Chapter 6- Snegurochka
She was lying on soft meadow grass and felt extremely comfortable. The feel of a cool breeze blew over her. She was wearing a skirt, the one that James had bought her for her birthday. Looking around she noticed that she was in a clearing, a meadow in the middle of a dense forest.
She sat up, leaning back on her hands, and looked about. Her eyes gazed in amazement at the surrounding area, the beauty of it engulfing her. Flowers and grass under a moonlit sky. Behind her she heard footsteps, "Well my sweet angel, how do you like our little sanctuary?"
Her head arched back to look at him, "It's perfect, just how I remembered it."
"Just how you remember it?" James kissed her tenderly then sat next to her, bag in hand.
Vitoria giggled, "Maybe not exactly, you were still…what did you call it? Courting me? You're so old fashioned," She pushed him playfully.
He chuckled, "That's because I'm come from what the Soviets refer to as the Bourgeoisie and Americans call old money," Another kiss, "But you know, I'm not completely old fashioned," His grin grew a little wicked.
Her eyes opened a little wider, "That is true. We were already quite intimate before this," She raised her hand and pointed to the wedding ring. Her gaze remained on him, she felt as if she were in a fairy tale, a rescue by a prince on a white horse, or in this case, a fighter jet.
She still couldn't believe it. She was just a simple Army Corporal from the small town of Forks. Her father a Sheriff and her mother was a logger. Naturally she was tough and her parents had only made her tougher. She lost her mother when she was fifteen and joined the army when she turned eighteen and stayed in for eight years, her job in the as a communication specialist keeping her from the frontlines.
At the completion of the first invasion she discovered her father had been one of the first to be put to death by the Soviets. She was alone at that moment until this knight showed up fresh from fighter school in a SU-47. Brash but an impeccable gentleman, she fell in love with him as soon as he stepped into the bar. She was courted like a lady and a few months later they were married.
James chuckled, "Why is there a twinkle in your eye my love?"
Victoria kissed him happily, "Because I was thinking of you my sweet."
His smile softened, "You know, you look tense," Her ears pricked when he said that and knew instantly what he was going to do next in their private sanctuary. She watched as his fingers moved to her leg and began to massage it. Her body relaxed, falling lightly against the grass, her eyes closing.
His hands moved slowly up her leg and she began tingling all over. Her head lifted slowly and with a smile on her face she opened her eyes and saw…
…Gregory?!? She glanced around again, seeing she was back in the familiar surroundings of Wolf Base. Her eyes fell back upon the Upir, his hands gently wrapping the wound on her lower thigh, "Hello Gregory."
"Good Morning Victoria," Gregory's eye did not leave the wrapping, tenderly wrapping her leg.
He's like James…sort of. She mused, realizing her body was still tingling. She was tried to force the thoughts out of her head, "Morning? How long have I been out?"
The Soviet Officer's watch adorning Gregory's wrist moved slightly into his field of vision, "One day, twenty hours and twenty eight minutes," And he had stayed by her side for every single second. For some reason he would not let himself leave her side, a reason he did not know…or care to admit, not even to himself.
Thoughts of how similar Gregory was to James still filtered through her mind, only now James was being replaced by the similar looking Gregory. No, no! Get out of my head. Her eyes shot back to the ring she still wore on her left hand. Oh no! The ring was gone and she was panicking, "Looking for this?" He asked, holding the tarnished ring.
Quickly she felt rage, "GIVE ME THAT!!! Who gave you the right?" She grabbed the ring but before putting the ring on her finger she saw that it was also wrapped up.
Gregory stood up, "Metal splinter," He moved to the fire and removed a pan from the fire and walked over to a small table next to the cot she was on. Again he walked to the fire and removed a pot, pouring the tea into two cups, "Can you walk?"
"Yeah," It was then she realized how warm she actually was, the fire was roaring and the random cracks in the wall were now patched up. I bet he did this. But did he do it all for…me? She was about to shove what she thought was a ridiculous idea out of her head when she saw what was on the table, "What is that?"
His hand worked a knife, cutting at the loaf of bread, "It is Russian Black Bread, fresh bread mind you. It was a challenge to get the ingredients, but I did. And one of those teas is for you."
She gingerly lifted her cup and sniffed at it, spice and vanilla filling making her nose tingle, "It smells different…good, but different. What blend is it?" She wasn't a tea drinker, always preferring coffee. He looks like a tea drinker though, she observed.
Gregory set the bread on a small cutting board, "It is called Prince Vladimir. Drink, it is good, trust me."
With a slight nod she sipped, immediately filling her with a spiced sensation. Her eyes widened a bit, "It is delicious, and it may drive me off coffee."
A friendly chuckle, and as far as Victoria was concerned a beautiful chuckle, emanated from Gregory's throat, "Hopefully not, I don't have much of it left. One of the curses of liking Russian cuisine, it's damn hard to get."
Setting the cup down, she looked at him, "Where are you from?" Her curiosity finally catching up with her, "You know I'm from here, but where did you call home?"
She sensed hesitation, as if he was trying to figure out if he should answer or not, "I'm from Brighton Beach, New York. Its better know as Little Odessa."
Eyes widening a bit more, "You are…are…"
"I am of Russian and Ukrainian ethnicity, but I assure you I'm an America," He saw the disbelief in her face, "My father's family escaped Russia after World War One and my mother's family escaped from Ukraine after World War Two. I have more of a reason to hate the Soviets than the average American," He began to tremble slightly, another memory filtering to the surface. Forcing it down he handed her a freshly buttered slice of bread.
Taking the plate, she realized how hungry she was, "So that is why you are so interested in Russian Culture…you lived it."
He nodded, "We were so hated, but we all took it in stride. The American dream was our goal and my parents were so proud when I got my acceptance letter to UCLA. I was avoided like the plague there, but no matter what anyone said I was going to stick to my old ways."
"You're name doesn't sound very Russian," She bit into the bread. He is good with food. Maybe he is God.
"Thank you, my parents tried. My full name is Gregory Vladimir Richardson. My Father's family decided to change their last name after they came to America so they could fit in. Originally their family name was Rokhlin."
A giggle left her unexpectedly, "Is that why your favorite tea happens to be Prince Vladimir?"
A suppressed laugh, "That's exactly why. My mother said I was her little Tsarevich, or Prince. So, I was her little Prince Vladimir. So what about you my Snegurochka? What of your life?"
Snegurochka? She wondered, but shook her head and was about to speak when the door flung open, "DR. RICHARDSON!!!" Beth yelled, running in with a folded piece of paper, Pete following close behind her. When she reached him, she handed over the paper and breathless she said, "Somebody from the President's Office came to give you this."
The Upir, his face now all business, grabbed the paper and glanced over it. While he was reading, Victoria asked, "Where's Arthur?" All the other spines in the room, "Where is he?"
Eyes darted from one face to another before Gregory sighed, "Victoria, don't you remember?" With those words, a flood of memories flooded into her mind.
"Where is he?" She asked again, not fully believing them despite her memories.
Gregory's face was still calm, "Outside in the snow waiting for his burial," Tears began to flood down Victoria's face and she grabbed onto him. A little shocked, he timidly returned the embrace, "Don't melt Snegurochka, the spring is still far off."