chesspolitik | A Battleground for Rival Ideologies

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A Battleground for Rival Ideologies

If Anatoly had been thinking more clearly, he would have been suspicious of the little reel in the bookcase bearing the label of "Chess 2009". The bookcase had been on a cycle of giving him things he didn't like or need, so the fact that it was cooperating now should have registered as a bad sign.

None of this crossed his mind, however, as he painstakingly threaded the reel to the projector. Whatever it might be - a documentary on the history of chess or showing of a match between two grandmasters, he was certain he was going to enjoy it. This was clearly about his beloved game and there was just no way that it could show him something he would not like.

His first inkling that he was terribly wrong about all of this was the very first shot showing an enormous concert hall. His mouth dropped open as he heard the announcer call "Josh Groban" and he saw himself walk across the stage. The case fell from his fingers as he saw Freddie follow after someone who bore a rather strong resemblance to Maureen. What was this?

The concert started but things still failed to make any kind of sense. Who would write a concert about chess? Why would someone write a concert about chess? He wasn't sure which was more disconcerting - that or that people who looked exactly like him and Freddie appeared to be in it.

When the song about what appeared to the history of chess ended and the main singer with the gloves started speaking, he was horrified. This wasn't a story about chess, this was about him. Him and Freddie and what happened between them and if he could have found the strength to get up to shut the damned thing off, he would have.

He was too shocked to move, to do anything but watch his nightmares play out in song and bizarre chorus. The only comfort he could find was that at least they had gotten Freddie behaving like a bastard right.

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If the hymn or whatever it was had been soothing, the next song with the cheerleaders was even more horrifying than the song with the Arbiter. He stared for a few moments, trying to make sense of it all then gave up and turned to Freddie. "What is this thing? How - why did anyone think this was a good idea?"

"Beautiful women acting as cheerleaders for chess?" Freddie grinned. It was the prettiest sight he'd seen all day. It completely ruined the image of chess, but what sport didn't have a few cheerleaders. "Yes. Such a shame. I think I might keel over from shock. I think I might die of a heart attack. I think I might want a few for myself."

Anatoly narrowed his eyes at Freddie. "You don't find this a disgrace? Well, I suppose you wouldn't. This is right up there with your sort of behavior, isn't it?"

He quieted as the scene changed to the chess game. There was a dance, though not of chess pieces. It was skillful enough, he supposed, but his real focus was on the Freddie and Anatoly on the screen. They appeared to playing chess and he wished the camera was on the board so he could see what they were doing, if they were actually playing a game or just moving pieces around.

"Oh, fuck off," Freddie growled. "I don't care about the order of the game. I care about the game itself. But that's not something that you would understand. In the end, you didn't care about anything. You gave up. You gave in to the pressures of your Commie compatriots."

"You know why I thew the game," Anatoly snapped. "I am not going to sit here and argue with you over this again. If you don't want to consider Florence's feelings, that is your problem."

"I know why you say you threw it. Who knows. Maybe your ego wasn't as hurt, losing to me instead of Viigand." Still, it left Freddie with a sour taste in his mouth that he might have won because Anatoly had let him win.

The commotion on the screen caused Anatoly to look back rather than answer and he stared in disbelief. "The game is ending? Just like that? No mention of the yogurt that caused you to throw a fit? Who wrote this?"

It was a minor issue but he was choosing to focus on that than revisit the path that had led him to defeat in Bangkok. Whatever Freddie said, he knew he had done the right thing. He loved the game, yes, but he had loved Florence even more.

"Oh, for fuck's...you do know the Russian reputation, don't you?" Never mind the fact that he'd just needed the excuse to work a few side deals before they'd actually finished the game. He wasn't proud of himself for that one and so he didn't pay attention to it.

"Please tell me how you can pass code using yogurt," Anatoly rolled his eyes. "No, I insist. You have never given me an answer on this and I would dearly like to know."

"I told you. It depends on what flavor of yogurt you're getting," Freddie grumped. He wasn't looking forward to what he knew what was coming back. That damn mountain meeting.

Anatoly muttered uncomplimentary things under his breath as he looked up at the screen. He inhaled sharply when he realized what the current scene must be - the fateful meeting at the mountain inn. He was afraid to see how this was going to be portrayed. He hadn't intended to do anything at all but Florence had been so beautiful underneath the moonlight. He'd fallen for her then and unknowingly started an avalanche.

"Oh, fucking wonderful. I get to watch the pair of you make eyes at each other." Make eyes and slowly start to circle nearer and nearer. Were they going to kiss? He was pretty sure he couldn't be held responsible if Sergievsky's lips met Florence's.

"You'll notice I didn't seduce her," Anatoly said, also wondering if there was going to be a kiss and bracing for a fist in his direction. "It just happened as I have been telling you over and over. If anyone is to blame, it's you and your behavior."

"No, but what in the hell are those looks?" Freddie pressed his lips together and dug his fingers into the cushions of the couch. He was half tempted to bolt for the thing and turn it off. He didn't want to see this seduction of his former girlfriend.

Anatoly had kissed Florence but this version didn't appear to be close to doing so, something that was, all things considered, for the best. He knew Freddie was already angry enough to punch him for it if they had.

He watched for a few months then clenched his fists in anger at the "Where's daddy, dead or in the KGB" line.

"Really? You said that to her and you still can't understand anything? What is wrong with you?"

Edited 2011-02-20 17:42 (UTC)

"You two were all but planning on running off together! And it turned out that I was right, too. She just ran into your arms after the second game, didn't she?" Freddie was disgusted. Partially at Sergievsky, but a tiny bit that he was never going to admit to at himself. They'd flirted, sure, but he'd thought that so much more had happened. He'd thought...he'd thought that she was deserting him. That she was switching sides and the deal was all but done.

"And you didn't even pause to consider that you might...fuck it." He scowled and turned back to the screen.

"Didn't pause to consider what?" Anatoly asked, annoyed that Freddie was still choosing to blame everyone but himself for how he and Florence had ended. If he couldn't see how his behavior had caused all of this, then there really was no hope for him.

Freddie's jaw clenched. "Nothing. Never mind. Ignore everything I say, you always do." He winced as he started talking to Florence after the second game. He'd remembered that. Blaming her for setting him up to fail. Maybe she hadn't been, but it had definitely seemed like Molokov's plan.

"No, I want to know!" Anatoly spared a brief glance for the fighting on the screen but turned his attention back to Freddie. He'd heard what had happened from Florence - he didn't particularly want to see the play-by-play.

"Since when do you care about anything that I'm feeling?" It was meant to sound snide, but it mostly just sounded tired. The problem was that he'd been right about the conspiracy and right about being used. It just hadn't been Florence who had been a part of the plot. She'd been used, like he'd expected from the beginning. What was uncomfortable was that Anatoly had been used, too. They all had been.

"Would you just tell me?" Anatoly sighed, running a hand through his hair.

The clamor on the screen drew his attention and he winced to see the reporters shouting all of their questions. It had felt like a set up back then and judging from Walter's expression of glee, he was right. He should have known, but he had only been thinking of Florence, then.

And now it looked like another part of his soul was going to bared and he buried his face in his hands, not waiting for Freddie to respond.

He had crossed over borders indeed but he had really never left Russia, had he?

"That you might have killed the only thing I loved that wasn't chess," Freddie answered and then when silent as the Anatoly up on screen started talking. Singing. Jesus. He didn't want to feel sorry for the man. He didn't want to feel pity. Actually, what he felt was something closer to jealousy. He knew where he belonged. Freddie had been kicked out of the one place he might have called home.

His heart started pounding and he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off the screen. With the accent, it should have been easy to tell that this wasn't Anatoly, but right now? It was so very hard. Did he really feel that way?

A quick glance at the man revealed that he did. Shit.

He hadn't want to believe Freddie loved Florence. With the way he had treated her, how could it have been possible? She had done everything for him and he had thanked her by calling her a parasite and telling her to get out.

It had never once occurred to him that there could have been love between them and chess had gotten in the way as it had for him and Svetlana. There were a thousand reasons he could give for this but the truth was just simply is that if he had, it would have made his intentions of pursuing Florence a little less noble. He loved and wanted her so much that he just chose not to consider Freddie at all.

"I don't think I can watch any more of this," he finally said, staring fixedly at the floor.

"You're not turning it off." The words were rough and Freddie still couldn't take his eyes off the screen, even when the thing had faded into some logo. Jesus hell. Maybe he shouldn't keep watching either. He didn't want to feel anything for the man who was his enemy. How could he hate him if he understood?

He couldn't.

No one should know this much about one person and it was kind of funny, because he still didn't know much, but he knew enough.

His jaw dropped a little when he saw himself. "What in the hell?" Oh, Christ. Bangkok.

The change in music made Anatoly look up and he gaped at the screen. This was Bangkok, it seemed, though he didn't remember it being so... vivid. He didn't remember Freddie being so familiar with the locals, either.

"Are you - are you leering at those men?"

The sheer insanity of this was enough to make him forget everything else for the moment.

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