Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

Anatoly took a deep breath and nodded, sticking his hands into his pockets to avoid the temptation to cling to Lex. He had to play this as if Lex was truly his handler. He had no thoughts or feelings here. He couldn't afford to.

As they exited the hotel and stepped out onto the street, he wasn't quite sure what he felt, exactly. He considered the island his true home, but he hadn't realized that a small part of him had missed Moscow. There were many terrible things happening here and all over the USSR, but this was still his city.

For once, luck was with them and there was a small newspaper stand a few feet from the hotel. Anatoly caught sight of the date and froze for a moment, hardly daring to breathe. They were here before Bangkok, before Merano. He was still admired, still respected. They could go where they pleased without fear.

"Sascha," he murmured in Russian once he had paid for the newspaper and moved safely away. He showed him the newspaper, his hand shaking. "Look. This is before everything. We can - I want to see my children. Please."