EPILOGUE

"Natalia! What's up you beautiful woman?"
"Privet, Lizaveta. I see you've become more informal since our last twelve interviews." I mumbled, sitting down and crossing my legs lightly as she laughed. I'd been on this show sixteen times, and she was usually the person who spoke to me most. She really seemed to love me, though I found her attitude perfectly annoying as Hell. She smiled at me with excitement, and her fiancé came on stage. He was actually Lili and Vash's father, who ended up starting a very popular show with his wife, who knew a lot from reading magazines daily. His name was Roderich.
"Privet, Mr. Edelstein. How have the children been?" I asked, only to receive a slight glare from the Austrian. "Perfectly well, thank you." He commented, sitting next to me.
"I heard you were going back to America, Nat. When's that going to happen?" Eliza asked me, smiling as if she did not sense the hostility between her fiancé and I. I managed to look back to her and shrugged for a moment.
"I think my manager said we would depart tomorrow, actually. It's been a year since I've seen my brother and sister, so they must be excited. I can only look forward to Katyusha pulling me into a crushing embrace and crying about how much she's missed her little sestra."
The crowd laughed, and I ignored it.
"Are you planning to do anything special? Like… Maybe finally meet a guy?" She asked with a wink, leaning over the table to look at me with a sly grin. I simply rolled my eyes at her, gaining a chuckle from many of the audience members. Gossip, how they adored it.
"Nyet. I told you before- men and women do not hold my interest and love is almost like my forbidden fruit. I simply cannot eat it because I know better than to turn myself over to such an evil thing."
She frowned, heaving a heavy sigh before slapping my arm.
"You're so serious all the time! Get up, go out, have fun, live your life!" She shouted, earning cheers from the audience. I only shook my head.
"My life was lived being a thief. I fought for this job, Lizzy. I will not ruin what I have because of loneliness. No man shall capture my heart. I refuse."

The plane ride was torture for me. This was my fourth year long trip to Europe and Asia, and I was now twenty-five years of age. I was aging, but it hardly looked like such. I detested heights, so I was awake for most of the ride. The hostess women often asked me if there was anything I wanted, and I would always respond with "a refill" and hold out my empty mug of vodka. I drank enough to lose my interest in staying awake and lay my head back, the sound of my manager's, Eduard Von Bock, snoring softly next to me lulling me to a deep slumber. I could have slept no more than two hours, but the dream I had was surely an ill omen. In my dream, the plane had crashed; it set ablaze, but the fire was extinguished when it flew into the ocean. Being ever alert and quick thinking, I would get me and Eduard out and save us. We would swim away, our bodies weary and in constant pain from the constant moving. We would wash ashore on an island, far from anywhere we could think of, and no land could be found. And while we built ourselves shelter and found food, we realized that eventually, we would die, and no one would know what happened. We would die without being found. Would anyone even look for us? And I would have ended up either letting Eduard be my self-proclaimed husband or kill him if he tried. And I had murdered him to keep what little bit of sanity I had intact for two more months.

I woke up quickly, my eyes shooting to the blond next to me. He mumbled something under his breath and his glasses were falling from the bridge of his nose, but I fixed them for him before shaking him awake. He looked at me with clouded eyes before taking his glasses from his face and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt. I ignored the way he looked at me; he knew I despised flying, and that if I slept on a plane, I always had a nightmare. But I ignored it and waited awake for another hour until the plane finally entered the terminal in New York. I stood form my seat and stretched, my bones cracking and muscles aching from how long I sat in the chairs. We left the plane and terminal, entering my own personal 1954 Mercedes W 196. It was a racing car I had made specifically for me, but when it was produced I paid extra to have them add a second seat to it and make it double wide. It was twice as much, but I paid for it. He climbed in on the driver's side and started the vehicle up, looking over at me and sighing when he saw that I was slumped down in my seat and already nodding off. But I managed to stay awake until we got to Ivan and Katyusha's new house in Queens, pulling into the driveway with a roar from my engine before it was cut. He opened the door for me and got out my bags, pulling them into the front of the house. I was attacked by hugs and kisses by my two siblings, and soon they forced me into their dining room.
"Surprise!" Shouted all of the men from the boxing club; Alfred, Berwald, Antonio, Ludwig, Francis, Gilbert, all of them. Vash and Lili were getting along with them as well, smiling as they all stood around the room, the place full of food and gifts and smiling faces that I had not seen for over a year.
Was I really spending all my time taking pictures while they were here? This is where I really wanted to be!
We laughed, a lot. They had been watching all of my interviews and noticed that I was getting better with my bitter personality. They said I did not snap as much, either, and they were glad that I found other things to talk about aside from boxing. But I wanted to talk about all of them, not myself.
Alfred was working with Francis in a restaurant on his free days when he wasn't doing professional boxing tournaments. The fact that he was working with Francis caught me off guard, since he was decently lazy. But he could cook all American food perfectly, so it didn't surprise me they were a big hit.
Ludwig had met a young Italian girl. They were to be wed sometime soon, and he really wanted me there. He even introduced me to her, and she was a bit ditzy. She ate a lot of the pasta, too, but I made no complaint.
Berwald had recently met a young Fin, and said he loved this Tino person very much. I gave him my congratulations and told him I hoped the best for him and his lover.
Antonio was now living in an apartment with someone he lived with as a child. It was an Italian boy with Arabian blood, who was foul tempered and needed to control his language about as much as I did. But he was a decent thing.
Ivan and Toris had broken up, and Ivan was now seeing a Chinese woman. I found her company interesting, and I was pleased with how she kept my brother in line when he tried to do things he knew got under my skin.
We enjoyed ourselves so much, I thought seriously about ending my career. I could do American only shoots, right? I could do something like that? My contract was ending now anyway, so I could demand something like this in my next. As we sat and ate our dinner, a knock sounded from the door of the house. Katyusha smiled and shook her head when I stood to answer it.
"I'll get it, sestra. Stay with your friends."
I sat down once again; taking a bite of the cake Kat and Lili had made for my arrival. We were all still laughing when she entered once again, smiling at me.
"Natalia, there's a man here to see you. His name is Arthur."

I shoved him out of my house and followed, slamming the door shut behind me. My mind was racing with confusion and anger and frustration. How dare he come back?
"What do you want, Arthur? Spit it out!" I shouted, turning to him with an animosity that would strike fear into a raging bull.
"I came to tell you that we've managed to get back to the states. Allistor is in the hospital now and he saw one of your interviews-"
"To Hell with that Scottish bastard!" I screamed, and I heard the noises from inside the house soften considerably. I bit my lip, cursing my temper before turning back to Arthur. "He can rot in Hell for what he did. Leaving me on my own, without as much as word of good bye. He could have had the balls to come tell me we were over." I spat, my voice lower now as to not raise awareness of my distress from the others. Arthur only nodded his head lightly, before patting my shoulder gently. I shook him away. "I'll come by tomorrow."

I decided to wear black. Black symbolized the end of memories. It meant death. It meant mourning. But it also meant a new beginning. My hair remain pin straight and down, though my hat was black and it covered a bit of my face with a veil. I slipped on my black leather gloves and waited outside. Katyusha and Ivan were gone out to eat for the evening, and I was waiting on Arthur. When he finally pulled into my driveway I walked over. I slapped his hand from the door handle. I didn't want him trying to be a gentleman to me. I loathed him at that point for all that had been done to me, and how he didn't seem to care how badly I'd been hurt. I sat in the car, my hands folded neatly in my lap and my purse next to me. We'd been silent the car ride, until he finally coughed.
"He just got out of surgery this morning. So please be gentle. Unless he's up and walking, it's best to remain calm with him."
I simply stared out the window, my somber and cold face making him shut up quickly. We pulled into the parking lot and he shut off the engine, taking a moment before turning to look at me. He opened his mouth to speak, but soon closed it, most likely deciding against it since I most likely did not look too happy. I stepped from the vehicle and into the hospital, and all eyes were glued to me.
"I'd like to see Allistor Kirkland, please." I said to the secretary, who simply nodded her head told me the room and floor number. I thanked her lightly before stomping away into the halls, an antsy Brit trailing behind me as I ignored his presence. When we reached the room I had been told, he told me to stay in the hallway. I nodded my head, watching him enter. I pressed my ear to the door, but all I could hear was "I think this could end poorly" and "What'ye talkin' about now, dumbass?"
So it was not Allistor's plan to come see me. I snorted and rolled my eyes; of course he didn't want to see me. He was no more than a coward now. Arthur headed back to the door and opened it, looking at me with worried eyes. I nodded my head, and he let me pass. I saw Allistor lying in his bed, his arm over his eyes and a cigarette in his fingers. I stood beside his bed, waiting to see if he would look at me or remain in his current position.
"Dammit, Arthur. I said I don' want anythin' so get te fuck outta me room-" He looked up, and his eyes widened. I am sure my expression did not change.
"What a saccharine look on your face, boss. It reminds me of when you saw me in your house, signing my life to some family boss mob man—"
"Shut te fuck up." He sneered, eyes narrowing in sudden anger. "Oh, have I said something wrong?" I asked sarcastically, already angry and full of hatred that was slowly boiling.
"You seem so stark four years later, sitting in this hospital room. I thought you'd learned your lesson when it came to playing with the big boys. Seems you just don't have that certain aleatory element, do you?" I mused, bitterness creeping into my voice. Yes, he heard it.
"I left because they threatened me family, ye damn woman." He growled, looking down at his hands.
"You floundered about in this world, didn't you?" I asked, a smug smirk crawling onto my face.
"Well lucky you. You got what you wanted in the end, right? Your freedom. Your cowardice has known no bounds and now that I see how little I have ever meant to you, you are the last man on Earth I will ever be compelled to seek company with again." I stood, staring at him. He made no movement, no commentary. I'd gotten how horrible I had felt for years out to him, and that was all I needed. I turned sharply on my heel, my feet ready to carry me far from this man, but his hand latched around my wrist and pulled me back.
"I didn't leave ye 'cause I didn't love ye, idiot. Yer bein' daft now, sayin' these things ye hardly mean and all that bullshit." He sighed, shaking his head, refusing to give me my arm back as I tugged, trying to get away. He simply looked back up at me.
He'd grown so old, but it didn't look bad at all. He had a scar on his chin, cutting into the red fur and his eyes were tired. He looked in actual pain, and it hurt.
It hurt me.
"I would be a fool to let you have power over me once again." I whispered hastily, tugging on my arm sharply. He let go; he was weaker than I remembered. But as I turned to leave, he jumped from the bed, but stumbled. He caught himself and let out a grunt and then a hiss of pain, causing me to turn around.
"What happened to you?" My voice was weak. He'd been given a prosthetic leg this morning, which was what he was in surgery for. So why did he come back to America? Wouldn't it be safer in Europe or wherever they went? I picked him up the best I could and helped him back onto the bed, covering his legs with the blanket. "We left 'cause they weren't given up, even if ye paid back. He ripped up yer contract, said he'd take te money and leave ye be. But not me n' the family. So we left, no time to warn ye. I didn't think ye'd be so angry and hate me so much." He looked pained to imagine what he had put me through; why did it hurt me to see him like this?
"I'll buy ye a new ring. Take ye wherever ye want t' go. Just let me have ye again, Nat. I don't want t' live without ye!"
I looked at my hands, biting my lip. It hurt. It hurt so damn much. I was already crying, my shoulders shaking and sobs racking my entire body until he pulled me into his arms and held me tight.

I had worn black. Black was for the death of memories. It was for death. It was for mourning. It also meant new beginnings. That was what Allistor and I received that day. That was the promise we made that moment; that was the promise we made on our wedding day, and that was the promise he made me when he lay on his death bed. And I have worn black every day since. I know I won't last much longer, for a broken heart can only survive for so long. But at seventy-six, and five months after his departure, I will still wear black. Because every death, and every day of mourning, will give way for a new beginning. God is calling me. And an eternity with my Scot is my new beginning; I only pray He takes me soon.

The young man closed his book, his eyes blinking repeatedly. Natalia Arlovskaya was an infamous name in his homeland, America. It was the name of his grandmother. He remembered how cold she was, how easily angered she could be if you mentioned her brother or sister's names. But she was an old woman with a rough life, and the man's mother tried to explain.
"Peter, she's easily hurt. If only you knew what she'd been through, you'd see her through different eyes."
He'd always scoffed at the idea! His grandfather on the other hand was amazing. He was strong, and his stories were the best; being a pro boxer and owning his own fight club, how could he have been any more cool? He never spent time to get to know Natalia. He never wanted to give her a chance, to see the other side of her.
He lay his head on his arm, biting his lip and he cried, his fingers pulling the blonde hair on his head. His mother, at the funeral of his grandmother, had given him this book. It was written by Natalia, about her life. About Allistor. And he never realized how she'd lived; she was always in pain. Always. His wife pat his shoulder, kissing him gently before looking at him with sad brown eyes. She was from Australia, and she always adored Natalia. She had given her a chance.
"I'm happy her prayers were answered." He choked out, happy that two days after this book was finished, she passed away.
"I'm so happy she's no longer in pain."