(A/N) Hello! I'm in the middle of my midterms here, I suck at Physics and I generally think God, or a series of Gods hate me. But I said screw it and came up with this chapter. This is quite an emotional charged one, and I'd advice you to keep your senses sharp for hints. Some answers, but as Taryn will certainly be quick to point out, more questions too. XD

Note: As a writer prerogative, I'm asking a small suspension of disbelief regarding the political status of Austria within this fic. Austria is a republic in real life, but will be portrait as a monarchy in this fic, in other words, the 1920 Constitution never enter in use. Why? Because I'm the writer, damnit! Seriously, I hope no one is insulted, thank you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade, but I own the plot and the original characters.

Learning To Fly.

Chapter Twenty One, Where The Heart Is.

Despite what most would have expected, Tala didn't oppose in the slightless to the imprisonment. Though he did shot a few sardonic comments about the accommodations he was given, he accepted the situation with a dignified amusement that betrayed his private confidence in himself. The tall building was imposing, and with a knowing look, he understood this was the very butt of more than one joke from his former mentor.

Boris had always had a terrible sense of humor.

The room he was assigned was Spartan, and after his bag was thoroughfully searched, he was allowed some rest. A bed with barely more than a sheet for cover and a small table with a chair. There where no windows, for he knew he was in one of the many basements, but it didn't matter. They had taken the launcher and the Beyblade, but Anuk no longer resided in either, instead, they had ignored the dull blue pendant that hung from his neck, appearing to be nothing more than a chunk of fragile ice. When the door closed, the lock echoing into the night, he let himself fall on the bed, resisting the urge to snicker at it's hardness. The pendant glowed, and Winter made itself present.

"Let me sleep" The whispering became more insistent, the light a bit brighter "Tomorrow, alright?" He rolled on the bed, facing the wall and tried to curl into a little ball.

At least the cell was warm enough.

The light gave out a bright flash and suddenly there was a shuffling of paws and the scraping of the chair. Tala groaned, took a deep breath and turned. Sure enough, there was half a ton of Winter Spirit crouched in the middle of the room, the huge white wolf very uncomfortable with the situation, if the flickering of its tail was any indication. Tala glared. Anuk glared back.

"Fine" The redhead hissed, blue eyes boring deep into the beast's.

Throwing the sheet aside, he sat at the very edge of the bed, his bare feet touching the cold stone floor, and the furry head descended into his lap. He threaded his fingers through the tick white coat, evoking a soft whimper from the majestic creature. Tala sighed again.

"I know, I miss it too"

Then he said no more, concentrating on the lulling motions of his hands and the softness of the fur, until he fell into a dreamless slumber.

Outside, the blizzard grew.

Omikami smiled pleasantly at Hilary, taking a small sip of her drink as she fixed her eyes intently on her, listening closely to whatever she was saying.

"And I mean… he's just… urg!" The dark haired girl groaned, and buried her face into her arms, pulling her legs up to her chest.

"Tyson?" The white haired girl pointed out helpfully, and received another groan in return.

They sat comfortably under one of the many trees of the backyard, the grass dried from the last tendrils of autumn, the innate chill of the last months of the year already present, but not so strong to force them indoors. Hilary was trying desperately to sew a conversation with the blue eyed girl, but it was difficult to talk about anything with her.

Her relationship with Kai had not been completely cleared, and discretion seemed to be her second name. Hilary found it infuriating than despite having every right to do so, she couldn't really dislike her, mostly because Omikami hadn't done anything. She didn't flaunt her conexion with the stoic capitan, she didn't intrude into the team training sessions, she didn't even try to show them her talents at blading, despite the fact she had showed Hilary her Beyblade, she made no attempt to try and show off, let alone ask a battle from the others. She was just a somewhat easy-going girl with an shy smile and a friendly disposition, who, apparently, had no bigger worries than finishing Math's homework and manage to get her hair in a semblance of order.

And while this was a completely misunderstood and false idea of what exactly Omikami was, she made no effort to correct them. In fact, she actively encouraged that perception. Kai said she was lying to herself. She always retorted, politely and quietly of course, that she wanted to be ready for anything.

"It's just… he's…" Hilary made a choking notion with her hands, garnet orbs narrowed in murderous rage.

"Not Kai?" The white haired girl asked slyly, lips twisting into a knowing smile the moment Hilary blushed in two hundred different shades of red.

You've spent far too much time with Kai… and Ian. Berating at herself from her lack of tact, she did notice, however, that the brunette stumbled over explanations and denials, and hid a small smile. She wasn't jealous, per se, but she did feel a slight surge of pity for her feelings, knowing she would not take it well when the engagement was inevitably announced.

"Eh, anyways" Hilary said finally, with a clear intention of changing topics "I think the guys are going to train all afternoon, so, wanna go downtown with me?"

"I'm afraid I'll decline this time" Omikami sighed slightly, shoulders dropping minutely "I have homework piling and an appointment later I need to tend to… I apologize" Bowing politely, she stood up and motioned Hilary to follow as the bell rang loudly, signaling the end of their recess time.

Ah, that was the other thing, Hilary thought darkly, despite nodding in what she hoped was an understanding gesture. Polite, impeccable, annoying as hell with her lack of motivations and ulterior motives… It drove her insane. There was not a single quirk from the white haired girl that could be enough to sustain her dislike for her. Outside the particularly strange coloring, or lack of, in her hair, there was nothing out of the extraordinary, physically speaking, in her. She was pretty in a quiet, somewhat submissive way, and Hilary knew that was the exempt of it. She was always too polite though, the years of a tight handed upbringing shining through, but unlike other girls of similar social status in the school, she didn't flaunt it, and made no move whatsoever to show off or tell others inferior.

It just wasn't fair.

"Good Morning, Ayutne-sensei" The class chorused dully as the tall, stern looking teacher motioned them to seat.

All I want, Hilary thought gloomily, garnet eyes fixed intently in the strands of white hair that fell in front of her, is to have a sensible reason to hate her. That's all! Lips tightening in a spam reaction to her displeasure, she bit back a hiss. Something beyond her being so close to Kai, of course! Grip tightening on the pencil, she let out a shakily breath, eyes narrowed into slits. Then again, her reason voice lectured her acidly, she's probably just a friend from all those social gatherings from when his grandfather was alive. She let out a happy sigh. No harm done.

"…as the example shows. So what would the answer be, given those circumstances, Miss Tatibana?"

Yeah Right.

"Huh?" Hilary decided that wasn't exactly the most eloquent thing to say at the moment, and winced sharply under the withering glare she was submitted under.

Omikami sent her a sympathetic look as the teacher yelled at her. Damn it!

Bryan grunted with effort, hammering his frustration into the wood as he fixed itself in place. Though it was cold and the blizzard had just recently let out, his body was drenched in sweat from the physical exercise, the continuous effort to pour out his rage on something that was remotely positive. Hammering a bunch of nails into wood was positive enough for him, and he set to the task single-mindedly.

"You know, I think that's already dead, no need to overkill" Receiving a piercing death glare, Lizeth shrugged, deftly throwing a thermo at the raging teen "It's cold, and you've been here for hours" I was worried.

Thank you. Bryan grunted in acknowledgement of both, the said and the unsaid, grimacing slightly at the bitter taste of warm coffee and vodka, but nevertheless taking a good swallow of it. It fought the chill in his bones, which had only registered when he had stopped, and a slight, almost invisible blush crept his cheeks. He was soaked, he was cold, and damnit, he was no less angry than he had been, exactly four hours before. Cylah snorted in the back of his consciousness, but the Falcon refused to speak to him, having already stated her personal view on the situation and about his 'childish tantrum'.

"I hate the bloody snow" I miss him. Bryan's voice is low and somewhat rusty, a by product of his long, stony silence.

"Want a battle?" I know. Lizeth gave him a half smirk, shrugging slightly from the confines of the thick jacket, her black hair covered with small snowflakes "It'll be fun" I miss him too.

Bryan briefly wondered when they had started to walk towards the dish in the forest, then the question was forgotten as he found himself across the frozen bowl, watching as the dark eyes lighted up with the glee of a battle.

Had anyone seen them as they fought, he would have mistaken them for bitter enemies. It was raw, powerful and hateful. In two things could Bryan ever let himself go, drawing and blading, and as he commanded his most brutal attacks on the equally brutal Dragon, he felt his shoulder blades shift, the tension dissolving into a mass of exhausted quivering. Lizeth was trembling with the release of energy, her lithe frame shaking under the weight of her cloths, further covered in white flakes after the mess they made of each other. Cylah and Sherak lay in the center of the dish, forgotten, ignored in the heat of the moment.

There was a thin, long slash crossing the pale skin of the dark haired teen, nothing that would leave a scar, too thin and too slight, but it was a testament of a loss of control. She smiled even as he pulled her to him, hands guiding his head to her shoulder, until she felt the shuddering breaths against the skin of her neck.

"It'll be alright" He'll be fine.

Bryan didn't answer, he just held her close, not wanting to let go.

The next seven days were a hell of protocols and proper etiquette that were draining and annoying, yet the redhead held against them stoically. He stood before the council more times than he was sure was healthy, and he was questioned thoroughfully, his words twisted and turned, their meaning taken apart in so many different ways it was exasperating and amusing at the same time.

The men that sat before him were afraid of him, this Tala knew for sure.

"Late Lt. Valkov was quite taken with your progress, Lt. Ivanov. Can you tell us more about this?" The dark blue haired man at the left asked politely, his dark eyes never leaving him.

"Certainly, General" As I have already done, sixty-seven times already. He, most certainly, did not add, but narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, and, much to the Winter Spirit outrage, sent a nudge of fear to the expectant man. Ha! "Lt. Valkov was certainly a dedicated man, sir. He looked after me as one more of his duties, and… excuse me, are you well sir?" The redhead schooled his features into a mask of polite inquiry, while he was snickering with glee inside.

The man loosened the collar of his shirt slightly, his face hollowly pale, as a sheet of cold sweat broke on his skin. Oops, might have miscalculated… Anuk huffed at him, and he could just picture the enormous wolf snorting with distaste as he turned away from him, but he didn't care. By that point, he was looking for amusement at any source, and he desperately wanted to be released.

Shortly after, he was tartly inform that the final deliberation would take place, and that it had been requested for him to be away. Nodding pleasantly, he allowed himself to be head back to the small cell room that he had been assigned, and fell on the bed as soon as the door was closed and locked.

You should not use your gift so vainly, Young One. Tala smiled wryly, though he didn't open his eyes, he knew the Wolf had taken a physical appearance, and was taking up most of the space in the small room. I know. I'm sorry. There was a soft hissing of air, almost like a snort. No, you are not. Tala opened an eye and found the big, endless pools of silver of the Winter Spirit looking at him with a patient, knowing look. He shrugged, amused to know Mighty Anuk could deadpan as well. Fine, I'm not. But I want this over and done with. The Wolf allowed itself to fall to the floor, curling somewhat, so that he was one large white ball of fur, covering most of the floor in the cell. So do I. Your distress hurts me as well. There was silence for a long moment, the redhead sucking up comfort from the physical company of his Guardian Spirit, but his thoughts were still messed and uncertain respect many things. I miss him. The wolf perked up slightly, silver eyes looking up at him curiously, prompting. I know you do. The Fire Child meant too much for you to let go yet. If wolves could smile, the White One was certainly doing so. Tala let out a long breath. I don't want to let go.

Suddenly he heard steps down the corridor, and Anuk disappeared into the pendant, sending a wave of warmth from it as Tala sat up. The door opened and a nervous looking soldier motioned jerkily to the corridor.

Tala followed in silence. Then don't. And much to his companion's irritation, a small smile graced his features as he entered the courtroom.

Omikami had asked if she could watch the afternoon practice at Tyson's house, and though Kai had accepted, she knew he was curious. With a half smile, she told him she had a feeling about it, and he let her be. The white haired girl was anything if not intuitive, and Kai had learnt well to trust her instincts.

As it was, Tyson was rather curious and easily accepted the request, lightly teasing Kai that it was unbecoming of a Team Capitan to drag his girlfriend to practice, but a death glare made him drop the subject. He didn't know how close he had hit the mark. If Hilary was distressed by the turn of events, she didn't show it, striking a small chat with the blue eyed girl until the real battles started, and they were both drowned in the power of the exercise.

Rei battled Max fiercely, blades crashing against each other in a constant struggle for dominance. Kai made acid pointers where his well trained eyes found mistakes or flaws, while Tyson cheered at them, praising their success and hard work. Omikami watched them, and smiled slightly as she compared their differences, and saw the less obvious similitudes between the unlikely friends. Oh, Kai would certainly prefer torture than to admit it, but as with Tala, he was drawn to Tyson's natural charisma, and he found a true friend in the blunette.

"Great match Max…" Rei smiled, a white fang poking from his lip as he retrieved his blade, the blond across the dish doing the same.

"Yep, your attacks are getting awesome Rei!" The blue eyes of the half American child lighted up with glee, his own blade clutched in his hands as the treasure it was.

"I think I have the analysis ready Kai" Kenny spoke in that small, serious voice of his, smiling shyly at the team Capitan as he motioned for his laptop.

Hilary asked something to the white haired girl, but she didn't get an answer. Blue eyes fixed fiercely up at the ceiling, but when they looked up, they saw nothing. The Psychic's eyes glowed white for a second, as she spread her awareness through the house, pinpointing where the attackers were.

The Saint Shields.

The others had little time to ponder her flash of insight, as the four, well known blades sped towards them at an alarming rate, threateningly. The fight escalated, and Hilary and Kenny sought shelter inside the house, but Omikami remained in the middle of it, not really mindful of the overcharged blades and the powerful bit beasts. Her eyes watched the enemy, her senses weighting them down, considering the situation. By the time they had been chased away, she was smiling that secretive smile that made Kai nervous. Her eyes glinted with the knowledge, and she excused herself shortly afterwards, not bothering to correct their assumptions, that she had been scared. Only Kai knew the real reason behind her hasty retreat.

"They can be judged"

He continued with the training schedule for the day, despite the complains, and tried to get a grip of himself before going back home. He had the feeling he was sporting a somewhat smug expression when he left, though.

Mel dropped her school bag on the table, sliding next to Ian with an ease born from familiarity, folding her arms over the wood and resting her chin on them, bright eyes fixing on him somewhat worriedly.

"Are you even going to tell me?" She had been thinking out loud mostly, but she fought back the need to cringe as he blinked and fix his eyes on her.

They weren't sparkling with their usual mischievousness, instead dulled by a quiet sense of worry and dread, something she could easily connect with Tala's extended, and rather unexplained, absence, but nothing else. There was acceptance there too, a quiet resignation towards things that were unfair and painful, but which simply were.

Ian smiled.

"No"

And Mel knew he wanted to cry.

Nethial Zworykin opened the cell door and peered in with an unmasked amusement; Tala was thrown carelessly in bed, watching the ceiling with a sick fascination that denoted his boredom.

("Where have you been?")

"You are aware you've been released, right?" The short man pointed out with a risen eyebrow, eyes fixing on the impassive redhead with mild exasperation.

("In jail")

"Indeed" The redhead turned, fixing those sharp eyes on him, pinning him with the strange mix of amusement and slight resentment.

("Why? Now what did you do this time?")

"Then why are you still here?" The amusement outgrew resentment in that look, and Zworykin felt small against this creature who was a Child, behaved as a Soldier and was wise beyond his age.

("Because it's cold outside.")

"Because it's cold outside" Chills ran up and down his spine, eyes widening in a way it was impossible for him not to notice.

Tala smiled, a flash of knowledge – could that be pride? – and Zworykin wondered.

"Itza?" Rinny's voice echoed in the dinning room with a clear tint of sleep in it.

The small redhead stood in the doorway to the room, clad in the flannel pajamas and carrying Mr. Pepper Breath in a lax grip of her right hand. Rubbing sleep off her eyes with the right sleeve of her shirt, the small girl padded softly to where her sister was busy writing down in the table, her shoulders tense and her grip on the pen painfully tight.

"Go to sleep Rinny, it's late" The voice was tired, and the half attempted smile didn't fool the small child. Instead, she went and climbed the seat next to her sister.

"I'm not sleepy" The child protested slightly, instead watching her sister's elegant writing.

Maritza had a stylish, very clear handwriting, something Rinny adored from her, and which, unfortunately, didn't share. Blinking back sleep, she rested her chin on her arms as the pen danced over the paper, lines forming letters, letters words, and words sentences. Itza's face was impassive, a mask of detachment present, but Rinny could feel she was upset about something, and she had a pretty good idea of what it was.

"He told me a really nice story the night of the ball" The young girl said casually, noting that the writing stopped for a second, before restarting somewhat furiously.

"He's a good storyteller" The blonde's voice was neutral, and neither bothered to point out who they were talking about "He told me stories too"

"I liked them" Rinny said simply, then looking at her sister with somewhat a light of understandment, she grinned "He promised he would tell me another one… so he must come back soon" This time, the pen stopped completely, the older girl looking down at her sister with a speculative look. Rinny shrugged "He will, he never brakes his promises" Itza smiled.

"Indeed… go to sleep Rinny, it's late"

Jumping down the chair, the redhead scurried away, the stuffed dragon trailing after her. Itza sat there in silence for a long moment, before she scanned the page and let out a soft sigh.

"Perhaps"

Zworykin slid into the seat next to the redhead in silence, noting the slumped shoulders and the generally defeated stand of the redhead. The white envelope sat before a glass of vodka, which was under the deep scrutiny of the frozen blue eyes. So similar and yet, so different on their own…

"You haven't opened your letter" It wasn't an elder directing himself to a Child, no, it was a man talking to an equal, since the redhead had gained that at least. There was a slow exhalation, and the blue irises flickered towards him.

"So I haven't" There was still a quivering in the voice, despite Tala's best efforts to steady it, and Zworykin felt the strange urge to hug and comfort the redhead.

"Will you?" The question rolled off casually, a true curiosity lacing it as the older man watched the young man carefully.

"Perhaps one day, when I don't feel I'm being disrespectful" The note of wistful thinking didn't scape either of them, and the old man knew that the letter would remain unread for a long while.

Tala was silent for a long moment, watching the light play across the alcohol before him, displaying faint colors in a cruel mocking of the iceland he so dearly missed. The pendant was warm against the skin of his chest, a constant reassurance, but it wasn't enough. He needed the harsh words, the sneer, the glare and the biting comments, he needed them so desperately he mocked himself with the idea of reading the damn letter, just to placate the emptiness within, if only for a moment. He knew it would fade in time, and reading what he already knew would only make him feel worse. He sighed and looked over the older man, the one person who shared a slight understandment of loss with him.

The one other person Boris Valkov ever loved and was loved by.

"What the hell am I supposed to do now?" The childish helplessness made him feel the urge to cringe, but he truly felt lost then.

Zworykin smirked, raising a glass of his own.

"Toast to the future, the unknown and the stupid bastard that got us here today" His eyes were darkened though, and Tala felt the man broadcasting a sorrow too deep for words.

"For him then" Taking his own glass, Tala smiled bitterly and after dragging down his own drink, he shuddered "Damnit, I think I might cry"

"I know" The half smirk was more comforting than anything else would be at the moment, and Tala felt himself returning the gesture "I'll miss the bloody bastard"

"So will I" Looking down at the letter once more, Tala sighed in despair "So will I"

Notes on this chapter:

Remember that it took Tala about four days to get back to Moscow from Logobo Volka, so it's almost been two weeks he has been gone.

Tala's attitude might surprise some, but the reason for the last scene, is that not only does he know that Boris is alive, though he doesn't know where or how exactly, but he feels that he's betraying him by not only going to the will reading, but accepting the inheritance. Yes people, inheritance. Boris "bastard" Valkov left everything he owned to Tala. The little redhead is now worth a few million by his own right. Keep that in mind and the question "What the hell am I supposed to do now?" isn't so out of character, right? Also, by saying Boris loved and was loved by Zworykin is an allusion to their brother-like relationship. Bug me somewhat and I might do a small one-shot for you. That's actually one of the most solid bases of character I have for Boris…

The conversation in-between "( /) " is Zworykin's memory of a time he and Boris shared a room at school, more or less at the end of their teenager years. Tala's similitudes in character and attitude to Boris make Zworykin curious, and slightly afraid, as he would hate to see someone rot away the same way Boris did. Basically, he's an old man remembering past regrets.

To Taryn, well, they were educated under military conduct codes, according to which, what happened in the warehouse was murder and a plot of high treason. High treason against the government is a serious affair in most countries, Russia in particular. Had Tala been convicted, he would end up receiving death penalty. They know, and even if they won't say it, they are afraid. Tala has been their support and anchor for most of their lives, having him being taken away would be a low blow for any of the boys to take, but remember this are Abbey children, they won't show they are upset outwardly. They have faith, like Kai, that he'll come out unscarred, but none would dare to voice the concern out loud, because it'd go directly against everything they have been taught in their lives. Three months in a friendly environment are not enough to deal with years of emotional scarring and brainwashing, right?

Also, 'Sesshy-freak' pointed out I do too much drama and little plot. Well, as I have told her, after stripping her mail from swear words and slang which made little to no sense, this is a drama fic. What I want to portrait here is the humanity in characters, and how despite circumstances, things happen for a reason, and that we have to face them. I really hate clichéd romances were they declare their love for one another and then things are perfect afterwards. Real life isn't like that. In real relationships you have to fight with teeth and claws for it, you argue, you disagree, you fight and hopefully end up in midland for both. Nothing's perfect, and that's part of what I try to show here. It's not trying to keep the storyline alive by throwing random plot devices here, is how life throws unexpected shit at us and we just have to deal with it, because there's no other way. I'm sorry if this is not what some of you wanted to read, but this is, I think, what makes my story NOT a Mary-Sue one. Mary-Sues deal with angst unrealistically, and have things go their way always. Also, sorry, but if you come here and yell at me saying I'm a Mary-Sue writer and that all my characters get along with each other like dream land, please, do me the favor to actually read before reviewing, flaming, and then come and tell me I don't know what I'm doing. I hate sounding like Rowling, but who the hell told you all my Original Cast would remain alive by the end of the story? Who said people won't die? Who said people won't suffer? Things are strange, Life is strange like that, and that is, or at least I hope it is, the very heart of Learning to Fly.

You may want to check my new homepage at my bio, it's my msn blog, where you can find some pics of the trip to Russia, and some of the locations for this fic, the Wiseman's Park, for instance, as well as some random thoughts and the general ramblings... I actually update there, as amazing as that might sound.

Review!