I own nothing. The first part of this chapter comes straight from Skeleton Key. As ever italics are Russian. Enjoy.
Chapter 5
2 years ago.
"Give me the card or I will shoot you." Sarov said.
Alex lifted the card then suddenly flicked it. It spun twice and suddenly disappeared into water.
"Go ahead then, if that's what you want." He said "Shoot me!"
Sarov's eyes flicked over to the lost card, then back to Alex. "Why...?" he whispered.
"I'd rather be dead than have a father like you." Alex said.
There were voices, shouting. Footsteps coming nearer.
"Goodbye Alex." Sarov said. He raised the gun and fired a single shot.
His head hurt. That was the first thing he was aware of.
Gradually, other things came through. He was lying on his back, with a bright light shinning down on him. His forehead was throbbing and he felt drowsy. Voices came to him, he couldn't understand what they were saying, though he thought he recognized the language.
He blinked, and the world swan back into clearer view.
A face was peering down at him. It spoke, a question, but he couldn't understand him.
Shaking his head the man repeated what he had said in English.
"Alexi, can you tell me where you are?"
He shook his head.
"My name is Alex."
"Alex, then. Can you tell me where you are?"
He looked around. He was in a white room, with bars on the windows. He tried to take in more, but his brain wouldn't let him.
"No."
The man nodded.
"My name is Vladimir Dhild. I'm a doctor. You're in the Vysotsky institute in yakutia."
Yakutia. He ran that name through his brain, he remembered something about that. It was in Siberia, he thought.
"You were brought here two days ago, after a fall down the stairs. Do you remember any of this?"
"It wasn't a fall." He muttered. "It was a bullet."
He saw the doctor's concerned expression. He then shook his head.
"Your father is waiting outside. I'll fetch him."
"My father!?" he tried to sit up, to move his arms and legs, but he couldn't. Glancing down he saw the bounds of a straightjacket securing his arms to his chest.
He began to struggle, yelling out like a wild beast trapped.
There were voices speaking in rapid Russian. He couldn't understand them.
Then Sarov was there, sitting.
"Alexi. Please, calm down."
He was struggling worse than ever. He heard words he didn't recognize, and then a pick in his neck brought him back to darkness.
"What do you want me to say, Vlad?" Dr. Chekov looked up at his eager young friend, who paced across the room like a caged tiger.
"Is it possible?"
"Is what possible?"
"Is it possible that that wound," he indicated the close-up of the forehead wound "was caused by a fall down stairs?"
"Why are you asking me, when you know the answer?" Vladimir gazed at Chekov for a moment, and he sighed.
"It is highly unlikely that a fall down stairs, even one that caught the edge of the banisters would cause an injury like that."
"What is likely? A bullet?"
Chekov lowered the photo and stared opened mouth at his young friend.
"What makes you think that?"
Vladimir flung himself into the warn doctor's lounge sofa and sighed.
"The child said it, when he first came around. The meds were making him drowsy, but he was perfectly coherent." He shook his head. "He's got bruises. More than could have been caused by a fall down stairs, some of them were already black when they brought him in. And the kid." He lifted his head to stare at his friend. "He's scared."
"So you believe these stories of his?" Chekov asked, jokingly.
"That he's a secret agent? No I think that's the only thing Dr" the sarcasm was evident in his voice. "Dr Andropov and I agree on. I agree he has created this fantasy world, but I don't believe that he has nothing to fear."
"You do realize what you are suggesting?" Chekov asked.
"At best, domestic abuse. At worst attempted Murder." Vladimir ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't like it. But I have to do something. "
"But what?" asked Chekov asked. To that Vladimir had no answer.
Catherine had come on shift nearly an hour ago. She had trained as a psychiatric nurse and had been told that her patient was in Room 22.
She had found a young boy of about 14 in the room. She thought young, but his eyes were nearly doubled in the years they had seen.
She had tried making conversation, but Alexi, as the chart told her he was called, had been silent.
She had tried in both Russian and English, but there was not a hint of response. A book had been left on a chair, beside the bed. She got to her feet and made a move to fetch it.
Alexi flinched visibly, withdrawing himself closer to the wall.
"It's O.K., Alex." She said gently. Alexi's Russian had improved over the last few days, something Dr Andropov viewed as a positive sign. Catherine wasn't too sure. In her opinion, it was perfectly possible that Alexi was picking up the Russian from the staff.
She glanced at Alexi, watching him.
When she or Dr Vladimir had asked him about his injuries, he had become very cagey. Catherine wasn't stupid. Before this, she had worked in a hospital in one of the roughest areas of Moscow.
She had seen it all before. . The bruises, the excuses, the behavioural changes. This was how abused people looked and acted. They avoided all questions, and they actively tried to hide the abuse or if people guessed the truth, they stood up for their abusers, or pretended that absolutely nothing was wrong.
Catherine was as sure as she could be, that Alexis Voras, for all his apparent concern for his son's welfare was responsible for his condition.
Some weeks later.
"You realise I'm asking you to risk your career and possibly your freedom?" Vladimir grasped Catherine's hand, gazing into her eyes.
"We do not have the boy's guardian, or the attending physician permission, we have no proof,"
"except a child who is clearly terrorised of something." Catherine shook her hair back impatiently. "I can't let a child go back if he's been hurt." She drained her cup.
"Let's do this."
"You are safe here, Alexi, you understand that?" Chekov looked at the young man in the wheelchair in front of him. Alexi had not said a word since he had been brought in here, but simply based on behaviour he was inclined to agree with Vlad. Something had happened to terrorise this child.
"We want to help you to stay safe, but to do that, you have to help us."
The brown eyes, unusual with that blonde hair, flickered nervously about the room.
"Who caused those bruises, Alexi? The ones on your chest and arms?"
For the first time the child made a noise.
"I did." It was said parrot fashion. Chekov had heard it a thousand times, I fell down the stairs, I ran in to a door, it was an accident. He didn't believe it then and he didn't believe it now.
He'd read the reports. Several of the injuries it was impossible that they were self inflicted, and unlikely that they were caused by an accident.
"Alexi, no one is going to be angry with you if you tell us the truth." Vlad said gently. Alexi's body still shook. Catherine knelt down.
"Alexi," she said, gently keeping her face at level with his. "If someone did this to you, you don't have to go back. We can stop this."
She swallowed.
"Alexi did your father do this to you?" Alexi tried to turn his head away, but she persisted. "Is Voras responsible for this?" her hand gently pointed to the healing injury on his forehead.
She lifted Alexi's hands away from his face.
"Alexi," she said, firmly. "If he is, we won't make you go back. We'll keep you safe."
Through the tears a small voice answered
"Yes."
The door was flung open.
"Voras and that doctor of his stormed into his room about 5 minutes later. We were lucky not to be arrested for kidnapping." Vlad's hand gripped Catherine's as they stared at the agents. "When we tried going to the police, they pointed out we had nothing."
Volk nodded, carefully avoiding looking at Vixen as he got to his feet.
"Thank you for your time." He said, gently.
"Please," Catherine gasped out as he escorted her and her husband out. "Will you tell Alexi we're sorry?" She fumbled with a handkerchief. "We promised him he'd be safe, and then sent him back."
Volk nodded, before closing the door behind them.
TBC