Listen To The Music That Goes Along With This Chapter.

~January 15, 1946~

Dimitri paced the floor anxiously.  The tiles had fine cracks in them, signs of
the Nazi's use of the hospital as a party house.  Thank goodness they were
gone now.

"Dimitri."  Anya reached out and took his hand in hers.  "Pacing won't help.
It doesn't make the doctors come faster."

He ran a hand through his hair.  "I know, I know, it's just...where are they?!
They should have been out here an hour ago!"

Sophie sniffled into her handkerchief.  "They are just working, to be sure...I
suppose...Mon Dieu..."

Tasha put an arm around Sophie's shoulders.  "It's okay, Aunt Sophie.  I'm
sure they'll come out soon."  She leaned her dark hair against Sophie's gray
comfortingly.  Anya smiled and hugged Sophie from the other side.

"Exactly.  Come here, Nikky, let's get a group hug."  Nikolas joined in, and
soon the Leongards were all hugging her -- except for Dimitri.

He wrapped his arms around his waist.  He was so proud of them for pulling
through this without breaking down.  Even Sophie was being especially
strong.

"Please, God, not this," he whispered.

"Madame Vasilovich?"  Sophie's head popped up as the doctor stepped in
front of them.

"Is there news??" Dimitri asked anxiously.

"Yes, plenty.  Monsieur Vasilovich wishes to speak with each of you
separately."

Anya smiled. "You go first Sophie."

Sophie slowly walked into the hospital room, gathering all her strength to
prepare for seeing Vlad.

Dimitri sat down between Tasha and Anya.  "I can't believe this.  We had
been laughing just a moment before."

"It's all right," Anya said softly, moving his hair lovingly out of his face.
Twenty years of marriage couldn't change the way they still looked at each
other, like young adults, so in love.  Nothing had changed between them --
except the arrival of two children, the light of their lives.

"It was a heart attack, Dad.  People survive through heart attacks."  Nikolas
was just like his mother, with large blue eyes and a caring sense of duty in
the world.

"Nikky's right.  I mean, it's not like Uncle Vlad could actually die.  He
wouldn't dare too!"  Tasha could make everyone laugh in the worst of times.
No one would be able to even think about accrediting her to a different father
than Dimitri, they were so alike.

"You're right.  Vlad won't pass away.  Good grief, we wouldn't let him!"
They all laughed for the first time that long and excruciating day.

The laughter ended when Sophie came out, her eyes red-rimmed.

"He wants to see you, Anya," she whispered.  Anya stood quietly, hugged
Sophie, then went into the room.

Dimitri scooted next to the Parisian.  "How is he?"

"The Doctors aren't sure.  These things take so many turns.  They said that it
was either way at this point.  It was up to other factors than themselves now."

Dimitri felt his hands shaking.  He struggled to gain composure, to lift his
head above the drowning feelings of grief around him.  He wouldn't grieve
yet.  To do so would be sealing Vlad's fate.

Time passed.  Tasha and Nikky fell asleep in the hard hospital chairs.  Sophie
sat and thought, her face blank, except for the look of pain and worry in her
blue eyes.  Dimitri drank at least five cups of coffee to keep himself awake as
the night droned on.

Anya finally came out.  She was remaining strong, but there were tear tracks
down her fair cheeks.  She tugged Dimitri's shirt and motioned for him to go
in.

Dimitri entered cautiously, afraid of what he'd see.

Vlad looked over and smiled, his brown eyes framed around his all gray hair.
He was hooked up to all sorts of metal contraptions and tubes, and his
wrinkles were accentuated now.

Dimitri couldn't remember Vlad getting so old.  He couldn't remember even
himself getting old.  When had he gone from being a young ten year old to a
man of almost forty?

"Ahh, my boy."  Vlad patted the spot beside him on the bed, and Dimitri
quietly sat.  "Look at this.  When I met you, you were sick in a bed. Now I'm
sick in a bed.  We've switched places!"  He laughed, and Dimitri was glad to
hear it was his same jolly chuckle, even though it was a little gruff, and
maybe a little weaker now.

"They tell me you're feeling better," Dimitri lied.  He wasn't going to say
what they really told him.

"Dimitri, you're lying.  Don't think you can fool me."

Dimitri blushed.

"Let's not talk about what they're saying," Vlad said.  "We have better things
to talk about.  Were you too inconvenienced by this?"

"Oh Vlad, you know I'd never be inconvenienced when it comes to you."
Dimitri laughed a little.  "There were times growing up I was, I'll admit..."

"When I wouldn't let you stay out and party?"

"Or the time you took away my favorite book as punishment!"

"What about the time I caught you trying to have a little taste of vodka?"
They laughed together, reveling in good times that had been long gone.
Times of playing catch, times of sharing jokes, times of talking until the sun
rose in the morning.

"You know, Vlad, I've known you longer than anyone else in my life."

Vlad smiled.  "I know."

"I never even thanked you for everything.  For saving my life at the palace, or
anything else you've done for me.  You're like...a father to me.  Probably
better than my real father would have been."

Vlad looked down.  He had been afraid he would say something like that.

The time had come.  It was time to tell Dimitri.

"Remember how when you were ten, you told me you had a secret from me?
So I asked, and you finally told me that it was that you had thrown those
clothes I had gotten for you to go to Vointsky in the garbage can?"

Dimitri laughed. "They made me feel like --"

"A cooked turkey, I know, I know.  But remember how I said that everyone
keeps secrets about themselves, but it takes someone truly strong to tell a
person they trust?"  Vlad sighed.  "Now...now comes to the time for me to be
strong, and tell you the secret I have about myself."

Dimitri looked at Vlad.  "What is it?  Is it something bad?"

"It's..."  Vlad's stomach began to flutter.  His heart started racing, bringing
the monitor up to a dangerous level.

"Vlad!" Dimitri grabbed his hand tightly. "Don't tell me if it's going to do this
do you!!"

"I have too."  Vlad took several deep breaths, trying to slow his heart to a safe
rate.  He would get it out quickly.  Let the chips fall where they may.

"Dimitri I...I knew your mother."

Dimitri's eyes widened. "What?  My mother?"

"She was..." He paused, wondering how to say it.  "She was...she and I...she
was...my sister."

Dimitri gasped.  "Sister?  As in siblings?"  His own heart rate was jumping
now.  "You mean...you're my uncle!  Vlad!"  He leaned over to hug him, but
Vlad's hands stopped him.

"Listen to me.  I have more to tell you.  You...you might be angry with me."

Dimitri backed away.  "I'm confused.  What more could you tell me?  I would
never be mad at you, Vlad."

He was so understanding.  Vlad stroked his cheek.

"I also knew your father.  Your mother and father eloped.  Sophie helped
them leave Vointsky together."

"They eloped?  Why didn't they get married formally if they were nobles?"

Here came the hard part.

"Because they weren't.  Your mother was, but your father was...he was...well,
he wasn't exactly nobility..."

"He was...?"

"A...A Je..."  The words caught in Vlad's throat.  It was too soon.  He wasn't
ready to tell him this, to see the look Dimitri gave him when he finds out that
he had been lying about his last name all these years.  "An artist."

"That must be where Nikolas inherited his skill.  You know how great he is
at drawing."

"Oh yes, yes.  Mikhail was brilliant.  He could make things look so beautiful
through his work.  Like a whole new way to look at life."

Dimitri smiled.  "I wish I knew what he looked like."

"Like you, almost exactly.  Well, your nose is a little different, and you have
a little different body frame.  Your hair is the same though, and your eyes.
They even hold that same...intensity."

"Intensity?  You make me sound like a hero of a cheap romance, Vlad."

Vlad chuckled. "I suppose I do."

"Tell me about them, please."

Vlad thought for a moment.  "Well, Lara was very, very smart, and very,
VERY independent -- not unlike her son.  At the time I had thought her
incredibly naive.  I didn't know just how much wiser she was than all of us.

"Mikhail was the opposite of her, yet they blended well, although at the time I
wouldn't admit it.  He was very bohemian in spirit, and could lie rather easily,
I'm afraid to say, once again not unlike his son.  But I don't think he ever lied
to Lara, at least not when things became serious.  I'm still blurry on how they
saw each other enough to fall in love.  Something about her rescuing him,
and he stayed somewhere secretly on the estate.  However it was, they were
very, very in love.  They traveled to some of the Western Countries for a little
while, seeing Paris and Berlin and London.  Lara had adored London since
she was a child."

"Like in the stories she used to tell me," Dimitri said.  "She used to talk about
this couple who danced in the streets of those cities and kissed under the
Eiffel Tower before I'd go to sleep."

Vlad smiled weakly.  "They were beautiful together."

Dimitri laughed a little, wiping the corner of his eyes.  "Yeah, I guess so.  I
just wish I had met him.  Maybe Papa could tell me why I sometimes dream
about this star."

Vlad's heart jumped.  "Star?"

"It's a Jewish star.  I guess it's just my imagination.  Why would my parents
have a Jewish star?"

"Because they were Jewish."

Dimitri blinked.  "What?  That doesn't make sense.  You're not Jewish, my
mother wasn't, and my last name --"

"Your last name was changed.  From Moisse to..."

"A common Russian last name."  Dimitri was truly in shock now, his face
illustrating years of confusion finally being untangled slowly, painfully.
Each twist was one by one being slowly uncoiled.  "Like you said the day we
met...Why...why would they do that?  How did they die?  You must know!
Can I still find them??"

Vlad nodded.  His heart was racing now, and aching more every second.
"Go to my...my files...at the desk.  The key is under the plant on the...the
sill."

Dimitri nodded quickly.  "Vlad, calm down.  Don't talk about this anymore.
You're more important to me."

A small tear made a path across Vlad's plump cheeks.  "I'm so, so proud of
you, my boy.  I...I never stopped being proud."

Dimitri felt a choke in his throat.  He struggled to keep it down as it grew
larger every second.  It made him feel light-headed and incredibly nauseous.
"Vlad, everything is fine.  You're going to be okay.  All you need is a little
operation.  I'll pay for it.  Everything's going to be fine."  He blinked his eyes
in a vain effort to keep any tears from pouring.

"You're so like your mother.  She was so perfect...she and you make me so,
so proud..."  Vlad's breath was getting shorter now.  Dimitri struggled to
block it out, trying to keep everything in black or white, easy or hard.  He
didn't let himself think past that moment, that very second.

"Vlad you...you taught me so much."  Dimitri bit his lower lip, but his hands
were shaking, giving away his thoughts.  "You were such a great guardian.  I
didn't appreciate it like I should have.  You were always there and you never
gave up on me when so many other people would have..."

Vlad smiled.  "How could I give up on you?  You were my boy."  Vlad
laughed, each chuckle getting weaker.  "I have a request."

"Yes, Vlad?"

"What...what was that song we...we used to sing?"

Dimitri gulped.  "The number song.  Eight times one is eighttt..."

Vlad smiled. "Eight times two is sixteennn..."

They joined in together.  "Eight times three is twenty-four...eight times four
is thirty-two..."

Everyday of Vladimir's life had been a grid, each piece intricately placed by
the next.  He always related his life to a large puzzle, each person fitting in
together, each event a hint at the next.  He had often looked forward to the
day when everyone would be together, everything would fit with everything
else.  The secrets would be out and he'd be surrounded by the people he
loved.  When his life, and everything about it, would be complete.  It was his
deepest dream.

As they sat at the hospital bed, singing the number song, and finally giving
their last good-byes, his hand slowly untangling itself from Dimitri's tight
grip, the miraculous happened: Vlad's final wish was granted.

The last piece fell into place.

© 1999 - 2000 AnyaMuse@aol.com
© 1999 - 2000 AnyaCI@aol.com