Chapter 26

"Russia?" A soldier walked in, saluting the country, who sat at his desk, "We're ready to pick up the spy's family."

Russia nodded, standing with a smile. He walked to the officer and motioned for him to lead the way through the halls onto the street where the large car was waiting for them. Another followed behind them, ready to carry the passenger's luggage. They arrived at the house within twenty minutes. Russia stepped out first, walking to the door himself. He knocked.

Margot opened the door, her face resolute and courageous, "Welcome, Comrade Braginsky," she said. She kept her voice calm, her eyes on Russia's violet ones. She knew very well who he was, but said nothing.

Russia smiled, nodding to her, "Comrade," he nodded to her, pleased at her address. "I trust you have been informed of the reason for my visit to you?"

Margot shook her head politely, "I have not, only that my children and I were to be ready to leave, permanently." She kept her voice steady, though her hands trembled slightly.

"There's no need to be afraid," Russia smiled again, trying to sound kind, "Your daughter was very… persuasive… in her argument for sending you and your other two children across the wall. I have decided to give her what she wants."

Margot stood shocked, "Across the wall? You're sending us across the wall?" A thrill of hope filled her, then it sunk back into dread, "My other two children?"

Russia nodded with another smile, "As payment for your safe journey to West Germany, your daughter, Adelaide, has agreed to remain on this side of the wall. She will work for me and my army. Don't worry, she won't be hurt." Russia shook his head, the smile still on his lips.

Margot nodded slowly. She couldn't argue. She was in no position to argue. "Let me call the others to get their things."

"I have men who will help you carry what you need," Russia looked back to the cars, motioning for several soldiers to enter the house.

Margot watched the soldiers walk through the door, hiding a shudder. She covered her mouth with her hand, turning away quickly as she caught a glimpse of one of the soldier's faces.

Russia put his hand on her arm, concerned suddenly, "Are you all right?"

Margot nodded, trying to regain her composure.

Russia ordered the soldiers to stop. "Come back here," he barked.

The soldiers returned to the doorway, standing at attention, listening to Russia.

"Please, which one of these men caused you your distress?" he tried to sound reassuring, kind even.

Margot shook her head, "Please, I'm all right."

"No, you're not. Tell me, which one, and why?"

Margot stared into the eyes of one of the soldiers, keeping back rage more than fear. She nodded to him, "That one."

"Step. Forward." Russia ordered the soldier, who obeyed, never looking at either Russia or Margot. Russia turned back to her again, "Why does this soldier upset you?"

Margot looked down for a moment, almost unable to look into the soldier's face. "My daughter…" she whispered.

"The young one?" Russia asked, confused.

"Nein… I… I had another daughter between Adelaide and Gisela… her name was Bern."

The soldier tightened his jaw at the mention of the girl's name.

Russia noticed. He turned the soldier's face to his own roughly. "What did you do to this girl?" he ordered.

The soldier said nothing.

Russia turned to Margot, who wasn't looking at him. "What did he do?"

Margot took a deep, shaking inhale, before speaking. "He killed her… after he… hurt her," she couldn't say it. It was still too painful.

"Is this true?" Russia looked into the soldier's face, still gripping it in his gloved hand.

The soldier didn't look at Russia but nodded.

Russia pulled out his gun and shot the man through the head, letting the body fall onto the floor of the kitchen. He turned back to Margot. "There. Now that that's taken care of, I will help you pack your bags into the cars," he smiled cheerfully, re-holstering his gun at his hip.

Margot stared at the body, still in shock. She forced herself not to tremble, trying to hide her terror as she walked to Gisela's room. She knocked, smiling at the girl as she opened her door.

"The soldiers are here," Margot smiled at the girl, pushing her hair behind her ear, "They're going to help us get across the wall."

Gisela opened her mouth to cry out with excitement.

Margot put her fingers to Gisela's mouth, shaking her head, "I need you to stay calm, and stay by me. No matter what you see, keep quiet, is that understood?" her hands trembled.

Gisela nodded, biting her lip, keeping her eyes on her mother's face, "Mama…?" she whispered, frightened.

"I need you to trust me," Margot nodded to the young girl, placing her hand over the girl's eyes.

"What are you-?"

"Just trust me."

"Yes, mama…" Gisela whispered again, shaking.

Margot led Gisela through the kitchen, keeping her hand firmly over the girl's eyes, not allowing her to see the body lying on the floor, the pool of blood around it only growing. She opened the door and let Gisela step outside, not letting go of the girl's hand, but taking her hand from her eyes.

"W-What's in the house, mama?" Gisela asked, trembling.

"Never mind, dear." Margot nodded.

"Will Cort see it?" Gisela bit her lip again.

Margot didn't answer. She didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't think of a way to avoid it without leaving Gisela alone, and there were too many soldiers. She didn't trust any of them. She looked back into the house as she heard a man knocking on Cort's door. She watched as the boy opened his door and stared up at Russia.

Russia froze, staring into the boy's face, taking a step back for a moment. He glanced over the boy's chestnut hair and giant brown eyes that seemed to know more than they should. He forced himself to reach for the child's hand.

"May we have some chairs, please? For the child?" Alexandra asked, motioning towards Alexei, her voice holding barely hidden terror.

The soldiers brought in three chairs, one for Nicholas, one for Alexandra, and one for Alexei, the son of the Tzar.

Alexei leaned up and kissed his father's cheek for the last time, resting his head on his mother's shoulder. He closed his giant blue eyes, knowing what was about to happen before anyone spoke.

"Your relations have tried to save you." Yakov, the man in charge of the evening, explained with a triumphant gleam in his eye. "They have failed and we must now shoot you."

Nicholas jumped out of his chair. "What?" He shouted, almost begging.

Alexei watched in terrified horror as what seemed like a hundred shots rang out. Bullets tore into his father's chest, his blood splashing on Alexei's face. Nicholas fell to the ground. He saw his mother turn away from Yakov, and Pytor Ermakov, a drunken soldier, shot her through the head. He stared at her body on the ground, too shocked to move, to afraid to scream.

He watched his sister Maria scratch at the storage room door, trying desperately to open it, until Ermakov shot her in the leg, bringing her to the ground, where she stayed.

The smoke was so thick he couldn't see the soldiers, and they could barely see him. They left the room, waiting for the smoke to clear. He didn't move, staring forward at the door, not daring to look at the bodies all around him. The sound of his sister's crying came from behind him, and he could hear Maria moaning in pain beside the storage door. The smell of gunpowder and blood were so overwhelming he barely noticed them. He gripped the bottom of the chair, trembling, trying not to even breathe. He jumped, feeling his sister's arms wrap around him.

"Alexei…" Anastasia whispered, clinging to him.

"Anna, I'm frightened," he wept.

Anastasia kissed his cheek, "I'm right here, Alyosha. I'm right here…

"Mama, Papa..." Alexei whispered over and over, sobbing almost silently, his knuckles white as his hands clung to the chair.

The soldiers came back into the room. Yakov grabbed Anastasia away from Alexi. Alexei turned to see a soldier aiming for his head. The shot missed. Yakov didn't. A shot landed in the boy's chest. The impact sent Alexei to the ground, landing next to his father's body. The bullet hadn't pierced his skin, the jewels that were sewn into his clothing acting as armor. He grabbed onto his father's sleeve and buried his face into it, too terrified to move, hoping the soldiers would think he was dead, and wouldn't shoot at him again. He felt a boot against his side and looked up into Ermakov's face. He screamed as the soldier drove his bayonet into his body, again, and again, and again. Blood dripped from Alexei's mouth as shrieks of pain rang through the room. He gripped his father's sleeve tighter, seeking any kind of comfort. He felt a shot graze his head. He looked up into Ermakov's face, his tear filled eyes begging him not to do it. Ermakov fired into the boy's face. Alexei's grip on his father's sleeve went limp.

…

Russia walked down the stairs of the old house, Yakov leading him down into the cellar. He could smell the smoke and gunpowder. The stench of blood hit him in the face as they passed the last few steps. Yakov led him to the door of the room. Russia nodded to Yakov, who turned away, allowing Russia to enter the room alone. Russia didn't look into the room as he opened the door, turning to close and lock it. He took a deep breath, turning around to look into the room. He froze, shocked. Blood was everywhere, splattered across the walls, the floor… everyone. Olga and Tatiana's bodies were still tangled together, holding each other, through both of them had been shot through the head. The doctor and servants lay near them, laying in pools of blood. Anastasia was near her mother, blood covering her grey dress and face. Maria was against the back wall, near the storage room door. Her face was broken, smashed by the butt of a pistol, and a bullet had struck her head. The Tsar and Tsarina lay close to each other, near the chairs that were knocked over, soaked in blood. Between the two of them was Alexei, soaked in blood, his white face striking against his father's dark grey jacket.

Russia shook his head, running up to the boy, kneeling on the wooden floor, not caring about the pool of blood that instantly covered his legs and coat. He lifted Alexei in his arms, cradling him, pressing his face into the boy's dark hair. He pressed Alexei's head against his chest, shaking with sobs, trying not to make a sound so the other soldiers wouldn't hear him. He loosened his hold on Alexei, looking into the little white face, an expression of pain and fear permanently written on it. He closed his eyes, bringing the child's body to his chest again, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Nyet… Nyet pozhaluysta… " he whispered, kissing the boy's bloody hair. "Alexei… Alyosha… nyet…" he looked forward suddenly, screaming as more pain tore through him than he'd ever felt before. He pressed Alexei's body against his own, shaking with sobs, crying out in agony as he felt every bullet rip through his own body, all the pain, all the screams. He let Alexei's body fall back beside his father's and pulled the knife from his own belt. He looked at it, screaming in pain again. He looked back at Alexei… so much blood… He looked straight ahead and grabbed at his scarf, pulling it away from his neck. He laid the knife against his skin under his jaw. He closed his eyes.

Russia touched his scarf almost instinctively as Cort took his hand, looking up into his face. The boy's eyes were scared but strong. He led the boy to the car, nodding to the soldiers who brought out all the luggage behind them. He opened the door for Margot and her children, trying to long at them only as much as he had too. He couldn't look at Cort. His smile, his hair, his eyes… he couldn't look at him. He closed the door and walked to his own car, sliding into the passenger seat and pressing his gloved hand against his forehead. His driver knew better than to ask, for which he was grateful. He pushed back the tears that tried to come into his eyes. He didn't have time for this. He was over this. This didn't bother him anymore. The Tsar needed to die. All his children needed to… he couldn't even think it. They didn't need to die. He just didn't try hard enough to save them. He tried to push the thoughts away. They were too painful. He touched his scarf again, checking to make sure it covered the scars.

A/N: Something a bit different here. Gil isn't even in it! This entirely Russia-centric chapter gives a little glimpse into his mind, though certainly not a complete one. His mind is a dark place. He's haunted by a lot of things. This chapter will become very. VERY important as the story goes on. *HUGS RUSSIA*

Reviews are appreciated as always! Reviewers are given popsicles, burgers, and any and every other 4th of July treat that they wish! I love reading all your theories especially! Some of you are closer than others... but so far no one has guessed correctly. ;)

There may be another chapter coming yet tonight. I started writing the next one as the end of this chapter, but it would be better as the start of the next one, so that is what I'll do. Things are about to get... bad...