4.

чотири

"Yesterday, a landmark deal involving rebel leaders in Donbass and Cri-"

A hand reaches from under a tan woolen blanket over her bed, and Oksana slams a palm onto her bedside radio, turning it off with a click. She sits up groggily, as if she's had a fitful sleep, tossing and turning judging by her messy, short dark hair. Her sleeping outfit isn't much, a loose fitting, neon green t-shirt and dark brown sweats. She blinked rapidly and tried to gather her bearings, scratching an itch on her chest. Her head pounds a little, not a hangover per say, but a piercing one under the eyebrow from a lack of caffeine, and her stomach was hollow, the last meal she had being the fancy awards dinner at the Rada.

With a heave, she slips out of her bed and walks down the hardwood floors of her house towards the kitchen, feet pattering softly. When she reaches the white, rustic looking kitchen, she fiddles with the coffee maker, and grabs a cup of yogurt from the fridge. Almost everything in her fridge has run out, and she makes a mental note to go to the market after meeting with Yuliya later.

After the coffee is done, she pours it into a mug and walks over to the living room. Voho, her growlithe, is laying on the couch, fast asleep and snoring loudly. Oksana smiles, and gently sits down next to him, turning the television on. The screen flashes to a group of reporters around a metal table, four men four women, on the tail end of a conversation.

"Now onto Lieutenant Yuliya Bousaid," One of the female hosts, a young woman with dark hair to her chin, smiles. The screen splits to one with another woman, blonde and somewhat older, in front of the Rada. "The former sniper was honored last night at the Verkhovna Rada last night with the Hero of Ukraine award. Our reporter Alexandra Derkach is at the Rada building with more."

Oksana watches as the screen cuts to a picture of Yuliya saluting the president, just before she's given the award. The news proceeds to give a rundown of Yuliya's past, nothing she didn't hear from the girl herself or various other articles. However, the screen switches to one very important clip, and Oksana finds herself leaning towards the TV.

The next clip was of a happy looking Yuliya at a military base in Kiev next to a man about her age, with similar features to Yuliya, and a short hairstyle as well, wearing the same trooper uniform. The man chats up the camera, eyes squinting somewhat from the bright sun and he gesticulates with his hands. Oksana isn't paying attention to what the man is saying, just looking at Yuliya's face. She smiles -beams!- at him, hand over her eyes as they flicker between the camera and the man. A little yellow box appears on the bottom of the screen, reading: "Major Amir Bousaid".

Oksana finds herself squinting at the video of Amir, thinking to herself. His sister seemed very committed to the idea that her brother was still alive, in the clutches of separatists. Like the kind of stuff that happens in big budget American movies where everything works out with no loose ends. And Oksana wants to believe her wholeheartedly, to help her find him. But, Yuliya also seemed rather… off. It would make sense, Oksana knew personally that the fighting in Donbass had been unforgiving, and while Oksana had been beaten and psychologically tortured to some degree… Yuliya had it much worse. Much, much worse. Maybe, Yuliya had her mind warped by the trauma, real events and fake stories from movies melding into one truth. Maybe she was just delusional. All she knew is that Yuliya could just be trying to pull Oksana's leg with this, or just pull the other woman into sharing her delusion.

She's cut out of her thoughts by her phone vibrating against the table. Oksana sighs after looking at the caller ID, rubs the bridge of her nose, and picks up the phone.

"What is it this time…?" Oksana sighs, and out of the corner of her eye she sees Volo stir, legs kicking.

"I see you're as rude as ever, Sana." An older sounding woman rasped out of the speakers, and Oksana rolled her eyes. "Didn't sleep much, did you?"

"I slept fucking fine, thank you very much." Oksana sneers, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. "Get to the point. What are you calling me about?"

"Oh, nothing really! I was just watching TV this morning after waking up... and I happened to see that you made a friend at the Rada last night!"

Oksana sniffs in confusion, before looking up at the TV and rolling her eyes. It's the picture of Yuliya saluting her at the Rada, back straight and face tight, with the politician's green eyes wide in surprise.

Of course there was a picture taken of it, of course, of course… Why wouldn't there be? It was a special moment between two former soldiers, showing a bond or something, like they'd knew each other before. She expects it to be on every news channel in the world by now, and she just knows that she's gonna be swarmed with interviewers asking her about it.

"Yeah, so? Are you jealous or something?"

"No, no." The voice continues, laughing loudly. Volo sits up now, his eyes drooping. He yawns loudly, showing off his sharp teeth and pink tongue. "I'm just glad that you're on the news for a good reason, for once."

Oksana flinched. She'd gotten that talk from her before, over off the cuff remarks and loud speeches in the Rada, having laced most of them with profanity. She'd seen some of these articles, saying that she was brainwashed during her captivity or just plain crazy.

She growls under her breath, scratching at her face.

"So, I'm just calling to… congratulate you."

"For what, Vira?" Oksana growls, rubbing her scalp painfully. "Because I didn't swear at someone for once in my fucking life?"

"No. For making yourself look good for once in your career."

With that, Vira hangs up.

"Self centered bitch." Oksana mutters, slamming her phone down onto the table. Volo stares at her with concern as she covers her head with her hands and groans loudly. Oksana looks up at the TV, the screen now to the blonde reporter, ready to give her remarks.

"Tymoshenko's representatives have not commented on her relationship with Lieutenant Bousaid." The reporter says, shivering in the early morning cold. "However, the Fatherland party leader Vira Sadovyi has said that the two merely have a 'mutual respect' for one another."

Oksana sighs under her breath, and runs her sweaty palms down her face. At least Vira wasn't trying to play up this whole event, make the two seem like they were best friends who paint each other's nails and go out on coffee dates or some shit like that. Still, she doubts anyone will buy it…

The politician stands up, her legs wobbling with disuse. She walks out of the room and finishes her daily routine, brushes her teeth, puts on her outfit of an open suit jacket, dark pants, and a white dress shirt. Adjusting her jacket, Oksana walks back into the kitchen with her dark suitcase, and Volo climbs down from the couch, tail wagging quickly. Oksana smiles down at him, and grabs his dark collar and leash, clipping them on.

For once all spring, the walk to the Rada isn't shockingly cold, like it was most of the month, but actually warm like spring is supposed to be…! So, the streets are full of people and pokemon, Oksana has to tug Volo away from attacking some poor schoolgirl's fennekin, who yips at them as Oksana rushes him past.

"Bad growlithe!" Oksana hisses, and Volo looks up at her with big, sad eyes. "What have I told you about attacking passerby, huh?"

Volo whimpers sadly, and the politician sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose painfully. She knows that Volo just wants to make her proud by winning a battle, but it's still irritating to drag him out of every little scrap he gets into. The two walk further towards the Rada, Oksana barely dodging a pokemon battle between two kid's pokemon, one that appears to be a dark salamander like creature, and another ghost-like pokemon connected to a golden mask . Both trainers seem to be exuding as much effort as possible, and she wants to stay and watch, but work prevails over entertainment.

Oksana reaches her office in the Rada in record time, shuffling in through the dark door with "MP OKSANA TYMOSHENKO, FATHERLAND" printed across it in dark lettering. It's not much, about the size of a large closet, with a crummy wooden desk, black office chair, a mint green pokemon bed that Volo immediately settles in, sighing loudly. A photograph is hanging precariously uneven on the wall of Vira, and Oksana after her release, from about two years ago. Vira is smiling at the camera as she sits primly in her wheelchair, dark blonde hair put up into her familiar braid, next to a hollow and sickly looking Oksana with her short military haircut, bags dark under her eyes, more visible with her pale skin.

Prison life hadn't been good to her. When that photo was taken, Oksana had dropped from her usual 50 kilograms to only about 35 kilograms. The separatists fed her very little, and what food she was fed was of poor quality, sometimes she found maggots that crawled in the bread they gave her for breakfast. When she stopped eating out of protest, they had beat her with tire irons, tortured her with electric type pokemon, and force fed her. Her poor mother had told her that she had freaked out when Oksana's ransom video was released, which showed her in a baggy orange jumpsuit, her arms skinny and gaunt. Her captors stood beside her, armed with Soviet era rifles, as she read the piece of paper in her hands. It had stated that the Ukrainian government would only get her alive if they released 15 separatist prisoners and returned them to Donbass. Otherwise, Oksana would have been shot in the head and had her body thrown into the nearest body of water. Vira was one of the first politicians that campaigned for her release, and had her elected to the Rada to help bolster her chances of survival. After a few months and a lot of diplomacy, she was released alive, and now, here she was...

Sighing loudly, Oksana settles into her chair, and flips through the stack of papers on her desk, mostly bills making their way about parliament, some about the EU, some about retaking Donbass, and a lot about Russian sanctions. She feels her interest sap away as she reads further and further, and her mind turns to Yuliya again. Is she up yet? What time does she usually wake up at? Oksana always wakes up early, around 5:30ish, but that's just because of her job. Does Yuliya have a job?

Oksana tries her best to distract herself from her thoughts by reading further. Vira would be extremely upset if she went out to vote on something without knowing anything about the content of the bills. Another angry phone call from her. Oksana grimaces at the thought of being chewed out indirectly. Not again.

There's a knock at the door, and Volo sits up on his bed, growling at the person on the other side. Oksana blinks in confusion, peering at the door through narrowing eyes.

"Come in." She grunts, hopefully loud enough to be audible through the door.

A man around the same age as her walks in, wearing similar clothes, with a short blonde haircut and smug smile on his face. A blue monkey-like pokemon hangs on his shoulder, chattering loudly with a grin on its face. He's a member of some other party, maybe part of the opposition. However, she doesn't really recognize him, not one of the many MP's she's screamed at. Oksana raises her eyebrows, a stoic expression on her face.

"Well, well, well," The man says, looking around him. "I sure wasn't expecting a small office space like this from Fatherland's rising MP."

"Yeah, yeah, fuck off." She says, in complete deadpan. This doesn't seem to surprise or unnerve the other politician, who softens his smile somewhat. Oksana can still see the venom lacing his eyes though, as if she was below him.

"No need to be so rude, I just wanted to say hello, and introduce myself," He grins, and the monkey chatters at the barking Volo, almost as if it's mocking him. "I'm Pyotr Sirko, from the Motherland Defense Party."

"Huh," Oksana hums, and watches as the monkey spits a jet of water at Volo, who responds in turn by lobbing a ball of fire back at it, which causes the monkey to fall backwards and land with a thump on the carpet. Oksana sighs angrily, resisting the urge to scream at this man for attacking her pokemon, and retrieves Volo into his pokeball, placing it on her desk.

"So," Oksana says, fidgeting with her pen. "What is it that you want?"

"You know, Oksana…" Pyotr smiles, petting his pokemon softly. "I saw that picture of you with that soldier, was her name… Yuliya Bousaid?"

Great. Oksana groans and runs a hand through her hair.

"We aren't fucking friends, if that's what you're wondering," Oksana explains, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "She's a nice woman and all, but I barely know her. I'm trying to help her find her brother, that's all."

"Do you actually believe anything she says?"

"Huh?" Oksana says, looking up at Pyotr with wide eyes. His expression does not change.

"You heard me," He says, moving closer to her desk. "Do you believe any of that girl's stories?"

"...Yeah?" Oksana says incredulously, wheeling away from Pyotr. "

Pyotr laughs loudly, an ugly sounding laugh that makes Oksana wince.

"Haven't you heard the story passing around in the Rada?" Pyotr asks, tilting his head somewhat. "Yuliya's a psychotic freak. The military report about the mortar attack said that after she came back to the base she was like a robot. Didn't emote, didn't show any signs of sadness or distress, nothing! The officer interviewing her recommended that she'd be tested for PTSD and schizophrenia!"

"I'm sorry," Oksana says through grit teeth, watching the smile falter on Pyotr's face. "Have you served in Donbass before?"

"...Well, no, but I-"

"Do you know what happens out there? What soldiers have seen out there?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, smartass, I was one of those soldiers," Oksana hisses as she pushes forward, and Pyotr backs away in shock at her reaction. "I've seen what Yuliya has seen. People blown to bits from mortar fire or sniper fire. Watched my comrades bleed out on the battlefield, unable to do anything to help. I've even watched separatists commit war crimes and unleash packs of feral zangoose and pyroar onto entire squadrons to either roast them alive or tear them to shreds."

"Maybe I can understand why Yuliya acts like that, alright? And maybe you don't know the shit that she's been through! She lost her friends and her own brother out there, it's only natural she'd come back scarred!"

"Listen, I'm capable of making my own fucking rational decisions," Oksana finishes, gripping Volo's pokeball tightly. "I'll stop trusting her if I feel like she's being irrational. I don't need some smug privileged fucker from some other party telling me what to do!"

"Now, get the fuck out of my office."

Pyotr obeys her at first, stepping cautiously away from her desk. However, as he reaches the door, he turns to face Oksana.

"Trusting her is the worst mistake you'll ever make," He sneers, and the monkey chatters angrily at her. "Remember this."

With that, he slams the door behind him. Oksana groans loudly, before the chirpy sound of her ringtone starts playing as her phone vibrates against the desk. She reaches over, and answers it.

"Oksana Tymoshenko speaking." She grunts, rubbing her eyes.

"Sana, where the hell are you?" Inna, her chief of staff and younger sister, demands. Oksana flinches. "Voting begins in 10 minutes! You should get your sorry ass down here!"

Oksana jumps out of her seat, and runs out of her office, apologizing profusely. She tucks Volo's pokeball into her suit jacket pocket as she dashes through the halls of the Rada, feeling stares on her. Finally, she makes it to the doors of the parliament halls, where Vira and her sister, a tall woman with long dark hair, are waiting. Inna's pale, doll like face visibly shows her annoyance with her older sister as Inna turns Vira's wheelchair to face her, and Oksana can see the boredom lacing the older woman's expression, her chin in the palm of her hand.

"Sorry," Oksana huffs, adjusting her suit jacket. "Some idiot interrogated me over the picture with Lieutenant Yuliya Bousaid."

"Oh?" Vira says, raising an eyebrow. "Interesting. Was he a reporter?"

"No, politician." Oksana sighs, rolling her into the hall. Said hall is accented with light wood, with wooden chairs with red fabric circling towards a large podium towards the end of the room. "Some dumbass from the 'Motherland Defence Party'. Told me not to trust anything she says because she fought a war." Vira snorts, rubbing her nose.

"By the way," Oksana says, running a hand through my hair. "I talked with Lieutenant Bousaid last night. Her parents tried to start a search for him a few months ago, but the military refused their request."

"So?" Vira snorts, looking up at Oksana with an expression of annoyance.

"Well, I wanted to help bring attention to her brother's cause. Like you did to mine. And I want the support of the party in doing it."

"Hm," Vira sighs, covering her mouth with her hand. "I'll consider it, but only if you can get Yuliya to work with you."

"Already done. But.. what should I do next?" Oksana asks, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head to the side.

Vira looks thoughtfully, before responding:

"Get her to recall the events of the mortar attack on a recording. We'll request the military files, see if something doesn't add up. Then, I'll decide from there."

"Alright," Oksana smiles, moving Vira to her seat. "Thanks."

"No problem," Vira smiles, crossing her arms. "I'm actually ecstatic that you're making friends, Sana."

Oksana rolls her eyes as she walks to her seat, across from the seat of her party leader. She sits down, slips on her ugly looking grey headphones, and waits for the bills to be read out in full, and voting to commence.

Voting takes up a good two hours, which mainly consists of arguments between parties over the use of Russian sanctions, or decrying the 'Europfication' of Ukraine. Another fight almost breaks out between MPs of the 'Ukraine Forward!' party and the Communist Party, but they are quickly subdued. Oksana tries her best to refuse to get into an argument by telling herself how angry Yuliya, Inna, and Vira will be, and it works for once. So, when the familiar dismissal announcement begins, she feels satisfied and proud of herself for staying above the influence of the allure of petty fighting.

After talking with Vira and Inna for a few minutes about the bills in the Rada, and getting her stuff from her office, she walks out of the building. Then, she promptly covers her eyes from the bright, blinding sun, before releasing Volo and putting him on a leash. Oksana scans the horizon, before she spots a familiar, tall figure standing with a bird on her hand, looking around aimlessly. She approaches Yuliya, waving to her excitedly before the other woman notices her.

Yuliya is dressed in a dark turtleneck and dark jeans, her dark hair pulled up into a ponytail. Her ribombee is floating around her head in circles, and Oksana can slightly hear what sounds to be happy noises. The rufflet is perched on Yuliya's gloved hand, his head turned to one side, looking curiously at Volo, who is behaving himself for once.

"Hey!" Yuliya smiles, adjusting her ponytail with her free hand. "How's it going?"

"Oh, it's been okay," Oksana sniffs, stretching her arms. "Pretty tiring day though, doing all that political shit. What have you been up to?"

"Nothing really," Yuliya shrugs as the two walk down the street. "I went to the mosque on Lukianivska street for a service... got breakfast at a local coffee place, but nothing much beyond that..."

"Any special reason you went?" Oksana asks, with a smile.

"Ramadan starts in a week..." Yuliya smiles back, and her rufflet chirps at her. "Plus... I haven't been there in… about a month?"

"Still," Yuliya sighs, the smile becoming more sad. "It's gonna be weird to do, now... It'll be my first Ramadan without my parents... or Amir… It'll be pretty lonely, fasting by myself..."

"Well, I could keep you company," Oksana suggests, placing a hand on Yuliya's shoulder. Yuliya's ribombee swirls around her head, looking over the politician curiously. "Though… I don't know much about Ramadan… I hope you can forgive me for that."

"It's no problem... I can teach you about it."

There's a moment of silence between the two, as the both walk further down the street. The two of them have to avoid another pokemon battle between a typhlosion and a rhydon, both destroying the surrounding storefronts and creating a major road block, judging by the loud continuous beeping from behind. In the distance, the two of them can hear sirens approaching. Oksana rubs the bridge of her nose in annoyance.

"So, I talked to my party leader." Oksana says suddenly, after they pass by that scene. Yuliya blinks in surprise, and turns to face the politician. Her rufflet squawks in response, pulling on Oksana's suitcase strap before his owner makes him stop.

"And?"

"She said that you have the party's full support," Oksana says, and she watches Yuliya grin from ear to ear. "But, I have to record you talking about the attack in Alchevsk."

Yuliya's smile falters somewhat, but she gathers her bearings after a second.

"I'll do it," Yuliya says, with a hint of confidence. "But… I can't do it in public… only at home."

"That's fine."

Oksana swears she feels someone's eyes staring pointedly at her, as they walk away.

She shakes it off as nerves.