Chapter 47
Part 3
Darkness Consumes
Life went on.
People came and went in the town. The mine got bigger. New buildings. KGB officers came. The town grew. Plans of a prison.
Ivan was constant.
In some horrible, twisted way, Ivan was everything that Toris had ever wanted; a steady companion, stable ground, constant and unchanging. Always there.
So Toris gave no thought to escape, never had, and did everything Ivan told him to.
Toris was swimming in diamonds, as it was, by then, they all were, and maybe it was only those diamonds that forced Irina still and quiet within the house and kept her from returning to Moscow. She was lonely as could be, yeah, trapped in that house, but even that loneliness wasn't enough to turn a bad person away from having the world beneath them, and she stayed.
As for Toris, he just stayed put because it was where Ivan stayed, and the diamonds were only a perk. The power of Ivan was too addictive to give up.
Paperwork had suddenly become a part of his daily routine, and even though it was clearly boring to Ivan, Toris loved it because it meant that Ivan trusted him to do something. Ivan's secretary; ha. Far from demeaning, he found it somewhat delightful, if that word was an appropriate one to use. Musta been as crazy as Ivan, in some way, to enjoy it.
Irina still stared at them, still trying to figure them out, and it was clear to Toris that she was becoming agitated. Maybe in some way she was jealous, that Ivan had a companion (although in what manner may have yet been a mystery to her) and she did not. Ivan saw her bad mood, saw her stress and anger and restlessness, and came home one day with a cat. Toris watched as she had leapt upon it quite eagerly, Ivan looking a little annoyed but smiling anyway, and for a while, Irina was satisfied and sat still.
A cat; yeah, sure, fine, she loved it, but Toris was pretty sure she had wanted a man.
Ivan wouldn't ever give her that.
Toris only wanted one thing from Ivan, and that was something that Ivan only gave him once in a blue moon :
Attention.
Toris had long since called this place home by the time Ivan finally took him out for the first time. It hadn't been anything important, anything special, not at all, just tagged along when Ivan went on a tour in Odessa. It hadn't been anything special, no, but oh, god, it had been the most monumental moment of Toris' life, when Ivan had stood before him, straightening up his uniform into perfection, and then finally, finally, gave Toris what he wanted as he said, "Alright. You're ready, I think. I'm taking you with me this time."
Elation.
He had been close to bursting the entire train ride there, and Ivan humored him for once, taking his excitement in stride and not lashing out at him. They sat there for ten days and actually talked to each other, held actual conversations. Just him and Ivan.
When he walked amongst them for the first time, it was phenomenal. Meeting real military men for the first time, stuck firmly at Ivan's side. At first, Ivan had actually been a bit tense; Toris could see it in the way he stood, in the way his lips were pursed. Anxious, maybe, at bringing Toris out for the first time and risking something going wrong and exposing them.
But Ivan had trained Toris well, and Toris desired to excel, and his salute had been absolutely impeccable, so much so that tense Ivan had immediately loosened up back into confidence.
Oh, Christ, never had anything in his miserable life felt as good as when Ivan had inclined his head in Toris' direction and said, so easily, "Senior Sergeant Laurinaitis."
Never, not even those long-gone hands. Had never been so exhilarated. His heart should have given out by all rights, for how fast it was pounding.
Ivan had been bolstered by Toris' perfection, and for that, incredibly, when they had walked back to the car Ivan had actually opened the door up for him. For him. Because, for as much as Ivan had motivated Toris, Toris had motivated Ivan. All of Ivan's strange tendencies had suddenly been vindicated. Ivan realized that he truly could get away with anything, even taking a nobody and turning him into a soldier.
When he came back home, home, Toris felt accomplished.
Felt like somebody.
From there, his dependence on Ivan amplified. Ivan took him everywhere, and Toris wouldn't have it any other way. Ivan took Toris everywhere because doing so meant that Ivan was breaking the rules and flaunting his power with no shame in the face of Khrushchev himself. Toris went because he liked being flaunted and liked being Ivan's great sham. Liked the way it made him feel. Liked knowing that, after all these years, after all was said and done, Toris was still getting one over on the Red Army. In one way or another.
Together, they scammed the entire Red Army, and Toris fell into place amongst them under Ivan's confidence. To the Soviet Union, he was Senior Sergeant Laurinaitis. After a while, even Toris started believing it, and Ivan opened car doors for him.
The second year, Ivan gave him a list of phone numbers, and said, "Here are some men. I use them from time to time. They're yours now. Call them. I'm letting you take charge of some things. Don't fuck it up, Toris. I'm trusting you with this."
Trust. An extraordinary word when it came from Ivan's lips.
Instantly, Toris had said, "Yes, sir!"
Oh, god, so excited, he was so excited, so excited that Ivan trusted him with something like this, after so long. He had earned this, had earned it by being perfect, by never faltering at Ivan's side.
So excited, actually, that he had called every number on that list as soon as Ivan had left, to introduce and insert himself into this brutal world. Ivan said the men were his, now, and so Toris made damn sure that they knew that. The first time he had ever asserted dominance over anyone, the first time he had taken charge of anything, and his voice had trembled the entire time he spoke but he had managed to do it all the same.
Jittery. Ha, he had never said something like that in his life :
'Hello?'
'So-and-so?'
'Yeah. Who's this? You're not Ivan.'
'No, I'm not. I'm Toris. I'm your boss now.'
And with, he hung up, hands shaking and smiling breathlessly.
What a thrill.
Must have made a good impression, though, despite the falter in his speech, because a few days later Ivan raised him up from senior sergeant to sergeant major. Hadn't ever been so proud of himself as he was then, going up in rank like that, seeing that new bar on his shoulder. Standing before Ivan like that and having that man validate his hard work. He was somebody. The world under his feet, because Ivan made it so. If ever that man had made him feel bold, then Ivan made him feel like a demi-god. Not a god, only Ivan was that, but he felt damn close.
Soon after that, though, a bump in the road, when Toris had the misfortune to meet the woman that Irina had alluded to. Ivan's scorned betrothed.
Natalia.
Met her completely out of the blue, when Ivan had suddenly decided to get out of the town for a little while.
One morning, Ivan had come into his bedroom, Toris had sat up in bed in both panic and excitement, just at having Ivan come to him, and then Ivan had said, "Get up. Get dressed. Make yourself look nice, and come out to the car."
His heart had been hammering. Breathless with anticipation.
Toris just asked, huskily, "Where are we going?"
Ivan, watching him intently, said, simply, "We're going to have a party."
A party? That was a first. Hadn't seen any life out here at all. Toris would have been lying if he hadn't said he had been looking forward to a party, no matter what kind of party it was or what it would entail. Just wanted to hear Ivan introduce him again, with this new rank.
Ivan had been tense again during the ride, as he had been the first time he had introduced Toris. The first time he was holding this event, the first time establishing Siberia as a place to meet, so he must have been concerned about how it would go over. Toris had just sat quietly beside of him, trying to be excited without irritating Ivan.
The ride to Lensk had been long, but absolutely worth it once Toris had seen the cars piled outside of the hotel.
As it had been the time before, Ivan's anxiety had been for naught; the party was a hit. The Red Army loved it. Toris had loved it, too, meeting all of those men, being in the midst of this power, this lawlessness. Loved being constantly at Ivan's side.
Loved it every single time Ivan said, eagerly, "Sergeant Major Laurinaitis."
If Toris had been anymore puffed out he woulda exploded. Absolutely in love with this party, in love with this excess of power, this new identity. Enthralled.
At least until she had shown up, and then Toris' mood had dampened because Ivan's had.
By god! That look on Ivan's face, when Toris had suddenly looked up to see Ivan standing stark still, eyes glued to something at the door. Toris had followed his gaze, but hadn't known what he was looking at. Had been alarmed, though, by Ivan in that moment. Had never seen that supremely confident man look like that. Rigid as a board, eyes wide as could be, brow low, mouth open, fists clenched at his side, feet and legs braced. The look of absolute and complete horror, and that had scared the hell out of Toris because Ivan wasn't scared of anything.
That look had only intensified when someone was suddenly walking towards them.
Ivan looked like he could have just dropped dead right there from the sheer horror he was obviously feeling, and maybe Toris would have been more frightened if he hadn't looked up and saw a woman.
Just a woman.
She came gliding over to Ivan more than walking, hands clasped quite primly in front of her, sparkling blue dress glimmering in the lights, pale blonde hair long and perfectly straight behind her, and from the first glance, Toris had been a bit taken aback. One of the prettiest women that Toris had ever seen, if he had to offer an opinion, and he was momentarily startled by her. Stupefied, to be perfectly honest. So pretty. Might have been staring at her a bit inappropriately by the time she made it over to them, but he couldn't help it at the time. Might have been red-faced. Felt nervous, suddenly, in her presence. Self-conscious.
She was gorgeous, beautiful. Couldn't have gotten it up for Irina, nah, but damn! If this woman had tried that with Toris it would have been a different story entirely.
By the time she reached them, it was Ivan who was red-faced, but not because he was ogling her like Toris, and his stance had gone from horrified to defensive. Enraged. Ivan suddenly looked like he wanted to set fire to the world, and Toris was beyond thankful that he had never before seen that look. Fury and hatred and everything else. Ivan had expanded out to his full size, which was quite impressive, bristled like a cat, and it was easy for anyone to see how angry he was, suddenly, and Toris couldn't figure out why.
She was just a woman, after all.
But when she finally opened her mouth, completely unfazed by Ivan's dangerous posture, she said, "Ah, there you are, dear. I was looking for you. Well, then! Shall we reschedule the wedding?"
Ivan might have physically shuddered.
Toris understood, but not completely, because she was stunning. He had been dazzled by her, initially, and his first thought had been, 'Why the hell would Ivan break it off with this woman?'
It only took one damn minute for Toris to realize why : she was fuckin' crazy.
Crazy.
Ivan finally came out from his stupor and hissed, voice scarcely audible over the ruckus, "What are you doing here?"
Toris could have sworn that Ivan's voice had trembled.
She smiled, then, and answered, "I moved here. Didn't you know? I followed you. I've been behind you the whole time. I was just waiting for the right time to say hello. Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?"
Yikes.
Ivan twitched his fist, but if he had had the urge to strike her, he either bit it down or choked. Something about her eyes, her voice, everything...
Ivan's look of horror was somehow well-founded.
She sent the air around her into winter, even indoors.
Toris' opinion of her shifted quite quickly, and she went from being the most beautiful woman he had ever seen to the scariest one. And then, abruptly, her eyes fell upon Toris, and he was the one set in her burning sights. And, boy, did it ever sting. She looked at him as if he were something unpleasant she had suddenly stepped in. Suddenly, Toris realized that he had side-stepped himself back behind Ivan like a damn dog just to get out from under her scalding stare. Cowering behind him, as it was. Go figure; for once, Ivan wasn't the person he was afraid of.
Ivan, perhaps subconsciously, had lifted his arm just a little up in front of Toris, as if telling him to get back. Ha! As if Ivan needed to tell him. He was already ducking for cover.
Didn't save him, hiding behind Ivan, and her pretty face twisted into a sneer as she tilted her head to hunt him down and crooned rather than said, "Ah, yes. You. I heard about you. I'm Natalia, if you didn't know. What's your name?" She didn't get an answer, but seemed hardly bothered. "So. Where did you come from? Brought you home, did he? You show up and suddenly he moves. What a coincidence. If I didn't know better..." A derisive, rather hateful look. "I'd say he broke our engagement for you. If I'd have known you would be here, I would have brought a gun."
Holy shit.
Toris didn't even have time to think about the words or the tone.
The air shifted. Hell unleashed.
Ivan came roaring back to life, and he stalked forward suddenly, snatching out and grabbing her by the arm, wrenching her around so hard that it must have hurt her, but she didn't flinch as Ivan dragged her quite ruthlessly towards the door. Toris followed him, out of habit, and heard Ivan snarl, in a voice that was close to being a scream, "Get out! Out! Get out of here, and don't come back. Don't ever come back, don't ever let me see you around here again! Don't you ever show your face around me again or I'll shoot you! I'll shoot you!"
Ivan's voice was high-pitched, cracking. Absolutely enraged.
The door of the hotel was reached and yanked open. Freezing air.
Ivan threw the woman out, literally, into the abysmal temperature, regardless of whether she had a coat or no, and when he grabbed the handle to shut the door, she stood up tall and straight, oblivious to the cold, and said, firmly, dangerously, "You can't ever get rid of me. Not ever. I'll follow you until the end of the world."
Ivan gripped the door, stance rigid, and he just said, again, "I'll shoot you."
With that, he slammed the door, and he was so angry afterwards, so frustrated, that he had turned around and abruptly punched the wall. Toris was glad, if not surprised, that Ivan hadn't punched him.
Those words...
Somehow, someway, Toris had felt proud, had felt a bit exhilarated, hopeful; oh, had Ivan really ditched Natalia because he had suddenly had Toris? Ah. A wonderful thought (wonderful? since when?), and yet one Toris felt was rather unrealistic. If Ivan had wanted him like that, Ivan would have made that known long ago. As Irina had hinted, Ivan would have come into his room.
Ivan certainly had become accustomed to Toris, perhaps attached in his own way if only for his own gain. But not like that. Toris could probably safely say that Ivan had just left that woman because the time had been right and she was crazy. Not because of him.
...kinda wished, though. Kinda hoped. Some part of him had wanted those words to be true. Ivan was an astounding man. A man like that. Couldn't ever have been interested in someone as pitiful as him.
The party had gone on, obliviously, and Ivan had started hammering back bottle after bottle of vodka, probably to get rid of that feeling that Natalia had given him.
Natalia was just an unpleasant memory before long, and although it was pretty pitiful, the only thing that Toris truly hadn't liked about that damn party was that, every time there was a pale-haired, pale-eyed, handsome soldier, Ivan would sit there and follow him with his eyes until he was out of sight. Hadn't liked it, because Ivan never looked at him like that. Ivan had never been attracted to him as Irina had assumed.
And Irina had been right about her little brother, as Toris had figured. She would know, after all, and was right; Ivan wasn't exactly normal around women. Polite, certainly, he took their hands and kissed them when being introduced, always smooth, but he didn't cast them a second glance afterwards. What caught Ivan's eye seemed to be handsome blond men.
Well.
Toris was handsome, or so others had said, but Ivan never looked at him twice as much as he did those women. Actually, Ivan didn't look at him at all until nearly one in the morning, when he had finally turned eyes to Toris. By then, they were both feeling the pain of alcohol in a bad way.
Ivan had looked him suddenly, and asked, with a slur, "Do you dance, Toris?"
"A little," he answered, a bit dumbstruck.
Awed. Was Ivan asking him to dance?
As it turned out, yes. Ye, he was.
Ivan had reached out, grabbed Toris by the arm, and dragged him a bit unsteadily to the floor. Toris went willingly, eagerly, because god knew he loved it when Ivan paid him positive attention.
Dancing with Ivan had been a strange but completely satisfying experience. Had never felt anything like that, the hands of a powerful man around his own, the feel of Ivan's broad shoulder beneath his palm. The scent of Ivan's cologne. Didn't matter really how well either of them actually danced; tipsy Toris felt like he had climbed up on top of the castle. Being in close proximity to Ivan made Toris feel like he owned a part of this world, too.
And yet, afterwards, when they staggered back to the table and plopped down, Ivan had still followed other men with his eyes.
That annoying voice let Toris know that Ivan had danced with him because he was drunk and because Ivan no doubt wanted to piss Natalia off even though she wasn't in the room anymore.
Still. The feeling of exhilaration lingered, despite it all.
The last thing Toris remembered that night, before he had passed out dead drunk, was Ivan in the hall of the hotel, ruffled and unkempt, standing in front of an equally flustered blond Lieutenant that he had pinned against the wall, murmuring away in low tones with a slanted, satisfied leer on his face. Ivan's hand, trailing fingers down the Lieutenant's waist. That predatory look he had used once before. The Lieutenant was trapped under Ivan's hypnotizing gaze, as everyone was. Ivan snatched the soldier's chin, thumb falling over his lips, and Ivan kept leaning farther and farther down, and Toris felt the pang of envy.
Toris could only take it for what it was, and collapsed down inside the room so that he wouldn't have to think too much.
Ivan's lack of interest in him wasn't exactly pressing afterwards, though, because after that party, Natalia seemed determined to make Toris' life a living hell. Natalia hated him because she might have blamed him for Ivan dumping her like so much garbage, whether it was true or not, and soon, after the confusion and fear cleared a bit, the feeling was mutual.
Toris wished they had never met.
Phone calls in the middle of the night. Threatening letters mailed to the house. If Toris picked up the phone, in a moment of bravery, she just said, quite calmly, 'Come down here and visit me.'
No thank you!
Honestly, Toris had started sleeping with one eye open.
Ivan tried hard to pretend the entire thing had never happened, but Toris could see that she had shaken him up. Must have felt violated in some way, coming all the way into Siberia to escape and being followed like that.
For his part, Toris wasn't going to lie and say that he wasn't angry, because he was. Angry that she had had had the nerve to undermine Ivan like that. In some way, Toris had almost felt as if he were the one to be wronged. He had become dependent on Ivan, had started loving him, and so she had interrupted him as well. As much as Ivan, Toris had wanted her gone. Ivan wanted her gone because she scared him. Toris wanted her gone because he didn't want anyone else near Ivan. Couldn't say why, really.
The calls and letters kept on coming. Toris could have started a collection. The fear, though, had started dulling a bit. She hated him, sure, but she was a good distance away and surely even she knew not to test Ivan by actually coming to this town, so Toris didn't really feel as if she were too dangerous, as long as he didn't have the misfortune to run into her alone.
Maybe, in some way, Ivan had considered that, too; one morning, a rough, sleep-shocked Ivan took Toris' gun within his hands, face pale and exhausted, and loaded it for the first time. A long stare, and Ivan had finally asked, a bit gruffly, "You do know how to shoot, right?"
The feel of hands around his own. A chest in his back. Fingers in his hair. Another life.
He nodded.
With that, Ivan handed the gun back to Toris, and Toris had taken it as gently as if he was taking a priceless artifact. Oh. All he thought of then, as giddy as he was, had been a stupid, 'Wow!' Like a kid.
Toris, no matter why Ivan had done it or what circumstance had brought it about, had only seen that as another notch on his belt. His gun was loaded.
Ivan gave him a set of keys soon after, and Toris had felt as if Siberia had suddenly burst into spring. Those keys. Keys to every door in the house (except for one), keys to the car, keys to the cabinets that held the bullets, keys to the safe where the diamonds lay hidden, keys to everything, everything. Had never felt so important, so powerful, so needed. Keys meant belonging. Ivan had offered him a permanent residence, a home, a place to stay. Ivan and Irina were suddenly family, because Toris truly lived here now.
Home.
Whatever awful things could be said about Natalia, no matter how much Toris wished she'd go away, in a way he was grateful for her because her appearance had pushed Toris up onto the next rung of the ladder.
Toris pretended that Ivan had loaded the gun because Ivan was worried about Toris' safety, that he had loaded the gun so early that morning because he had had a nightmare or something, because Ivan cared about him and wanted him to be safe, but the rational side of Toris that remained was always reminding him that Ivan had loaded the gun because he was afraid of Natalia and wanted an extra set of eyes in the case she decided to kill the both of them.
Yeah, yeah, he knew that, voice of reason, thanks a lot. No need to remind him. He knew. Pretending was nicer, though.
Three years.
Everything had been going right for Toris. And then he had come, and everything shattered beneath Toris' feet.
He came, and ruined everything.
The world Toris had built up suddenly didn't mean anything anymore.
January.
The holiday season in Estonia had gotten a little too intense that year. Somehow, celebrations had turned into protests, and protests had turned into violence. Violence had turned into a small uprising. The Red Army didn't like it. Ivan and Toris had been in Belarus when it had started. Ivan was called up; Toris went with him, and gladly so.
But Ivan did what he wanted, he always did, and had quickly distanced himself from angry students throwing firebombs at police to instead go far behind the lines with a small group of soldiers and into a building where he suspected students were working. He was right, he always was, and Toris didn't know how he did it.
They walked into a room full of books and maps and papers, and there were two men sitting at a table, etching out posters. All they had been doing was making posters. Unfortunately, they were anti-communist posters. When they looked up and saw the Red Army... Oh. No words for it. Toris was sure he felt a pang in his chest.
Years ago, people he had known had had that same look.
Markers clattered to the floor, and eyes widened. Swallowing. Absolute helplessness.
Toris hadn't even bothered to draw his gun. He stood by Ivan, he knew what they looked like, and felt himself somehow above danger. Who would ever dare to try and shoot them? That man hadn't been able to, years ago.
Anyway, they had caught these two off guard.
Ivan had reached out to grab a book up from the nearest table, and Toris had felt so dumbfounded, so dull, so listless, because it was like walking back in time. Every single bit of it, down to the book in Ivan's grasp. Familiar. He had been here before, he was sure of it, not here in Estonia of course, but he had been here. In some other life. In some other time. He had been here.
Softly, Ivan had thumbed through pages and said, "This book is banned."
The two men sat there, pale and covered in sweat despite the cold air, and it was clear from their darting eyes that they were looking for an escape. There was none, never was with Ivan.
Ivan set the book down, stepped forward, ordered them to their feet, and had circled the both of them like a hawk, and Toris had immediately recognized that stalking gait, because it was the same one that he had used in that field in Poland years ago.
This time, though, Ivan was eyeing the both of them, and it was clear to Toris that in this case he would gladly have taken either one of them. They had similar features, for the most part. Both pale and blond and young, although the shorter one was stockier and the taller one had glasses. Either one, but Ivan's eyes had fallen more frequently upon the bespectacled one, because he had blue eyes and the other had brown. Toris knew Ivan's tastes well enough by then.
Kids.
What had they ever thought they could accomplish with those stupid posters? He had been a stupid kid once. They may have been the same age, Toris and these men, but they were kids and somehow he wasn't.
Ivan asked, suddenly, "Names?"
They didn't answer at first. Maybe they didn't speak Russian.
No; the shorter, stronger one had suddenly lifted up his chin defiantly, and said, out of nowhere, "I'm Timo. Now take your fuckin' dogs and get the hell outta here, you Red bastard!"
Ivan's brow raised incredulously. A breathless, open-mouthed smile.
The other, not to be outdone but much more careful about his words, had said, "Eduard. You don't have any authority here."
Oh, dead wrong about that. Ivan was a god amongst men. Ivan could do whatever he wanted. And so could the Red Army. Estonia was a state, that was all, and states had to listen to the motherland, no matter how much they hated it.
Timo and Eduard. Idiotic, impulsive, foolish children. They didn't give their last names, for whatever good it would have done them.
Ivan, unfazed by the outburst and rude tones, had just smiled away at them, hands behind his back and posture perfectly straight, before saying, in what could have been amusement, "For that... I think I'll actually let one of you go. For being brave. Who wants to go? I'll let one of you go. I suggest you take the chance. Who goes free?"
A twitch of Ivan's hand, a flutter from so many years ago, and rifles were aimed at the two.
Paling and slumping and the sudden realization of the situation they were really in.
Finality.
On the brink. Decisions had to be made, and quickly.
Toris recognized this game as much as he had recognized that walk. Ivan had tried this before, but it hadn't gone the way he had wanted. Having another go, no doubt, to see if this time would be better.
They meant a lot to each other, obviously, because they didn't even hesitate, each of them opening their mouths. The taller one, Eduard, had just spoken up a little faster.
"He'll go."
Just like that, after a furious look from the other, hell broke loose between them, dumb kids, and they began to argue and fight in Finnish or Estonian over who should go and who should stay. At one point, the shorter one had actually reached out in anger to shove at Eduard's chest, red-faced and absolutely livid.
Toris had just watched them, in fascination, and it brought up awful feelings that he had gotten rid of. Stirrings of emotion for the first time. Seeing them fighting, like that...
That was what he and Feliks should have done. They should have fought like these two did, over which of them would be allowed to carry on with life. Shoulda been, but it hadn't been, and now Feliks' name only came to him from the shadows in rare moments of clarity.
Regret.
Ivan watched them go at it for a while, but it had been obvious that Ivan had favored Eduard a bit more right from the start, and used Eduard's quick trigger to justify his words when he pointed at Timo and said, "He said it first. Get out."
Perhaps the Timo one had been a bit too crass for Ivan's picky taste. Timo may have looked more like a soldier, but Eduard had blue eyes.
And, well, Eduard had spoken first, but Timo or whatever wasn't too keen on the situation, and refused to budge an inch until Ivan had waved an impatient hand forward and had Timo hauled out by the soldiers by force. He went kicking and screaming, shrieking his friend's name, tossed out unceremoniously, and Toris had felt a little clammy by the time Eduard had been standing there alone.
Either one of them would have given their life for the other, and to be perfectly honest Toris didn't know how to feel about that. Because when he thought about it...
"Well," Eduard had finally uttered, voice shaking and terrified, as he tried all the same to stand still and face death bravely, "Now what?"
A good question.
Before Toris knew it, Ivan had marched Eduard out of the building, Eduard walked calmly even though his hands were trembling, his friend had been ushered off to god knew where, and Ivan was damn close to beaming by the time they returned to the main streets. The protests still going on didn't seem to even register to Toris anymore, not the way his eyes were glued to Eduard, and somehow they had walked onward and wound up in a car. Eduard sat still and quiet, not knowing where he was going or what was happening, and Toris still felt dazed by the whole damn situation.
Eduard was brave, and maybe Toris would have told him so if he hadn't realized then that, as much as he had accused Feliks of selling him out, Toris hadn't exactly leapt upon the chance to save Feliks, either. When Ivan had pointed at him, Toris had frozen up as much as Feliks had.
Maybe, had it been the other way around, Toris would have sold Feliks out the same.
If he were truly honest, he knew he would have, he knew it; he and Feliks had never been brave enough to fight like those two had, not either one of them, and either one of them would have thrown the other onto the tracks to save themselves. Toris would have done the same, and seeing Eduard and Timo had made him realize it, but still he stubbornly clung to the anger, to the hate, because it was easier to blame Feliks for the entire ordeal than it was to wonder about his own bravery.
The train ride was a haze, and Toris just stared at Eduard the entire ten days as if he had fallen from a tree right on top of him. Ivan sat there, staring at Eduard so fervently that Toris was surprised poor Eduard hadn't burst into flames. Eduard must have been terrified, being stared at like that by two crazy men he didn't know.
And then they were home, and Toris felt his territory tread upon by an intruder. Had been so dazed, but sure as hell woke up with a snap the very second that Eduard walked through that door and into his house. His house. His land. This was his, all his, and he didn't want someone else here.
Didn't want Eduard here.
Eduard had looked so confused, so lost, so helpless, when he had walked inside the house for the first time, and Toris would have pitied him, would have sympathized with him, would have empathized, would have said to him, 'I know how you feel', if he hadn't been so absolutely violated. Felt violated. Disturbed. Rustled. Felt like someone had broken into his home.
Eduard looked so lost, and Toris didn't even bother to try to comfort him.
From there, everything went wrong for Toris. Eduard had ruined everything.
The thing that had surprised Toris the most, honestly, was that awful stab of jealousy. Fury. That Ivan brought someone else here. That after that day, Ivan seemed impressed by every little thing Eduard did. That Ivan seemed enthralled, in a way, just by Eduard being.
Toris had sat in his room those first few weeks, hardly more than a trembling mess, and Eduard came out after the third day, and sat down quietly at the table when Ivan told him to do so. Toris watched, irritably, as Ivan rested his chin on a fist and smiled away at cool Eduard, who didn't meet his gaze for long but gave efforts at polite pleasantries with both Ivan and Irina. As if Eduard were meeting his girlfriend's parents for the first time.
Hated that guy right off.
Toris had been jealous, and furiously so. Eduard made Ivan smile, by doing nothing at all. And smile, really smile. Actual human smiles. When Ivan smiled, his canines poked out in a gawky, rather charming manner. The first time Toris had ever seen Ivan smile like that, in these past three years. Hadn't even known Ivan possessed such a smile.
Never smiled like that at Toris. But then, Ivan never had to manhandle Eduard to get him to do what he wanted, either, because Eduard quite bravely did it on his own.
Eduard stood straight and still when Ivan was before him, not trembling and very alert, and Toris found himself often hanging around corners and watching their interactions from afar.
Ivan leaning over Eduard, that pretty smile on his face, crooning softly to Eduard and ducking down to catch his gaze every time Eduard looked away, like a teenager, brushing errant fingers in Eduard's hair and down his neck and jostling him rather playfully in an effort to make Eduard smile. Eduard, who had to have been absolutely terrified beneath that cool front, did smile, but palely and rather weakly. Fake as could be, but Ivan seemed to accept it anyway.
Soothing words, all the time.
"—don't be scared! This is your home, now, you know. So don't be scared. I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise. You're so handsome, I'm sure you knew that already—"
If Ivan had ever done those things to him, those adoring things, Toris woulda smiled for real.
Didn't get it. Ivan didn't even know this man, didn't know a damn thing about him except his name and that he was good-looking.
Beyond the rage, Toris felt a creeping fear.
Couldn't ever get rid of that agitation, no matter how hard he tried. Hated Ivan, but he had become far too dependent on him now. Hated him and loved him and worshiped him and needed him. Needed Ivan. The thought of being replaced was terrifying. Nothing had ever scared him as much as the thought of being replaced.
Eduard was so quiet, so alert, always aware of his surroundings. Memorizing the house silently, memorizing everything. Calculating. He paid attention to everything, no matter how insignificant. Eduard watched Ivan, watched Irina, watched Toris, hell, he even watched the fuckin' cat, watched everything, every door, every window, every hall, every habit. Toris could see it, could see the way Eduard was quite obviously plotting ways to get the hell out of here, and Ivan could see it too and never left Eduard alone for it.
Eduard was always calm. Passive.
Ivan seemed to be helplessly enamored with Eduard, even if Ivan knew that Eduard was anticipating a great escape.
But days turned into weeks, and Eduard had been still. No choice, really. He was in the middle of nowhere in winter. Soon, Ivan took Eduard up to his bedroom, maybe because he didn't quite trust Eduard to not try to steal the car and run.
Eduard hadn't spoken to Toris once, not in the entire weeks he had been there, and in hindsight Toris couldn't blame him much because he probably wouldn't wanna talk to a guy that was constantly glaring and sneering at him, either. Didn't know what else to do. He was threatened by Eduard, so Toris tried to intimidate him.
Ivan tried his best to soothe and spoil Eduard in the hopes of making him less jittery, in getting him to settle.
Maybe it worked.
Toris had stood back, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, when Ivan had finally given Eduard a uniform after only a month. Watching. Waiting. Holding his breath. Didn't know why, but the thought of Ivan giving Eduard the same rank as him was absolutely mortifying. Felt like he would have died. Would have been humiliated. In a way, he would have felt demeaned. He'd worked so damn hard to rank up, so hard to impress Ivan and earn that uniform, and if Eduard got that rank right off, felt like he woulda died.
For once in his miserable life, though, something seemed to work out for him.
Ivan had lifted up his chin, thoughtfully, gave a 'hm', and then said, "I think Sergeant is good for you."
Jittery with relief, Toris had relaxed against the wall, and suppressed his sigh.
That relief didn't last long.
Eduard may not have ranked up, but it was somehow worse when he was actually in the uniform, because Ivan was on him in a second, practically swooning. Seeing Ivan, seeing that terrifying man that Toris relied on, seeing that man like that, seeing him looking happy, and seeing him looking that way because of someone else...
Oh, god. Felt sick. Hadn't ever felt so horrible as he did then, watching Ivan gloss Eduard into perfection.
Shoulda been him that Ivan adored. He had done everything Ivan had wanted. His only condolence was the sergeant badge; stung a little less that Eduard was a lower rank than he was, had started lower than Toris had, even though Ivan seemed to adore him already. Maybe, as much as Eduard's appearance appealed to Ivan, Ivan could see that Eduard wasn't exactly cut out for the army. A guy like that. Eduard was great as a student, great as a poster-maker, great as a soft-spoken activist, but he wasn't a soldier. Too kind and gentle, from the look of him. Nice guy. Kind and calm and soft. Nothing about Eduard screamed military except his bravery.
Hell, Eduard looked like he shoulda been holding a notepad and listening to people crying on a couch.
Even insecure, moody Toris looked far more at home in the uniform than Eduard did, but, for it all, Eduard certainly tried. Stood up straight and held his chin high, even though he couldn't really get his eyes to be stern behind his glasses. Looked the part from afar, anyway, as long as no one tried to engage him. Toris wondered why Ivan didn't just make Eduard an army doctor instead, but he supposed it could have been inconvenient should an emergency arise somewhere and the Red Army wanted Eduard to do some on-field surgery or somethin'. A bit of explaining, had Eduard shrugged a shoulder and said, 'I don't know how to do that.'
Hurt, though, to see Ivan training Eduard. Hated it. Didn't know why, but Toris hated it.
Wanted Eduard gone, and yesterday.
Hated that, where Ivan had slapped Toris' cheek every time he screwed up a salute, Ivan took Eduard's arm, gently, and straightened it out each time with loose, smoothing fingers and encouraging words. Hated the way Ivan whispered to Eduard. The way Ivan's fingers always lingered there upon him.
Every day, Toris hated Eduard a little more.
Somehow, Toris felt that maybe Irina had disliked Eduard, too, but not because of the same reason that Toris did. Irina seemed to be irritated at the entire situation, and sometimes Toris could see that she was looking at Eduard with suspicion and concern. As if she had been thinking to herself that her already 'strange' brother was starting to get stranger, that maybe moving out here wouldn't stop Ivan from getting into trouble after all.
As if Irina had been thinking, 'How many does he need?'
Toris had been inclined to agree. Toris should have been all that Ivan needed.
Two months, two damn months that Eduard had been there, and Ivan had apparently fallen quite hard for him. Ivan was happy, if anyone could believe it.
The most frightening man on the planet, and here he was, showing up in the house with a handful of the first spring flowers and pushing them gently into Eduard's hands. The most ruthless general in the entire Red Army, and here he was, taking Eduard's hand and helping him up from chairs and opening doors. The most dangerous man in Siberia, standing in the kitchen, Eduard pressed up against him, back to the counter, and Ivan's hands resting on Eduard's waist, a nose pressed into Eduard's hair and murmuring away. The most notorious soldier to ever wear a Red star, reaching out and grabbing a startled Eduard to lift him clean into the air in random bouts of excitement.
The wolf became a dog around Eduard. Toris was pretty sure it was time to take that dog out back.
And he wondered if Ivan even cared that every time he laid hands upon Eduard, even though Eduard was still and calm, that the pulse in his neck started hammering. He wondered if Ivan cared that Eduard's pupils dilated in fear. He wondered if Ivan cared that Eduard physically paled. Maybe, in that daze, Ivan just didn't notice.
Eduard was everything that Ivan had apparently wanted. Brave and pale and blond. In some way, Toris knew that Eduard was even quite exotic to Ivan, because he wasn't a Slav. Had that Nordic look about him, Eduard, in his cheeks and jaw line. His nose was a bit upturned at the tip, and Ivan just couldn't take his eyes off of him.
Three months in, Ivan had said to Toris, randomly, "We're going to have another party."
Toris had been excited, until Ivan's next words.
Ivan turned to Toris, then, and said, "He's so handsome, isn't he? I'd like to go show him off."
He.
A pang.
Stupid. Irrational. Pointless. But Toris couldn't really deny that it hurt, that Ivan said such things about Eduard. Ivan hadn't wanted Toris, sure, but Toris had been doing the best he could. Toris had settled in. Toris had been here for three years, and in all that time had done everything Ivan had asked him to do. Eduard had only been there for three months.
Toris hated Eduard.
The ball exacerbated that hatred tenfold.
Started off before they had even left Mirny, because Ivan had turned to Toris and said, "You can drive, can't you?"
Toris, glossed and pristine as he always was, dressed to impress, had been offended. Absolutely offended. Appalled. Drive? Him? He had never had to drive, never, Ivan had always had a driver. Toris' place was in the backseat with Ivan. Beneath him, driving.
But there was no driver in the car waiting, nothing, and of course Ivan didn't drive, but Toris didn't want to either.
So, he had said, "I don't know how."
A half-truth, but it hadn't worked the way he wanted; Ivan had just curled his lip, furrowed his brow, and snipped, "Well get in there and learn, then. We're leaving."
Oh, how that hurt. Hurt. Sitting in the driver's seat felt more like Toris had suddenly fallen down a cliff. Ivan had opened the car door for him not so long ago, and now he was driving like a manservant.
The whole way to Lensk, Ivan and Eduard sat in the backseat speaking softly as Toris had to get his unofficial license and fast, but driving was a lot harder when Toris spent every second glaring at Eduard in the rearview mirror, trying damn hard to kill him with his eyes. That was his seat. Eduard had no right, no right. That had always been his seat, next to Ivan.
Hate.
When they arrived, Toris felt none of that happiness that he had before.
As before, Natalia showed up, despite Ivan's threat to shoot her if she did, but she must have known that Ivan would freeze up, must have known that she had some kind of power over Ivan, because she came and Ivan didn't shoot her.
She sure did lay into Eduard though, as much as she could, before Ivan threw her out again.
So furious at the sight of Eduard and Toris, in fact, that she had reached out to the nearest table and grabbed up a knife, and from the look on her face it was quite obvious that she intended to get rid of Eduard before he even began.
Yeah, join the club.
This time, Ivan's fury had been possessive, protective; where Toris had cowered behind Ivan, Eduard had just stood there in confusion in the face of Natalia's wrath, and it had been Ivan that had reached out, grabbed Eduard by the arm and yanked him behind him protectively before Natalia could do him in. After that, Ivan nearly broke Natalia's wrist to get the knife away from her, and did actually break one of her fingers.
All the same, she was tossed out, and Ivan fussed over Eduard like a damn woman, brushing him down and making sure he was uninjured, eyes wide and actually looking truly concerned. As if the thought of anything happening to Eduard would have been the worst thing that could have ever happened to Ivan.
Toris coulda died from the anger. Jealousy. Wished that Natalia would have taken Eduard out as she had intended.
The party carried on, despite Toris' awful, foul mood.
Toris spent the entire night drinking and plotting ways to get rid of Eduard. Ha; maybe he and Natalia could come up with something together. Wouldn't that be a ride.
Toris was left to his own devices as Ivan introduced Eduard with an eagerness that was a thousand times brighter than when he had been introducing Toris. Eduard, for his part, looked damn petrified, a rabbit tossed in with a bunch of foxes, and Toris could see him sweating even from a distance. Could see how hard he was breathing.
No pity.
Somehow, in those first months it had never actually occurred to Toris that Eduard was rather blameless in the matter. Ivan did what he did, and the world just had to go along with it.
And then the party had gone from bad to worse when Ivan had stared playing cards, tipsy and laughing, Eduard tucked into his side as he always was. Just a rather normal game, at first, but Ivan hadn't exactly been on a winning streak and was already out of money. Toris wouldn't have cared if Ivan hadn't needed something to bet.
The other officers goaded Ivan relentlessly, and one of them suggested, perhaps not seriously, "Why don't'cha bet him?"
A glance at Eduard.
Ivan's eyes followed, a strange look, and a second of silence. For a moment, Toris had seen a burst of anger on Ivan's face. A crinkle of his brow and a clench of his jaw, the race of his pulse. Jealousy. The look of a man that had seen another man suddenly ogling his wife. Ah, so Ivan was the jealous type, was he? Toris wouldn't know. The look fade quickly enough, though, and Ivan looked thoughtfully back down at his cards.
Ivan loved Eduard, but Ivan hated losing.
Eduard stood there silently at Ivan's side, but Toris could see from his posture and his clenched jaw and the pulse in his neck that he was damn terrified. His hands were shaking behind him. In the end, though, Eduard didn't need to be scared, because red-faced Ivan had finally looked over, sneered, and waved his hand in the air.
"Come here, Toris."
Oh—
Ivan turned back to the table, cards in hand, and suddenly jerked his thumb over in Toris' direction.
"Nah. I'm bettin' him."
Suddenly, all eyes were upon Toris, and he kept composure well, not because he was brave but because he had been so startled. So frozen. So shocked. Ice. Absolutely and completely frozen. Hurt. Such hurt. And Toris could only blame it, somehow, on Eduard.
All of this was Eduard's fault.
Ivan had almost liked him, he was sure of it, until Eduard had come.
"—I'm in!"
Nothing had ever been more damn humiliating, but Toris bit his tongue, stood straight as an arrow, and clenched his hands behind his back, staring above the table as if unfazed. Felt so sick. Oh, Ivan, why would he have done that, Toris loved him so much, Toris woulda done anything for Ivan, but not this, Ivan was supposed to be his in some way, because Toris obviously belonged to Ivan—
How had this come about?
Eduard. That was how. Everything had been alright until Eduard.
Cards were thrown down. Toris' forehead shimmered with sweat. Clammy. Those minutes felt like eternity. More so because Ivan hadn't been having much luck before.
A rough bark of triumph, and when Toris finally managed to inhale and look down, he had never in his life been so grateful for anything as he was to see that the noise of victory had come from Ivan.
Thank god, oh, thank god. Ivan had won.
Toris liked to pretend that Ivan had only bet him because he knew he had a winning hand, but Toris knew Ivan just well enough to know that that was almost certainly wishful thinking. Ivan had gotten lucky, was all. Toris was spared being led up into a room.
His fists had clenched automatically.
When Toris finally glanced over, Eduard's eyes were locked upon him, and the horror there upon his face was easy to see. Such horror. Eduard looked as if he had suddenly witnessed someone being murdered. Toris felt the way Eduard looked, but he hated Eduard, so instead Toris forced himself to stop shaking, lifted his chin, loosened his fists, and sneered, as if none of this had effected him in any way. Eduard's look only grew more horrified at Toris' expression.
Good.
Eduard looked away soon after, and couldn't even meet Toris' eyes for the rest of the night, and that was for the best. Because Toris only felt more agitated with Eduard as the night crept on.
Ivan didn't ask Toris to dance that time, but he did drag someone else onto the floor.
Fuckin' Eduard, go fuckin' figure, oh, god, he was so mad, so mad, couldn't remember the last time he had been this angry. Seeing Ivan's bright smile, seeing Ivan's hand on Eduard's waist, seeing Ivan's great hand around Eduard's, just seeing that happiness around Ivan.
No words.
Toris drank as hard and fast as he could, slapping away several offered hands in the meanwhile, trying his damn best to knock himself out drunk before he wound up popping a gasket or something. It worked; he passed out somewhere in the lounge and was glad, because when he was trudging off his hangover the next morning, he staggered up to the hotel room, fumbled the key in the lock, and walked in to an awful scene.
Ivan collapsed on top of Eduard, pinning him there on the bed, and although Ivan was fast asleep, Eduard wasn't. Toris caught his eye, initially, but Eduard was quick to look away, in what might have been humiliation. Toris wasn't too sympathetic; after all, they were both clothed, so Eduard should have counted himself lucky that Ivan had been too drunk to do what he had obviously intended to do.
Toris was glad he hadn't had to see Ivan throwing Eduard onto the bed and crawling atop of him all the same. Woulda made him sick.
Toris stood there for a second, and then lifted up his chin and carried about his business. Didn't say a word, and Eduard had just breathed through his mouth and stared at the ceiling, glasses gone off to god only knew where. Looked for all the world as if he were about to burst into tears.
Toris didn't try to help him. Left him there, under Ivan, and went back downstairs to brood.
Hours later, the little lovebirds came down. About time. That time though, cool, impassable Eduard had been looking at the ground as he walked. Looked tired. Exhausted. Or maybe he was just so embarrassed that he couldn't look up to meet anyone's gaze. Ivan, in that high of adoration, either didn't notice or didn't care, and dragged Eduard around to say goodbye.
On the way back home, as Toris had been reduced to driving yet again, he found himself grinding his teeth together as Ivan all but swooned over Eduard in the back seat, his arm around Eduard's shoulders and his head low as he looked at Eduard and said, "You did so well! I knew you would."
Fuckin' bastard, that goddamn, miserable bastard—
His grip on the wheel had been so tight that Toris had very nearly run into the ditch, and some part of him wanted to crash the damn car into a tree on purpose so that Ivan would shut the fuck up about Eduard.
Fuck Eduard.
This anger was going to kill him, he knew it, he could feel his heart palpitating.
Eduard, who didn't deserve such praise, just glanced at Ivan and said, as always, "Thanks." His voice had been as pale as his skin. Trembling. Still caught up in the terror of the night, no doubt.
Didn't stupid Eduard know that Toris would have killed to be in his spot?
Toris might have chipped a tooth somewhere down the line, grinding them as he was. His blood-pressure was through the roof, could feel the stress clenching up his chest ever more. The whole ride back, Ivan's arm stayed there above Eduard's shoulders, their sides pressed together, and Toris was fairly certain that this had been the worst two days of his entire life, even worse than that day, even worse than that room.
The longest ride in history.
Nothing hurt more than being ignored, than being suddenly cast aside because Ivan had found something new. Being replaced. Ah, hell, who was he kidding? Couldn't replace something that had never existed in the first place. Ivan had never looked at him like that. Never. And yet, Eduard had stolen something from Toris all the same.
Every day after that was worse than the last.
It stung, when Ivan passed by Eduard in the hall one day not long after Lensk, and stopped to croon, lowly, "You have such pretty eyes, did you know?"
Eduard smiled, calmly and thinly, and accepted the compliment without hesitation.
Toris had furrowed his brow, and wondered why Ivan had never said something nice like that to him. Even if Ivan wasn't attracted to him, would it have been so hard to toss out nice words every now and again?
At the table in the mornings, Ivan often walked by and reached out to pass fingers through Eduard's pale hair. Eduard never flinched like Toris did, and kept his shoulders and chin low in compliance. Toris, scorned as he was, had assumed by then that Eduard had bowed. Hard not to; Eduard didn't look around all the time anymore. Didn't seem to be constantly plotting. Didn't seem to be looking for escape routes anymore.
Eduard had been so calm. Toris was anything but.
Life seemed horrible, suddenly. Every little bit of gentleness, every bit of interest, every bit of care that Ivan had ever given him had suddenly been stripped, had been erased, and Ivan didn't even bother to look at him anymore. As if Toris had become the most boring thing in the world, because Ivan had found something better. As if Ivan had realized how insignificant and pitiful Toris really was now that there was someone to compare him to.
Eduard was here, and Ivan didn't open the car door for him anymore.
Toris looked for opportunities to show up Eduard, looked for ways to impress Ivan.
And Toris got a chance, somewhat, later on in the year, when Ivan decided it was time to destroy another town. This time, though, rather than just having Toris mark up a map, he seemed to want someone to come along for the ride. A long hard stare at Eduard, but in the end it was Toris to whom Ivan had inclined his head. Thank god! It was about time. Toris went, and Eduard stayed behind with Irina.
When Toris was in Hungary, though, when that town was on fire, when everything was burning and guns were going off all around, Toris had almost wished for once that Ivan had just chosen Eduard instead.
The first time he had ever heard people scream like that. Christ, the sound of it. The smell of it.
Toris had wanted to impress Ivan, but for the first time found himself in the middle of a war zone, and he had frozen up. Had been wide-eyed. Had been open-mouthed. Pale and sweating. Had been lost. Dazed. Didn't even know what to do. What to think.
The ground was red.
Smoke.
Someone ran out from a burning house, stumbling along, and Toris had been shocked and appalled when the man came up to Toris, Toris of all people, dressed as he was in that uniform, and fell down before him, reaching out and grabbing a hold of his pants, screeching and begging.
Toris stood there, stupidly, and just stared down at him. Couldn't move. Wanted to, wanted to do something, but didn't know what. Dumbly, stupidly, irrationally, he had almost knelt down to grab the man by the shoulders. How stupid that would have been. Everyone was dying all around. This place was doomed.
This man, too.
Finally, a movement; Ivan, waving another soldier over, irritably. The soldier was quick to take aim, and shot the man right there at Toris' feet. The hand gripping his pants went lax. Silence. When the soldier walked off, Ivan reached out, grabbed Toris' collar, and had given him a firm shake, hissing, "What! What's the matter? You wanted this, didn't you? Do something for once."
Do something.
That was right; that was why he had wanted to come, to do something, to show that Toris could do anything better than Eduard. Those words, that determination woke him up.
A slow look around, and eventually it was Ivan who led him, who shoved him over to a line of soldiers that had corralled fleeing townsfolk and lined them up. So familiar, looked so familiar, he swore it, but Toris walked over anyway, Toris let Ivan push him over, let Ivan shove him in line with the soldiers and let his higher rank take charge.
The soldiers were suddenly waiting for Toris' command. Ivan hung back.
In the line of people, hands in the air, were men. Women. A little girl, clinging to her mother's skirt. Crying.
As if in a dream, Toris felt his arm drifting languidly into the sky. It hung above.
Couldn't breathe. His chest hurt. Ivan was waiting, but Toris' chest hurt, and suddenly his arm was heavy. Immobility. Toris' hand froze up in the air; a whisper of times gone by. Memories. Shadows. How horrified he had been once upon time, Ivan's hand in the air, lives hanging so threateningly upon the twitch of his fingers. Other men waiting below. Other hands in the air, and other soldiers waiting for a command.
And now, now, suddenly it was Toris' hand in the air, Toris' not Ivan's, it was Toris who was the one who would have to give the order, it was Toris who was playing god, who was deciding destinies.
Hesitation. Felt like the world had stopped spinning.
—stop, stop, you can't just shoot them!
Who was he? He wasn't Ivan. It was his hand in the air.
Quiet. It had gotten so quiet. Everything had frozen still. Time itself had stopped. The little girl had buried her face into her mother's side. Trying to burrow away.
Even their crying seemed to have been stifled.
I can't go—
That voice.
A surge of anger. Fury. He felt his face contort with rage.
Ashes floated down gently from above. Warm air.
And then Toris flung down his hand.
Gunshots. Gasps and cries.
Toris had given the order, and he stood there for years, staring down at the result. No movement. The little girl was as quiet as the rest. Blood pounding in his ears. Ringing. Lightheadedness. The fury had passed. Listlessness remained. Dizziness. He looked to the side; Ivan was watching him. Eternity, and finally, Ivan nodded, once, and then walked away.
Toris stood there, and looked at them.
Horror.
Had nightmares for weeks after that.
But Ivan had been somewhat impressed, just a little, and that had been worth that blood, worth that horror. Destruction and death were worth it, as long as Ivan looked at him. Toris had given that order, had snuffed out innocent people, and all for a nod. Just for a nod. Toris returned to Siberia a murderer, but one that had earned a little of Ivan's trust.
Eduard had been shown up, fair and square, but it had been Eduard that Ivan had been complimenting when they had gotten back home.
"You look even more handsome after an absence."
Toris just rolled his eyes and went to bed in exhaustion.
Nightmares and doors.
Gunshots.
