Chapter 21: On the Ice

For the next few days, I feel strange inside. I'm aware of waking and sleeping. I know that when Yuuri sets food in front of me, I eat and drink a little. But I don't leave my room, and barely leave the bed. I don't speak to anyone. People come and go…Yuuri, Yakov, Stefan, my mother, even my brother and sister. But I feel far removed from everything that's happening, almost like I felt when Oska was in control and I was still aware at the end…but Oska is not there, and really, neither am I. I see and hear what is around me. I know Maccachin won't leave me, so Yuuri feeds him in our room, and he has to drag him outside every few hours to do his business.

Yuuri is an angel. He makes sure that I eat, sleep and stumble to the bathroom occasionally. After the third day in bed, he gets me up to shower while my mother changes the linens and freshens the room a little. Yuuri tries to coax me out into the living area, but I shake my head and resist until he just helps me back into bed. I pretend to go back to sleep, so that he'll leave me alone, and I hear him talking to Stefan outside the door.

"It's been three days and he hasn't said a word!" Yuuri says in a soft, worried voice, "He won't talk to anyone, and he doesn't even look at us. It's like he's gone inside himself and shut down! I know you said he would probably be quiet while he processed everything, but I'm really scared. I've never seen Victor act like this, not even after his father tried to kill him!"

"I understand your concern," Stefan reassures him, "and certainly, there's reason to worry, but there are some encouraging signs too."

"Like?"

"Like the fact that although he has been quiet, there has been no sign that Victor is responding to any lingering control by Bershov or the presence that he hypnotized Victor to create. Maccachin has not even once indicated to us that he sensed a change in Victor's personality or presence. He is wholly himself, even if he is not, right now, communicating. He is showing signs of post traumatic stress and we're dealing with that as best we can by making him comfortable, giving him routines of eating, visitation and sleeping, and I will start counseling him tomorrow."

"How can you counsel him if he's not communicating?" Yuuri objects.

"Well, at first, I won't be able to do more than try to draw him out. I'll work with him every day, and I think that he will soon begin talking to us again. I don't know exactly how long it will take, but I do believe we can do this here, without disrupting his environment."

None of us know yet, but Yakov has another idea about how to get me talking again. He arrives the next morning, after Yuuri has me up and showering, and he waits for me to come out, then steps between me and the bed. I start to go around him, but he takes me around the waist and drags me out of the room.

"Yakov, what are you doing?" Yuuri cries.

I struggle, but, with help from our bodyguards, he gets me into the car. He snaps at Yuuri to bring our skates, then he tells the driver to take us to the ice rink. I sit silently between Yakov and Yuuri on the way there, looking at neither of them and not saying a word.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Yuuri asks worriedly, "Stefan said…"

"I know, but we have given Vitya time, and time is not making a difference. He needs to be on skates. That's the only thing I know that will wake him up. Do you think I'm wrong?"

Yuuri considers as the car carries us towards the rink.

"I don't know," he answers after awhile, "Maybe you're right. We can give it a try."

I feel Yakov's arm wrap around me and his voice rumbles in my ear in a wonderfully familiar way.

"The ice has always been Vitya's best way of communicating. We'll put on his skates and get him on the ice, then we'll see what happens when he is there."

I still feel a million miles away, but when the car stops, and they lead me inside, the icy scents and the sounds of someone skating bring a little bit of life into me. I break away from Yakov as we reach the preparation area, and I put the skates on by myself, while Yuuri puts his skates on also. I head to the ice, and I do feel a sort of peace settle over me as I step onto the surface.

I start with very basic warm ups, figures, and gentle moves. Yuuri warms up with me, and shadows me as I move around the ice. My eyes close, but I don't even need them right now. I've been skating at this rink since I was a child. There is not an inch of it that I don't know, and Yakov has ordered the other skaters off to let me move more freely. And as my feet move, my mind begins to work.

This time, when I enter my private, internal creative place in my mind, I find that my inspiration is already there.

He's a young man with delicate features, and a gentle spirit. He's quiet and intelligent, and he loves to paint. Every moment he can, he has a brush in his hand, and his mind is far away, working to build new worlds on canvas, for other people to see, for other people to enter, so they can be carried away from their own lives for awhile.

The moves I make on the ice as I take on Oska's younger spirit are wavy and graceful, like the touch of his brush on the canvas. I know that I am smiling and I feel his warmth and happiness all through my body.

I hear Yuuri make a little surprised sound, and he moves away to let me work.

A prodigy in the craft of painting, Oska is noticed by many people, but one man in particular cannot take his eyes off the young painter. As he watches Oska work, Arseni Bershov is instantly smitten. He catches the painter after a session, and strikes up a conversation. One thing leads to another, and the two begin a passionate romance.

My moves that express their love become sensual, and I recall that Yuuri has said that sometimes when I skate this way, he can almost see I am with someone. I layback and turn, then jump into along spin that begins with my body more open and extended, and ends with it curling in and spinning faster.

Arseni knows that Oska is young and highly sought after, because of his growing ability, and it becomes harder, as things progress, for him to feel confident in their love. And without him meaning for it to happen, he begins to feel jealous. He tries to hide his growing obsession, but Oska can't help but notice. He is fearful of that side of his lover, but still, he is happy when Arseni, or Senya, as he has become, proposes marriage. He calls a good friend to meet him, so that he can ask his friend to be their best man.

I can hear the music in my head now, playing out the approaching danger that Oska doesn't see coming.

Oska is immersed in sharing the good news with his friend, but the friend gives him a warning. He feels something is wrong, but he can't put his finger on it. Still, he agrees to be best man, and he promises to always be there for his friend. They express their happiness and commitment in a fond embrace.

The music in my head darkens, and the sounds I hear in my mind are like Senya's heavy footsteps, as he approaches and sees the two men holding each other. My movements on the ice sharpen. I increase the speed and add hard, sweeping motions with my arms as I turn and glide backwards, then change direction, spread my arms again, turn and glide.

Arseni is older than Oska, and he knows that this has caused some people to question their romance. He has sensed that Oska's closest friend does not approve of him, and when he sees this man embracing Oska, he loses control and flies into a rage. He moves without thinking, tearing the invader away from his Oska, and punching him several times while Oska pulls at him and pleads with him to stop. He doesn't mean for it to happen, but they've come close to the edge, and when he lets go of the man, Oska's friend tumbles over the edge, screaming in terror as he falls to his death. Oska screams too, and though he holds on to Senya for a moment, his eyes round and he shakes all over with fear. His instinct to run takes over and he struggles to break away. Arseni grips him tightly, but Oska manages to pull free.

The lovers have one frozen moment where their horrified eyes meet, then Oska descends into a fast, violent death.

"Victor?"

I open my eyes and find my body stretched out like a fallen corpse on the ice. Yuuri's face is drenched in tears, Yakov looks pale and barely in control, and everyone else is staring. The rink is dead silent.

I let Yuuri pull me onto my feet, and he takes over, then, guiding me to the edge of the ice. He carefully places the blade covers on my skates and leads me to the preparation area, where he removes my skates and puts my shoes back on. He and Yakov hustle me out of the rink, and they start to lead me to the car.

"N-no!" I complain.

They look shocked, because it's the first word I've said in days, and there's no way I should be wandering around in the state I'm in. But Yuuri looks quietly at Yakov, then he nods at Maret and Sava, who fall in behind us, letting Yuuri and me walk, holding hands.

"It's nice, now that the rain has stopped," Yuuri comments, "I don't blame you for wanting to walk home instead."

Yakov watches as we leave, then he turns and heads back inside.

Halfway home, there is a bar that I used to frequent on the way home in the evenings sometimes. This early in the day, it's a pub, and people talk and laugh as they eat at the tables outside. I feel my feet stop, and I stare at the place, trying to imagine how many times I entered that place and staggered out drunk. I've been a heavy drinker for over thirteen years, so it's a lot of times. I can even feel the sensation of being drunk, and as I do, I start to feel a desire to be empty like that. The ghosts of Arseni and Oska are so real and so palpable, I would do anything to make them go away for awhile.

Yes, I really want a drink.

No, I want to be drunk.

But then, my mind goes back to my entry into the rehabilitation center, the thoughts and emotions I felt inside, when I said a tearful goodbye to Yuuri and gave myself over to the program.

I didn't want to keep drinking like that. That day, I chose sobriety. I spent the next week in hell, drying out, throwing up, losing consciousness and suffering night terrors, tremors and worse. I laid in the infirmary, not sure if I was going to live. Choosing sobriety was a struggle, but there was a reason that I chose that struggle.

"Yuuri?"

Tears run down his cheeks and he can barely answer me.

"Yes, Victor? What is it?"

"What was it like when I was skating back there?" I ask.

He looks a little surprised, but he takes a breath and answers.

"The first part was like a love story. It started out radiating sweetness and innocence, then it grew into a powerful passionate romance. It ended feeling dangerous, like an obsession."

"And in the next part?"

Yuuri nods.

"The darkness grew. It was like there was sound, even though there wasn't any music playing. The moves you made were fast, sharp, almost violent, and I could feel the danger grow into something terrifying. It felt like when we were struggling with Bershov at the edge of that cliff, then you laid back and turned, and you dropped onto the ice. It was beautiful skating, Victor, probably some of the most beautiful skating you've ever done, but…I was…all I could see was…"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You had to get it out somehow, didn't you? And if it's what you want, it will probably make one of the best programs you've ever created."

"Oh, I don't know if I can," I tell him, feeling sick to my stomach at the thought, "Some things are just too real…too…close. I don't know how to say it, but…"

"It's okay," Yuuri says, pulling me in and holding me tightly, "I know."

We stand there, holding each other for several more minutes before I can pull myself away, and we continue on our way. When we arrive at the house, we find Stefan is there, waiting for us. He waves and smiles as we meet him on the walkway.

"Victor, Yuuri, good morning," he greets us, "Yakov told me that there was some excitement down at the ice rink, and he thought that you might want to talk about it with me?"

I'm not at all sure I'm ready to do that, but I nod, and we go inside. We sit down at the kitchen table and Yuuri begins to prepare some food for us. Stefan is quiet. He looks me over and sighs.

"I understand that some of the stress came out of you while you were skating," he comments.

We've talked in our sessions at the rehab center about how stress can exit the body…how different people have different ways of making it happen, and how to discover and take advantage of our sources of stress release. I skate my emotions, so he's right on track that this was what was happening at the ice rink.

"I'm glad that you found a way to work off some of the anxiety," he says, smiling encouragingly, "I'm proud of you. Barely two weeks into your program, and you are already integrating what you've learned."

"I…don't want to be a drunk idiot anymore," I tell him, "I want better than that for Yuuri and me. It doesn't mean that I'm not tempted. We passed a bar on the way home, and I was tempted. I just decided that there was something more important to me than making myself numb."

"What was that?" he asks.

I can feel Yuuri stealing glances at us as I answer.

"I want to marry Yuuri, and…I really want to have a child for us to raise together. Maybe more than one."

Stefan's smile is so warm and kind that it almost makes me feel like crying.

"Those are some very beautiful desires, Victor," he says approvingly, "Have you and Yuuri talked about these things?"

"No. There hasn't really been time, with everything that's happened."

I meet Yuuri's eyes and smile at him.

"But I want to."

Yuuri comes to the table and sits down beside me. He takes my hands in his and I can see that what I've said makes him really happy.

"I want to get married too," he assures me, "And we'll work together to figure out how we might be able to have a child," he promises, "because I want that too!"

His smile fades a little, but he still looks hopeful as he goes on.

"I just want to be sure that you're going to be okay first," he says tentatively, "You're still technically in rehab, and you've just been through something awful."

"We've been through something awful," I correct him, "I agree. I need to finish rehab. I just…don't know if I can go back there."

"You don't have to go back, not to stay, anyway," Stefan offers, "Given everything, I think it would be better for you to finish your program here, in your home, Victor."

"I can do that?" I ask hopefully.

"Yes, you can do that," he explains, "You're not a prisoner, and as your counselor, I can change the outline of your program, as is needed to help you reach your goal of sobriety. If you feel that what happened has eroded your trust in me, as your counselor, I can also refer you to someone else. I feel bad about how Bershov used all of us and abused you."

"It wasn't your fault," I tell him firmly, "Bershov was pulling everyone's strings. It was like Petya said. He was the one holding all of the strings. He fooled a lot of people into trusting him. That isn't your fault. Besides, I've gotten used to you. I don't know if I could get used to another stranger. You've at least proven that you are someone who cares about me and wants me to succeed."

"I do," he says warmly, "So, here's what I think. We can continue to meet here to plan each week, kind of like we did in the rehab center. You will go to the rehab clinic as an outpatient for meetings and classes to support your sobriety, and we'll check in at the end of each week to share notes on how the week went. How does that sound to you?"

"I can do that," I answer.

I'm so glad that I don't have to go back there. I will miss seeing Vasily and my other friends, of course, but…

"How is Masha?" I ask him, "And how are Petya and Tolya?"

"Masha is up and around," Stefan answers, "I went to see her this morning. Petya is talking to the police. Tolya is awake, but he's still a little dazed and not really responding very much to anyone. His doctors feel that he will recover, but he just needs more time."

"Hmm, that is good. Maybe I will go and see Masha tomorrow."

"I think she would appreciate that," Stefan chuckles.

"I think she'll probably insult me a few times and complain at me for not listening to her before."

"That sounds like her," Yuuri laughs softly.

"Better rest up for that," Stefan advises me.

We talk for a little longer as we eat together, then Stefan leaves and Yuuri and I are alone together. We go to our room to lie down as the sky outside clouds up again, and it begins to rain. We cuddle without making love, then we fall asleep to the sound of the rain. It's dark when we wake up again, and Yuuri leaves me alone to go and make dinner. I lay against the pillows in my bed and pick up my journal from the nightstand.

Dear Yuuri,

You need to know that you are my angel, and my biggest inspiration, not just in my fight for sobriety, but in my whole life. I can't imagine a day without you in it, and I look forward to being married to you and making a family together. I promise you that I will work hard to continue to fight for my sobriety. I will be a good husband to you, and someday, I will be a good, devoted father.

I know you are worried about me, and I can't say with any certainty that there is no reason to worry, but we'll tough out the scary things together now. I am one hundred percent committed to making a future with you that is every bit as beautiful as our history. For now and forever I am…

Your Vitya.