Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

By the day of Halloween, Anatoly was completely convinced that danger was lurking around every corner and that no corner of the island was safe. There was simply no telling where Molokov or de Courcey could be and he was afraid that if he stepped outside, even for a moment, that they would find a way to snatch him. He could only begin to imagine what sort of things they would have in store for him and he did not want to find out how the reality matched with his fears.

But as inconvenient as it was, he did need to do things like shower and eat and for that, he had to leave his hut. If Lex had not been there to act as his faithful bodyguard, he would have been content to remain a hungry and rather ripe grandmaster. Their trip to the compound passed without incident and after being reassured several times that Lex would be waiting in the rec room for him, Anatoly went to take a shower.

When he emerged and headed to the rec room, clean (if not exactly clean shaven), he found not Lex but a note in his handwriting. Opened, it simply said that Lex had spotted Molokov lurking about and advised him to leave the compound as soon as possible. He would be waiting outside and then the two of them could go to the IPD.

Without thinking or even stopping to pack up his chess set, Anatoly fled the rec room, heedless of the startled looks around him. He burst outside of the Compound and turned the corner, expecting to see Lex waiting for him. Instead, he found Molokov with de Courcey besides him with a nasty smirk. There was a burst of pain as Molokov's fist connected with his face and then he knew only blackness.

When his consciousness finally returned, he found himself tied to a palm tree on a deserted stretch of the beach. Lex was tied to a tree beside him, looking rather worse for the wear. Molokov and de Courcey weren't in sight but he had no doubt they were near, concocting some devious plan.

"Molokov, you Chekist bastard!" he shouted in Russian as he struggled futilely against his bonds. "What do you hope to accomplish by this?"

The trip back to the hut he and Lex shared seemed like an eternity to Anatoly. He had known that it was a possibility that Florence could appear, especially after Freddie's arrival but he had began to believe that it would never happen. Now here she was, taken from the worst moment and to top it all off, she was not his Florence. She was no less beautiful with her dark, curly hair and deep eyes but she was the Florence from Freddie's universe and somehow that hurt even more.

He paused before entering the hut, gathering his courage. He was afraid of what would happen when he told Lex, that their relationship would be altered beyond repair and he did not think he could take the loss a second time. It wasn't just anyone who was here, it was Florence - Florence who loved him and whose heart he had now broken twice over and when all was said and done, he had been in love with her for a year. She was not some stranger passing through for a night or two in his bed.

Taking a deep breath, he entered the hut and made his way to the table where Lex was sitting, preparing for his classes. "Florence is here," he said bluntly, running a hand through his hair. There was a more graceful way he could have put it, certainly, but he could feel himself heading near collapse and he didn't have the mental strength to word it any more delicately.

When he had woken in Moscow, Anatoly had been very much afraid of what would happen. Even after learning that he had been pulled back to a time before Merano, he had still worried. He might have been the pride and joy of the USSR but all it would take is one word at the wrong time and things could get very bad indeed.

When he saw his children, however, all his fears and anxiety just flew out of his head. Some part of him knew that it was a foolish idea to believe that nothing further could happen but he couldn't bring himself to listen. Perhaps he was here for good and he could do what he had failed to do before - be around for his children. He could do this, he could and with Lex at his side, they all could have a happy ending.

The light hit Anatoly's eyes and he groaned, not quite awake enough yet but he knew he had to get up. He wanted to take the children to the park today before Ilona's ballet lesson and there was so much to be done before then. He sat up and opened his eyes, expecting to discover how appalling the motel room was yet again.

What he found instead was the familiar walls of their hut on the island. It had been a dream - a dream or hallucination like it had been the last time when he and Lex had awoken in Smallville. He had been glad to return here before but now? Now, all he could think of was that he had lost his children again.

He carefully slid off the bed, not wanting to disturb Lex and sat in one of the chairs next to the chessboard. His back to the bed, he leaned forward, covering his face in his hands and silently wept.

Continued from here

The moment he heard Lex, he knew he was in for it. Lex meant every word he said, and he knew he'd follow through with a vengeance. But oh, what exquisite torture it would be - inspired, Lex was just as much of a tease as Anatoly regularly was, perhaps even more. It was the perfect way to finish such a lovely afternoon.

He grinned and caught Lex's hand before he could pull it away, bringing his palm to his lips for a gentle, lingering kiss. He was certain that once back to their hut, he'd lose the ability to touch Lex until after he'd paid sufficient penance, so why not take advantage of it while he still could? "Then let's go home so I can be properly remorseful."

Thus far, Anatoly's impression of Smallville was rather favorable. Sure, he'd literally woken up with nothing, not even a stitch to his name, but that was a minor detail in the grand scheme of things. Even the unwelcome surprise of Lionel Luthor wasn't enough to make him prefer Bangkok again or even, God forbid, Moscow.

Left to his own devices for the moment, Anatoly gravitated to the study. As vast and full of intriguing collections as the place was, the only object of interest was the chess board by the fire. It was clearly a very old and fine set and just cried out for further examination.

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!"

Lex was home where he belonged, and if it were up to Anatoly, he'd never let him out of his sight again. In the time spent without him, he'd come to truly understand the depth of his feelings for Lex. He might never be able to tell him so with words - they both had too much baggage to express such sentiments so freely - but he could show him.

But desperate embraces could only satisfy so much, and eventually the question of food arose. Anatoly was reluctant to leave Lex alone again, but with Lex not wanting to face people for awhile, it was the only solution.

He couldn't help the sigh of relief when he returned to the hut with boar sandwiches and found Lex where he'd left him. There were still questions to be answered about what had happened between Lex and Clark, but that could wait a little longer.

Despite his words, Lex pulled Anatoly over to the table and picked up both bag and board in one arm. He respected the need to get away and purposefully pulled the other out of the room and out of the compound, all the way to their shared hut where he sat Anatoly down on the bed. Lex took a moment to put away the chess set and his things, giving Anatoly a moment to breath.

It was a relief, in some ways, to concede control of the whole painful situation to Lex. It was easy enough to push back his feelings from the other residents and act as if this reel was a minor inconvenience; they did not know the whole sordid story. With Lex, there was no chance of pulling off such a deception, even if he had wanted to. He knew what had happened, and how profoundly Anatoly had been affected by the events.

In silence he sat on the bed, face buried in his hands as he attempted to pull himself together. Now that the initial panic had passed, he was left with despair and guilt. He had tried not to think of Bangkok, because what good could dwelling in the past do him? He couldn't go back and change things, and even if he could - why? What difference would it make? It all lead to the same path and decision - to throw the game and return home. He had loved Florence, but he could not have won the game and lived with the knowledge he was responsible for keeping her and her father apart, no matter the protests she might have made. And even if he had ignored his better feelings and demolished Freddie in the way he so richly deserved, there was no reason to think Molokov would simply leave him alone. No, he would use his family and Florence as pawns again, and that was simply unacceptable, any way he looked at it.

No, he had done the right thing, the only thing. Why, then, did it still hurt so damn much?

Four days after acquiring his unexpected yurtguest, Anatoly was settling into a domestic routine of sorts. After so many months alone, it was nice to have someone sharing his living space again, even if it was only until Lex was well again.

"Your tea, your excellency," Anatoly teased, holding Lex's cup out to him. He didn't mind looking after him, constant trips for tea and soup and all, but he couldn't help the need to give him a bit of a hard time about it.

Once the tea was handed over, he finally shrugged off his coat and boats and sat down at the small table next to the bed, and prepared to drink his own tea. "How are you feeling?"

In the shade of a towering palm tree near his hut, Anatoly was deeply engrossed in a biography of Garry Kasparov. He hadn't meant to pick up another book about chess, but the jukebox had been particularly obnoxious of late so he'd grabbed the first book he could find and fled before it could start its nonsense again.

The reading was going slower than he liked, but considering he spoke English much better than he could read or write it, it was only to be expected. That aside, he was truly enjoying the read.