Listen To The Music That Goes Along With This Chapter.

"THIS is Vointsky?"

Vlad gulped as he looked up at the dump before him.  "This used to be Vointsky, if that's what you mean."  He stared at the broken, crumbling building in front of him.  The Reds had come through and destroyed or burnt everything: the house was in massive disrepar, the trees were charred, and the stables fallen down. Even the old wooden fence that he and Sophie had first met at was nothing but a pile of ashes now.  Everything was gone.

"Holy cow, what happened?" Dimitri asked as he looked up at it with in shock.

"I'm not sure..." Vlad said slowly, "but I intend to find out."  He took Dimitri's hand and walked up to the front steps.  The door was torn down, and an old shutter that had fallen was laying in the pathway.  Dimitri whistled.

"That thing's big!"

Vlad set down the suitcase and easily lifted the massive peice of wood.  Dimitri's eyes widened.  Vlad was as strong as a super hero to the young boy!

Vlad walked inside, leaving their things on the porch steps.  Dimitri glanced at them, then followed his guardian, leaving the suitcases unattended.

Vlad looked around, his brown eyes taking in everything.  The furniture -- it was still here amazingly.  Most of it, at least.  He reached out and touched a high-backed writing chair.  It had a large gash in the elegant velvet material.  He traced the rip slowly.  He and Lara used to play on the chair, and Kosma too.  He looked at the desk it was by...the ink well was still there.  He picked it up and put his finger inside of it, then pulled it out.  The ink was still wet.  Whoever had been here had left not long ago.  This scared him more than the thought of his manor forever being like this.  He wiped his hand and kept looking around.

Dimitri watched him touch everything like a ghost.  He wanted to help, he really did.  What had happened here, anyway?  The Reds must've made an 'appearance'...they had seen a few burned down estates along the road here.  So what was he supposed to say?  Oops, no one's here, maybe we should leave?

"At least it's not burned!" he said cheerfully as he walked over to Vlad.  Vlad didn't hear him as he continued to walk around the room in a trance, touching each object loveingly, remembering it in better times.  Dimitri followed and tried again.  "Well, it could be worse!  The Reds could still be here!"  Still no answer.  Dimitri understood then what it must have been like when Vlad was trying to talk to him after they first met.  You talk and talk, and get no response.

He looked into Vlad's dull brown eyes.  He could see the pain he was feeling, the hurt that ripped at his heart.  Dimitri knew how he felt.  For only 10, he had been through more pain and hurt than anyone would dare guess -- and he knew what it felt like to be let down.  And Vointsky was a let down to Vlad.  What Vlad needed now was someone who understood.

What Vlad needed now was a friend.

Dimitri walked up to him.  Vlad slowly looked at him, his eyes numb, no emotion being portrayed in their deep brown depths.  Dimitri smiled weakly and took the aristocrat's large hand in his small one, and squeezed tightly.  Vlad looked dimly at him.

"It used to be so beautiful."

"I know it did."

"It used to radiate with glory and elegance..."  Vlad looked around the room.  "It used to hold laughter and joy...It used to hold my family.  It used to hold my heart."

Dimitri didn't answer, just let him talk.  As the two stood there together, hand in hand, Vlad told Dimitri about Vointsky in it's days of beauty.  The parties, the picnics, the long horse rides until dusk.  About his parents, about meeting Sophie for the first time.  About leaving it for the St. Petersburg White Army because of his fear about being left to keep it.

"This place...it's part of me.  And I ran from it.  I ran from it!  I must make it up...I must fix it up!"  Vlad felt his hope build as he remembered Vointsky in it's glorious days of old, what it could be again.  "I can redo it...build it back up again.  Make it like new!  Imagine it, Dimitri..."  He started to motion wildly with his free hand.  "New windows...new carpet!  Gold trimmed fireplaces and crystal chandeliers!  I can do it!  I can fix it up again!"  He started to pull away from Dimitri.  Dimitri held firm and pulled him back.  Vlad turned to look at him questioningly.  Dimitri smiled, an innocent ten year's old smile of happiness.

"We'll fix it up, Vlad.  Together."
~*~
Sophie felt a headache coming on again.  She always got headaches in hot weather, and today was certainly hot.  97 degrees!  She pulled her large straw-brimmed hat down tighter over her blonde head.

"Mon Dieu!  I've never felt such hot weather before!" she said as she sank down into a small patio chair.

Marie stared out onto the quiet Seine River, watching it flow luxiously along.  Sophie noticed her and reached out comfortingly to pat her hand.  Marie drew back.

It had been 6 months since Marie had left Russia -- without Anastasia.  And she was still mourning, as would be expected. Word had come that her son and his family was in captivity and being prepared to be killed...everyone, that is, except Anastasia.  She was still missing.  Where was she??  Everyone across the world was asking themselves that question.  Where was the lost Romanov Princess?  Why couldn't she find her way to Paris?  Surely there was SOMEONE in Russia who was loyal to the crown to help her!

"We'll find her," Sophie said optimistically to Marie.  "I'm sure she's right under our noses somewhere..."

"It isn't like she's mis-placed, Sophie!" Marie snapped.  "She isn't a lost glove or shoe!  She's my granddaughter!"

"I know, I know," Sophie said soothingly.  "And I promise you that I will do everything in my power to help you find her."

Marie sighed.  "I think I'll go inside.  I've had enough cheerfulness for one day.  Excusez-moi."  She stood up and walked in the large mansion briskly, her long skirt rustling in the slight breeze that blew through Paris.  Sophie sighed and leaned her elbow on the patio table, her royal manners leaving her as she brooded.  She hated brooding, she really did.  But there was so much to brood about!

Where was Anastasia?  That question was too hard for Sophie to answer, and she didn't think she'd like the final answer she'd come up with anyway.  What would happen to Russia?  Again, another hard question.  'Trop croire', as her friend Jeanette would say.  Finally, where was Vlad?

Now there was a question to ponder.

She sat up straighter in the chair and leaned back against it.  Where was Vlad...hmm.  Why hadn't he come for her after the revolution broke out?  She had gotten a letter saying he was on his way...a few days more, it said.  Just a few days more.  Well, a few days had passed.  A few MONTHS had passed, and still no Vlad.

Well, she reasoned, he'd turn up soon.  Wouldn't he?  Yes, of course he would.  Why wouldn't he?  No, he hadn't proposed...yet.  But Sophie was sure he would!  She just KNEW that one day she'd open the door from her townhouse and he'd be standing there, his wide grin firmly in place, standing in a three piece suit.  He had promised her when he had left Paris last time to return wearing a yellow tie.  Yellow was her favorite color, and he had sworn that he'd wear it just for her.  She remembered that last conversation so clearly...he had been in his dapper uniform, the medals hanging from it regally, his head held high.

"Sophie, moi profiteroles," (Sophie loved it when he called her 'creampuff' in French), "I shall return to Paris and your arms in a jaune la cravate!"  A yellow tie.  She scanned the busy street.  No yellow ties.  All black or brown or blue, but no yellow.

She sighed and stood up.  Well, there was always tomorrow to search...

"Mademoiselle!  Mademoiselle!"

 Sophie turned and saw a man in a...yellow tie!  A yellow tie was headed her way!  Mon Dieu, was it him?  Oh please, God, yes!

No, it wasn't him.  This man was blonde with pale skin and blue eyes.  Vlad was dark.  Her heart sank.

"Oui?"

"Mademoiselle," the man said, rushing up to her, "My name is Monsieur Vasha.  I believe that you are Mademoiselle Somorkov-Smirnoff, are you not?  Cousin to the Dowager Empress Marie of Russia?"

"Bonjour," she said suspiciously.  What did this man want?  How did he know about Sophie and Marie?

"I met you once, Mademoiselle.  Back in Russia."

"What?" Sophie said.  "You met me?"  Who was this impertinant young man?

"Yes.  We danced.  At the Royal Palace.  I am the son of Baron Vasha."

Sophie's mind clicked and she smiled.  "Oui, I remember!  You are Aleksander Vasha!  Your father is Slava Vasha!"

"Yes!" he said, over-joyed that she remembered him.  "I have just arrived in Paris, and I saw you sitting out here and recognized you immediatly! It's hard to forget a woman such as yourself."

"Well, thank you," Sophie said, her fair skin blushing.  "It is so nice to see someone from Russia again...please, come inside!  Marie will be overjoyed to see you again..."

"Non, non, I don't want to intrude..."

"Nonsense!  Come, come, I insist!"

She led him inside the palace.  "I have a townhouse down the street, but I am visiting Marie for the day.  Collette, darling, go tell Marie that we have a visitor, a Monsieur Aleksander Vasha."

Collette the maid hurried up the stairs.  Sophie motioned for Aleksander to sit as she told another maid, Brigett, to fix some tea for their visitor.  She sat down primly across from Aleksander.

"Monsieur Vasha..."

"Please, call me Alek."

Sophie flushed again.  "Alek...how are you settling with Parisian life so far?"

Alek smiled.  "Wonderfully!  I love Paris and everything about it!  The crowds, the bight lights, the cheerfulness...so much brighter than Russia."

"Oui," she agreed.  "Paree is alors heureux.  People bustling, birds twittering...it is heaven, mon cheri."

Alek's eyes lit up at the word 'cheri'.  Dear in French.  His heart took a leap.  He had had a crush on Sophie ever since he could remember...they were the same age, 37.  He remembered dancing with her that night at the Imperial Palace in 1908.  Their feet had flown across the floor on air, their laughter filling up the Palace's tall domes.  He had wanted so badly to tell her just how much he adored her, just how much he could love her if she would be his.  But her heart belonged to another...a lesser count who was in the White Army.  A Vladimir someone.  But that was a long time ago.  She was older now...they all were.  She was a little chubbier, but still had her volumptious figure and sparkling eyes, as well as her tiny hands and feet.

Alek looked at her petite hands.  No ring!  She was still single!  Oh, if there was a chance, Alek knew he must take it.

"Sophie, mon ami, where is your friend..."

"Friend?  I have many friends."

"You know...your friend."

Sophie sighed in frustration.  "There is Jeanette, there is Josefina, there is Huguette and her sister Irenee, whom I detest so I suppose she shouldn't be under the friend list.  There is Jacqueline and Giselle, Florence and Georgette.  Oh, and I mustn't forget Mariamne.  And Lea, dear Lea!  And Leonie, the sweetheart.  Her husband Jean-Paul has been in quite a bit of trouble with the French Police from what I've heard..."

"No, none of them," Alek said.  "This one was a man..."

"Oh!  I have many male friends as well!  There's Marguerite's husband Gerald, and Adeline's brother Francois!  And the next door neighbor, Donatien, who is married to Louise-Marie.  And..."

"None of them!  A Russian man!"

"I have many of those, too.  There's Nikolai, and Mefodi.  And Sergei and his brother Makari.  And Moriz who is friends with Boris.  Oh!  And Dominik and Gavriil..."

"No, no, no!  This man I never met.  You...were being courted by him.  Or something."

Sophie gulped.  "Vladimir?"

"Yes!  Him!  Where is he?"

Sophie sighed and put her hand to her forehead.  This wasn't helping her headache.

"I...I am not sure, mon ami."

"You aren't sure?"

"Non.  He is not with me, and I haven't heard from him for 6 months.  I got a letter, then the revolution broke out while I was here in Paree.  Then, no word.  He disappeared...voila!  Gone."  She raised her hand in a florish.

Alek raised his eyebrows.  "He is no where to be found?"

"Non..."

"What a shame!" he clucked sympathetically.  Sophie squirmed uncomfortably in her chair.

"Where is Marie?" she asked suddenly, hoping to change the subject.  "Collette!  Collette, darling, where is Marie?"

Collette walked down the stairs to the living room.  "She does not want to be disturbed."

"But we have a friend..."

"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle.  She does not want to be bothered."

Sophie sighed and struggled to keep her composure about her.  "Fine, fine...you are excused."

Collette walked off and Sophie turned to Alek and shrugged.  Alek smiled.  He'd rather be alone with her anyway.

"Oh, it's fine, it's fine...No problem, no problem."

"Well, then..." Sophie stood.  Alek stood as well and took her arm.  Sophie looked at him suspiciously.  "Oui?"

"Come with me for a walk, please.  Nothing would make me happier on this day than to have a beautiful woman such as yourself by my side."

Sophie blushed.  "I...I don't think so..."

"Please?  S'il vous plait?  For moi?"

Sophie didn't know what to say.  Should she accept?  What about Vlad?  He was stranded somewhere in Russia, all alone and without her to love him.  She couldn't do this.

But, then again, why not? she reasoned.  Alek was just a friend, and would stay that way.  And she and Vlad were not engaged.  They had not even dated!  And she wanted to go out so badly.  It was a pain to have friends married and engaged and not have anyone to go to the various functions with.  What would be the harm in having one more male friend, one to do things with?

She grinned.  "Oui.  I will go."

Alek smiled.  "Merci!"

They walked outside and across the street to the Seine River bank.  Alek took Sophie's arm as they walked.

"It is beautiful, is it not?"

"Tres belle.  I love rivers."

I love you, Alek thought as he looked at her.  He refrained himself was saying this.

 "So...what do you think happened to old Vladimir?"

"Vlad?"  Sophie was caught off-guard.  "I...I do not know.  I suppose he is working to come here to see me again.  The revolution must have slowed him down."

"Either that, or a wife slowed him down."

"What?" Sophie cried.  She yanked her arm out of his.  "That is not true!"

"Sophie, Sophie," Alek said quietly, "I never said that was true.  I was just saying, that might be one possibilty."

"Non, non," Sophie said.  "No, he would not get married!"  She started to walk back to the house.  Alek ran after her and caught her arm.

"I'm sorry, so sorry.  I didn't mean it like that.  Of course he wouldn't get married.  Come, lets continue our walk."

Sophie grudgingly agreed and they started to stroll again.  They talked about useless things.  The weather.  The recent stock market rise.  The young lovers that strolled along beside them.  They stayed away from the topic of Vlad.  But Sophie's mind stayed on it.

Vlad...oh, please, no.  Please don't let him be married.  Please don't let him have found someone else to love, someone else to hold close at night and to comfort in a storm.  No, no, no, never.  He would not do this to her.  Never! She was Sophie Stanislovskevna Somorkov-Smirniff.  She was rich, beautiful, young...

They stopped and sat down as they talked by the river's edge.  Sophie leaned over and looked at her reflection in the rippling water, expecting to see the same young belle as always.

She wasn't young.

She was...old.

37...her mind stayed with this number.  37.  She'd be 40 in three years. She couldn't believe this.  It just wasn't possible!  How could she age so fast?

Vlad HAD married someone else, hadn't he?  He had found someone else to love!  Someone younger, more belle as she used to be!  Her heart broke inside of her and a tear fell.  He was gone!  Her love was gone, out of her life forever!  Why hadn't she told him of her feelings for him??  Why had she continued to act like they were "just friends"?

"Sophie, are you alright?  You're crying."

Sophie turned quickly to look at Alek and smoothed the tears on her face.

"Oui, I am fine.  I just...got something caught in my eye.  An eyelash. I'm sorry..."

"No, it's okay.  Maybe I should walk you back to the house..."

"I think that would be best," she said, wiping her eyes.  They stood up and walked back to the house together.  She thanked him for the nice stroll then walked inside, leaving him on the front doorstep.

Alek stood there for a moment, then turned and walked back onto the street.  She'd be his.  She WOULD.  She would forget this Vlad and marry himself, Aleksander Vasha, if it was the last thing he'd do.

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