Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

Florence murmured sleepily, reluctant to join the world of the conscious so soon. But Anatoly was awake, or nearly so, judging from the movement on his side of the bed, which meant she needed to get up.

"Give me a second, Tolya, and I'll get up and get the coffee started," she mumbled, reaching blindly for his arm. "You want the shower first?"

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Anatoly let Florence take his arm, still in too much shock to form any coherent words. How could this have happened? How could he have - why did he wake up here? He'd lived through this before, hadn't he? He knew how this story ended. There'd be no happy ending for either of them.

Edited Date: 2009-08-06 01:22 am (UTC)

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"Tolya?" Florence opened her eyes and sat up quickly, unnerved by the lack of response from Anatoly. Seeing the look of stark terror on his face, her eyes widened and she immediately moved to wrap her arms around him, wondering what could have upset him so. "Anatoly, what is it? What's wrong?"

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It took all Anatoly had not to shy away from her touch. He couldn't even begin to imagine how could he explain the island to her. He wasn't even sure that he hadn't dreamed the whole thing. All he knew was that he couldn't bear to hurt her again.

"It's nothing," he said quickly, gently untangling her arms and moving off the bed. "I didn't sleep very well. I just need a shower. I'll be alright."

First the shower, and then the coffee and maybe, just maybe, he could pull himself together enough to figure out what was going on.

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Anatoly was lying, Florence was sure, but long experience had taught her that pushing grandmasters would get her nowhere. Freddie threw violent temper trantrums; Anatoly just withdrew. When he was ready, he'd talk, but until then, she had to give him his space.

"All right, she said lightly as she got out of the bed and padded over to retrieve her robe. "Shower's all yours and there'll be coffee when you get out."

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Anatoly stayed under the shower for a long time, hoping against hope that somehow things would all start to make sense. Eventually, he was forced to conclude there were no answers to be found. Somehow, he was back in Bangkok, all alone, condemned to relive his final match against Trumper.

Everything he'd come to know on Tabula Rasa would have to be left behind, even Lex. There was no room for distractions or memories of what was or might have been. The only thing left, the only thing that could be trusted was the game itself.

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By the time Anatoly finally emerged from the bathroom, Florence was deep in a heated conversation over the phone. "No, the car has to be here at twelve. No. Twelve. Well, I don't know who told you that time, but they're wrong. That car needs to be here at twelve or you and I will be having some words, mister."

She hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh. "God, these people. I don't know where they find them. This is a five-star hotel, you'd think the service would be a little better."

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Anatoly shook his head mildly as he started to get dressed. Was it déjà vu if he really had done all of this before? On top of everything else, he just had to wake up on the day of the damned interview.

"It's a big day for the press," he said, a little bitterly. "They probably commandeered the best cars already."

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"They're only doing their job," Florence reminded gently, though she certainly did sympathize with his sentiment. "They like you, remember. I'm sure it won't be as bad as you think it will be."

She looked over her shoulder at Anatoly and gaped in surprise. "Aren't you shaving?"

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"What?" For a moment, Anatoly couldn't understand why she was so concerned and then it dawned on him. Here, his image came first above all, even before the game. Trumper was unshaven and rarely decently dressed. He was the well-dressed, impeccably groomed one.

"Oh, yes. Of course I am. I'm doing it right now." He managed a small smile for her then turned to go right back into the bathroom, ignoring Florence's flurry of concern.

How he was going to get through this, he didn't even know.

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Lex woke up alone.

That was his first and main clue that something was very wrong. Not that Anatoly wasn't an early riser, but Lex still usually awoke first out of some Luthor need to be in control, even first thing in the morning. Not that he minded, since he'd grow to love stroking the Russian's curls across his forehead as a manner of waking the other man up. It was soothing and peaceful and one of the best parts of Lex's day.

Once his brain could focus on Anatoly's absence, he realized that the island was gone as well. Instead, it had been replaced by an unfamiliar hotel room, in rather tacky colors. Definitely not a place a Luthor would be caught dead in at home, so Lex had to wonder where he was, especially since his last memories of home were of crashing into the ocean in a disabled plane.

There was something else off about the situation that Lex couldn't quite put his finger on until he got up and did a little investigating. He had no wallet or ID of any kind, but clothes similar to what he'd worn on the island were hanging in the closet, thankfully well made and well fitted. The room was oddly dated in appearance and the Chinese newspaper waiting outside his door explained why. The date was apparently 1980 and the place was Bangkok, Thailand. Some how, the island had sent him to when and where Anatoly had been just before arriving on the island.

Lex's brain went into overdrive with theories and idea but one thing was certain. He had to find Anatoly. He knew there was a good possibility that the events of the island might not have occurred yet for Anatoly, so he would be a stranger to the man he loved, but it was a risk Lex was willing to take. He didn't know much about what had happened in Bangkok but he wasn't about to let Anatoly suffer through it alone this time. If he could help towards a better outcome, he would damned will try his hardest.

Once he was showered and dressed, Lex went down to the lobby and in his professional Luthor persona, introduced himself as an American press agent for the chess tournament and inquired after the whereabouts of the Russian player and his party. He breathed in inner sigh of relief when he heard that they were staying in that very hotel but that the player himself had just left for an interview at the local TV station. He asked the receptionist to call him a cab and place it on the American delegation's account. He smirked when his request was accepted without a hitch and moved to the taxi stand to wait.

Edited Date: 2009-08-06 02:35 am (UTC)

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Oh god. What in the word had he drank last night? Or more, what hadn't he drank. Sure the official story was that Frederick Trumper moves were of the purest in every city he played in, but this was Bangkok and he wasn't about to not experience all the steamy city had to offer. Now if he could only remember if the god he'd worshiped last night had been male or female...Oh well, what did it matter? They had had the pleasure of his company after all.

Despite is slight hangover, Freddie was perfectly composed as he walked out the entrance of the hotel to head for the TV studio. A smug smile was on his face as he knew all about Walter's plan to let the reporters go to town on Sergievsky and then let him emerge as the more composed player. While his gaze had immediately gone to the streets to hail a cab, it shifted when he heard someone who already had attracted a cab to the curb say their destination. His smile turned smugger, if that was possible, when he saw who it was. Now that was a god he wouldn't mind worshipping... "If your going to the television studio, do you mind if I ride along?" He asked, as if the man should be honored.

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The familiar voice, but with different inflection, made Lex look up from where he'd been talking to the cab driver through the open door. This had to be Freddie Trumper. Anatoly had been right, so like Roger that it was hard to pick out the differences unless you knew what to look for. And the cocky arrogance Anatoly had talked of hung around him like a cloud but at least Lex was used to dealing with this sort. Needless to say, he wasn't impressed, by the man or his tone as he asked to share his cab, but Lex gave him a polite grin in return. Perhaps he could learn a thing or two about the situation from the man during the ride. "Why not?" After a few more negotiations with the driver, half in English and half in Chinese,Lex stepped to the side and held the door for Trumper.

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With a polite nod in the other's direction, Freddie slipped into the cab and looked over with eager eyes as the man slipped gracefully into the cab next to him and pulled the door shut. As the car pulled away, he was already turning in his seat and offering his hand to the man. "Freddie Trumper." He said, of course expecting the other to already know that. Everyone in Bangkok knew who he was by now, surely.

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Lex considered the hand for a moment before taking it. "I know." He said with an answering smile. Feeding the ego couldn't hurt and might help Lex get the information he wanted. God knows it worked on many of his father's men at home. Then he considered for a moment before offering his own name, "Lex Luthor." When he changed things, he wanted the players of the game to know the true name of the man they had played against. "I must say it's a pleasure."

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"Of course it's a pleasure." Freddie said with a self assured smile as he sat back, half against the door so he could remain turned towards Lex with their knees touching. There was limited space in the cab after all. "Here to watch me beat the pants off these Russians?" Lex was American, so he had to be there for Freddie.

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"You could say that yes." Lex had followed Trumper's train of thought and just smiled amicably. It was still the Cold War and Trumper's ego aside, it was an easy assumption to make. But of course, Lex already had an answer prepared so he continued easily, as if without thought. "I'm a press agent." If anything, arriving with Trumper would aid in his cover, since he'd yet to figure out how he was going to get into the studio without a press badge. Arriving with one of the subjects of the hour would no doubt negate that detail.

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"A reporter!" Freddie replied brightly. Walter had kept him away from the reporters to avoid any of the bad press he'd gotten in Merano and so he could look the more secure player after Sergievsky bombed his interview today. Which was a guarantee, if what Walter told him was right. But of course, keeping him away from the reporters only made him more eager to talk to one. He leaned towards the other man, getting in Lex's personal space as if it was his right. "Then aren't you lucky I offered to share your cab. I promise, your in for a real treat when we get to the studio. And..." Then he reached out with one hand and set it on Lex's knee, slowly moving it upward. "perhaps I can interest you in a...private...interview later?"

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Lex could only raise an eyebrow and give Trumper a slight smile. As much as it repulsed him, he added a bit of invitation into his look so Trumper wouldn't be offended when he stopped the hand's journey north. "I'm sure we can arrange something." Even if Anatoly didn't know who he was, Lex had a feeling Trumper wouldn't want anything to do with him once they got the studio and Lex enacted his plan.

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That was good enough for Freddie and he sat back once again, pleased with himself, though he kept their legs touching. "It'll be an experience you won't forget." He bragged, already sure of that.

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"Oh I have no doubt about it." Lex replied agreeably, though his smile took on a bit of an inner smirk. No, he doubted Trumper wouldn't forget today, not for a very long time. Then, as the cab slowed down, Lex said, "I believe we're here."

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Svetlana had been waiting in the lobby of the hotel all morning, waiting for Anatoly to come down. Most of the time had been spent taking deep breaths to prepare herself to see her estranged husband, while the rest was reminding herself why she was here; that she was doing this to better the lives of herself and her children.

And not for Molokov, despite what he thought.

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Of all the situations he wanted to avoid, running into his wife was right at the top of the list on the best of days. Now, it was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.

He checked at the sight of Svetlana, but made himself go over to her, his head held high and shoulders squared. There was no point in running anymore, not if he was only going to end back where he'd begun.

"Svetlana."

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Svetlana stood up from the seat the moment Anatoly had stepped foot in the lobby and resisted the urge to straighten her dress. She was...honestly surprised that he actually approached her, as she was half expecting to have to corner him.

Still, she was a proud Russian woman and she lifted her chin confidently as she spoke. "Hello Anatoly."

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She was an extraordinarily beautiful woman, Anatoly thought as he gazed at her, struggling for something to say. He'd been dazzled by her from the first moment he met and hadn't rested until he'd charmed her into being his wife. They had been happy for a few years, and he had tried so hard to be everything she asked of him - husband, lover, father.

But slowly, their marriage had disintegrated into arguments and tears and even now, he couldn't pinpoint where and when it'd gone so wrong. Did they marry too soon, too young? Have children too early? Should they have even married at all? So many questions and so few answers.

"It has been a very long time since I've seen you," he said awkwardly. "They are treating you well here?"

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And he was still has handsome as ever. His charm and intelligence, that had been part of what her drawn her to him, was hidden by the awkward situation. Despite everything, she knew a part of him still loved him and oh did that part ache.

"They've been treating me well, I suppose. I was waiting to wish you luck with the match." The words sounded empty, even to her ears and she smiled try and make up for it.

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"Thank you," Anatoly said quietly, knowing that she was only here because of Molokov's foul machinations. He couldn't believe that she would have come here otherwise. "And the children? They are well too?"

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She liked to think she'd had a part in being here...but no, it was all Molokov's doing. But it was up to her to make sure she benefited as well. It was the only way she'd be able to live with herself.

"They are well. They wanted to come and see their papa, Mitya especially." As much as she missed them and wish they could see their father, she was glad they weren't here, to see what she was being made to do.

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Anatoly nodded once and looked away, not wanting Svetlana to see the pain in his eyes. "I miss them very much," he said after a few moments, when he was sure he could keep his voice steady and unaffected. "I'm glad to hear they are well."

He turned back to her again, offering her a faint smile. "I must go, I am sorry. They are waiting for me."

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