AN: Warning of violence and language in the prologue.

xxxxxxx

The old elevator doors slowly opened to reveal the familiar long hallway on Ivan's apartment floor. The outdated carpentry looked as ragged as usual, and the flickering florescent lights above his head did nothing to alleviate the migraine he knew was forming from his long day in class.

Strangely, all thoughts of his reports dissipated from his mind as he stepped onto the floor; an eerie feeling building itself in his stomach the more he approached his apartment door that had his number clearly labeled over it.

It wasn't that there was anything out of the ordinary per say, just something in the air, a stillness that he'd never really noticed before.

Feeling like he needed a good night's rest more than ever now, Ivan quickly inserted the keys into the deadbolt, and pushed the door open, calling out to anyone that might be home at this time of day.

As he flung his jacket carelessly onto the coat hook, and did likewise with his scarf and keys, Ivan heard his father call out from their small living room around the corner; his voice strangely subdued and with a note of irritation that the large student only rarely heard.

Although when he did it her it, was almost always directed at himself.

"Ivan, could you please come in here for a moment." His father asked.

Not bothering to take off his shoes, Ivan turned into the living room to answer his father, but faltered in his steps at the entryway.

His father was sitting in his favourite chair as always, the one that faced the large couch. But standing behind him there was a strange man that Ivan had never seen before. A quick look around the room revealed that his father appeared to be entertaining several other guests as well.

Nothing about the ambiance in the room indicated that this was a sociable meeting in any way.

There were six unfriendly looking types either standing or sitting around the room, dressed in all different casual sorts of attire. Most of the men looked incredibly bored to be there, one even peeking at his watch, as if he were annoyed it had taken this long already.

But there was one man in the middle of the couch grinning with absolute pleasure upon seeing Ivan enter the room.

"Ivan Braginski, I can't tell you how happy I am to finally meet you face to face. I have heard so… so much about you." The tall skinny man stood up amiably, holding out his right hand as he walked over to greet him properly. None of the other men moved from their spot; including his father.

"You father has been telling me all about your exploits in university, your family must be very proud… but look at me being all rude and not even introducing myself. My name is Anatoly Belov, and I believe... you are already well acquainted with my brother?"

The feeling of 'wrong' that that engulfed Ivan from the moment he'd entered the apartment was instantly magnified when he heard that name… Belov… this was exactly what he'd been hoping to avoid getting mixed up in…. exactly the sort of thing he'd most feared when he'd learned the truth about Sasha last week…

The jovial man didn't give Ivan a chance to properly answer as he continued to pace around the room, walking around the couch, and forcing every one present to strain their heads in order to follow him.

"You're father and I have just been having the most interesting discussion about the importance of family you know. How it doesn't matter what a disappointment they may grow up to be, or what a thorn in your side they actually are, because in the end, HEY… they're family." Anatoly held his arms up at this comment, and leaned back in an exaggerated shrug.

Ivan looked up over at his father, trying to gleam if he knew what was really going on, and judging by the angry shake of his head, and the amount of irritation rolling off of him, Ivan gathered that he was well aware of the situation.

Anatoly started walking around the room again, not stopping until he was standing beside his father's side, carelessly picking up a photo of his mother that had been sitting innocently on the lamp stand; and examining it with minute detail.

"So I think Mr Braginsky," he stopped to look at both men, "BOTH Mr Braginskys, that you'll understand where I'm coming from when I say that I really… really… really don't appreciate my family being fucked with."

Anatoly then gently returned the picture to its rightful place with the utmost care, and smiled charmingly one last time over at Ivan and then back at his father.

That was the only warning they got before Anatoly grabbed his father's hand, and quicker than the eye could follow, took a knife from his pocket, and stabbed his palm into the table.

His father screamed out in pain, and Ivan instantly rushed forward to help him; but he was himself was held back by two of the burlier men who quickly moved him off to the side of the room, well away from his father.

Anatoly shook his head in disappointment as he watched the older Braginsky fail over and over in his attempts to free his stationary hand. The man who had been standing behind his father leaned forward to secure his shoulder, insuring that that he didn't leave his chair in his attempts to free himself of the knife.

Ivan struggled with all his might against the two men, yelling angrily for them to let him go. But all they did instead was hold him tighter while one of them punched hard in the gut, and the other tripped him into a kneeling position on the ground so that they could each put pressure on a leg, while holding still holding his torso upright.

Anatoly curled his lip up in disgust as he walked across the room to join Ivan, grabbing his pale hair in a cruel grip and painfully forcing his head back so that they were looking eye to eye.

"What the hell gives YOU the right to think you can even touch my brother…" Anatoly began.

"I never touched him… I swear." Ivan cried out in defense, but the snarling man above him slammed his fist into the side of Ivan's face for the effort, hitting him so hard that Ivan's vision actually blurred for a second, and he soon felt blood dripping from a cut in his cheek.

Anatoly motioned for the men to gag Ivan as he let the young man's head fall back and he himself returned to Ivan's father.

"Quiet him! This is going to take a bit, and I really don't feel like listening to his pathetic excuses the whole time."

A third man appeared beside Ivan, and pulled out a long piece of duct tape. He jammed a rolled up sock into Ivan's open mouth, and then secured it by wrapping the tape tightly around Ivan's head several times, nearly cutting off his breathing entirely as it just barely missed his nose.

The same courtesy was not shown to Ivan's father, who had by now stopped worrying about the knife embedded in his hand in his concern for his son's wellbeing.

"W-what are you going to do to him, I'm begging you, please he's just a kid! Don't kill my only son, please…" but his ranting was cut off when Anatoly took a second knife and thrust it into his right leg causing the man to stop talking and return to his cries of pain.

Laughing as if he'd just heard the greatest joke on earth, and looking back at his men to see if they were just as amused; he turned to face Ivan still struggling on the ground.

"Kill your son? Now why would I do a stupid thing like that? That little bastard hurt my baby brother, and you know what? I don't even care if all the things Sasha said turned out to be a lie, because just the thought of this disgusting… piece… of shit… fag laying a single hand on my little brother is more than enough to make me want to burn this whole fucking building down."

Anatoly grabbed hold of his father's right hand that had just successfully managed to pull the blade out of his leg, and snapped his wrist so far back that when he released the appendage, all of his father's fingers went completely slack.

"And when someone hurts somebody I love…" another break, this time to the forearm. "I, in turn, hurt somebody that they love."

Anatoly then picked up the fallen knife off the ground, wiping the blade on his victim's once clean white shirt, before examining the blade to ensure its cleanliness.

"Message gets across far more effective this way, I think… Wouldn't you agree Mr Braginsky?"

By now Ivan was using every last ounce of strength he had to pull himself free, screaming at the top of his lungs into the duct tape, his wild hair flailing as he thrust forward in order to somehow get just an inch closer to his father, who's own screams, Anatoly didn't quite feel the need to quiet like Ivan's.

Ivan's mind was desperately trying to think of a way out of this; confused beyond all belief that such a small interaction with the brother of a dangerous man could have had such large repercussions.

Had Sasha really been that hurt that Ivan didn't want to play around with him? So much so that he'd ask for such a horrible retaliation?

The room went deathly quiet when the sound of another pair of keys going into the deadlock and the loud bustle of more people entering the small apartment was heard; and just like that, the situation went from bad, to the stuff of nightmares.

Ivan shouted out in warning through the thick tape over his mouth, and earned another painful hit to the back of his head for his actions. His father managed a bit better and yelled out in desperation.

"Katyusha, turn back around right now and get the hell out of here…" Anatoly backhanded him as well as he motioned to two more of his men to fetch the new comers. They rushed into the hallway and soon returned with both of Ivan's surprised sisters in their grasp.

Katyusha looked stunned, unable to grasp the situation at first, but young Natalya only had to take one look at the blood leaking from her father's hand to start balling uncontrollably in worry and fear.

Anatoly actually groaned out loud, covering his ears in an embellished act of agony. "Oh Shut her up, shut her up already. I can't stand that high pitched squeal."

The man standing behind his father, who had so far barely moved except to restrain his seated prisoner, reached into the right side of his coat, and with barely a look their way, took out a concealed weapon and a single horrifying shot rang out through the room.

All motion stopped and not another sound was heard as Ivan and the rest of his family watched his youngest sister suddenly go quiet, and fall limply to the ground, a distinctive red blotch forming on her brow as she fell down like a broken rag doll.

Ivan couldn't move; he could barely even breathe as he tried to process what he'd just witnessed.

It didn't make sense; it wasn't possible… because… because any second now, Natayla was going to get up, she was going to start crying again, she was going to beg for them to let her daddy go… she was…

She was dead.

Against all odds it was Katyusha who recovered the quickest, escaping the loose handhold on her arm and jumping across the room to fling herself at the man who'd so carelessly and without a second thought gunned down her baby sister.

She didn't get far before Anatoly grabbed her from behind, picking her up as if she weighed nothing, and turning her around to face Ivan instead.

She screamed, and cried while tears poured from her eyes as she sobbed uncontrollably for her sister. "Natalya…. Natalya….Nata…ly…a…"

Anatoly gently rocked her back and forth, softly whispering words of condolence, as she went limp in his arms in grief. He tenderly moved his right hand up to lift her chin to face the still shell shocked Ivan kneeling before her.

"Shhh, don't worry yourself my dear. Someone as pretty and kind hearted as you shouldn't have to suffer for long in this cruel world." He leaned down and placed a delicate kiss on her tear stained cheek, before turning to smile down at his captive.

And Ivan saw the action in his mind before it even happened, and he knew exactly what was he was about to witness, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

As the loud scream of denial ripped through his throat, only to be muffled once again by his ever present gag, he watched as Anatoly tilted his sister's head back ever so slightly and raised his left hand that still possessed the blade he'd cleaned not moments before, and proceeded to slice it deep across his sister's pristine pale neck.

Katyusha barely registered what had happened; the only indication she knew anything at all was her eyes opening wide and how she suddenly found it hard to breath. She stumbled forward chocking, and Ivan watched in horror as blood began to spill forth from the wound in her neck along with little tiny bubbles of much needed air.

She swallowed futilely one last time, staring directly at Ivan's helpless form, her watery eyes pleading for some kind of aid before they rolled far back into her head, and she sagged powerlessly back against the beaming man behind her.

Anatoly gently laid her onto the ground, and brushed some of her hair out of her eyes, involuntarily leaving streaks of blood on her increasingly pale features.

Ivan yelled and cried and clenched his eyes so tightly it hurt while he tried to lunge forward with every last breath he had; even though he knew it didn't matter anymore… she was dead… just like Natalya… just like his father would be soon be… and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

Anatoly walked back over to where Ivan was being held immobile, and he kneeled down to pat him sharly on the cheek, "Well… now that we have that interruption out of the way, let's say we get back to your lesson… shall we?"

And while Ivan sobbed pitifully before him, his voice slowly starting to go hoarse from his constant unheard pleas to let his father go and just kill him instead, in the end it did nothing stop the inevitable.

He watched as Anatoly slowly stood up again, and made his way once again back to his grief stricken father, and all Ivan could do was scream.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Matthew wasn't sure how long they held each other, but both young men had long since stopped speaking any words, and instead, they simply laid in each other arms' as they listened to the sound of each other's breathing.

The blonde Canadian currently had his ear pressed tightly against Ivan's chest, and he enjoyed hearing the gentle beating of his heart, even when at times he knew the pattern turned erratic and seemingly without rhythm.

In more ways than one he would have been happy to stay that way for much longer, garnering some kind of strength in the power he had over the larger man; and serenity from the calmness he felt around him.

But it was Ivan who for the second time that day, pulled away.

Matthew could see that the Russian's eyes were rimmed bright red and were sore from his earlier outpouring of emotion. But his features looked relatively composed despite this, and much of the turbulence he'd seen in them before had long since seeped away.

Without a word, Ivan slowly untangled himself from Matthew's hold, and pulled himself off the ground and onto the nearby bench to sit down and maybe to regroup his thoughts.

Matthew instantly felt the chill of the cool rink air where Ivan's body had been only seconds before pressed against his own, and he quickly followed suit and placed himself on the bench alongside his quiet companion for warmth.

The silence in the room continued for some time with Ivan only staring blankly at the ground.

Matthew eventually decided that someone needed to move forward, and to his surprise, it was he that took the first steps in that direction. It was an odd position for him to e in, he was used to hiding or following behind his brother, not taking charge of a situation and having someone trust where he led, but Ivan made him want to try.

"It still hurts… doesn't it?" Matthew asked softly, barely turning to see Ivan nod his head in agreement.

And then silence again.

Matthew wanted to say something else, but wasn't quite sure what else could be said. He looked forlornly at the same spot on the floor that had seemingly caught Ivan's attention. Whatever it was that was eating away at Ivan, it was not something he was going to be able to fix in one day, but he had hoped… he had wanted so badly to ease some of that pain away.

Matthew flinched slightly when he felt a large hand gently lift his own smaller one off of the bench, successfully pulling him away from his depressing train of thought.

His heart fluttered despite itself as he watched the Russian student bring Matthew's hand close to his face, and carefully bring his lips forward so as to tenderly kiss the fingers in his grasp.

"You make pain feel… not so bad." Ivan quietly drawled out before kissing the hand again with care, and slowly intertwining their fingers.

Matthew couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face as those beautiful words made his insides twist in contentment. His squeezed Ivan's hand back in appreciation, before taking a deep breath and standing up before the other man.

"Come on Ivan, I want to take you away from here."

Ivan didn't protest, and blindly let Matthew lead him out of the rink without question. Matthew was vigilant in keeping their hands clasped as they exited through the back entrance of the rink, but not in a demanding way, only as a gentle pressure to offer some sort of guidance, and maybe as a way to ground both of them.

Matthew led them all the way to the back of the campus until they'd reached one of the secondary food courts; Ivan finally cracking the barest hint of smile as he realized where Matthew had brought them; the Ice Cream store.

Reluctantly letting go of the warm hand, Matthew walked up to the counter to order himself a scoop of Canadian Mint; and then pausing in his order to turn around see what flavour Ivan wanted.

Ivan didn't even look over at the selection before answering "Blue."

Both Matthew and the store clerk looked down at the selection in confusion, there was no "blue" flavor, and the blonde briefly wondered if it was a mistranslation. But Ivan calmly walked forward and looked down into the barrels, and pointed to a flavour that had bright purple, blue and pink Ice Cream all swirled together and repeated "Blue Ice."

More than willing to let Ivan have is way in this, Matthew paid for both of the cones and handed the "Blue" one to Ivan as they began to walk back down the path along the campus.

Turning to watch the Russian as he took a bite, Matthew was not surprised to see him grimace in disgust at the overly sweet "Cotton Candy" flavoured Ice Cream, but his dislike of the flavour only seemed to make him smile more openly.

"You don't have to finish it… if you don't like it… I…I won't be offended." Matthew said timidly, offering his own cone in its place. But Ivan shook his head, delighting in the colours of his Ice Cream, if not the taste.

Having finished his treat quickly, the Russian man sighed nostalgically, and for once it wasn't with pain at a memory.

"In Old Russia" Ivan began "Ice have no good colour… BUTin New Russia, Ice is Blue and Pink and Yellow… and…" he stopped talking when he noticed Matthew laughing at his innocent joy in the many variety of colours of Ice Cream that there could be.

"And green?" Matthew asked, as he once again presented his own cone, but Ivan ignored the extended offering and instead raised his thumb to gently wipe away some of the green ice cream still lingering in the corner of Matthew's mouth.

He slowly brought the digit back over to himself and inserted the tip of his thumb between his lips, letting it remain there for a moment before nodding his head in approval while still looking at Matthew.

"Da, and green…"

It was almost ridiculous how much the Russian managed to continually throw Matthew off balance, and this time was no exception. The blonde pulled back his forgotten cold treat, and blushing, looked back towards the path.

For having been so forward himself not that long ago, he found himself suddenly bashful whenever Ivan made any move to further encourage his actions.

As he started to lead Ivan further away from the store, Matthew wondered to himself just how far he was going to take this, if in the end he was just leading Ivan on?

Eventually he was going to have to go home, make up with Alfred, and maybe finally sit down with his Uncle… but for now… for right now he could just stay here with this strange young man who wanted nothing more than to enjoy Matthew's company in peace, who had never once asked for any kind explanation for his actions, and who seemed to roll with the punches again and again and again…

With that thought in his mind, Matthew awkwardly reached down between them, and hesitantly took Ivan's larger hand in his own, his cheeks flushing even more as he motioned for the Russian to follow him down another path to one of the outdoor basketball courts.

Ivan didn't hesitate to do as he was told, knowing there was no chance of either boy attending class that day, and maybe happy for the pleasant distraction that Matthew always provided him.

By the time they reached their destination, Matthew had managed to finish his own Ice Cream cone and was walking towards a large outdoor shed. He then proceeded to open the lock without hesitation, clearly already knowing the combination well.

Inside were a whole array of, what else, but… hockey equipment.

But not the same kind used on ice, this was for street hockey, and all that was needed here were plastic hockey sticks and a round rubber ball.

Matthew felt his face heat up when he looked back over at Ivan and he saw that the Russian's smile increased as he caught sight of the equipment, immediately catching on to Matthew's plan.

Ivan reached inside to grab one of the taller sticks and a ball, and didn't even bother to wait for Matthew to catch up as he threw his long overcoat onto a bench and walked out onto the court, all the while bouncing the ball skillfully on his blade in open challenge to the Canadian.

Matthew wasn't far behind after taking off his sweater and glasses, and laying them next to Ivan's coat. He then walked right up to the center court with his stick tapping the asphalt beneath his feet repeatedly in a sign that he was ready for the "puck" drop.

Neither of them moved a muscle as Ivan dropped the ball between them in such a way so as it did not roll too far, and then he took up his position opposite his opponent; sizing him up the entire time.

No words were spoken to signal the start of the game, both boys instinctively knowing when to begin, and as soon as they did, all bets were off.

The game was played without mercy, neither taking pity on the other, even in light of the earlier events.

As always, this was hockey… and that meant war.

Matthew could feel himself soar as he played against one of the more skilled competitors he'd ever met in his life, and while his temper was quick to rise whenever he lost control of the ball, he enjoyed the way Ivan continually pushed his game, constantly forcing him think twelve steps ahead.

He could also tell that the Russian enjoyed the game as much as he did; his full concentration was spent on watching the way Matthew moved around the court, as graceful on the land with his footwork as he was on the ice, and twice as sneaky.

The 'score' was long forgotten as just the thrill of constantly trying to one up each other took precedence in the game, until they'd long used up their energy reserves in trying to be the last man standing.

It was Ivan who finally gave up first, probably still exhausted from earlier, and he surprised Matthew greatly when he let him score with little trouble.

In the end it had proven to be a diversion tactic, for the next thing Ivan did was to spin around and grab a hold of the Canadian from behind, dropping his stick to the ground at the same time. Ivan let out a rare laugh when he heard the smaller man give an undignified squeal in response.

And while Matthew knew that Ivan was only playing around; he also knew this might be the only way they'd end the game without either one of them having to admit defeat.

But… when Ivan didn't move to let him go, and instead only slowed his movement until they were standing still, Matthew couldn't help but lean back into the strong arms as he felt all the tension from the earlier game slip away even while his pulse continued to rise.

All pretenses forgotten, Matthew let himself enjoy both the feeling of warmth from Ivan's embrace, as well as the sound of the larger man struggling to catch his breath from the hard work out.

Matthew dropped his own stick to the ground, and reached up with what he could of his trapped arms, to place his own cautious hands over those that were holding him tight.

In his own unique way, he was trying to reassure Ivan that this was ok, that things were going to be fine, just like he'd promised before, even though he had no idea what he was really promising the other man in the long run.

He could hear Ivan's breathing even out, and felt as the Russian took one last calming breath to center himself before he tilted his head down and lightly placed a gentle kiss along Matthew's jaw.

The innocent action was almost over as soon as it began, and Matthew felt himself being freed not moments after. Unexpected disappointment filling him as he turned around to watch as an uncertain Ivan walked back to return his kit to the tool shed.

In some unhealthy way, it made Matthew strangely happy to see Ivan as uncomfortable with showing affection as he was, knowing without a doubt that almost every time the large Russian had done so, it had been involuntary and against his stoic nature.

But he knew that the other man didn't regret his actions, he was just unsure about how to proceed, and Matthew could absolutely relate to that.

Grabbing his own gear, Matthew followed behind him to put the rest of his own kit away. And by the time he had locked up the shed, he turned around to see Ivan looking guiltily down at his cell phone that he had procured from his coat pocket.

Walking over to where Ivan was standing, he leaned against the strong back so as to peer around his broad shoulders; he could see that Ivan had missed many calls from his Grandfather, and it was greatly upsetting him.

Matthew could almost feel the depression and worry returning as Ivan dialed one of the only two phone numbers he knew and held the receiver up to his ear, clearly not perturbed at all by Matthew's close proximity.

After several rings, Matthew watched as Ivan's brow creased with even more worry lines, the large man hanging up without even leaving a message before trying a few more times, and then in the end dialing his Grandfather's cell phone number instead.

Again no answer.

The tension was thick in the air now, and Ivan turned to face Matthew with shame and regret brewing in his eyes.

"I am late…" Ivan admitted. "Grandfad'der can v'orry…"

He let the words hang out there in the open air, and with what Matthew knew of the solemn young Russian, and with what he'd just witnessed a few hours before, it was clear why the relative would be slightly concerned over something like punctuality.

Matthew leaned back to free Ivan of his weight, but the thought of letting Ivan go and subsequently leaving Matthew to face his family alone was frightening. He nervously worried his bottom lip, and clenched his fingers in an anxious motion along the seams of his pants.

Ivan stopped in his action of putting his overcoat back on to observe the suddenly bleak looking young man. His own face taking on that same uncertain expression from just moments earlier, and he held out his hand in an offering to brave the walk back home alongside him.

By the way he was now avoiding Matthew's gaze, it was obvious he was completely unsure if the Canadian would accept.

But Matthew did, and with a reassuring smile, he took hold of the warm palm, and thankfully walked quietly by his side during the relatively short distance to his house.

As they neared their destination, Matthew could feel Ivan's grip tightening in apprehension. He didn't think the Russian was scared of his Grandfather, but he knew from when Ivan had cut himself that he didn't like to make the relative worry needlessly.

Ivan walked right into the townhouse without even needing to unlock the front door and scanned the front entrance for any sign of his Grandfather, all the while calling out for him in Russian.

Matthew immediately knew that something wasn't quite right, not just from the worried look on Ivan's face, but also with how several things were seemingly out of place, a table had been knocked over, and there were leaves littered throughout the front hall, as if someone, or several 'someones', had rushed in without caring about what they did to the place in the process.

Mathew suddenly felt his hand squeezed painfully hard and he winced from the careless action, even as he felt Ivan slowly beginning to panic and a sole Russian word escape his lips; and for once it was a word Matthew actually recognized.

"Nyet…."

The house was obviously empty, both young men knew that without even having to continue their search; because there, at the bottom of the steps, along with some ripped pieces of clothing, was the all too familiar sight of a large pool of blood.

TBC…

XXXXXXX

Author's Note:

Ok, so now you know.

Maybe not as horrible as I said it was going to be (or maybe it was?)

I went easy in the end and didn't show what happened to Ivan's father… but I'll say this…. it wasn't nice.

I work with someone who was familiar with the Russian mafia back when she lived there, and some of her stories are what made me want to add them from the beginning. I almost let Sasha give the game up back in the last chapter, but where's the fun in that.

I know this was all a bit f'd up, but the background scenes were some of the first planned, so hopefully they help explain a lot of Ivan's actions a bit better.

This whole chapter was very difficult for me to write, mainly because so many different emotions are being played out, and they change so rapidly, but hopefully it came across ok.

I may rewrite this depending on reviews, we'll see….

I was so nervous about this chapter I even forced someone to pre-approve it.

Thanks Dragonflamecrystal for all your help.