfort of pandering to expectations. "No, put yourself first. If you don't I will squeal to Lola. Don't be the broken child soldier anymore, Sasha. You are so much more than your uncle's puppet. If your friend is anything like the person you described; he loves you because of mistakes and understands all you endured deeply affected you. What happened in the past is what makes you you. No editing. I promised Dad to look out for you. I'm here for you. No bullshit, big brother. We, the Makarov-Stravenkov's stick together. As Lola said biology be damned. I really really really wish she was here."
"So do I." Alex said smiling. Lola had proved to be a firm favourite for shopping, dressing up and girls nights with both Luci and Nina. Biology be damned was that lady's motto.
…..
Kolya was there by the elevator waiting for the arrival of honoured visitors and hugged and kissed Alex and his brother in greeting. "Sasha, Pyotr Vladimirovich, welcome to Moscow. I cannot thank you both enough for dropping everything to come. He's holding on to see you, Sasha. The rumour on the TV news is that you were in Paris to become guest artiste there to stage your new ballet, with the brilliant new junior soloist from New York." Konya winked playfully at the teenage dancer. "I have watched all your videos with Boris. He listens to your friend's music everyday. Loves it. He wishes you were dancing here in Moscow and will be watching in spirit, with his Oksana when you do."
The big gruff ex-paratrooper looked haggard.
Sasha asked knowing the man will have not left his good friend's side in days. "Have you rested at all since the old man collapsed?"
"No, it is my duty to stay, he is my responsibility. Best position I have ever been entrusted with. Going back to the rank and file will be impossibly hard. Boris has been a joy to protect and to befriend. Forgive him if he mentions the General. He has been drifting into his memories with the pain medication. Remember he loves you and regrets much. Indulge any faux pas. Just a warning the whole family is here. I wish to strangle his bitch of a sister, luckily the girls can't stand their aunt and cut her out of their conversation and haggling. Its like Macbeth… three witches. Leave your bags at the security check point. President Tchaikov has visited everyday, after everything Boris has always been a popular with both the hard liners and the progressives."
Both Americans were given a full pat down by the security agents and then proceeded to the crowded corridor where Katya and Xenia Borisovna, noted the arrival of the American dancer with smiles and heartfelt greetings to the black sheep, before reassuring Sasha "Your brother will be fine with us. Timur will get him a drink and a snack. There is a TV in the nurses lounge. He can watch sport or pop videos. Go straight in. He has been asking for his favourite godson."
Alex was shocked to see the frail ghost of a man in the hospital bed. He was thin, his skin like paper and his breaths rattling as he fought for each lungful of air despite the oxygen tent.
"Sasha…. you look well…. come sit so I can have a proper look at you."
Milky grey eyes drank in the sight of this dearly missed exile. The thin hand reached over the edge of the bed and Alex clasped the bony hand and gently kissed the back of it. "I have missed you so much, Borya. I hated leaving you. I have missed the good times we had here. Playing backgammon with you and your friends at the banya."
The old man squeezed softly and the smiled "You are dancing with Vladimir's son. Your friend's have posted the video of Paris this afternoon. Kolya has an alert on his phone. It was inspiring to use young dancers. Your brother he is following your footsteps as a dancing performance artist rather than just a ballet star. You know we have corresponded, such a cheeky and forthright young man. Very mature."
"I told Petrushka to finish school here in Moscow, to study with Alia. Her contemporary dance class has a three year waiting list, but I think my recommendation might sway her to accept him."
"The security team said he was here with you. I never expected his parents to allow such a thing."
"I hope Petrushka grows to love the land of his father. I know I have. Vladimir paints a grim picture of his life here, but his family life was awful and he ran to find happiness. I think that is why he accepted me. He was the only one of Maria's circle that saw the damaged child under my cocky bravado. He knew I ran out of fear of a cage. I was running from myself, I carried the horrors of my past with me, never confronting the hurt and pain. I have now. I am healing."
Alex hated goodbyes, but he needed to give this man the olive branch he had long yearned for. "I have confronted all the skeletons in my closet. It has taken me years to understand Alexei. You have to understand to forgive. He … he was the first father to me…. Vladimir is … you are… After being a parentless, an afterthought, I am blessed to have such wonderful families now. Alexei… can you truthfully believe he would have accepted me… the homosexual… the broken child soldier … the performance artist. I am not Vladimir on any level. It is only a passing resemblance. I was never close to his ideal of a good son. In Murmansk, I expected him to kill me and I goaded him to do so. My death over millions. He was so blinkered by his vision of greatness. I rejected him… I will never be, could never take Vladimir's place. His delusion was to see his son in me. He was not well. Conrad preyed on that.. used him. Your friend was caught in the web of conspiracies and delusions. I have also faced that abyss. You have always said that you wish I had know your friend, not the demon who possessed him at the end." Alex did not voice his suspicion that the CIA had used him for that operation because of his close resemblance to the General's beloved dead son.
"You are like my own son, Sasha. I have told my girls that. You being here has made this old man happy and I can rest in peace. I have missed my Oksana so, and my friend, the real friend, as you say the father to Vladimir and the man that should have seen you, the real you as his son as I have.."
…..
Two women with grown up children of their own, joined Sasha as the old man slept and then breathed his last. All present in that room then wept openly and comforted each other.
Katya collected herself as her younger sister comforted her own daughters. "Petrushka…he calls you his brother from another mother. We are all siblings in that sense, we had a wonderful father, one you only knew as a man. Yes, you should have been our brother since Uncle Alyosha passed. We all agree on that. You will come and stay for the viewing. Business first for you. Your friend Dimitry is here. Running errands for that pig Tchaikov, who never once visited Boris until he was dying. He is a snake, I fear Boris asked him to watch over you. Trust me, Aleksandrov is the only protector you need."
…..
It was Kolya who took control over the interloper. "Sasha will be staying with Katya until the funeral. He needs to be at her house by nightfall for the laying out of Boris' corpse. Have a care to respect Boris' daughters and their demands at this difficult time. They want their brother there. You need to respect Sasha's chaperone as well. Little Petrushka has been told not to trust you. Why does your and Sasha's rich and influential friend Paul Roscoe doubt you will put your rescuer's needs first? Think on that Dimitry Ivanovich."
The Federal Security Officer in full dress uniform saluted the highly decorated and respected presidential bodyguard "You have nothing to fear from me. Alex's presence has been requested by His Excellency President Tshaikov, he only wishes to meet the Hero of Murmansk, the boy who ensured the safety and stability of our fatherland. It is time for truth to be aired since the traitor's only friend is now dead."
…..
How deep did the rabbit hole go? All the way to the Presidential State Apartment at the Kremlin. Pyotr gripped Sasha's hand as they travelled in the flag draped car with police escort. Dimitri was sat in the front with the driver, giving the grieving brothers privacy. Alex blew his nose on his last hanky and then rubbed eyes with his left hand. He then pulled out his phone and Pyotr read the emails as they were typed. Messages to Paul, Dieter Sprintz, the Sergeant and to last to Edward Pleasure. "Heads up Russians about to declassify Skeleton Key. Possibly also Point Blanc. Operation cat out of the bag. May need to run to ground! Speak fully after the funeral."
The phone was then passed to Pyotr, "It might be better if you talk to mom and dad. Wake's in Russia are long winded and close family affairs, both Katya and Xenia have taken a shine to you and me both."
