PLEASE NOTE! THERE HAS BEEN AN UPDATE TO CHAPTER 23. I ADDED AN EXTRA SCENE IN THE BEGINNING OF THE CHAPTER. THE OLD CHAPTER NOW BEGINS AFTER THE FIRST PAGE BREAK. THE SCENE IS RELEVANT, BUT NOT CRUCIAL TO THIS NEWEST CHAPTER.
Now that that's out of the way...
HELLO! Listen y'all, I am so sorry that it's been so long since there was an update, especially since I left off on a cliffhanger. I have hit a stubborn writer's block with this story which is absolutely KILLING me. I am working on chapter 25 (it should be good btw), but unfortunately I have no fixed idea of when it's going to be up. I'll TRY to have it up by the 21 of February, but a lot depends on inspiration and (*sigh*) real life. I love you guys so much. Thanks for sticking with me and being patient as I try and wrangle the crazy ride that is this story. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. Cheers!
"What is that?" Henri's words shocked the other members of the party upright.
Elena turned towards her brother to scold him for startling her and then stopped dead when she saw the tattoo, feeling the blood drain from her face. She looked up at Gleb and saw him swallow heavily. There was a pregnant pause.
"It's…just something stupid that I did when I was younger."
Gleb's tone was unflustered considering the situation, but Elena who knew his more subtle mannerisms, noticed the underlying tension in his posture.
Henri was not mollified by Gleb calm tone of voice. He jumped up, his hands tightening into fists.
"You're a Bolshevik!"
Jean quietly stood up and moved behind his brother. Backup, Gleb thought, his mind racing as he sized up the situation. He noticed the stunned expressions of the other children and Mme. Dassin, though the older woman's expression quickly morphed into one of comprehension, as if she had suddenly fit all the pieces together.
"Hey, hey settle down." Gleb stood up and held out his hands in a placating gesture. "I never said I was a Bolshevik, I said that that tattoo was a stupid thing I did years ago."
"Well I'm saying that you are. Only a half-wit or a coward would get a Bolshevik tattoo if they weren't a Bolshevik."
"And who's to say that I am not a half-wit or a coward?"
Henri scoffed.
"You have been here for months and I've had ample proof that you are neither."
His eyes flicked to Elena.
"Elena, get away for him!" he hissed.
"Henri…"
"I said get away from him!"
Elena hesitated for a second then stepped a little ways away. She could feel her own fists clenching as she struggled to control the anger and fear inside of her. Anger at her brother's apparently seeing Gleb as a threat, fear for what this would lead to.
"This is ridiculous!"
"No, Elena, it's not." Gleb's voice was quiet and controlled, very different from his normal tone. He turned back to Henri.
"You are right, Henri. To most of those who know me I am Comrade Gleb Vaganov, Deputy Commissioner of Leningrad. But!" he held up a hand to stop the storm of words that Henri was about to loose and Elena noticed faintly that her brother listened to the gesture of unquestionable command. "But I am no longer an officer, Bolshevik or otherwise. In fact, I am a fugitive. I betrayed the Bolsheviks some months ago, although I don't believe they know it."
"So you say!" Henri cried stepping threateningly towards Gleb. "Everyone knows that Bolshevik dogs cannot be trusted!"
Elena flinched, remembering how she had been the one to utter those words not so long ago.
"I know it well." Gleb replied, still calm, but with anger beginning to build under the surface. He knew why the boy was reacting like this and he knew that he deserved it, but he couldn'thelp it.
"Listen, Henri, I know that you've been hurt by the Bolsheviks, that your family has been hurt. I was raised in a culture that taught me to think that atrocities like that were right…"
"Yes, and so do you or you wouldn't have their cursed symbols inked into your skin!"
"I do not believe the Bolshevik lies!" Gleb's voice was sharpening, "Not anymore!"
"Not anymore!" Henri mocked furiously, "Not anymore! And why do you suppose that I would believe you in the slightest? You could be the biggest lie of them all: a big, fat, innocent Russian man with a mysterious past, no friends, and Soviet symbols etched into his double-dealing hide!"
Gleb bristled, struggling to prevent his mounting temper from interfering with his thoughts. Now was not a time for rash words.
"Have I ever done anything, anything to you or any of your family that would suggest that I am a threat?"
"How would I know, comrade! You seem to have Elena at least wrapped around your little finger!"
"Henri Gervais Dorofei Dassin, how dare you!" Elena shouted, stepping in front of Gleb, fury sizzling along her entire frame. "How dare you! I've known about Gleb being a Bolshevik for over three months and in that time he has been nothing but an amazing friend who has saved our ungrateful necks on multiple occasions!"
"Elena…" Gleb began but then cut off abruptly when she spun to face him. He hadn't seen her this angry since the day she found his uniform.
"Elena, what!" she hissed, "Ferme-la et me permets parler! Mon stupide frère ne comprend rien!"
Gleb held up his hands in submission and she turned back to face her furious brother and stunned family.
"You have no idea what he's been through. He believed in the Bolshevik lies because that's what he was taught. You would have done the same in his place!"
"You are defending the people who killed our family? Who dragged our grandmother off and shot her just because she wouldn't agree with their tyrannical beliefs!?" Henri threw his hands up in the air.
"NO!" Elena's voice cracked, tears stinging in her eyes. "What they did was wrong, the Bolsheviks were, are wrong, and we all know that INCLUDING Gleb!"
"Oh, yes? How do you know that he wasn't lying to you, didn't just make up a sob story to play on your tender side? He knows as well as I do you could never resist fixing someone who looks broken."
"I know because I hurled the same tantrum in his face that you are trying to throw right now. He told me things that showed me just how sincere he was and…and circumstances that occurred later proved his claims."
"What sort of circumstances?"
There was a dreadful pause and Gleb's heart seemed to be beating twice its normal speed.
"I met some of the people that he talked about and…helped them out of a tight place."
"Are you serious? They were cronies no doubt. Quite the Bolshevik sympathizer you have become!"
Elena gasped, momentarily at a loss for words from sheer anger. Gleb cut in before she could collect herself.
"First, they were hardly cronies; one of them was a…an aristocrat under the Tsarist regime and hates the Bolsheviks as much as you do. Second, I had dealt with them both in my capacity as an officer in the past. They don't have much reason to defend me to anyone."
"What can I say that will make you listen to me!" Henri ran his hands through his hair distractedly. "Elena, this is not right. Why did you never tell us that he was a Bolshevik and how can you trust him so much?"
"I just told you why I trust him and I never told anyone because of this!" she gestured fiercely at the standoff between them. "And because if the Bolsheviks discover who he is and what he did they would come and kill him. Now don't you even try to send him away. If you do I… I'll leave too and find somewhere where a person can be allowed a second chance at a life without his every motive questioned by someone as ignorant of his life as you!"
"Enough!"
Everyone turned to see Mme. Dassin. She was standing, her mouth pulled into a dangerously thin line. She walked forward until she was standing between the two angry groups.
"But Mama, he's..!" Henri stated, but she cut him off a curt hand gesture.
"I said enough. Let me speak"
She turned to her trembling eldest daughter with equal firmness. "That goes for you too, Elena."
Elena crossed her arms tightly and scowled writhingly at the ground. Mme. Dassin turned to Gleb who shifted his weight uncomfortably.
"Gleb, I now understand what you were saying that night when we talked, how you'd done things that you were not proud of and how you did not think I would let you stay if I knew."
He nodded wordlessly, shame and resigned hopelessness twisting his insides into a knot.
"I must say, I did not realize just how serious the situation was. As you know, we have no love for Bolsheviks. They killed my entire family in ways that I shall not speak of right now. With that said, you say that you are no longer a Bolshevik. Do you really mean that, or are you just saying what we want to hear?"
Gleb forced himself to look her straight in the eyes.
"I do," he said. "I do mean it. Elena convinced me, though it took some time for me to admit it to myself. She showed me just where they are wrong. Rash, childish, and idealistic were some of the words she used, I believe. I now see how right she was."
The older woman held his gaze for several moments before nodding, her face softening slightly.
"Very well." She turned to her daughter, "Elena, I understand the reasons why you kept Gleb's past affiliation with the Bolsheviks a secret, but something as serious as that should have been told to me even if you did not tell the others. In the future I expect you to do so, is that clear?"
Elena nodded, her chin quivering as the adrenaline began to settle in her system, "Yes, Mama."
Mme. Dassin turned again until she was facing Henri. He was glowering fiercely, clearly unhappy that his mother seemed to be taking so lenient a stance concerning Gleb.
"Henri," she said firmly, "I understand why you are so skeptical, you feel like you are responsible for us now that your…your father is not here to do so. In this, however, I need you to trust me and abide by my decision. I am you mother after all." These last words were accompanied by a slight smile before her face turned serious again. "In light of this, I expect you to behave civilly both to your sister and to Gleb, is that clear? This goes for the rest of you as well."
The younger Dassin's nodded wordlessly, their eyes round. Henri hesitated before nodding as well, though still reluctantly. Mme. Dassin turned to where Gleb and Elena stood; the former pale, but apparently composed, the latter still visibly upset.
"I expect no unpleasantness on this subject from you either, am I understood.
"Yes, ma'am," Gleb replied gravely.
Elena merely nodded, her lips tight.
There was a pause, in which the tension in the little clearing began to dissipate a little. Mme. Dassin gave a sigh and straightened her shoulders.
"Alright then, now that that is cleared up, let's get back to the house."
French translation:
Ferme-la et me permets parler! Mon stupide frère ne comprend rien! - Shut up and let me talk! My stupid brother doesn't understand anything!