Is this the tide in my affairs when I write a little history?

[chesspolitik]

Being mobbed by a vicious pack of reporters was bad enough on any given day. Being mobbed by them in Bangkok during one of the most stressful matches in his life was even worse. Going through it again was nothing less than hell on Earth.

The car ride to the studio was a blur. He heard Walter talking to him, and he knew he was answering, but what was actually said, he couldn't recall afterwards. He went where he was told, going through the motions with as little thought as possible. It'd be over soon enough, and slipping back into his role of emotionless machine was the only way he'd manage.

It was a fine idea, but as the barrage of questions started, from the insipid ("Isn't this a bizarre reunion?") to ridiculous ("Is being homeless affecting your game?"), he felt his self-control slipping away, just as before.

"Your true motivation is something we all want to know," one of the reporters asked, a malicious glint in his eye.

At that, Anatoly's temper flared and he shouted back furiously, "You know damn well what my motivation is!"

Comments

[capable-of.livejournal.com]

"His motivation is simply to win a chess game and keep his title, or have you all honestly forgotten the reason you are all here?" Came a loud clear voice from the back of the room and the crowd almost parted before where Lex stood as all of the reporters turned to see who had spoken.

Lex smiled his best Luthor professional smile and moved away from the surprised Trumper, who had been whispering in Lex's ear all about the plan he'd concocted with Walter and how foolish the Commie bastard looked answering all those questions. Lex had been biting his cheek so hard to not comment, or knock him unconscious, that he could taste blood on his tongue. But at least now he wouldn't have to explain to Trumper how that private interview was never going to happen.

Once the attention was all on him, Lex couldn't look at Anatoly. It was cowardice maybe, but he couldn't stand to see the look of non recognition in the eyes of the man he loved. This would be hard enough as it was. He kept walking to the front of the room, every inch a bred and trained Luthor. "This is a farce, and if you were all genuine reporters, you would see that. This is about a sport, pure and simple, and I half a mind to bring this issue to the Arbitor. It's considered cheating if you break an opposing runner's leg during a race correct? Is that not what you are doing to Mr. Sergievsky? A chess player's mind is his strength and you are bending and breaking it with your senseless questions, and taking pleasure from the pain you cause."

He paused to take a breath as he reached the front of the room and looked for the man he'd seen Anatoly consulting with before, who had to be Walter de Courcey. Lex looked right at him as he spoke next. "The CIA and the KGB are waging their own war and you are all their too willing pawns because it's an easy story." A flutter rose up among the reporters, but Lex ignored them, instead letting his smirk get sharper as he saw de Courcey's eyes harden in a dare, which he gladly met. "And I'm sure Mr. de Courcey would be glad to give you the CIA side. If you are at all reporters worth your bylines, then I suggest you look into that instead of badgering a man who's only purpose here is to play chess."

Lex ignored the sudden burst of questions of who he was and how he had come about this information as he reached out and took Anatoly's arm. "I have said all I need to say and I believe Mr. Sergievsky has a match to prepare for. If you will excuse us." Then, he pulled Anatoly from the room and away from the crowd, leaving a fury of noise behind them. Of course, Lex couldn't hear it over the beating of his own heart, as the moment of truth lingered. Would Anatoly know who he was?

He kept walking, not looking at the man he was leading, until he found a secluded corner in the studio, away from prying eyes. Finally, he turned to Anatoly to explain, though he still wasn't brave enough to look into the Russian man's eyes. "Anatoly, I realize you may have no idea who I am but I promise you, I'm a friend and I only want to help...."

[chesspolitik]

At the sound of that familiar voice, Anatoly froze. His eyes were drawn to the slowly advancing figure and for once, he could look without fear, as he was not the only one staring. He'd wished, briefly, that Lex could somehow be here with him, but never in a million years did he think that would actually happen.

He could have wept as he heard Lex defend him, taking the role that de Courcey was supposed to have served. He could see the CIA agent was stunned and if he hadn't been in public, he would have laughed long hard at the sight.

Then Lex was pulling him out of the room and away from the prying eyes. He hardly heard what he was saying, all he could focus on was that he was really here, that this was no dream but reality. The moment they were in the isolated corner, he pulled Lex to him and kissed him passionately. They would only have a few moments to themselves and he wanted to take advantage while he still could.

He was not alone, he had not dreamed any of this. Lex was here and in his arms and everything would be made right again.

[capable-of.livejournal.com]

When Anatoly kissed him, Lex could have done the most unLuthor like thing possible...he could have cried with relief. He hadn't even let himself hope Anatoly would know him. But instead of tears, he just clutched at the awful suit and pulled Anatoly to him to return the kiss, with as much passion and relief he could muster.

And even when he came up for air, he couldn't let him go, sensing that Anatoly was feeling just as desperate as he was. Resting their foreheads together, Lex glanced around to make sure they were still alone before saying softly, "I'm here. Your not alone this time.Everything is going to be different, I promise."

[chesspolitik]

Anatoly took a deep breath, taking strength from Lex's presence. If he had to do this over again, at least he was worth someone he trusted above all others. With Lex's help, perhaps he could rewrite history, find the happy ending he'd chased so fruitlessly for.

"I should tell you," he said hurriedly, keeping an eye and ear out for unwanted visitors. It wouldn't be much longer before they were found. "Florence. She's here. She doesn't - I couldn't - God, I don't even know what I can say to her."

[capable-of.livejournal.com]

Lex would blame it on the odd situation he found himself in, stranger then anything Smallville could dream up, for the fact that he flinched when Anatoly spoke his former lover's name. Sure it was in his eyes and in one corner of his lips, but it was there all the same.

But a Luthor always approached their problems head on and at the moment, Lex needed to be a Luthor, for Anatoly's sake. "We need to talk to her. First and foremost." He gave Anatoly a soft comforting kiss to silence any protest." She deserves it and she will probably be our only ally." That and Lex needed all the information he could get and between the two of them, he had no doubt he could get it.

Molokov and Walter Thread (Of Doom)

[molokovcocktail.livejournal.com]

Someone was going to pay for this. That was the only coherent thought in Molokov's head as he watched the strange American throw the press conference he and de Courcey had labored so carefully to put together into shambles. The only thing keeping him from drawing his gun and taking care of both Sergievsky and this Yankee bastard was the fact that he'd be in more trouble than he already was.

He fought his way through the crowd of clamoring reporters, viciously elbowing anyone unfortunate enough to get in his way until he reached his counterpart. There were protocols for this sort of thing, but this event had changed the rules.

"We must meet. Ten minutes in the usual place," he whispered briefly in de Courcey's ear then continued walking, his rage growing by the minute.

One way or another, he was going to get some answers, even if he had to beat it out of de Courcey himself.

Re: Molokov and Walter Thread (Of Doom)

[decourcyonrocks.livejournal.com]

Everything had been going to plan. Sergievsky was against the ropes and on his last nerve and Trumper had arrived just in time to make his grand entrance. It was all perfect...until that bald, kid had to throw a wrench in it.

Reporters were shouting questions about his connection to the CIA at him, which Walter deflected with practiced ease, as he tracked Molokov out of the corner of his eye. He had no doubt his Russian counterpart would want a word and Walter was already trying to think of way to convince him that he didn't know who the kid was, despite him being American, or how he knew what he knew. And of ways to stop Molokov from just shooting like Walter knew he wanted too.

It took Walter another five minutes to escape the reporters, giving him just enough time to meet Molokov outside one of the back enterences to the studio. He immediately put his hands up, as if holding back the angry Russian. "Look, before you start, I have no idea who that kid was or how he knew I was CIA."

[molokovcocktail.livejournal.com]

One of the things Molokov greatly admired in Walter was his uncanny ability to know precisely what Molokov was thinking. Understanding was a beautiful thing, after all.

Except, of course, when it meant that he was robbed of an scapegoat to blame. He scowled at Walter, unreasonably annoyed that he'd cut to the heart of the question without letting him rant and rail. "And I should believe you, just like that, hmm? How do I know you haven't decided to change our little arrangement?"

[decourcyonrocks.livejournal.com]

And one of the things Walter didn't like about Molokov was his habit to rant and rave and he wasn't about to make himself the man's target, thank you very much.

"And create more work for myself? I know we don't trust each other as far as we can throw the other, but come on now. We had Sergievsky right where we wanted him." Then he rolled his eyes and bit back a groan. "Not to mention I no doubt now have to go listen to Trumper throw a temper tantrum because he didn't get his promised lime light."

[molokovcocktail.livejournal.com]

"You could always shoot him," Molokov said unsympathetically. Trumper's hysterics were nothing compared to the current issue before them. "How you have not done so before this is quite beyond me."

He paused for a moment to entertain a delightful fantasy of shooting Trumper, Sergievsky and this new interloper. It would be so easy, so enjoyable - so worth the paperwork. If only... but alas, such a beautiful dream was never meant to be.

[decourcyonrocks.livejournal.com]

Walter just rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to shoot him. Paperwork aside, we need him. Alive and driving me nuts yes, but alive so we can put pressure on Sergievsky so you can get him back and I get some of my men. We had a deal remember?"

That's what was important after all. Now if he could only distract Molokov so he didn't make good on that threat. Walter never did know with his Russian counterpart.

[molokovcocktail.livejournal.com]

"We had a deal, yes. This - whatever he is - has changed things. Do you think my comrades will be very pleased that our great work has been exposed to the press? They might suspect... things. Very unpleasant things. Who can say what they will wish to do now?"

Molokov scowled, his fingers itching for his gun. He was on thin ice as it was, and this debacle wouldn't help matters any. Who could say there wasn't already a replacement being flown out right this minute? "I know your distaste for certain... tasks, but we cannot have this khuyesos' interfering in our work."

[decourcyonrocks.livejournal.com]

Walter snorted with restrained laughter. While he wasn't fluent in Russian, he'd come to know his counterparts favorite curses well. That one was a particular favorite. Biting his tongue, he gestured his hands in a calming gesture. "Just relax alright? The match is tomorrow. If we move quick, nothing has to change. Not even that damn kid or mother Russia can move fast or know enough to interfere. And when it all goes to plan, your comrades will be praising you, mark my words."

Then he raised an eyebrow. "And keep your hand away from your gun."

[molokovcocktail.livejournal.com]

"It had better go to plan," Molokov said darkly, his fingers clenching into fists. "Or I will have to take matters into my own hands, regardless of your aversion to paperwork. It is just good business, you understand."

At the remark about his gun, he merely tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "Are you fearing that I would shoot you? Please, perish the thought. I would never waste such a valuable resource."

[decourcyonrocks.livejournal.com]

"Good business. Is that what they call it in the Soviet Union now?" Walter said sarcastically, but his confident smile didn't waver. He had every confidence that there would be no need for Russian business.

Though when Molokov said that Walter just raised his eyebrows. Then he smirked. "Why Alexander, was that a compliment?"

[molokovcocktail.livejournal.com]

As a general rule, Molokov discouraged intimacy, particularly one involving the use of his first name. It was simply not done, not for spies who wished to have a long lifespan. Very rarely did he break this rule, and it was only for deserving people. "If it was, Walter, you should feel very honored indeed."

[decourcyonrocks.livejournal.com]

What could Walter say? He liked to live dangerously. So he only kept up his smirk. "Then I am." Realizing they'd been away long enough, and Walter really needed to go reign in Freddie before he did something stupid, he nodded to Molokov. "Tomorrow then."