Post by Angela on Jan 18, 2010 3:03:47 GMT -5
(this is a What-If story that concerns Evgeni's release from prison and his recuperation from torture)
Evgeni Potemeenko was cold, scarred, dehydrated, burned, starved, and bruised. He lay on a cold, damp, stone floor, with no blankets or pillows. The room was small, cramped, without any furniture or windows, without any comfort whatsoever. The room felt as hopeless as he did.
He'd only had contact with horrible men, whose sole purpose, it seemed, was to torture him, literally. He'd been in this prison cell so long, pain was starting to be all he knew. He'd lost track of time. He didn't know how long he'd been there.
The only sounds in this empty room were soft sobs coming from Evgeni as he struggled to find some way to keep warm and forget about the brutal beating he'd just endured. He was only wearing a prison uniform: a torn long-sleeved black shirt made of cotton and cotton black pants. His clothes were torn in several places. He couldn't even keep his shirt closed anymore since it had literally been ripped open.
The militia was not interested in giving him access to a shower, and only gave him access to a toilet once in a while. The conditions were such that Evgeni had never known before. The 18-year-old was terrified, lonely, and sad. He no longer had his baptismal cross; his father had asked for it just before he was taken away. The cross was supposed to protect him, but Aleksei Kristianovich pointed out that the militia would just take it anyway. At least this way, he'd get it back.
Evgeni had trouble remembering the last time he ate or drank anything. Sometimes he would be given small portions of bread and water, but it wasn't enough to ease his hunger pains. Growing up poor, Evgeni was used to going to bed hungry sometimes, but this was worse. Though he lost track of time, he assumed that it had been days since he was given any nourishment, as he lay there weak and helpless, wondering when that door would open and those men would take him to one of those rooms... Those rooms full of such torment that he had constantly begged for death.
Evgeni heard the door unlock, and drew his arms and legs around himself, terrified and hopeless. He knew they would come for him, and that nothing would stop them, but that didn't stop Evgeni from trying to make himself less vulnerable than he was.
Strong hands gripped him, pressing into both fresh and old bruises, making Evgeni cry out on instinct. He was forced to his feet and led out the door. The light outside the cell was always bright, and it always took time for Evgeni's eyes to adjust. He was shoved against another body, and slender arms were wrapped around him. Evgeni was too weak to move except to lean on this person, even though he was sure the only reason they were there was to harm him.
He felt a hand stroking his dirty hair. The hand had manicured fingernails. Evgeni pulled back a little to look closely at who he was with. He wasn't able to make out much more than blurs and silhouettes, but he heard a woman speak tenderly to him.
"I'm going to take you home, Zhenka."
Zhenya wasn't sure at first whether that voice was real, whether it was coming from the person he hoped it was, whether it was what was actually said. He didn't know. All he knew was that this person, whom he prayed was his figure skating coach, Natalya Ivanovna Romanova, was going to take him home.
They walked, very slowly due to Zhenya's weakness, through the prison, and finally came to a door that led outside. Evgeni's heart was racing, and he was on the verge of tears. His eyes adjusted now, and he wondered, was he really being set free? Why? How? What did this mean? Or... or was this all a dream? Was he still in that cell, waiting to be tortured? Was he hallucinating due to some form of drugs? He remembered being subjected to a lot of needles, but didn't know if any of them were related to drugs. Many times, the officers would stick needles in his skin, just to watch him squirm and hear him beg for mercy.
The woman opened the door, and Zhenya took his first steps outside in a long, long time. Zhenya almost choked on the sudden burst of fresh air, but it was invigorating, and liberating. When they walked to a car and the woman helped him sit inside, Zhenya finally spoke.
"Natasha, is that you?"
His voice was weak and hoarse, but audible and comprehensible. He felt her hand on his shoulder now.
"Yes, darling. It's me. I'm taking you home now."
"Katya..."
"Don't," Natasha said firmly. "Not yet."
Katya... Beautiful, smart, fun Katya... the entire reason he was in that place, and yet... and yet, he had no regrets... at least, he hoped he didn't.
The rest of the ride was silent, with Zhenya adjusting to his surroundings, looking outside at the only vaguely familiar buildings and streets... and then he saw it.
Like a beacon of light and hope towering above them, inviting them in, his apartment building stood straight and tall, beckoning them. Natasha drove into the garage and parked. Overwhelmed with the idea of finally being free, Evgeni openedthe car door and rushed out.
"Zhenya! Stop!" Natasha cried as Zhenya headed for the stairs. He don't know how he suddenly found the strength to actually run, but he ran. Going up four flights of stairs took its toll, but determination overcame him. He went up another flight, slower this time. Before he'd taken two steps at a time, but now he could only take one. Natasha was calling out for him to wait. She was stopped by another person, asking her how she was doing. She quickly excused herself and ran after him. She was a fit woman, and in a better condition physically than Zhenya was at this time, but he had a good head start. She was just at the bottom of the steps while he was making his way up the third flight. She was catching up to him though due to his weakness. All the while, she kept calling for him, trying to get him to stop so she could help him. Finally on the sixth flight, Evgeni collapsed against the steps, breathless. Natasha caught up with him in no time, and spoke in a soothing tone.
"Zhenya, don't be afraid. I'm going to take you to your father. I'll let you rest a moment, then we'll go to him."
Zhenya's breath came in quick gulps as his body tried to rest despite his desire to run. After a few minutes, Natasha helped him up, and they slowly went up three more flights of stairs. Natasha opened the door and again, Zhenya felt a burst of speed. He ran down the hall, Natasha hurrying to catch up to him. He turned a corner, and went halfway down another hall. He stopped in front of a brown wooden door. Normally, he would simply walk right in, but now...
He couldn't help it. He actually knocked.
The door opened, and a tall, slender man with the arms and legs of a dancer, with blue eyes and blonde hair, stared at Evgeni. The two of them were silent for a moment. The man at the door was stunned, stepping back as if on instinct. Evgeni, trembling, took a few steps forward, into the apartment, as Natasha rounded the corner. The young man collapsed and was caught by the man at the door. The man, in his early '40s, was confused, as if he'd never seen this young man in his life... until he saw Natasha running behind his unexpected guest.
The man pulled the boy away so that he could look more closely at his face. When he realized that this young man, whose face was bruised so that it was almost indistinguishable, was his son.
Evgeni sobbed as Aleksei Kristianovich Potemerenko wrapped his arms tightly around him. Aleksei looked behind him towards Natasha, and walked with Zhenya to the couch inside the apartment. Natasha came in behind and shut the door.
"I tried to stop him, Alyosha-"
"It's fine," Aleksei said gently, holding his son as the young man cried into his chest. Aleksei kissed his head, starting to cry as well. It was hard to believe, for both of them, that Evgeni was home, at last.
Natasha was quiet, letting them have their reunion without interruption, but there was something that needed to be said.
"Alyosha-"
"Later," he said, not looking at her. He kissed Zhenya's head, and slowly stood up. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
Aleksei took Zhenya to the bathroom and started running a hot bath. He helped the young man undress, and seeing the scars, burns and bruises inflicted all over his body, some wounds on his back still covered with dry blood, Aleksei was horrified and fought hard to choke back tears. He had never told Evgeni this, but he had suffered through torture as well, but it wasn't nearly as bad as this. It was a fate he never wanted for his only son.
"Whee's Mama, and Nadya?" Zhenya asked softly. These were the first words he spoke to his father.
"Nadya is in school, your mother is working," Aleksei replied, and helped him into the bath. "Do you need help?" Evgeni shook his head, taking a washcloth and some soap.
"Thank you, Papa."
Aleksei stroked his bruised cheek very gently, with the back of his hand. "You don't have to thank me. I'll come check on you in a little while. Relax. You're free now. Stay in here awhile, soak yourself, wash yourself well, and I'll come check on you periodically." He kissed his head once more, and left the room.
Aleksei came back to the living room and sat down with a deep sigh, putting his head in his hands. At long last, he spoke to Natasha.
"You finally got him out. I can't thank you enough for this."
"Believe me, you don't want to thank me for this," Natasha said, shaking her head.
"Of couse I do," Aleksei disputed. "Zhenya needs to get to a hospital. I'll let him bathe before we take him."
"Alyosha, we cannot take Zhenya to the hospital," Natasha insisted. Aleksei stared at her.
"What are you talking about?"
"His release is only temporary!" Natasha began to sob. "I could only get my friends to do that and I was lucky they even did that for me. Katya's parents ae so upset about this whole thing." She sighed, drying her tears. "I failed you, Alyosha. I failed you, I failed Zhenya, I failed your family. I'm sorry. But I have a proposition to make up for it. I have already spoken with customs agents. They've agreed to look the other way if Zhenya were to leave the country."
"What are you talking about?" Aleksei asked, terrified. "Zhenya needs to be cared for! How can he have a temporary release?" He was angry, and afraid, but he did not shout because he didn't want Zhenya to hear. He finally took a deep breath. "How long does he have?"
"Five days," Natasha said with a sigh. "I spoke with customs. Certain agents can let him leave, but no later than the fourth day."
"Natasha, he needs to be in the hospital," Aleksei disputed.
"Alyosha, I don't think he'd be released from the hospital by the fourth day, and we can't take the risk."
"Well, what are we supposed to do?" Aleksei exclaimed. "He's certainly not fit to travel right now!"
"No, he's not. I have another suggestion. We can call Gaetan."
Aleksei put his head in his hands in despair. "Gaetan is in Paris. What can he possibly do?"
"No," Natasha said gently. "Gaetan is here in Petersburg, taking part in a seminar at the medical university. Alyosha, Zhenya's only hope to get well in time is Gaetan."
Aleksei looked at her, and finally nodded. "Then contact him, immediately."
Natasha went to the phone and called the university where Gaetan was giving the lecture.
"Yes, this is Natalya Ivanovna Romanova. I'd like to speak to Dr. Dupont," she said to the receptionist. "It's an emergency."
Evgeni Potemeenko was cold, scarred, dehydrated, burned, starved, and bruised. He lay on a cold, damp, stone floor, with no blankets or pillows. The room was small, cramped, without any furniture or windows, without any comfort whatsoever. The room felt as hopeless as he did.
He'd only had contact with horrible men, whose sole purpose, it seemed, was to torture him, literally. He'd been in this prison cell so long, pain was starting to be all he knew. He'd lost track of time. He didn't know how long he'd been there.
The only sounds in this empty room were soft sobs coming from Evgeni as he struggled to find some way to keep warm and forget about the brutal beating he'd just endured. He was only wearing a prison uniform: a torn long-sleeved black shirt made of cotton and cotton black pants. His clothes were torn in several places. He couldn't even keep his shirt closed anymore since it had literally been ripped open.
The militia was not interested in giving him access to a shower, and only gave him access to a toilet once in a while. The conditions were such that Evgeni had never known before. The 18-year-old was terrified, lonely, and sad. He no longer had his baptismal cross; his father had asked for it just before he was taken away. The cross was supposed to protect him, but Aleksei Kristianovich pointed out that the militia would just take it anyway. At least this way, he'd get it back.
Evgeni had trouble remembering the last time he ate or drank anything. Sometimes he would be given small portions of bread and water, but it wasn't enough to ease his hunger pains. Growing up poor, Evgeni was used to going to bed hungry sometimes, but this was worse. Though he lost track of time, he assumed that it had been days since he was given any nourishment, as he lay there weak and helpless, wondering when that door would open and those men would take him to one of those rooms... Those rooms full of such torment that he had constantly begged for death.
Evgeni heard the door unlock, and drew his arms and legs around himself, terrified and hopeless. He knew they would come for him, and that nothing would stop them, but that didn't stop Evgeni from trying to make himself less vulnerable than he was.
Strong hands gripped him, pressing into both fresh and old bruises, making Evgeni cry out on instinct. He was forced to his feet and led out the door. The light outside the cell was always bright, and it always took time for Evgeni's eyes to adjust. He was shoved against another body, and slender arms were wrapped around him. Evgeni was too weak to move except to lean on this person, even though he was sure the only reason they were there was to harm him.
He felt a hand stroking his dirty hair. The hand had manicured fingernails. Evgeni pulled back a little to look closely at who he was with. He wasn't able to make out much more than blurs and silhouettes, but he heard a woman speak tenderly to him.
"I'm going to take you home, Zhenka."
Zhenya wasn't sure at first whether that voice was real, whether it was coming from the person he hoped it was, whether it was what was actually said. He didn't know. All he knew was that this person, whom he prayed was his figure skating coach, Natalya Ivanovna Romanova, was going to take him home.
They walked, very slowly due to Zhenya's weakness, through the prison, and finally came to a door that led outside. Evgeni's heart was racing, and he was on the verge of tears. His eyes adjusted now, and he wondered, was he really being set free? Why? How? What did this mean? Or... or was this all a dream? Was he still in that cell, waiting to be tortured? Was he hallucinating due to some form of drugs? He remembered being subjected to a lot of needles, but didn't know if any of them were related to drugs. Many times, the officers would stick needles in his skin, just to watch him squirm and hear him beg for mercy.
The woman opened the door, and Zhenya took his first steps outside in a long, long time. Zhenya almost choked on the sudden burst of fresh air, but it was invigorating, and liberating. When they walked to a car and the woman helped him sit inside, Zhenya finally spoke.
"Natasha, is that you?"
His voice was weak and hoarse, but audible and comprehensible. He felt her hand on his shoulder now.
"Yes, darling. It's me. I'm taking you home now."
"Katya..."
"Don't," Natasha said firmly. "Not yet."
Katya... Beautiful, smart, fun Katya... the entire reason he was in that place, and yet... and yet, he had no regrets... at least, he hoped he didn't.
The rest of the ride was silent, with Zhenya adjusting to his surroundings, looking outside at the only vaguely familiar buildings and streets... and then he saw it.
Like a beacon of light and hope towering above them, inviting them in, his apartment building stood straight and tall, beckoning them. Natasha drove into the garage and parked. Overwhelmed with the idea of finally being free, Evgeni openedthe car door and rushed out.
"Zhenya! Stop!" Natasha cried as Zhenya headed for the stairs. He don't know how he suddenly found the strength to actually run, but he ran. Going up four flights of stairs took its toll, but determination overcame him. He went up another flight, slower this time. Before he'd taken two steps at a time, but now he could only take one. Natasha was calling out for him to wait. She was stopped by another person, asking her how she was doing. She quickly excused herself and ran after him. She was a fit woman, and in a better condition physically than Zhenya was at this time, but he had a good head start. She was just at the bottom of the steps while he was making his way up the third flight. She was catching up to him though due to his weakness. All the while, she kept calling for him, trying to get him to stop so she could help him. Finally on the sixth flight, Evgeni collapsed against the steps, breathless. Natasha caught up with him in no time, and spoke in a soothing tone.
"Zhenya, don't be afraid. I'm going to take you to your father. I'll let you rest a moment, then we'll go to him."
Zhenya's breath came in quick gulps as his body tried to rest despite his desire to run. After a few minutes, Natasha helped him up, and they slowly went up three more flights of stairs. Natasha opened the door and again, Zhenya felt a burst of speed. He ran down the hall, Natasha hurrying to catch up to him. He turned a corner, and went halfway down another hall. He stopped in front of a brown wooden door. Normally, he would simply walk right in, but now...
He couldn't help it. He actually knocked.
The door opened, and a tall, slender man with the arms and legs of a dancer, with blue eyes and blonde hair, stared at Evgeni. The two of them were silent for a moment. The man at the door was stunned, stepping back as if on instinct. Evgeni, trembling, took a few steps forward, into the apartment, as Natasha rounded the corner. The young man collapsed and was caught by the man at the door. The man, in his early '40s, was confused, as if he'd never seen this young man in his life... until he saw Natasha running behind his unexpected guest.
The man pulled the boy away so that he could look more closely at his face. When he realized that this young man, whose face was bruised so that it was almost indistinguishable, was his son.
Evgeni sobbed as Aleksei Kristianovich Potemerenko wrapped his arms tightly around him. Aleksei looked behind him towards Natasha, and walked with Zhenya to the couch inside the apartment. Natasha came in behind and shut the door.
"I tried to stop him, Alyosha-"
"It's fine," Aleksei said gently, holding his son as the young man cried into his chest. Aleksei kissed his head, starting to cry as well. It was hard to believe, for both of them, that Evgeni was home, at last.
Natasha was quiet, letting them have their reunion without interruption, but there was something that needed to be said.
"Alyosha-"
"Later," he said, not looking at her. He kissed Zhenya's head, and slowly stood up. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
Aleksei took Zhenya to the bathroom and started running a hot bath. He helped the young man undress, and seeing the scars, burns and bruises inflicted all over his body, some wounds on his back still covered with dry blood, Aleksei was horrified and fought hard to choke back tears. He had never told Evgeni this, but he had suffered through torture as well, but it wasn't nearly as bad as this. It was a fate he never wanted for his only son.
"Whee's Mama, and Nadya?" Zhenya asked softly. These were the first words he spoke to his father.
"Nadya is in school, your mother is working," Aleksei replied, and helped him into the bath. "Do you need help?" Evgeni shook his head, taking a washcloth and some soap.
"Thank you, Papa."
Aleksei stroked his bruised cheek very gently, with the back of his hand. "You don't have to thank me. I'll come check on you in a little while. Relax. You're free now. Stay in here awhile, soak yourself, wash yourself well, and I'll come check on you periodically." He kissed his head once more, and left the room.
Aleksei came back to the living room and sat down with a deep sigh, putting his head in his hands. At long last, he spoke to Natasha.
"You finally got him out. I can't thank you enough for this."
"Believe me, you don't want to thank me for this," Natasha said, shaking her head.
"Of couse I do," Aleksei disputed. "Zhenya needs to get to a hospital. I'll let him bathe before we take him."
"Alyosha, we cannot take Zhenya to the hospital," Natasha insisted. Aleksei stared at her.
"What are you talking about?"
"His release is only temporary!" Natasha began to sob. "I could only get my friends to do that and I was lucky they even did that for me. Katya's parents ae so upset about this whole thing." She sighed, drying her tears. "I failed you, Alyosha. I failed you, I failed Zhenya, I failed your family. I'm sorry. But I have a proposition to make up for it. I have already spoken with customs agents. They've agreed to look the other way if Zhenya were to leave the country."
"What are you talking about?" Aleksei asked, terrified. "Zhenya needs to be cared for! How can he have a temporary release?" He was angry, and afraid, but he did not shout because he didn't want Zhenya to hear. He finally took a deep breath. "How long does he have?"
"Five days," Natasha said with a sigh. "I spoke with customs. Certain agents can let him leave, but no later than the fourth day."
"Natasha, he needs to be in the hospital," Aleksei disputed.
"Alyosha, I don't think he'd be released from the hospital by the fourth day, and we can't take the risk."
"Well, what are we supposed to do?" Aleksei exclaimed. "He's certainly not fit to travel right now!"
"No, he's not. I have another suggestion. We can call Gaetan."
Aleksei put his head in his hands in despair. "Gaetan is in Paris. What can he possibly do?"
"No," Natasha said gently. "Gaetan is here in Petersburg, taking part in a seminar at the medical university. Alyosha, Zhenya's only hope to get well in time is Gaetan."
Aleksei looked at her, and finally nodded. "Then contact him, immediately."
Natasha went to the phone and called the university where Gaetan was giving the lecture.
"Yes, this is Natalya Ivanovna Romanova. I'd like to speak to Dr. Dupont," she said to the receptionist. "It's an emergency."
