Chapter 15: My Nightmare and My Dream

My god, it's so late, and I haven't slept at all. I think I'm still in shock. I just can't quite convince myself that this is really happening…that just down the hallway, just steps away from my bedroom door, Victor Nikiforov is lying in bed, probably naked, with his Maccachin right there with him.

Victor.

Yuuri sucked in a long, slow, shaky breath, lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling through bloodshot eyes as he pictured the Russian skating legend.

I've dreamed for so long of just this, being here and having Victor there, so close to me. I dreamed of showing Victor my skating and thanking him for giving me the inspiration to become a professional figure skater. I even dreamed sometimes of dancing alongside him, out there, on the ice in front of everyone, but never, in all of those dreams did I dream of showing Victor all of my faults, all of my fears and my feelings of insecurity. I guess, when it comes right down to it, I didn't really want for Victor to come and see me. I wanted him to see some perfect form of me, one that doesn't get anxious and screw up jumps, one who doesn't freeze up at the very sight of him, one who can look him in the eyes calmly and show Victor just what his beautiful skating has done.

Victor would want to see that perfect me…only I know that perfect me doesn't really exist. I mean, I can skate without making mistakes, if I don't get nervous. I can look into those ocean colored eyes of his, as long as they're looking out at me from a poster, and if I have someone videotape my performance without me knowing, I can be that best me that I'd want him to see.

But Victor isn't far away, and I don't have control over what he sees when he looks at me. I'm scared that he'll look and see all of those faults and decide that this was a mistake and that I'm just not worth his time. He took a season off to come and coach me, Victor did. He really did. I don't want him to regret it.

So, I guess that I just have to work really hard not to screw this up. That means, I need to get some sleep, so I'll be well rested when we…oh yeah, we're not training yet. He's not letting me onto the ice in front of him until I lose the extra weight I gained after the Grand Prix Final. Okay, but he'll still be there, helping me. It'll be okay.

He managed, after awhile, to convince himself well enough that he could drift off. He did sleep for an hour or so before he was sleeping deeply enough that he began to dream.

He laid in a bed, he didn't know where, drunk to the point of deliriousness, but even that wasn't enough to hold him still as the sweet, delicious scent of an omega in heat reached him. The man stood by his bed, smiling quietly down at him and saying something that echoed strangely in his ears. In the haze, he could only make out a splash of silvery colored hair and two spots of lovely ocean blue, but that was enough that he knew who was with him. The man turned to leave, but Yuuri's hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist. He yanked hard, bringing Victor down onto the bed, and he swiftly threw the Russian onto his back and climbed on top of him.

"Wh-where you goin' Victor?" he drawled, "You s-said you were gonna stay…gonna s-sleep with me."

The Russian skater looked surprised, but he remained calm, even as Yuuri's hands worked quickly to undress him.

"Yuuri, no. You're not thinking straight."

"Shh…"

His hands worked faster.

"Yuuri, stop."

"Y'smell too good, but you know that, don't you?"

"Yuuri, let me up," Victor said firmly, "I only came to put you to bed and make sure you were okay. I don't want to…"

His words stopped, but not because he had changed his mind, He simply couldn't speak anymore as Yuuri's mouth clamped tightly down on his. The Japanese skater's hips moved and Victor moaned and shuddered underneath him.

"Y'like that, Victor?"

"I do, but I don't want to…mmphh!"

Yuuri stopped his words again with another vicious kiss. His thumbs found the riled nubs on the Russian's muscular chest and teased them, making Victor's back arch as he moaned almost desperately into Yuuri's marauding mouth. Yuuri pushed down his pants and stole some of the wetness leaking from the tips of their inflamed arousals. Victor felt the dampened, seeking fingers and tried to pull away.

"No, Yuuri!"

But the smell of the other man, the softness of his hair and flesh and the sexy sound of even his scared voice seemed to only make Yuuri want him more. Something in the back of his mind began to cry out, but his body trapped Victor's and he shifted so that the Russian couldn't help but know what was coming next.

"YUURI, STOP!"

Yuuri sat up suddenly in his bed, his brown eyes wide and rounded, and his fingers clenching the bedding. His heart pounded like it might jump out of his heaving chest and he whimpered at the visions of Victor's scared face and frightened voice that refused to fade for several minutes after. He gave a shaky sigh as the dregs of the nightmare dimmed, and he looked around his room, thinking.

Thank god it wasn't real. I know it wasn't, because Victor is obviously an alpha. He wouldn't be intimidated by anyone like that, least of all, me. Victor is strong.

Yes.

Victor wouldn't be weak like that for anyone. I was just mixing up thoughts of him and memories of that omega I helped back in Detroit or something. Victor's not like that at all. Victor is a powerful alpha.

Victor is an alpha, not an omega.

He was almost reassured by the thought alone, but it turned out it wasn't quite enough, so he climbed out of bed and crept to his door. It was late, so the hallway was dark and quiet, but he spotted a little light near Victor's guest room door. He left his room and moved soundlessly in that direction, freezing for a moment as he heard Maccachin whimper.

"It's okay," Victor's sleepy voice answered, "it was just a dream. I'm fine, Maccachin."

Yuuri peeked around the edge of the door and spotted the Russian skater sitting up in his bed on the floor, his pale arms wrapped around the old poodle and his face buried in Maccachin's furry neck.

"Victor, are you okay?" he asked softly.

Victor stiffened for a brief moment, then his head rose and he met Yuuri's eyes, relaxing visibly.

"I…I thought I heard something," he said awkwardly.

"It's fine," Victor said, shifting and smiling at him, "I just had a bad dream."

"Y-yeah?" Yuuri sighed, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, "Me too. That's why I was awake."

Victor looked back at him, brushing messy bangs out of his eyes, then he patted the bed and nodded.

"Do you want to sit down and talk a little?" the Russian asked, "Maccachin is a good comforter, but it's good to have someone who can answer so I can understand."

"Right," Yuuri said, blushing, "but um…you…are wearing pants or something, aren't you?"

Victor laughed and the sound of it began to finally undo Yuuri's anxiety over his nightmare.

See? He's fine. Victor is fine. I wouldn't ever hurt him. He would never be afraid of me.

Victor lifted up the covers and peeked under for a moment.

"I am wearing underwear, but I'll keep the blanket over me, if that makes you feel more comfortable, Yuuri."

There's something about the way he says my name. No, there's something about everything he does! His handsome face that's almost always smiling, his sexy voice and his warm laugh.

"Sit down, Yuuri," Victor chuckled, and Yuuri realized that somehow he had advanced into the room and was standing beside the bed.

He sat down beside the Russian, stealing a glance at him as Victor rubbed Maccachin's head and the old poodle stretched out and closed his eyes.

"You said you had a bad dream too," Victor recalled, "Did you want to talk about that?"

No way!

"Eh…I kinda forgot when I woke up," Yuuri laughed nervously, "What about you?"

"Oh," Victor said more softly, "mine was less a dream and more a memory."

Yuuri felt a little scared jolt in his belly.

"W-was it from when you lived in the orphanage or…?"

"It was," Victor affirmed.

"Y-you don't have to tell me if it's too personal," Yuuri said quickly, "I mean, I don't want to pry or anything. And anything you do tell me will stay between us, unless you tell me it's okay to share it."

"Thank you, Yuuri," Victor said, brushing his hair out of his eyes again, only to have it fall down almost immediately.

Yuuri's heart skipped.

"I really feel okay about telling you about my childhood if you want to hear. I mean, not everything was reported in the news or magazines. If there's something you want to know, you can ask me. I'll tell you."

"O-okay," Yuuri agreed, "and I'll tell you what you want to know about me. But…you said that your dream was about your childhood?"

Victor nodded, his fingers smoothing the bedding that covered him.

"I lived in the orphanage since I was a baby and my parents gave me up for adoption, because they didn't want a child."

Yuuri bit at his lips, unable to imagine anyone not wanting Victor, especially as a little baby.

"It wasn't bad at the orphanage," the Russian continued, "The caretakers were good to us. We had enough to eat, rules to guide us, comfortable clothes and a warm place to sleep. We were taught to rely on each other for bad dreams or little things, but the adults were there for us when we needed them. We were educated at the children's center by volunteer teachers who were very nice too. We went on outings sometimes, and when I was seven years old, we went ice skating at a nearby rink. A skating coach was there, giving beginner lessons, and he noticed I caught on quickly. He talked to our chaperone, who put him in touch with the manager of the orphanage, and I was assigned to be trained by the coach in figure skating. Because the government encourages development of orphans who have talent, he was able to be paid for my lessons with him, as well as expenses related to any competitions. I began in competitions that were mostly for fun, rather than prestige, but I did well, so the coach began to register me for more challenging events and exhibitions."

"Right," Yuuri said, nodding, "I think one of my first memories of seeing you was on a news report about one of the competitions you were in."

"Those were the ones that were legal," Victor sighed, "but there was a whole side to being this man's student that no one talked about. There were underground events and betting that went on as well. And sometimes, the other boys and I were told by our coach to…to make mistakes or to fall down, to affect the outcome. I was still very young, but I knew it was wrong, and I hated it. So, I was rebellious and one night, I decided not to do what he said. I was told to fall, but instead, I did a perfect triple jump and won the competition."

Yuuri's eyes widened.

"Was he mad? Did he hurt you?" he asked quickly.

"He couldn't leave any markings," Victor said solemnly, "because we were examined regularly, to make sure that we were not being abused. Still, he was so angry, and he had permission to keep me for overnight for an out of town competition that night, so he took me to the ice rink.

Victor's eyes closed and he shivered as he remembered.

"You cost me more than the worth of about ten of you!" the man yelled, holding the front of the little boy's clothes tightly in one fist.

"I-I'm s-sorry!" Victor gasped, shivering, "I won't do it again!"

"You're damned right, you won't," the coach shouted, throwing him down onto the ice, "Now, you do exactly what I tell you. Skate your program. I want all triples."

Victor stared back at him disbelievingly.

"We're not supposed to…"

"DO IT!" the man screamed.

Frightened out of his wits, the little boy rose onto shaky legs and began to skate. He managed the first time through, but was panting with exertion as he finished.

"Again!" his angry coach barked.

"But…"

"I SAID DO IT AGAIN, YOU LITTLE WORM!"

His legs were shaking with fear now, too, so he managed only the first two jumps, then on the third, he crashed down onto the ice. His coach's face scared him onto his feet quickly and he continued, trying repeatedly to make the difficult jumps and falling nearly every time. Tears began to roll down his face, and he slowed, but his coach's growling voice warned against him stopping.

"Keep going! Show me how you will obey me, no matter what!"

"P-please," Victor begged, his teeth chattering and his legs shaking so that he almost fell on a simple spin, "I c-can't…it hurts!"

But he forced himself to continue as the man shouted and taunted him. He continued until his head was swimming and spots danced in front of his eyes. He didn't stop, until his legs refused to hold him anymore, and he collapsed onto the ice, panting hard and choking on silent sobs. The man came and stood over him, glaring at him coldly.

"Remember this, you little throwaway," he snarled, "I own you now. I have permission to take you at any time, and if I can't use you for the competitions, I can always take you to the underground."

Victor stiffened and sobbed aloud at just the mention of that place.

"You've heard of it, haven't you?" the man gloated, "You know what they do to little ice fairies like you? You could disappear down there and never be found. I could take you there now to let you see what could happen."

"NO, PLEASE DON'T!" the boy howled.

"Then…you will never disobey me again?"

"N-never!"

"Not ever?"

"I w-won't!" Victor gasped, shuddering as the man pulled him to his feet.

His legs refused to hold him and he collapsed at the man's feet.

"Useless."

The little boy scrabbled, trying to lift himself. The man snapped at him and he scrabbled harder, but his body was too drained and he collapsed again.

"What are you doing to that boy?" another man's voice shouted.

The man standing over Victor turned and glared at the intruder.

"This is a private session," he said shortly, "Get out, Yakov."

"H-help me!" Victor sobbed desperately, crawling towards the man standing at the edge of the ice.

"No, you don't, little one," his coach said, picking him up and hefting him over his shoulder, "Time to go."

"NO!" Victor sobbed, "Please, please let me go!"

"Put the boy down!" Yakov snarled, moving to impede the other coach as he carried the little boy off of the ice.

"Get out of my way. He's just upset that I punished him for misbehaving."

"I was watching what you were doing," Yakov said, crossing his arms, "Now, you will give the boy to me and you will get out of here and have nothing more to do with him or any of the other boys from that orphanage."

"Or what?" Victor's coach sneered, "You act like you're mafia or something. Just because you have one famous skater…"

Victor gasped as Yakov's hand shot out and grabbed the other man by the throat. At the same time, his other hand took hold of the little boy and pulled him free.

"Say one more word and you'll learn just how connected I am, and to whom," Yakov hissed, watching as the other coach's fate went red, then purple, "Now, get out!"

His face buried in Yakov's shoulder, Victor couldn't see if the other coach left. He clung tightly as Yakov carried him outside and placed him in the front seat of a shining black car. He climbed in on the other side and closed and locked the doors. Victor shivered and wrapped his arms around his little body, waiting for the man to say something.

"Are you all right? Did he hurt you?" the elder man asked finally.

"I d-don't th-think so," Victor answered in a shaky whisper, "I'm…I just was so tired from what he made me do."

Yakov looked down at him, thinking.

"You understand that you can't skate for him anymore, right? I will talk to the people at the orphanage, and he won't be allowed to touch you."

The man stiffened and stared as another sob escaped the little boy and Victor looked up at him through teary eyes.

"B-but…I want to keep skating! Please…"

Yakov gave him a perplexed look.

"You want to skate so badly, you would stay with that man who abused you?" he asked warily.

"I w-will do anything you say. I will be your slave forever if you will j-just…let…me…skate! Please, sir!"

Yakov sighed and closed his eyes.

"I do not take new students just for the asking," he said sternly, "I am willing to give you the same chance as the other applicants to prove yourself. You will come to the training academy and prepare there for the next six weeks. Then, if you show me that you are serious and that you have the talent and the strength, I will take you as a student. But what happens from now on is dependent on you. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Victor answered, his hands clenching tightly and still shaking visibly, "I will train harder than any student you ever had. No matter what, I will not disappoint you!"

"I hope not," Yakov answered, picking up his phone and looking at the display, "Now, it's too late to go to the dormitory, so I'll be letting you spend the night with the woman who will be choreographing your program for the trials. Her name is Lilia. You will call her Ms. Baranovskaya. If you make her angry at you, I guarantee you, you will not be skating for me."

Victor looked up and noticed how pale his student's face had gone. He backpedaled quickly, realizing that maybe he had been a bit too honest in his sharing.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Yuuri. You look upset. I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay," Yuuri assured him, moving closer to him, though being careful to sit on top of the bedding, "I'm glad that you told me."

Yuuri gave his solemn looking mentor a gentle smile.

"I'll just bet that Lilia loved you at first sight, didn't she?"

Victor laughed.

"She loved me. After that, it wouldn't have mattered if I had failed the trials miserably, although I did win Yakov over in the end, but Lilia saw something in me I didn't even know. It turns out that long ago, she had been pregnant and lost her child."

"Oh my god, that's so sad!" Yuuri said, looking horrified.

"It is," Victor agreed, "but there was a lot of healing in letting her mother me, and I didn't have a mother, so I was willing. It worked out for all of us…except maybe for Yakov, because he says all of the time that I aged him fifty years. He never stops complaining, but he is a wonderful coach."

Victor shook his head and sighed again ruefully.

"I wonder if he's ever going to speak to me again. He was so mad at me for leaving Russia to come here. He really didn't want me to go."

"Yeah?" Yuuri mused, "Well, I'll just be honest and tell you that I'm glad you came."

"Are you really, Yuuri?" Victor asked, turning the full weight of those beautiful eyes on him, "You seemed scared to death of me before."

"Oh," Yuuri laughed nervously, "that was just because I was so…um…surprised and overwhelmed and…"

…and trying to get the posters of you down so that I wouldn't be embarrassed for looking like a stalking creep or something…

"W-well, I am really glad you came to be my coach, and I'm going to promise you what you promised Yakov. I'll work harder than any skater you've ever known. Whatever it takes, I'll prove myself to you."

"Yuuri, you're so funny," Victor giggled, making him emit a surprised squawk as the half-naked Russian grabbed him and hugged him ferociously, "Don't you know, you've already proven yourself. Just…hurry and lose that extra weight, okay? Because I can't wait to start coaching you."