#this hits even harder considering katya really dies in her story...

[ofgunsxroses-a]

WHAT TYPE OF TRAPPED IN THE NARRATIVE ARE YOU?

Heroic

this was going to be your destiny, it’s what you’ve been raised from day one to do. it’s what the story is about. you save the day, you die trying, what matters is the middle. the ending comes last. but it didn’t, there was no ending. you’ve been at this for years, circling around the same events like a coronet on the head of a king. there’s no end in sight, you must choose to try and break free, or to make peace with fate.

tagged by: @tsarnvoiny tagging: @theshxdxw @silently-judgingyou @agentpeggycarterrogers

[missjanjie]

Branjie Fic - Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer (2/?)

Title: Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer Summary: Brooke Lynn is a graduate student anxiously embracing her new position as her favorite dance professors’ new TA. Vanessa is a sophomore dance major who just might make her way into being more than the teacher(assistant)’s pet. (lesbian/university AU) Word Count: ~2.4k (this chapter)/~5k (total) Relationship: Branjie (Vanessa ‘Vanjie’ Mateo/Brooke Lynn Hytes) Rating: T Note(s): rating is subject to change, this is based on the story so far

Read on AO3 | Ch. 1 

While it is called the ‘fall semester’, classes always start during the summer, often at the end of August. This gave way for heatwaves hitting in the middle of the week, especially in densely-packed places like New York City. No one talks about this time of year in the city that never sleeps – it is devoid of the awe and whimsy that so often surrounded it in media. Artists don’t wax poetic about days like this, where the air is thick and hazy and smells of sweat and melting garbage. Where, despite it being the lunch rush, the streets were scare, and everyone is hiding in the comfort of air conditioning or high-powered fans.

Cut to the graduate student residence hall – more specifically, Brooke’s apartment. There, she and Nina sat on the floor in sports bras and shorts, drinking glass after glass of ice water and being eternally grateful that the a/c had been fixed just before the start of the semester. Nina looked on as Brooke stared catatonically at the ceiling and nudged her leg with her foot to get her attention. “I don’t think I’ve ever had to say this to anyone but myself, but I think you’re being overdramatic,” she told her.

“I’m not!” Brooke sighed in exasperation. “It’s only day two of the school year and I’ve already kissed a student. I couldn’t manage a full twenty-four hours on campus without jeopardizing everything,” she groaned, now laying on the floor. “It wasn’t even a cute cheek kiss, I almost slipped her tongue, Nina!”

Nina didn’t mean to laugh, trying to cover her mouth when she snorted. “What exactly do you think is going to happen? That she’s gonna tell Katya? That Katya’s gonna fire you?” she didn’t let her answer before she continued, “I don’t think you’re actually afraid of getting in trouble. I think you’re afraid of catching feelings for this girl.”

“Thanks for the insight, Dr. Phil,” Brooke huffed and pushed herself back into a sitting position. “Look, just because she’s beautiful, funny, and kissing her made me feel like glitter was exploding inside of me, doesn’t mean I’m about to fall for her.”

Nina stared at her blankly, hardly able to believe the level of denial she was stuck in. “Do you hear yourself? Because you sound ridiculous.” She swung her legs over to the side so she could shift and look at her. “You know it isn’t the end of the world to have a crush on someone, right? It’s a thing that happens to most of us humans every now and then.”

Brooke groaned and buried her head in her hands. “But why did it have to hit me now?” she couldn’t help but wonder, if it was in another time and place, would she be this stressed over the encounter? She supposed it was possible that she would try to find another excuse, or maybe she’d be in Vanessa’s bed instead.

“Because sometimes life is an asshole that takes its joy in screwing with you, and you just have to tough it out. That’s how I got into comedy,” doing improv and stand-up had become Nina’s way of coping, and Brooke’s way of coping was…not.

And she couldn’t counter her point either, leaving her pouting and looking at the floor. “So, what am I supposed to do in class tomorrow?”

Nina shrugged. “Just try not to make a big deal of things, it’ll just be business as usual. I’m sure she’s just as nervous and confused as you are.”

“She wants me,” Vanessa said to her friends. They were all sat in the dining hall during lunch, the group having just listened with interest as she recounted the events of the day before.

“You sound real confident about someone that deadass ran away from you,” A’keria retorted, pointing her fork at her as she spoke.

Vanessa shook her head, swallowing the food in her mouth before speaking. “Nah it wasn’t a ‘running away’ moment. She just got cold feet, I ain’t taking it personally,” she sat upright with a smug grin, proving a sincerity in her belief.

“So, what are you gonna do next? Like in class?” she furrowed her brows.

That was when she realized she hadn’t actually planned ahead, which was never her strength in the first place. While it was often a hindrance academically, she usually enjoyed the spontaneity that came with potential budding romances. But with Brooke? She might have to take another approach. “Gotta play the long game, babe.”

“The long game?” Blair chimed in. While she had a girlfriend, she was endlessly interested in her and A’keria’s dating lives – especially comparing and contrasting the two. They were both extroverts that thrived at a good party or club and were openly flirtatious with whoever caught their eye. The difference, perhaps, was the number of girls that caught their respective eyes – A’keria didn’t like leaving any outing empty-handed, while Vanessa had the tendency to pick and choose, even when drunk beyond belief.

Vanessa clicked her tongue and smirked. “She ain’t just gonna get with me overnight – you gotta finesse that shit when you’re aiming for, you know, a lady of Brooke Lynn’s caliber.”

“As opposed to us hoes?” A’keria arched her brow.

“Exactly, bitch!” Vanessa laughed.

“I think it’s sweet,” Blair hummed. “You’re changing your major to Brooke!” she said to a pair of blank stares. “Fun Home? Seriously? God, I waste my best musical theatre material on you guys,” she huffed.

Even though Vanessa didn’t understand the joke, she understood what Blair was getting at. Out of curiosity, she looked up the song she’d referenced, listening to it on her walk to class. “Oh, I get it now. That was clever,” she said to herself before she sat down in the lecture hall.

The class was about half full when she arrived, students filing in for the next five minutes or so. At one point, a girl took the seat next to her. She sat poised and upright – Vanessa wondered if she was a dancer too. “Nice bling you got there,” she told her, gesturing to the large earrings that stood out against her shaved head.

“Thanks,” she replied, casually looking her over. “I’m Yvie.”

“Vanjie.”

She quirked her brow. “Is that your given name?”

“No, it’s Vanessa. But that’s what I go by,” she replied, rifling through her bag and humming quietly to herself as she took what she needed out.

Yvie nodded in understanding, looking forward and scribbling aimlessly along the margins of her notebook paper. “So, what’s your major?”

“Brooke.”

“What?”

Vanessa’s eyes widened and she shrunk down, momentarily considering walking right out of the class and calling it a day. “Dance! I-I meant to say dance,” she sputtered out. Oh, she was going to get Blair later. It was her damn fault bringing up that musical.

“I’m not even gonna ask, girl,” Yvie shook her head. It was more out of sympathy, seeing how embarrassed she was, than an actual lack of interest. Frankly, she was much more tempted to press for more information, but then the professor called attention to the front of the class, and the various conversations died down, much to Vanessa’s relief.

Wednesday morning, on its own, seemed to promise a better day. The heatwave had passed, and the city was bustling with its usual energy. Even in the dance studio, Katya was the first one to arrive, which gave Brooke – who came in next – one less thing to worry about. She decided not to tell her about the kiss, lest she be subjected to an ‘I told you so’, making her hope all the more that the class would go by without incident.

Brooke scanned the room as each student entered, trying to make it seem like she was paying every one of them the same amount of attention. But then Vanessa walked in and suddenly no one else existed. This time she had on shorts and a tank top, and her hair was tied into a neat bun, and Brooke was able to study her for a good couple moments before their eyes met.

“Morning, Brooke,” Vanessa still seemed happy to see her, but her tone was calmer, more controlled. It was the same tone she had when she comforted her in Starbucks, and it brought on the same sense of ease it had then.

It baffled her, when she thought about it. Brooke’s emotions were so easily swayed – Vanessa could get her riled up and calmed down within the same conversation. That sort of thing might bother others, but it had something of an addictive quality to it. She wanted to get to know her more, to get another hit of her energy. “Good to see you, Vanjie,” she replied. And she meant it, truly.

After Brooke took attendance, Katya stood at the front of the class to begin the lecture. “Today we’re going to work on having to work with a partner. I know you guys touched on some dances last year, so we’re going to build off of that. I’m just going to go down the line and pair everyone up,” she paired up everyone as she walked across the studio, until she got down to the last three girls. “Looks like we’ve got an odd number today.”

One girl shrugged. “It’s fine, we can work in a gr—”

“No, no that just work,” she looked at the three girls, making it seem like she was really thinking about it. “You two pair up. Vanjie, you can work with Brooke,” she announced, actively refusing to acknowledge the way Brooke was staring her down.

The devil works hard, but Katya works harder, Brooke thought as she got up and went to sit by her new dance partner. She tuned out while Katya explained what dance steps they’d be doing – she had gone through all of this before and knew it by heart – especially considering how many times she had gone over the lesson plans. Instead, she took that time to remind herself to stay calm, that the only reaction she should have is no reaction at all.

“You ever tango before?” Brooke asked as she, Vanessa, and everyone else got to their feet.

“You heard her, we did this last year,” Vanessa shrugged as a simple tango tune filled the room from the speaker Katya hooked up to her laptop.

And each set of partners assumed the starting position – one hand on the other’s shoulder and the others clasped together out to the side. Some students were counting the steps out loud, while others were doing turns and back cortes.

Unsurprisingly, Vanessa was on the more advanced end of the spectrum, demonstrated both by her skill and her desire to take control. “Why can’t you let me lead?” she huffed.

“Grow six inches and we’ll talk,” Brooke retorted, dipping her in time with the music, earning her a scowl from the shorter girl, but she only found it as cute as her smile. Almost as if to further flaunt her size advantage, she moved her arm around Vanessa’s waist, lifting her up for a twirl.

But Vanessa was quick on her feet. She landed and wrapped a leg around her waist, and Brooke put a hand on her thigh and pulled her close. Another dip, and back up. As the music died down, they came to a stop, breathing heavily, close enough for their breath to hit each other’s faces.

“Now that’s a tango, ladies!” Katya had apparently been going from pair to pair, coaching and critiquing, not that this pair would’ve noticed. “I call it The Tango: Branjie!” she said with jazz hands for flourish. “Get it? Because, you know, you—and she—" she looked around at the stone-faced class. “Damn, tough crowd. Class dismissed,” she shrugged and walked to turn off her laptop.

“For the record,” Brooke said as she set Vanessa down and took a few cautious steps back, “as the student, I think you should get the credit. It’s called The Tango: Vanjie now,” she turned to gather her things, but Vanessa didn’t budge.

“I like the ring that has to it, but I ain’t leaving til we talk about that kiss,” she stood firmly, hands on her hips and head held high, only to cock a bit to the side as her pursed lips twitched to a smirk. “Or til I get another one.”

So that was how it was going to be. Brooke was impressed by Vanessa’s boldness, and perhaps a bit aroused. She gently placed her fingers under her chin, tilting her head up and pressing a kiss to her lips. “Goodbye, Vanjie,” she whispered sweetly, tapping her cheek lightly before sending her on her way. It was when she stood back up and turned to pick her bag up that she let out a frustrated groan. “Fuck, you’re still here.”

Katya was bouncing on the balls of her feet with a cheshire grin. “This is the best moment of my fucking career, bitch,” she ran over to Brooke and grabbed her hands, jumping up and down. “You guys are gonna have such crazy sex!”

Brooke’s eyes widened and she clapped her hand over Katya’s mouth. “Not if you keep running your fucking mouth!” she hissed in a stage whisper. She waited a beat, then let her hand drop to the side. “I swear, if you breathe a word—”

“Would you turn the paranoia down for like, five minutes to realize no one’s out to get you for whatever happens between you and Vanjie?” Katya gripped on to Brooke’s shoulders. “I think you need to go home, have a drink and a smoke, and go rub one out. You’ve got plenty of new material, now,” she bumped her elbow into her side.

Brooke exhaled and shook her head. “I’m gonna kill you,” she muttered before stepping out of the studio. She had only taken a couple steps towards the exit when she paused and turned around. Of course.

“So,” Vanessa pushed herself off the wall and took a half-step towards Brooke. “You off to follow Professor Katya’s advice?” she asked with the same type of grin the aforementioned woman had.

“No,” Brooke scoffed and tossed her hair off her shoulder. She waited until she saw something of a disappointed look on her face before adding “I’ve been trying to quit smoking,” she bit her lip and winked before turning on her heel and walking out of the building.

Vanessa was left stunned, but well-affected, nonetheless. “Just keep playing the long game, Vanjie. She’ll come around.”

[fancyfanfiction]

Soon It Will Be Spring (Chapter 1)

cross posted to AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242599/chapters/37972112

Summary: Spring has finally come to Russia, only just barely, as Deputy Commissioner Gleb Vaganov returns home. He files his reports on Paris and addresses the people. “There never was an Anastasia. She was a dream.” A lie that would keep them both safe. “The New Order has no need for fairytales. The case is closed.” The events of Paris flicker in his mind as the cool air gives way to the warmth of the conference room. It is free of people save Commissioner Gorlinsky. "Deputy Commissioner Vaganov," the older man addresses him, "we know."

Chapter 1

Deputy Commissioner Gleb Vaganov stepped back from the balcony on which he had addressed the crowd in Leningrad. A late-season snow had just begun to fall dusting his head and shoulders, standing out against the black of his hair and green of his uniform. His own words still rang in his ears as he entered the office behind him.

“There never was an Anastasia. She was a dream.” A lie that would keep them both safe. “The New Order has no need for fairytales. The case is closed.” The events of Paris flickered in his mind as the cool, early spring air gave way to the warmth of the conference room. oo

    It was free of people save Commissioner Gorlinsky. The older man stood on the other side of the table that sat in the center of the room, his shoulders square and face grim. Granted, his face was often grim, even when he was in a good mood.

    “Deputy Commissioner Vaganov, a word.”

Gleb closed the doors behind him, drawing the curtains as befit Gorlinsky’s tone. He turned to face his superior

“Is something wrong?”

The air became heavy as Gorlinsky sat. Gleb followed suit.

            “We know.”

The breath rushed from Gleb’s lungs. They couldn’t have figured it out already. He’d only been back in Russia three days.

“I’m sorry, comrade. I don’t quite—“

Gorlinsky cut the younger man off. “Gleb. I’m giving you some advance notice because I’ve come to see you as a friend, but it’s about the girl.” Gleb’s protest died on his lips. “Our informants in Paris relayed to us that she has been seen walking brazenly in the city with those conmen, whom you also failed to take care of.”

Gleb nearly flinched. The last part had been implied in his orders, but Anya—Anastasia—had taken precedence over two run-of-the-mill conmen. Gorlinsky sighed as the weight of Gleb’s fate became evident.

“You will stand trial for treason—“

“Treason?!”

“Three weeks from tomorrow.” The pause said all Gleb needed to know. “I suggest you get your affairs in order, Deputy Commissioner, or should I say Citizen Vaganov. Someone will be by tomorrow to take you to a holding cell to await your trial.”

A shade of what Gleb could only surmise as disappointment fell over Gorlinsky’s eyes. Disappointment that this protégé had failed when success was so imperative to the new order. Disappointment that the young man he had taken under his wing was now his enemy by the standard of the state.

“I understand” Gleb’s pistol rested  heavy in its holster. He had options. He could stand trial, be declared guilty as he was, and further defile his father’s legacy. Or he could end things that evening; find a nice place along the Neva and not worry about any trial or public shame brought on his family name.

“That’ll be all, Gleb. I suggest you go home. Get some rest.” Gleb nodded, saluted, and brushed past his now former mentor.

Beggars, lantern lighters, and street sweepers alike had all fled the Nevsky Prospekt to escape the cold that had settled in with the muted pink of the overcast sunset. The walk back to his apartment was blessedly uneventful.

Gleb’s building was new, close to work, and populated with his fellow officials. The apartments they were allotted were a little smaller than cozy, but serviceable nonetheless with private kitchens, a bath, and a bedroom each. Gleb didn’t need much more. The third story was a little further of a walk than he would’ve preferred, but the exercise wasn’t too awful. 

The cleaning girl, Yekaterina Sergeyevna—Something-or-other…(her family name hadn’t seemed to come up), whispered past the door as Gleb entered his apartment. Gleb only remembered meeting her once or twice as their schedules never happened to intersect, but she seemed decent enough, quiet but respectful. She was small with swarthy skin, dark brown hair braided up in some style to keep it out of the way, and blue eyes. She jumped hearing his boots against the wood floor. The wooden pail she had been carrying dropped to the floor, water sloshing over the sides.

“Easy there, comrade. It’s just me.”

“You’re home early, Deputy Commissioner,” she said, hand still pressed to her heart as if willing it to stay in her chest. She ran quickly to grab rags to sop up the mess.

“Ah, yes.” The sting of his former rank hit Gleb harder than he had anticipated. He knelt to help clean the spill as she returned.  “Yekaterina Sergeyevna, go ahead and leave early today. I have some business to attend to and I’d rather not be disturbed.” Gleb offered her a wan smile and headed to the small desk in the corner of the main room once the spill was mostly taken care of.

“Are you sure? I only have about fifteen minutes left before I normally leave, anyway.” She crossed to the sink and dumped the remaining water from the pale then placed the now empty bucket and rag back into the small closet in the kitchen.

“I’m sure everything’s in order. Please, feel free to go.” Gleb needed time alone. Time to think. And he couldn't think with the cleaning girl walking around the apartment, making only enough sound that he knew she was about.

“Katya!” A voice floated through the window that had been opened to air the apartment. Yekaterina—Katya—turned her attention to the voice.  

“That’ll be Masha. She and I walk home together.” She looked back at Gleb, something almost like concern in her eyes. “Servants talk, you know.” Pity, not concern.

Gleb looked at her, brow furrowed. “Meaning?”

“I know you’re not going to be here much longer.” Whether she meant in his apartment or alive, Gleb didn’t know. Perhaps both.

“I can help get you out of here.” Her volume had dropped though they were the only two in the room.

“KATYA!” Masha became more insistent.

“I’ll just be a minute, Masha,” Katya called, then turned back to Gleb.

“I’m no coward.” Indignation rose in Gleb’s chest. Running from the issue would help no one. If nothing else, today had shown he wouldn’t be safe anywhere.  Spies, Cheka, and people looking to make a quick ruble could ensure that.

“So you’ll just stay here and die?” Disgust dripped from the question.

“For my country? Yes.” Gleb held his ground. He hadn’t expected such a fight out of the cleaning girl who on the odd chance he came home early managed to make herself as scarce as possible.

“You really think Gorlinsky and his like are the best thing for Russia?”

He paused. Before Paris, Gleb would’ve said yes with unshakable certainty, but after Paris…after today, he wasn’t so sure. The people were no longer under the thumb of the monarchy, but were they now under the thumb of something bigger?

“I can only hope they are.” He glanced down, defeated.

“Look, Masha and I hadn’t planned on leaving tonight, but we can make it work.” The fire that had seemed to blaze within her slight frame cooled some.

“You were going to leave?” Three day ago, Gleb would have balked at the notion of any law-abiding citizen leaving Russia. She eyed him, still not fully trusting the man before her weighing how much to tell him.

“In a week or two yes, but obviously that’s not going to work.”

“Why are you doing this?” Leningrad was full of spies, he’d be less than surprised if she were one.

“Katya!” Masha’s tone warbled with worry.

“Two women travelling across Europe alone isn’t exactly safe. You could offer some protection. Look, if you want to leave, pack a bag and I’ll be back at 2. I’ll knock once, then three times, then once again.” She nodded her goodbye. “Deputy Commissioner.”

“Yekaterina Sergeyevna.” He returned the gesture. She hurried out into the night as Gleb considered the offer. He watched the figure in the street. Another appearing a minute or so later still pulling on her coat as she rushed to meet the other.

  ***

  “What took you so long?” Masha’s already ruddy cheeks were made more so by the cold, reddish-blonde hair covered by a hat. Her arms were crossed only in part to ward against the weather, her toe tapping in no particular beat. The snow had thankfully stopped.

“I’m sorry…” Katya glanced down like a child who’d been caught in the cookie jar. Masha examined her friend. Katya seldom apologized, and even more seldom did so for running late.

“Oh no. Don’t tell me—“

“They’re going to kill him, Masha!” Katya cut her friend off.

“So much the better! One less of them to worry about.” The taller woman’s tone had dropped to a hiss as she glanced around for eavesdroppers. The pair began their walk home.

“Fewer.” Katya corrected. Masha rolled her eyes in response.  The brunette ignored her friend’s annoyance. “And I know you’re not exactly keen on someone joining us—“

“That’s an understatement! And a Bolshevik officer isn’t just “someone”. Remember what happened to your family? To your father?” Masha’s brown eyes appeared black in spite of the streetlamps. Katya’s breath caught in her chest at the mention of her father.

“I don’t need reminding.” Her tone matched the temperature of the night. “But, you said yourself, you heard Gorlinsky say that Vaganov failed to kill someone. Obviously he can’t be that bad. He’s always been polite enough to me. And you know he’s looked the other way more than once when Galina had to pick up some extra work to make ends meet.”

“Polite and kind aren’t the same thing. Neither are kind and good, for that matter. And refusing to kill one street sweeper doesn’t make him a good person.”

“But he’s still a person. Besides, you know two young women travelling alone isn’t the ideal arrangement. He has military training. He’ll owe us.  He could be useful.” Katya appealed to her friend’s sense of logic.

Masha threw up her hands after a minute or so of mulling it over, an over exaggerated show of exasperation that Katya had grown used to, even fond of. A small smile came to Katya’s face unbidden. Masha would always be Masha, no matter the circumstance.

“Fine!” Masha grew intense again. “But, are you sure he won’t turn us in?”

“We’re two maids. He’s the Deputy Commissioner. We’re not worth half of him in their eyes.” Katya shrugged off the concern.

Masha trudged ahead of her friend. “That’s not what I asked.” The complaint fell into her scarf rather that to Katya’s ears.

Galina was already asleep when the two entered the dormitory of their communal apartment building. It wasn’t much, but they each had beds. The three were lucky to only share with each other. The room was small, spartan, and silent save Galina’s snores. Katya pulled off her coat, and dress in a few swift motions.

“You’d think with how cold it is out for spring, I wouldn’t be sweating so much from walking.” The whispered complaint made Masha smile.

“It’s only the first week of April. Barely spring.” Masha justified the weather. “And we do have to walk at least a mile down Nevsky to get home,” she said, careful not to wake their sleeping friend. Masha leaned against the closed door holding up her lighter to keep Katya from tripping over something. “Are you going to sleep?”

“Just for a little while.” Katya stifled a yawn. “Wake me about midnight?” She pulled a nightgown over her slip attempting to ward off the chill she now felt leaking through the window.

“Of course.” Masha pulled out her pocket watch, the one memento of the past she kept, and wound it. Katya climbed under the meager covers of her bed.

“Aren’t you going to get some rest?” She turned to face Masha.

“In a bit. I’m going to go out for a smoke first. Clear my head a little.” She pulled out a cigarette from her coat pocket, closed her lighter, and left.

  ***

  Gleb finished pacing the small hallway again, his pack slung over his shoulder. He’d been pacing for what felt like hours. Perhaps it had been hours. He hadn’t put much thought into keeping count. The man shifted between his feet as he stood. Would dying in shame or living in shame be worse? He supposed he could always end it like he’d planned. The Neva wouldn’t be an option, but there were other ways.  And perhaps he wouldn’t be in his beloved Russia, but maybe death would be restful no matter where he found it. His stomach knotted at the notion of death and again at the thought of never returning to his homeland. He ran a hand through his hair. Either way he’d never see Russia again. This was the cost of letting her live; of being unable to pull the trigger on the woman he loved. Her eyes flashed in his mind again. Clear. Blue. Filled with heartbreak and pity in equal parts. The memory of her hand in his came unbidden.

“Long life, comrade.” A bitter smile at the irony of his last words to her. He sat at his desk and waited.

            The knock came just past 1:00. Odd. I thought Katya had said two… A second knock as Gleb approached the door. One-Two…It wasn’t Katya.

“Citizen Vaganov!” The door muffled the voice. Blood pounded in Gleb’s ears. Whoever this was, they were certainly not going to be on his side and it would only make his case worse being fully dressed in the middle of the night with a bag packed to leave. Gleb weighed his options. A three story drop out the window would most likely kill him and, since he had (at least temporarily) decided to live, that wouldn’t work. The only option would be to fight past the men at the door. They had guns, but if he came at them by surprise—

“Vaganov!” A different voice, less muffled than the first, broke through Gleb’s racing thoughts.

Gleb opened the door. Adrenaline pulsed through him and churned his stomach. He shouldered the man aside and bolted down the hall, the shouts of the two Cheka echoing behind him as he flew down the stairs. 

As he broke out into the night air, Gleb realized, Katya!

The cleaning girl would be at the apartment in half an hour or less. He didn’t know how well she lied, but she would need to be convincing if more officers showed up after the two he figured were chasing him. Gleb cut down an alley hoping his head start and the darkness would provide him some reprieve to catch his breath. His lungs burned with the effort of sprinting. He’d always been more suited to endurance than speed. He had run at least a half a mile, maybe more down the Nevsky Prospekt. The crunch of snow and dirt beneath the boots of his pursuers announced their arrival. He hoped that his weren’t the only footprints in the street and alley. Gleb had to think. Katya had mentioned where she lived once. He had to get to her, warn her before she left.

The slow approach of footsteps prompted Gleb to run again, cutting around the corner past the old Kazan Cathedral. Apartments. Katya had mentioned apartments just past the cathedral in passing once. A shot in the dark was better than nothing.

The sloshing of muddy snow in his ears made it near impossible to tell his own footfalls from the Cheka who had been trailing him through back alleys and side streets. Gleb had doubled back a few times and now stood in the shadows of the old cathedral, pressed against a pillar. Silence. After around forty-five minutes of running from the officers, he breathed a sigh of relief. The pack dug into his shoulder and his lungs stung with each intake of air as he set off toward the communal apartment around the corner.

  ***

  Masha had woken Katya around midnight as promised and the two packed and planned while Galina snorted and tossed, lost in some dream or another.

“I’m going to go get Vaganov,” Katya announced in a whisper as she pulled on her coat. The clock showed nearly twenty minutes until two and if she wanted to reach him on time, she’d have to leave now.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.” Masha had already made her displeasure known several times since midnight. “Bringing some government crony into our escape. It’s bad enough I’ll have to join a Catholic convent when we get to Paris, but I have to use some Bolshevik to get there?” The venom in her tone may have affected Katya the first four attempts Masha made at arguing with her, but time and repetition had diluted it.

Convincing Masha that they even could leave Russia had been hard enough. The saving throw had been that she could become a nun again. Masha’s eyes regained some life to them after Katya had pointed that out. Masha had been an excellent nun before the convent was closed and would now get to be one again.

“I still don’t see why we can’t just leave him to his fate. Let the Bolsheviks sort themselves out.” Masha was beginning to sound like an impertinent child. “Fine, we’ll take the Bolshevik” had flipped rapidly to “Do we have to?” once Masha had returned from her cigarette.

“Goodbye, Masha.” Katya rolled her eyes at her friend’s whispered protests. “I’ll be back soon. Wake Galina and ask again if she’s sure she wants to stay.”

Katya closed the door as softly as she could behind her. Masha would always be Masha. The silence of the corridor echoed in the early morning darkness. Most everyone would be asleep about now. The stairs at the end of the corridor were the only source of light as Katya tiptoed through the corridor. She slipped down the flights of steps easily enough and out the backdoor of the communal apartment building.

The cathedral loomed over the deserted street as Katya walked toward the Nevsky Prospekt. The snow had mostly melted into mud making for more of a trudge, really. For the briefest second a flicker of movement caught the corner of her eye. She turned to check. Nothing but shadows and mud greeted her.

A gloved hand grabbed Katya’s arm as she passed through the shadow of one of the cathedral’s looming pillars.  A million possibilities ran through her head. A robber, one of the Cheka, or worse were all distinct possibilities as the owner of the hand. She turned attempting to see the face attached to the person, arm straining a bit in his grasp.

“Don’t scream. It’s me.” As Katya’s eyes adjusted to the shadows, she could just make out Vaganov’s face in the darkness.

“What are you doing here? I was going to come get you.” Katya pulled her arm away as she turned to face him fully, rubbing her now uncomfortable shoulder.

“Two Cheka. I don’t know why, but they showed up at my apartment around 1:00.” Vaganov’s words were quiet and clipped.

Katya examined the man in front of her, searching for any trace of a lie. If the secret police were after him, either the government was trying to get rid of Vaganov before his trial to avoid the issue entirely or someone was on to them, maybe both. His dark eyes held more sincerity than Katya had expected. Sincerity, worry, and a hint of exhaustion.

“Come with me, then.” Katya checked around the pillar before motioning for Vaganov to follow her.

Katya had seen other women sneak men into the apartments before, but she assumed they had more enjoyable reasons for doing so than hers. The pair moved up the back staircase, careful to avoid getting too close to the too-thin walls.  

She opened the door to the apartment, being sure to turn the handle before pushing it open to avoid any unnecessary noise. The room was dark except for the candle burning on the table where Masha sat reading her Bible. Katya closed the door as softly as she’d opened it once they had entered.

“Katya? What? Why-” Masha sputtered at the sight of Deputy Commissioner Vaganov standing just past the threshold of the small living space. Panic rolled off of her in waves. “No! Now they’ll be coming here!” Masha forgot any worry of volume, earning a shh from Katya.

“They? Who’s ‘they’?” Katya furrowed her brow.

“You sent them?” Vaganov overlapped with Katya stepping forward. Fury flashed through his face.

Katya’s hair stood on end at the low snarl of a question. Gone was the kindness in Vaganov’s brown eyes that she had taken for granted before. She had assumed he could be threatening when he wanted, but she’d never been near the receiving end of it.

 “Sent who?”  Katya stepped between Vaganov and Masha. “Masha, what’s going on?” The silence said it all, but Katya needed to know, needed to hear it from her closest friend. “Mariya.” Even the use of her given name had no effect on Masha.

“The Cheka.” Gleb answered for her. “That’s why I was hiding by the old cathedral when we ran into each other.”

The acrid taste of betrayal coated Katya’s mouth. “Masha, please, tell me that’s not true.”

If she heard the plea, Masha ignored it. “Do you know what it’s like to be ripped from everything and everyone you’ve ever known and loved, Vaganov?”

Galina stirred and sat up, taking in the tense scene before her. “Katya, what’s—“

“Gala, hush.” Katya tried to impress the serious nature of the situation onto the still sleep-addled blonde.

“Do you know what it’s like to have your purpose taken away in an instant?” Masha continued, looking at Vaganov for some sort of answer. His gaze locked firmly on the floor. “Of course not,” she scoffed.

“Masha, this isn’t the time to—“

“We’d been planning this for months, Katya. And all the sudden you decide to grow a heart and care about someone other than yourself?” Masha always knew the exact buttons to push.

“Masha, we don’t have time for this!” She brought her hand down hard on the table.

A knock interrupted the argument. “Comrade Antonova.” The voice was muffled by the thin door.

Masha brushed past Katya. “Don’t move.” Her look was pointed as she met each of their eyes individually. She stepped into the hall with the officers.

Galina pushed off the covers and held a finger to her lips. She crossed the short distance to the door turning the lock with barely a sound. “Go down the fire escape.” Her voice was a whisper, almost covered by the muffled conversation of Masha and the officers on the other side of the door.

The knob twitched as the officers attempted to open the door. Galina held her weight against it.

“Gala, come with us.” Katya held out her hand to the blonde woman, one leg on the fire escape, one still inside the window.

“No.” A sad smile graced Galina’s delicate features as she shook her head. “If I’m here but you two aren’t, they might think it was a false report and stop following you.” She shrugged, “Besides, I already have my life here. I don’t know that Paris would be different enough. Just promise to write to me when you get there.” Katya opened her mouth as if about to respond. “I’ll have someone read it to me and write down my letter back to you,” Galina finished flashing a ravishing smile that was almost convincing.

Galina turned her attention to Vaganov. “And, Deputy Commissioner, make sure she gets there safe.” An unspoken truth passed between the two.

Gleb nodded, “Let’s go.”

Gleb followed Katya out the window into the cool early morning air and the pair moved down the fire escape. Two shots rang out as Katya’s feet hit the ground. Both of their heads whipped back up to the window from whence they’d come.

“Gala. Masha.” Katya froze as her heart dropped into her stomach.

 Gleb grabbed her wrist and pulled her along. “We have to keep going.”

“But what if they’re still—“a look from Gleb cut her off. “Gala knew,” Katya said as the realization smacked her in the face, forcing her to a stop forced her to a stop. No. Not now, the tears burned as Katya fought them back.

Gleb stood a few paces on, waiting.

“We have to keep going,” Katya said. There would be time to cry later, there was always time to cry later. The two hurried off into the night, careful to use alleys and backstreets.

Chapter notes: Wow, this is my first fanfic in probably 10 years, maybe more. Any way, this idea came to me after I saw the show the first time. What would've happened to Gleb if his superiors found out about his not being able to kill Anya? So I wrote something to answer that question. I did a lot of historical research for this fic (a lot of which really didn't even end up finding its way in, but that's ok. They always say never show all your research). One of the cool things I learned about was how during early Soviet Russia these sorts of "communal apartments" became a thing. It's a lot of information to go into right now, but long story short the shared spaces apparently really shaped a lot of modern Russian culture. A note on Russian naming conventions, from my understanding (again more research) calling one by their given name and patronymic is considered sort of neutrally respectful, hence why I have Gleb address Katya as Yekaterina Sergeyevna. The most formal is the full name. Then comes nicknames. Katya is to Yekaterina in Russian as Kate is to Katherine in English. And then certain nicknames, such as Katenka or Katyushka, would imply more familiarity or intimacy (In my research the name Yekaterina was actually used as an example, so I can actually say that that Katenka would be like a parent calling their daughter "Katie-kins." )Enough about my research ramblings, thanks for reading!