A/N - Sorry about the delay! Like I said before, I'm pretty short on time and inspiration right now, but let's see what happens, shall we? Enjoy!

Even in his state of emotional turmoil, Gleb quickly realized that leaving now, was neither practical nor feasible. To begin with, the only way he could get around was by hopping. He didn't know where he could find crutches and hopping down the street would attract far too much attention for someone who needed to remain inconspicuous. Secondly, he had not the faintest idea of where to go. This unfortunate reality only served to bring back the panic of uncertainty and fear that he had felt when he was first leaving Paris. He knew that panicking was the worst possible thing he could do. He needed to think and he needed to think clearly. Gleb leaned heavily on the desk and focused on breathing, trying to regain some sense of control; then he sat down in the desk chair and forced himself to consider the situation as calmly as he could.

Would Elena report him to the authorities? He considered the question for several minutes. The Elena that had confronted him was a vastly different girl from the sweet, gentle girl that he had thought he knew. In the end, however, he decided that she probably wouldn't. It didn't seem that she had told anybody else about his connection with the Bolsheviks. If she had, he mused bitterly, then at least six people would probably have come storming into his room and tossed him out the window. No, if Elena wasn't going to tell her family about him then it wasn't likely that she would notify the police.

So how was he to get away? He could always just pack up, say that he was leaving, and walk out, but from the impression he had gotten of Mme. Dassin, that wouldn't work. He would never be allowed to leave on account of his foot and they would probably send for the doctor again. Trying to sneak out was utterly impossible, at least during the daytime. Perhaps he could slip down and away after closing? Or he could always climb down the wall again if worst came to worst. Gleb sighed and dropped his head into his hands. Sitting there, staring at the desk, he suddenly remembered the map that he had in his bag. Lifting his head, he pulled it closer, opening the outside pocket. Reaching inside, Gleb took out the map and spread it on the table. Where would he go now? It's Paris all over again, he thought bitterly.

-xxxx-

Elena hadn't stopped running until she reached her room. Then she had proceeded to throw herself on her bed and cry out all the remaining anger and fear and hurt of ten years that she had not already thrown into Gleb's face. And then she cried some more. In the empty stillness and clarity that followed, Elena's white hot anger dimmed a little. She was still smarting from Gleb's heartless words, but the more she thought about what had happened, the more she began to regret some of her own. Blinded by hurt and anger, she had let her tongue run away with her.

Elena was a naturally reserved and compassionate person. She had always tried to keep her troubles to herself, to not bother anyone else with them and to bear it all in silence. She realized that this constant stowing away of hurt was at the root of her outburst. If only she had been able to tell someone, been able to talk about what had happened and how deeply it had scarred her. As it was, not even her mother knew that she had left the house that night in Yekaterinburg. Elena flinched a little just thinking about it.

And poor Gleb. Even though she was still hurt and angry at his words, she realized that he was probably coming from a similar position. Much of his life had been lived in hunger and cold because of the tsar's regime. It was resentment and longstanding injury that had driven him to say such things. Elena firmly squashed all other possibilities out of her head. If she could feel crushed by the hurts of the past, why couldn't he?

The longer Elena thought, the drowsier she became. At last she fell asleep, worn out with spent anger and emotion.

-xxxx-

Gleb stood casually in front of the desk, his left leg straight and the other kneeling on the desk chair to take the weight off his bad foot. It felt good to stand after so long. He was not in a mood to be contradicted by something as trivial as the doctor's orders. Blast the man! All he had done for weeks was to tell Gleb to remain quiet, to wait, to be patient. Gleb was quite finished with all three. He would not sit quietly and wait and he would not be patient.

He glanced at the clock: nearly quarter after seven. He was eating the remnants of a scone from that morning and tracing the railway route that he had devised to get him out of the immediate area. Since her emphatic exit, there had been no sign of Elena and Gleb had decided that she simply meant to ignore him until he went away. Well, he would be happy to oblige. If only there was a way to get around besides looking like a one-legged bunny rabbit.

A sudden thought came to him and he cast around until he found his shoes. Maybe, if he tied it tightly, the shoe would provide enough support for him to limp around. It was a good idea in theory, but inserting his bandaged foot was quite another matter.

Gleb sat down and loosened the laces, stretching the tongue as far as possible, then attempted to slip his foot inside. He cursed though his clenched teeth at the pain it caused him, but he did succeed to get his foot inside. He only managed to keep it in the shoe for a few seconds, however. The pressure caused by the over-sized bandage in the narrow shoe became unbearable and he pulled his foot out again with a hiss of pain. He resisted the urge to throw the offending shoe across the room and instead pulled himself erect. He'd just have to go without.

Gleb carefully set his foot on the ground only to snatch it back a moment later with an oath. In the back of his mind, he could hear Elena's contemptuous voice: You curse like a sailor! Angrily, he swatted the thought away. What if his language left something to be desired? It didn't matter. He supposed it was something of a habit, born out of years of working for the military. Elena's disapproval wasn't going to change that and quite frankly, he didn't care what she thought, or so he told himself. Deep down Gleb knew that he did care, and the realization didn't help to bolster his mood. Leaning on the desk, he stared down dejectedly at the map.

The sound of a knock on the door made him jump. Before he could reply, it was pushed open revealing a rather rumpled looking Elena holding a tray. Her face, which plainly betrayed her inner discomfort, was quickly changed when she saw that he was standing upright.

"Gleb! Your foot! You shouldn't be standing!" she cried, setting the tray down on the bedside stand and starting towards him. His next words stopped her dead in her tracks.

"You concern in unnecessary," Gleb said coldly. "I don't see why the well-being of a Bolshevik dog should be of the least concern to you."

Elena rung her hands in her apron.

"Oh what can I say?" she said softly, tears starting in her eyes. "I-I…"

Gleb cut her off.

"I don't expect you to say anything." His tone was dismissive as though he was talking to a child and he looked down again, pretending to study the map.

There was an awkward pause.

"I want to apologize, Gleb," Elena said at last in a small voice.

"That isn't necessary," he replied, not looking up.

"Yes it is," she said more firmly, stepping closer to him.

Gleb looked up from his map and saw the resolute expression on her face.

"And why would that be the case?" he asked.

Elena lifted her chin slightly.

"It is the case because I have been taught to right my wrongs," she said. "I have been thinking about what passed between us and realized that some of the things that I said were uncalled-for and unfair. I had no right to say them. I especially regret my last remarks concerning certain people and your future… safety. I am not forcing you to forgive me, but I do wish to heal the injuries I have caused to the best of my ability."

There was a little quiver in her voice as she said the last words, but her expression remained firm.

Gleb kept his appearance cold. He merely nodded disinterestedly and returned to studying the map. Elena watched him, twisting her apron in a fever of uncertainty.

"There is a reason why the sight of the uniform caused me to act so…unacceptably," she managed at last.

The only reply that she got was a brief grunt. Clasping her hands together tightly, she forced herself on.

"I-I was there that night in Yekaterinburg."

Gleb whipped around to face her.

"You where there?" he gasped in disbelief.

Elena nodded, her face growing pale at the memory.

"Yes, I was a young child at the time, barely nine. My grandmother lived in Yekaterinburg and my mother and I was visiting her because she had fallen ill. My other siblings were staying with a relative here in France, but I begged Mama until she allowed me to come. We stayed at Aunt Olya's house which was a short walk from Grandmama's. The night that… it happened, I was alone in bed," Elena shivered and hugged herself with her arms. "Mama and Aunt Olya were staying with Grandmama. The gunshots woke me up. Utterly terrified and alone, I ran out of the house in the direction I had seen Mama go. It was freezing cold out and I was shivering in a matter of seconds. I also had no clear idea of how to get to my grandmother's house. In the end I wound out outside the palace."

Elena paused, trying to compose herself, but then continued, her voice trembling.

"When the soldiers opened the door, I saw the light and thought that I was safe. I ran forward but thankfully, I saw... I saw what they were carrying and hid before they noticed me. Cold, frightened, lost, and horrified at what I had just seen, I huddled behind a bush and cried. The soldiers talked for a long time and then it all went quite. Foolishly, I thought that they had gone away and let myself cry a little louder than I should have. Before I knew what had happened, I was being grabbed by a soldier. I was terrified and screamed but he ordered me to stop and asked my name. I told it to him and said that I didn't come from the area. He seemed sad and told me to go home. I managed to find my way back to the house and hid in bed. I never told my mother what had happened because I didn't want to worry her, but I will never forget that soldier's face. He was white as a sheet and his eyes were dark, the way a hunted animal looks. He…"

Elena suddenly gave a gasp and looked Gleb full in the face, her eyes wide. She covered her mouth with her hand, taking an unconscious half-step backwards.

"Gleb," she whispered, "he looked exactly like you."

Gleb stood for a moment, shock at what he had just heard flooding his mind. Suddenly, like a clap of thunder, the last bit made sense.

Father," he murmured. "He must have been the one to send you home. When I saw his face the next day…" Gleb shook his head, frowning. "He never was the same after that night…"

"You were in Yekaterinburg?" Elena gasped.

"Elena, I lived in Yekaterinburg," he replied, still too astonished to think straight.

"And your father was one of the soldiers who…who …"

"Yes," Gleb answered shortly, "But what happened that night clung to him for the rest of his life. He always looked like there was a weight on him. When he was on leave, he would go out for long solitary walks, sometimes even at night. He got sick after one of those and never recovered. When I asked him what was wrong, he just would shake his head and tell me not to bother him."

Elena shook her head, still incredulous.

"How old were you?" she asked.

Gleb thought for a moment.

"I was about twelve, I think," he replied. "Our house was near to the palace and what I heard that night…changed me. I have never been the same. I was no longer the boy who played ball and booed the old lady down the street. I…wasn't a boy anymore."

"So I'm not alone," Elena said quietly. "To this day, you are the only person who knows what happened to me that night. I would ask that you don't tell anyone. Please." Her face looked suddenly anxious.

Gleb nodded seriously.

"You have my word," he said.

Silence stretched between them for several moments, each standing wrapped in their own thoughts. Elena was the first to speak.

"So I hope you can forgive me, Gleb. What I said this morning was mainly just the old fears and horrors which I had kept hidden for so long. I vented it all on you. You didn't hurt my family. You have been nothing but a wonderful friend to us and I would like you to stay that way."

Gleb sat down on the edge of the desk. He met her eyes and gave a crooked half smile.

"With all my heart," he said. "I did much the same thing to you, Elena. I vented my years of troubles on you and I am frankly disgusted with myself. I lost control and it's I that apologize."

Elena smiled, relief brightening her face like the sun coming from behind a cloud.

"I forgive you a thousand times over!" she exclaimed.

Without a second thought, she sprang forward and hugged him, nearly knocking him flat. She stepped back after a moment and then flushed when she realized what she had just done.

"Sorry," she mumbled, but Gleb laughed.

"Enough apologies for one day," he said.

Elena suddenly clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, your dinner!" she wailed in mock despair. "It'll be cold again!"

Gleb grinned, glad to see that something of the old Elena had returned.

"I suppose that makes your apology void," he growled.

"Well I suppose that means you don't have to eat it," she countered, making as if to carry off the tray.

"And leave me here to starve?" he whimpered and they laughed together.

Elena brought the tray over to the desk.

"You can eat here for tonight," she said.

Gleb sank down gratefully into the desk chair and set to with gusto. Elena, at Gleb's suggestion, sat on the floor near the desk with a few bed pillows to make her seat more comfortable. She laughed at her unconventional position and promised to find an extra chair sometime soon. Only when she realized that it was nearly nine did Elena leave and only then after assuring that Gleb was safely in his bed.

"Good night!" she called, closing the door. She hurried towards the stairs, still laughing quietly at a joke he had made just before she left.

"Have a good evening with your boyfriend, Elena?" a teasing voice suddenly whispered from behind her, causing her to whip around.

"Gleb n'est pas mon petit ami, tu mauvaise chat!" she cried under her breath. Blushing furiously, she set off after her giggling younger sister, managing to land a good smack on Marianne's fleeing backside before the younger sister could escape to the relative safety of her bed.

French Translation: Gleb n'est pas mon petit ami, tu mauvaise chat! – Gleb is not my boyfriend, you bad kitty!