TREACHERY 2: Sleepless

Disclaimed in Part One. I know I can't spell Russian.

"Alex?" Sascha murmured, as her twin twitched for the fiftieth time 
that night. He didn't answer her.

"Alex, are you okay?"

He turned back around to face her, and clicked the light on. She 
blinked her large green eyes several times, adjusting to the light, 
then gave a little gasp at her twin's face.

Both eyes were slowly turning purple, and he could only just open the 
left, it was so swollen. A deep cut on his brow was still bleeding, as 
was one on his lip. He had many other obvious bruises, and she looked 
into his eyes.

"Father?" she asked, wanting Alex to deny it, to say he walked into the 
door or something, anything but the plain-as-day realisation that their 
father hit Alex. 

He nodded, a tear sliping out of his right eye. His father hadn't just 
hurt him physically. He'd left emotional scars which ran deeper than 
any of the cuts and bruises. Alex had never been hit by his family 
before. His father had never been like that before. And Alex still 
didn't realise the full meaning of what he'd done, how significant it 
really was. 

It was only a file. The men his father worked for and with had millions 
of them, surely. He'd seen many himself. But, of course - this was the 
first one he'd gone so far as to read - or look at the insides of, 
anyway. 

He cringed away from Sasch, turning the light off before someone came 
up. A glance at the clock revealed that it was ten past one in the 
morning. Both of them were usually asleep by now.

Once Alex's eyes adjusted, he could see his sister was still watching 
him. She was as shocked as him. 

Making a snap decision, Alex sat up. Sascha did too, and stared at him.

"Alex, what are you--"

Alex shushed her with a finger to his lips, and grabbed his school bag.
Chucking a scarce few possessions in the bag, he put some clothes on - 
simply a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a sweatshirt. And turned to walk 
out the door.

"Alex, where are you--"

He cut his sister off by dropping his bag and running over to her. He 
kneeled beside the bed, and placed his chin beside her. The twins met 
eyes.

"I'll miss you, Sascha. Tell Tatyana I'll miss her too."

Sascha nodded, and kissed her brother on the forehead, delicately. He 
stood up, picked up his bag, and walked out the door without looking 
back. 

*****

"Where the hell is that boy?!" Sascha woke up to the sound of her 
father yelling. He stormed into the twins'..Sascha's room. 

"Sascha, where _is_ Alexander?"

She sat up, shaking her head. She didn't know. Her father came over, 
and lifted her out of her bed, forcing her to stand on the floor before 
he dropped her.

"Do you know where your brother is?" he said, trying to keep his voice 
calm but the undertone threatening.

"Nyet" she replied, staring truthfully up into his eyes. He frowned.

"Sascha, the word is "no", not "nyet". Speak in English, girl!"

She shook her head again, "Nyet."

He raised a hand, then forceably made himself stop.

"You're just like your brother, Sascha Krycek."

And that's when it hit her. She probably wasn't going to see her 
brother, ever again. Her twin. She curled up in the corner, and sobbed, 
face in hands, on knees. 

She didn't move, until her mother came in and sat down in front of her. 
Sascha threw herself into her mother's arms, clutching at her, still 
sobbing. In broken Russian, she sobbed out what her father had done to 
Alex, but not what Alex had done. Her mother stroked her back 
rhythmically, soothingly. 

After about five minutes, she stood up to leave. Sascha didn't move, 
just stayed there sobbing. Not knowing what else to do.

*****

Alex shivered, walking alongside a stream. He didn't know where he was 
going. He just was going away. And never looking back. He wasn't going 
to live with them any longer. He couldn't care less if he never saw his 
father again. His mother hadn't helped. She hadn't stopped him, she 
probably could have.

Chris was no better. Never played the protective older brother role, 
the way Alex sometimes needed. Chris treated him as a pain. He'd always 
played with the girls, never Chris. There was a fair age difference, 
but still. 

Natasha didn't have much to do with him. It was always just Sascha, 
Alex and the little Tatyana. Well, now it would just be Sascha and 
Tatyana. He was out of the picture. 

"Da Svieniada, Alex" he whispered to himself, allowing a tear to slip 
down his blue-black cheek. And on he walked. Before long, he broke into 
a run, never suspecting how that was how his life would end up. 
Continually running.