CHAPTER FOURTY SIX

-Gone for so long, there's so much ground to cover! The past is as big as Russia itself!-

Yuri had gotten to watch in mostly-silent amusement as Victor's anxiety about his uncle slowly melted away. What began as a somewhat trepidatious night had, over time, become much more relaxed. But, that might've also been a side-effect of all the drinking, though Yuri supposed that was fine. Unlike himself, Victor never reported any memory troubles after imbibing. He might've had the opposite problem, in fact. Victor was remembering too much.

Yuri noticed the gaps though. There was a decided lack of discussion on Victor's life from around age 6 through 13; Victor simply refused to discuss it, and avoided it by all measures.

"There's a saying I've heard..." Mikhail said, recounting the early days of Victor's skating career, "...that a bird born in a cage thinks flying is an illness. I'm not surprised Yakov was able to get you to spread your wings so far. Once you got out of the hell-hole, it was nothing but open skies. I'm kind of envious."

"Why?" Victor wondered, "You got out, too, and did what you wanted...didn't you?"

"I escaped and then found my way. You already had a vision, so it was easier for you to figure out your next steps once you were free. You also had guidance." The elder said, sipping at a glass of red wine, "It probably took me something like...uhh..." He set the glass down to look up at the restaurant ceiling in thought, "...Ten years, three countries, and a failed marriage to get my shit straight?"

"Wow."

"But maybe my ten years at the start is just trading time-frames for sorting out life's problems." Mikhail pointed out, "Your ten years may just be coming after you've already succeeded at something. What are your plans for retirement? You're not terribly far off, from what I've read."

Victor sighed and leaned back, "One more year...that's what I said I'd do. I might get two, but I don't know. I hate that everything fell into place so late in the game."

Yuri was confused, "What do you mean, 'late'? You've been on a winning streak since you were even younger than me. You'd probably still be on it if you hadn't taken time off."

"All those years, we could've been skating together already." He answered, "I really should scold Chris for not trying harder to introduce us. He's been your friend for about as long as he's been mine, and he would've known how big a fan you were of me."

That just earned pink cheeks and a deadpan, but Yuri just settled his hand on his husband's leg beside himself, "There's way more to that tale than Chris' negligence; trust me. He tried."

"One or two more years isn't really a lot of time." Mikhail said, bringing their conversation back around to his original point, "What plans do you have for retirement anyway? I know you intend to stay on as Yuri's coach until he's done, but even that won't last forever. Surely you don't mean to just sit around and do nothing for the next sixty years."

"...I hadn't wanted to think about it." Victor admitted, "It seems like another life. Someone else's life. I'm sure something will come up. World Champions don't just vanish off the radar."

"What about you, Yuri?" Mikhail wondered, tilting his half-empty wine glass at him.

"...Ahhhh, well, I finished college, so I could always do something with the degree I earned." He supposed aimlessly, "If it's still worth anything in another five or six years."

"What's it in?"

"Oh, something boring..." He fussed; his attempts at avoiding question by appearing to be mediocre didn't go over well.

"And that is?" Mikhail wasn't falling for it.

"...Business." He answered quietly, "...Like most other Japanese men do when they have no inspiration to do anything else."

"Ahh the quintessential Salary-man." Mikhail raised his glass as if to toast to it, "Careful of burn-out. Being in business isn't nearly as interesting or exciting as being a top skater in the JSF."

Yuri lowered his head, "I know..." He sighed, "I may just help Mari with running Yu-Topia once our parents stop."

"You could always put your degree together with something you're passionate about and blend them into something worth pursuing."

Yuri looked up again, "What do you mean?"

"Victor already knows what it's like to be a coach. What if you two owned a rink together, teaching other people how to skate? I could see people from all over the world flocking to a rink where two record-setting Gold medalists were offering training."

"...It's a bit early to be thinking about all that." Victor said, not wanting to linger on the topic.

"I know. It's just food for thought."

"So..." Minako interjected, and set down her big beer glass, "Mikhail. You've been gone all these years...but no one's said how you guys managed to all find each other again. How'd that happen?"

"Uhhh..." The elder grimaced, and turned his eyes towards his nephew, "It's...kind of a long story...?"

Victor spoke through a mouthful of olive-oil dipped bread, "He spotted me at an event we were both at, and realized who I was."

Yuri made a face at him, "How long do you really think you'll be able to avoid telling the whole story?"

"As long as I can."

"What about your parents?" Minako asked, and cut that wish to ribbons, "Mikhail said his sister was the one to get the Nikiforov name, so she must be your mother. I don't think I ever heard you mention your family in the entire time you lived in Hasetsu though. You're holding out on us!"

Victor narrowed his eyes at the oil plate, and held still a moment while he thought. He dusted his fingers off on the cloth napkin over his lap, "Tatiyana Nikiforov," He finally said, "Yes, that's my mother's name. She's no longer with us, so there hasn't been much to say."

"Oh...I'm sorry." Minako said quietly, "How long has it been...?"

"...A month."

She deadpanned him then, "A month." She repeated, and looked to Yuri, knowing full-well he couldn't keep it to himself if asked directly, "Explain."

He just twitched where he sat and offered a nervous smile, "What do you want me to say? I never got to meet her."

"A month ago was Four Continents!" She clarified, "Explain!"

"Oh..."

Victor planted his elbows on the edge of their large table, and threaded his fingers together under his chin; he closed his eyes and spoke to no one in particular, "My mother was killed in an accident over that weekend. I was told only so I could go to the funeral; that's where my uncle spotted me. He was there, too."

"...And your father?"

"Yup. He was also there."

Minako leered, "You're being super evasive."

"There's nothing I want to say about it." Victor said simply, and opened his eyes to look across the table at the woman, "That's all."

"Oh..."

Mari elbowed the woman next to her, "He's trying to give you a hint. Take it and leave him alone."

"Thanks for that, Captain Obvious."

"My sister was a...very different kind of woman." Mikhail said, offering a reprieve from the prodding to his nephew, "We were twins, but she was born first, so she was technically my big sister."

"Oh! Twins!" Minako latched onto the morsel, "Was Victor a twin, too?"

"No. He was an only child, as far as I'm aware. Unless there were siblings that came later on."

Victor shook his head, "No. Just me. How lucky for them." He said stiffly.

"Yeah, so...there you have it." Mikhail took the reins again, "My sister was a confusing person. On the one hand, she was fiercely protective of her independence and autonomy...but on the other, she craved being taken care of. In a way...she got what she wanted from Victor's father. Outside of raising Victor, she never had to work a day in her life. Kon did all the literal and figurative heavy-lifting."

"Kon, huh?"

"Konstantin."

"And he's still in Russia." Minako surmised.

"Mhm."

"And where've you been?" She prodded, "Your accent is nearly undetectable. You've been away from home for a long time."

The elder nodded, "I was in Russia for the first thirty-odd years of my life. I left for the Ukraine after that, stayed for a couple years, and then emigrated to Canada, and I was there until last year." He answered, "I got back to St. Petersburg to try and set up a business there. I guess I just missed Victor, since he'd gone to Japan already Maybe I could've heard about him under better circumstances."

"Maybe." Victor commented quietly, and poked at his salad with a fork.

"A business in St. Petersburg? What kind?" Mari asked then.

"Engineering equipment." Mikhail explained, "I used to design and build, now I sell and trade. I've been able to step back from things quite a bit in the last couple years and enjoy life."

Minako leaned forward on the table, "If you were back in Russia that whole time though, didn't you go back to see your sister before she passed?"

"I was in Moscow when I got the news." He answered pensively, "There were a lot of times when I tried to get myself to go out and see if I could find her, but I kept thinking, there's no way she'd still be there. I hadn't heard from her or Kon in years. I didn't even have a phone number anymore. I was sure that if I went out to see them unannounced, I'd probably not get a warm welcome."

"Really...?" Minako blanched, "Why? You're her brother. Wouldn't she be happy to see you...?"

Mikhail hesitated, but then shook his head, "Let's just say that Victor wasn't the only person I left behind."

.

Yurio lazed around his hotel room; he'd been allowed to have a suite of his own for once. The hotel's closed-circuit TV showed replays of the day's competition, and he watched bitterly from where he sat cross-legged on the large, king-sized bed. He felt like he'd seen the 30 minute play-by-play 4 times already and it still bothered him every time coverage of his own Short Program came up.

'Skate 'Agape' with all the unconditional love you have for Victor. Give it everything you have. He'll notice.'

Was that really all I had to offer? An 'Agape' worth 13 points less than what I scored at the Grand Prix Final?

His thoughts wandered back to earlier in the afternoon. The moment he went out onto the ice, limbs stiff as a brick and heart seething. He barely even made the motions to present himself to the audience, merely skating to the center of the rink to take position like he didn't even care. His eyes lifted only a little to see Victor in the audience with Yuri.

'I can't feel anything right now.' Yurio had thought, hearing the music playing from above, 'I just feel completely numb.'

His body had gone into auto-pilot after that. He remembered only how he'd forgotten to lift his arms for the jumps in the first half of the program, and even after he'd mentally kicked himself for it, the jumps in the second half barely went better. The triple Axel he'd been doing with both arms up previously had suddenly become a double with only one arm up. By the time he'd ended the program, he wasn't even out of breath. He just had a headache, and when he looked up for the final pose, it just put him into a position where he was staring straight up into the stadium lights, making the blinding pain behind his eyes even worse.

Truth be told, he was surprised he still scored over 100 with that performance. When he left the ice to go to the kiss and cry, he was sure he'd be dead-last.

'But that's what set you off in the end...you feel like he forgot about you.'

"Why do I keep thinking about what that old geezer said?" He berated himself, "What does he know?"

A scalding-hot shower hadn't helped burn the words from his mind either. He just leaned against the white and floral-patterned tile for what felt like hours. He stared at the water as it swirled into the drain.

I want to be washed clean of Victor.

He reached for the Plexiglas knob and turned it off, and stood quietly until the last sound of the water faded away.

I want people to stop thinking of me as his successor. I want people to stop seeing me as 'just' the Russian counterpart to Katsuki. Damnit, Victor...if you'd just left well enough alone, he'd never have come back to skating, and this wouldn't even be an issue...! Why did it matter so much to you!? So what if he skated your program!? I could skate 'Aria' if I wanted to! YOU DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HIM, BUT YOU MOVED INTO HIS FAMILY'S FUCKING RESORT LIKE YOU'D BEEN THERE A THOUSAND TIMES.

He found himself punching the shower wall hard enough to knock a tile in, and split his middle knuckle in the process. Blood immediately trickled down his still-wet hand and fingers, and dripped off the tip to leave a swirl of pink to pass his feet.

Drawing in a few angry breaths, Yurio clenched his trembling and painful fist, and used the other to push aside the shower curtain, stepping out onto the cold linoleum floor. The chill of the air gave him something to gnaw on, even if it was uncomfortable, and he strode out into the main area again without so much as grabbing a towel first. He crawled - still wet and dripping, and with all the lights and television still on - under the covers of the bed and closed his eyes. Bitter dreams came unbidden soon after.

.

'Fuck's sake, Victor, you just won Gold for your 5th straight Grand Prix Final. At least try to look happy about it.' Yurio growled at the man, who had been sitting quietly and sullenly in his economy-class seat with his arms crossed, staring straight ahead of himself with such intensity that it was a wonder the seat in front of him didn't catch on fire from it.

'I don't like these seats.'

'I don't like them either!'

'Quit complaining. They're the seats the ISU is paying for. If you want something better, pay for it yourself.' Yakov told them both, sitting in the isle, with Yurio between himself and the older skater.

'I don't like economy class.' Victor continued, 'I'm too tall for these narrow chairs. This is torture.'

'You didn't complain on the way to Sochi, why should you complain on the way back?' Yakov asked irritably, 'It's not a long flight anyway. Be grateful the GPF was held in Russia this year, so you don't have to be in economy-class for several more hours, like all the other competitors.'

Yurio elbowed his older counterpart, 'Euros are going to be in Croatia.'

'I don't care where they're being held.'

'Well then you're going to really not care that Worlds is in Tokyo. That flight is going to be a WORLD of SUPER-NOT-CARING.' The blond barked, 'And that doesn't even count next season!'

Victor lifted his head, 'Really? The next World Championship is in Japan?'

'...How do you not already know all this?' Yurio raised an eyebrow at him.

Blue eyes turned away again, 'I've got other things on my mind right now.'

.

Yurio tossed in his sleep; he flipped over and dragged the large blanket off his feet.

.

'I know it's going to be your birthday but seriously.' He grumbled, walking by the silver-haired man as they waited in the airport. It hadn't even been two weeks since they'd left from the Grand Prix Final and they were already returning to Sochi for Nationals, 'You're only turning 27. So what if it's during the middle of a competition? You live for this shit anyway.'

Victor was on his phone, looking at Instagram while they waited for their boarding announcement. Yurio couldn't see what he'd been looking at, but Victor hadn't scrolled for quite some time. He'd become fixated on one particular image.

Yurio snatched the phone away to get his attention, 'The hell are you so obsessed over? Did your dog die or something?'

'Don't talk about Makkachin that way.'

The blond looked at what Victor's screen showed; results of the Japanese Nationals. There weren't many competitors to speak of, but Yurio noticed that one particular figure wasn't on the podium. He just laughed, 'The idiot didn't make it. Good riddance. Maybe he'll retire now. There's no need for two Yuris in the Senior bracket when I make my premier.'

Victor swiped to get his phone back, 'That's cruel to say.'

'The last thing I want is for people to ask 'which Yuri.' The Tiger growled indignantly, 'There's only room for one of us.'

The silver just looked away from him wordlessly, clicking the circular button at the bottom of the faceplate to return to the home screen. Yurio had already walked off, and Victor looked at his wallpaper, seeing a particular photo from the Sochi banquet there. He then turned the phone off and headed after the blond with a sigh.

.

Yurio had found a way to shove his head under no less than four pillows, and one had been knocked off the bed entirely, taking the alarm clock and night-stand phone with it. The clatter of plastic and electronics didn't wake him though.

.

'SERIOUSLY, Victor!?'

It was the beginning of February already, and the European Championships had ended two weeks prior. But...Victor was on his phone again. Yurio wasn't sure what his older counterpart had seen that had gotten him so upset and/or annoyed, but something had perturbed him enough to tell Yakov he wanted to take a few weeks off.

'You can't just take three weeks for no reason.' Their coach said, 'You're just going to plan your next programs, right?'

'Yes.' The man nodded, '...That's exactly what I'm going to do. Inspiration strikes when you least expect it and I need to go now.'

Yurio watched him go, and he grit his teeth. As the taller figure vanished through the skating rink's outside doors, he went off the ice to grab his phone. He was determined to figure out what Victor had seen that had been so goddamn upsetting. He scrolled through Instagram, finding absolutely nothing that he could pinpoint as the source of Victor's 'inspiration.'

'Chris posting stupid photos, JJ thinks he's a model, Stupid-Yuri officially fired his coach and retired...good...schedule changes for the Junior World Championships...' He tossed the phone back into his gear bag, glowering at the doors again, 'The fuck got you so mad? None of this is bad news. VICTOOOR!'

.

"VICTOR." Yuiro yelled out, sitting up like Frankenstein's monster as he roused from sleep suddenly, "Vic..." He stared at the still-on television, seeing the play-back on the closed-circuit channel again. It showed Victor's quad Axel. Within 15 seconds, it would be playing Yuri's Short Program analysis.

His hair was still rather damp, and he felt that his 'nest' on the bed was cold and moist as well, especially where his head had been. He pushed off and went around the corner, grabbing a large towel from the rack just inside the bathroom door. He sat cross-legged on the one part of the king-size bed that he hadn't somehow gotten wet earlier, he pulled the towel over his head and shivered a little.

"...You giant dumbass." He snarled to himself, "You were keeping tabs on that retard the entire time. You were all pissed-off because he didn't want to take the fucking picture with you after the Final, right? You were mad for over three months because you got rejected ONE TIME, by ONE PERSON, EVER!? I still remember how fucking blank your eyes were and how fake your smile was when you kissed that stupid Gold medal at Worlds afterwards! You weren't even mentally THERE."

He grabbed his phone from the edge of the night-stand, and pulled up the Instagram app. A dozen or more skaters' posts flooded his ISU event feed, but eventually he got to a post made specifically by the v-nikiforov account.

The first picture he saw was just Victor, looking up at the full moon of the clear Helsinki sky. Whoever had taken the photo must've been lying on the ground to get the angle that way. The next photo was Victor with his uncle, and it seemed to be a happy shot. The caption read, 'Silver Russians Far from Home.' The one after that was the whole group of them; Mari, Yuri, Victor, Mikhail, and finally Minako on the other end. They each had an arm around the next person's waist or over their shoulder and they were all smiling happily where they stood outside some local restaurant.

"Past and present collide in Helsinki at Worlds." Yurio read aloud, "Long-lost family meets the one I just recently made. Glad to have my uncle back in my life. Hashtag #BlastFromThePast."

He grumbled to see that Victor and Yuri had their faces practically mashed together. He could only assume some random stranger had taken the picture for them and not run off with whoever's phone it was.

His brow furrowed though when he saw the other things that had been tagged.

"...y-nikiforov?" There was even a comment from that account, just hidden under the 'Show Comments' bar, "Had a blast tonight. Can't wait to get on the podium on Saturday." Yurio ground his teeth at that, "Idiot, you'll be lucky if you SEE the podium! There won't even be BRONZE for pigs when I'm done!"

He threw the phone at the pillow that was on the floor and yanked the blankets - damp as they were, and cold - back across his naked form. He growled and shivered under them until sleep took him again; his knuckle was three times its former size by then, purple, and throbbed terribly.