Illya suddenly became aware of someone else in the room. His hand closed on his Walther lying under his pillow while he continued to play possum. He sensed the intruder near the chair to his right. Good, I have a clear shot! Just then, a female voice said softly, "Do not be afraid, moy brat Illyusha, it is I, your sister Fekla."*
His eyes shot open and he stared incredulously at the little girl sitting calmly, ankles crossed, in the chair. "This is impossible! My sister is dead!" He sat up, bringing the gun to his lap, ready to shoot…what? A child? No, this is some crazy THRUSH scheme; perhaps they have drugged me somehow. She is a hallucination. He was startled when she answered as if he had spoken aloud.
"No, Illyusha, I am quite real. I am your Guardian Angel, I have been since the day I died. I did not wish to leave you, but it could not be helped. I want you to know that I am always near you."
The Russian snorted, "Do you expect me to believe such nonsense? Fine, I will play along. If you are truly always near me, tell me something that I have done recently that no one knows."
The little blonde girl smiled and he was struck again by how she did look exactly the way he remembered her. She even wore the same clothing Fekla was wearing when she had been killed, but it was neat and clean. "I would rather tell you the reason I decided to reveal myself to you this one time. That was a beautiful letter you wrote, moy brat. I was happy that you shared it with Napoleon. I am sorry that I will never meet him. I like that he said I must have been the bravest little girl, but I wasn't. I was just being a big sister protecting the baby brother that she loved more than she loved her own life."
He couldn't help it; tears stood in his eyes. I know she is not real, I know this hallucination is only plumbing my mind and spitting things at me that I already know, but I do miss my sister. I miss her so much! He was shocked when she rose from the chair, stood in front of him and then threw her arms around him. Bozhe moy! Bozhe moy, she's real! "Feklachek, I love you. I love you so much!" he cried as he put his arms around her and hugged back."
"I am so proud of the man you have become and the good you do. I am always with you, Brother. Goodbye." She began to fade.
"Nyet! Stay with me! Do not leave!" She disappeared leaving him hugging himself. "Fekla!"
"Illya, wake up! You're crying in your sleep! What's wrong?"
Illya opened his eyes and realized he was in bed with Napoleon. He remembered they were in Portland, Oregon in a motel outside the airport in preparation for their flight back to New York the next morning. He wiped the tears from his face and mumbled, "Sorry I woke you."
Napoleon patted his shoulder and replied, "It's okay. Want to talk about it?"
"I was dreaming about my sister Fekla. It, she, seemed so real." He was about to say something else when his eyes went to the chair next to the bed and widened in shock. A hair ribbon, the same color that Fekla had worn laid on the cushion. I could swear that was not there when I went to bed. He reached over and grabbed it as he stood up and slipped it smoothly into his jacket pocket as he kept his back to his partner. I think I will keep this.
He went to the bathroom and when he came back, he told Napoleon, "It was a good dream; those were tears of happiness at seeing her again. I am fine. Go back to sleep."
Napoleon turned over on his stomach. "'Kay. G'night, Partner."
"Goodnight." As he drifted back to sleep his last thought was, Good night, dear Fekla.
*refers to my story "The Letter."
