Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Ilya
“Open up!”
It was still dark outside, and Ilya couldn’t have been asleep for longer than an hour. Ekaterina had told him to leave around midnight when they’d managed to convince the nurses to let little Alena, his niece, stay with her at the hospital for the night. He’d crashed as soon as his head hit the pillow, barley remembering to share the good news with Shane of Ekaterinas release from the hospital in the morning. Sweet Shane who’d read up on preeclampsia, asked him questions about blood pressure and medications and sent him updates of Anya playing with David. He missed him, and he longed to go back tomorrow.
“Ilya, I know you’re there!” Taking a deep breath and rolling his eyes so hard they might fall out of his skull, he got up and walked towards the door. Fucking Alexei. His brother had always been dramatic, especially when he was drunk and it sounded like he was. Ilya wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with that at, he glanced at the clock, two in the morning. But he couldn’t say he wasn’t curious. Being surprised by his brother’s presence was only one of many surprising things he’d dealt with these last few days. The combined police-military exercise that had declined Alexi’s request for leave had told Alexei that unless he was the one giving birth, he’d get his ass to the base. Leaving Ekaterina, sick and with an energetic five-year-old, hence Ilya’s trip. Still, it was a bit surprising that his brother came to him now, if the exercise had ended early.
It had never happened before, Alexei searching out Ilya’s company. Growing up, they’d never been close, Alexei was too much like their father and Ilya like their mother. But something had shifted between them since Ilya came to Russia for his pregnant sister- in- law and his niece. It felt less tied to him paying for everything and more to him actually showing up, making his niece smile, making sure to get them something other than hospital food and holding Ekaterina’s hand when her headache got too bad. He wouldn’t go so far to say that Alexei seemed grateful, but maybe a distant cousin to relief? Ilya’s childish, naive heart, who’d spent years with the Hollanders, didn’t need more to hope that perhaps they could work towards a functional relationship. He knew that he’d never have a family that resembled the one Shane had with his parents, but maybe, if he played his cards right, he could video call his niece and the new baby on Christmas.
Alexei had come to him, probably drunk off his ass but knocking on his door. That had to mean something. Maybe, just maybe, Alexei would want to celebrate with him on his last night in Moscow.
A fist to the face didn’t feel like a celebration though.
“The fuck Alexei!” Pain exploded on the right side of his face and his vision swam as he crashed into the table behind him and knocking things over. Shaking his head, he was about to stand up and maybe fight back but a kick to the ribs sent him sprawling to the floor. Alexei’s body weight was on him before he’d time to blink and hands closed around his throat.
“Father would be so ashamed of you, he might have killed you himself. I’m happy that it is me, Russia will celebrate me.” The world narrowed down to the crushing weight choking him. Frantically, he slammed his fists against his brothers’ forearms, but they were solid. He couldn’t catch a single scrap of air as dark spots danced across his vision. He couldn’t fucking breathe! With a burst of panic- fueled strength Ilya bucked like a dying animal and managed to get some leverage. Trashing, he managed to roll himself around enough for Alexei to lose his grip. Air rushed back into his lungs, and he scrambled to his feet. The room tilted something warm trickled down the side of his face. Gasping for breath he looked up.
At his brother with a gun trained on him.
“Alexei.” Ilya didn’t need to ask. The answer lay in the set of Alexei’s jaw, in the glare of his eyes. Ilya’s secret was out. The secret he’d protected for over ten years was out and likely dragged into the public light. A shame Russia would love to get rid of. For years, he and Alexei had danced around this knowledge, the slurs thrown at him at a warning and a curse and his brother had come close to discovering Ilya and Sasha enough times that the suspicion must have rotting in his chest for a long time. But he’d never acted upon it. Not like this.
Ilya thought of Shane, if Ilya’s secret had been revealed then the risk of Shane being out as well was high. His beautiful Shane was probably panicking. But he was still in Canada with his parents for the weekend. And he probably didn’t have a gun pointed at him.
“What is happening?” His voice held, but only just.
“Fucking faggot.” Alexei gestured towards him with the gun but he didn’t break eye contact. It would have felt humiliating, standing half naked in a room with your angry brother, if it also didn’t feel completely insane.
“I’m doing you a favor, I’ll kill you quick. Anyone else might want to take their time or take you to prison. Not that you don’t deserve it.” Fuck. Ilya couldn’t think. Of course, he’d imagined being found out a thousand times when he’d been with Sasha, and essentially any time he’d been in Russia for these last couple of years. The cops being called on him, him being arrested or someone beating him up. Him having to flee. He’d thought about it so many times it had started to feel like paranoia. He’d never imagined this though. Alexei’s finger on the trigger.
“Please Alexei. I’m your brother.” The warm trickle was getting in his eye, and he quickly wiped it away to keep eye contact. It was hard to remember a time when those eyes had looked at him with something other than annoyance, it was absent now. On the surface it was easy to see the gloating and the anger Ilya expected, but he knew his brother, and beneath it all he saw fear. Alexei’s lower lip quivered as he cocked his head to the side, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Please.” Ilya begged again. Ten years ago, begging would have been beneath him. He would have told Alexei to go ahead, maybe mocked him and taken the bullet with pride. But there was no pride in leaving Shane. There was nothing beneath him if he could get back to the person he was going to marry this summer.
“I’ll be quick. It’ll barely hurt Ilya.” The gun trembled in his brother’s hand as they kept staring at each other, the words almost as pleading as Ilya’s own. If his sight hadn’t started to sting, he might have seen his brother’s eyes well up as well. Instead, that childish, naive little part of his heart spoke the next words out of his mouth.
“We are family Alexei. We always have been.” Ilya aggressively dried his eyes enough to see his brother come to a decision, tightening his hand on the gun.
“You get two-hours, if I find you again, I’ll kill you.” The gun lowered but Ilya didn’t dare breathe. With an eye on his brother, who followed his every move, he got dressed quicker than he ever had before and threw his already packed rucksack over his shoulders, thanking his past self for packing the night before.
“Are the police looking for me?” Alexei shrugged, looking away.
“Not officially.” Ilya swallowed with a nod.
“Thank you.” Not expecting an answer, he started to turn his back to the room when Alexei spoke up again.
“Since you were here for my girls, I’ll give you some advice. Don’t go to an airport.” Ilya stopped and looked at him over his shoulder, realizing that this was likely the last time they’d see each other. There were probably a hundred things he should say, like goodbye or that he would, in his own way, miss him. But he kept his mouth shut, nodded and left the room.
Pulling his hood up and closing the door to his brother, he started walking. When planning for this in his youth he’d never considered all of the details. Like how the fuck he would get to the border without anyone recognizing him. Taking the stairs down he pulled his phone from his jeans only to discover that the screen was completely cracked. His legs just stopped and he leaned against the railing to take a deep breath, wasting time he didn’t have. When had it cracked? Had it been in his hand when he was kicked? There were emotions waiting for him, just under the lid, but he needed to banish them. Taking another breath, he started moving again when a door opened to reveal the young receptionist who’d checked him in at the hotel earlier.
“Mr. Rosanov?” Fucking fuck. He tried for a quick smile before moving past him and heading straight for the lobby. A large clock in front of the main door told him that it was still just past two in the morning. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too many people out to notice him.
It was march, so having his hood up and pulling his coat around him wouldn’t be suspicious. But whatever wound his brother might have inflicted on his face still bled, and that might make someone take a closer look. Digging out a hat from his backpack, he put it on as low on his head as he could, the material getting sticky immediately. Not really feeling like he had a choice, he scooped up snow from the sidewalk to rub the blood away from the lower half of his face.
The central bus station wasn’t too far away and right next to it Ilya spotted an ATM. Gathering his scattered thoughts he tried to judge the risk of using his card. If the police were after him, they might track it through purchases, but if he took out a large sum right here, it might alert them to the fact that he is fleeing the country. Then, he reminded himself, Alexi would probably report that anyway. With a look around, he went towards the machine and used his card to get both rubles and euros. Stuffing it into his wallet and then into the backpack, he walked inside.
There was a large TV showing departing and arriving buses. There was a bus in just half an hour that would take him close to the border of Belarus. He knew, from talking to Sasha about this a long time ago, that most people that planned to exit Russia for the same reason he was, went through Belarus with the goal of reaching Berlin. Berlin was known to be open to LBGT people. But Ilya also knew that if he went on that bus, his brother would find him before the next stop. Also, if Russia truly wanted him arrested, he didn’t know if the border in Belarus would be open to him.
After kissing Sasha for the first time, he’d been so scared that his father, dressed in his uniform, would drag him him to the police station- if he didn’t kill him first. Staying up with his ear pressed against the door, he waited all night for it to happen. When it didn’t, he started formulating a plan to be ready at the first sign of trouble. Every time he went home, he updated that plan. Checking the political status of the neighboring countries and memorizing the map.
Even if everyone went to Berlin, he would go to Finland.
The closest he would get to the border from Moscow this early looked like Novgorod in one hour. That was good, he could wait. He glanced towards the machine selling tickets and realized that he would have to go to the clerk to buy one if he wanted to make sure it wasn’t traced. But getting recognized was still the biggest issue and he didn’t have a solution for that yet so all he could do was steel himself and approached the disk.
“Destination?” The clerk was a girl that looked younger than Luca, her hair was colored black and there was a ring in her nose. If she recognized him when she looked up, she didn’t show it.
“Novgorod.” With a nod and a bored look, she printed the ticket and took his money, then pointed him to the right waiting area. Ilya barely nodded back before hurrying away.
For an hour he stood with his back against the wall, trying to look bored and calm, but it was hard not to look around or jump every time a car parked close to the station. When the bus finally arrived and he got to his seat, he wasn’t sure if he was breathing at all. He felt dizzy but he was so far from out of danger that there wasn’t even a possibility of giving in to whatever was bubbling inside his chest could be fatal.
Three potential buses had left in the direction of Berlin, and he hoped that his brother would follow that trail. He wanted to take a calming breath, but it hurt his ribs to breathe too deeply but it would be fine. It was no worse than being checked into the boards, and it was a hundred times better than a bullet. With a sigh, he closed his eyes. Novgorod was about eight hours away and he’d probably need all the energy he could get for whatever was waiting for him.