Chapter 5: Russian Lies

Vladimir sighed as he sat on a bench in the park, his hands clenched around his gold pocket watch. A cool autumn breeze blew his hair out of his unshaven face, revealing to the world the tears rolling down from his eyes. He lifted a hand, wiping the tears away, and just in time, as Joyce quietly sat beside him. She put a hand on his shoulder, not once looking at him as he leaned against her. Alfred stood by, feeling a little guilty for reasons he didn't know.

"I'm here Vladimir." she gently stroked his hair. "I'm here."

The man slipped his watch into his pocket. "You need to seek safety."

"I'll be fine. You, however, should come with me." she smiled softly. "Come back to my home."

"No, if they were to see me with you, even now-!"

"It is alright." Joyce stood, pulling him with her. "Come, Alfred and I are here for you."

"Alfred?" Vladimir looked over to the blonde standing by his car. "The American would help me? Help us?"

"Yes Vladimir." she lead him over. "Alfred is a friend to us."

"Friend? Oh, of course." he allowed them to help him into the car, looking at them as they got in after. He watched as Alfred leaned over to whisper something to Joyce, who only responded with a nod. Before too long they were back at her house and Vladimir was helped out of the car just as he had been helped into it. The three quickly went inside, with Vladimir thanking them both as he took a seat on the stairs. Joyce sat with him, while Alfred, after looking around in disdain, leaned against the wall.

"Vladimir what happened?" Joyce rubbed his arm. "Why are you upset? And don't say the attack, because I know that's not it."

"Oh Joyce, if only you were not correct. I am upset, dear child, because since the attack the guilt on my chest has been eating away at me worse than ever before. I can't bear it anymore, and it may be better this way, but it is time you were told."

"Told?" Alfred was really curious now. "So her life really is a lie?" the man stood straight under Joyce's shocked look.

"Not exactly, only her lineage is false." he dipped his head. "Joyce you need to know the truth."

"Truth?" she stood, looking between the men who wouldn't meet her gaze.

Vladimir buried his face in his hand. "Joyce, Ivan was not your real father, but he was a close friend of your mother and helped raise you. After she died, he took you and fled Great Britain for the Motherland."

"Fled?" she looked slightly scared. "Why?"

"You would have been given to foster care, or worse. So he told the Russian government you were his, and asked them to put your new records under a Russian name."

"That's why-"

"Anastasia Ivanova." Alfred grimaced, gaining their attention.

Vladimir looked confused, but nodded. "Da, but he always called her Joyce, and used English to keep her from converting. Ivan didn't like the Soviet's way of life, so he became the ideal Soviet to avoid any problems. He moved you to his parent's house in Siberia, where they raised you into a lovely young Russian woman. A real lady." he sighed. "But after he died, they tried to change you."

"But…"

The American cleared his throat. "They wanted to convert her?"

"Exactly, and that's why they sent her to New York."

"They didn't send me! I chose to come here!" Joyce snapped, clearly upset, but seemed to think better of it when she shut up. Alfred looked at her, urging her to continue, but when she didn't he scoffed.

"So what will you two do now? Vladimir, if someone wants you dead-"

"That is exactly why I shouldn't be here." the man stood. "I need to leave. Alfred, take care of dear Joyce for me."

"Er, right?"

"Vladimir wait!" the woman followed him as he left. A few moments later she returned, teary eyed once again, to collapse on the stairs. Her friend sat beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder that she smacked away.

"You-! How did you know so much?!"

"I mentioned you to a friend I have in the UK. He got interested in your story…"

"Bloody lies!"

"He started digging. He said he was going to send me your records to help you get citizenship."

"Why on earth would- how could he access them?"

"The same way I can."

"That's not-"

"Any of your concern." his tone was curt, eyes narrowed, looking down on her. "Get some rest Joyce. Your furniture will be here tomorrow so let's try to put today behind us."

Joyce watched him leave, shutting her door behind him. Holding in a shudder she went over to her bags of new things and began to shuffle them up the stairs.