Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Her hands trembled as she stared down at the blood on her fingers, thighs, and thong. The club music vibrated the walls, and the thumping almost matched her racing heartbeat. Anora’s breathing was ragged, fear prickling up her spine as she grabbed too much toilet paper and haphazardly wiped her fingers off. 

“Shit,” She said to herself, shakily grabbing her phone off the toilet paper dispenser. She unlocked it and opened her calendar, swiping backward in time. “No, no, no, fuck!” Her voice was a low, frantic whisper as she saw the missed appointment. Her new Nexplanon should have gone in months ago, but she completely forgot; between the whirlwind marriage to Vanya, the fallout, and trying to recover some sense of normalcy–  well, normalcy for her– she blew right past the appointment. Ani was in Vegas getting an IV with Vanya, still so fucked up from the night before that she must have dismissed the notification without a second thought.

In an instant, she put it together; she hadn’t slept with a client since she’d been back, and once she and Vanya had been married, they weren’t using any kind of contraceptives. With her Nexplanon and the assurances of marriage, she didn’t think it would matter.

The music swelled momentarily with the squeak of the door swinging open, only for it to become muffled again as it slammed shut. “Ani, you in here?” A concerned voice called.

“Lulu?” Ani responded from inside the stall, her thong still around her ankles.

“Yeah, you doin’ okay?” She asked, stopping in front of the stall and leaning against the sink.

“Yeah– yeah I’m fine,” Anora replied, her hesitancy betraying her.

“You don’t sound too fine right now, you sick or somethin’?” Lulu asked softly, patiently. 

“Uh yeah, I think I have some kind of stomach bug or somethin’, one of those fuckin’ pricks out there probably came in all diseased or some shit, rubbing their germs all over the place.” Ani had steadied her voice at this point, all too accustomed to locking away any weakness and yanking up her walls.

“I’ll tell Jimmy you gotta take off and go grab your stuff, sit tight.” Lulu said reassuringly, the clicking of her heels fading as the door swung open again. 

“Fuck.” Ani sighed, opening her contact list and scrolling from top to bottom in one short flick. No one could know that not only was she the fucking idiot who actually fell for Vanya’s shit, but she was also the idiot who let that asshole knock her up. She hovered over Vera’s contact for just a moment before scrolling up just enough for his name to come back onto the screen.

“God dammit, god dammit.” She quietly cursed at herself. Ani hadn’t hardly spoken a word to Igor since the day in the car; it’d been weeks now, 5 or 6 at this point. He’d come by the club twice, once a week after to “check on her” and again maybe two weeks ago now. She told him he was a stalker, to leave her alone, that she needed space, anything really. It was obvious that the gopnik felt something, probably guilt or pity, but she didn’t want that from him. Anora didn’t want pity from anyone. Anytime she thought about him, it took everything she had not to let the heat of shame creep back into her face. Even now, her stomach was twisting into knots, and not just because of the painful cramping. 

The first time Igor came to the club, he said he just wanted to know how she was, make sure she was okay. He tried to give her his number, but she told him to fuck off. Ani was cruel then; she didn’t want to think about what had happened between them or be reminded of how she’d fallen for Vanya’s bullshit. She told Igor he was a creepy stalker and to get lost, that she didn’t need him to worry about her. He’d left, but when he came back a few weeks later, he was more insistent, enough so that she punched his information into her phone just so he’d go away. He told her to call if she needed anything, wanted a ride home, or had any issues. At the time, she assumed he was feeling pretty shitty about how everything went down with the Zakharov’s and his role in it; maybe he thought she was some broken little doll that he helped shatter. She never should have let herself be vulnerable in front of him, she had thought. But it didn’t matter now, he felt bad or somehow responsible, and he clearly was going to keep waiting outside her job at 3 in the morning just to “check on her” until she gave him some reassurance, so she took his number; anything to get him to let it go.

Anxiously, she flicked her finger up and down again before coming back to hovering above his contact. Her eyes were trained on the blood smeared on her thigh again, and she exhaled hard. Before Ani could stop herself, she sent a quick text:

You busy tonight?

She stared at the screen silently, stunned she’d done it. Before things could get too introspective, Lulu was back, sliding her bag under the stall door. 

“You need me to get you an Uber or somethin’, babe?” Lulu almost sounded maternal, even though she was only a couple of years older than Ani.

Her phone vibrated as Igor replied too quickly:

Do you need ride tonight?

“No, I’ll figure it out, thanks, Lu,” Ani replied, gratitude seeping into every word. Lulu was the only friend she really had anymore that she could talk to, but Ani couldn’t bring herself to tell Lu what was happening.

Ani texted back quickly, not wanting to sit in the bathroom any longer:

Something like that. When can U be here? Need to leave now

“Let me know if you need anything, I’ll be around,” Lulu responded. Ani listened to her leave again and watched her phone screen intently.

Be there soon. 20 minutes maybe

She sighed and dropped the phone into her bag. Despite the twisting pain in her pelvis, she managed to clean herself up and get changed in the tight, dingy stall. She layered two pads on her underwear and get herself as straightened up as she could. The pain was intense enough that Ani took a few ibuprofen before slinging her bag over her shoulder and making her way to the exit. Walking through HQ she kept her head down; she didn’t have the energy to deal with any clients tonight and she certainly wasn’t in the mood to deal with Diamond. 

Once she was in the alley, she hit her vape and tried to relax, leaning against the wall. Ani only had to wait a few minutes before Igor pulled up, still driving the same car that made her heart pound anytime she saw it. He was driving just a little too fast and got out with more urgency than she expected. He crossed the alley in a few long strides and stopped in front of her.

“Are you okay Anora?”

“Yeah, well I mean, no, but I’ll be fine,” she paused, biting her tongue every time he called her Anora, “I need to go to the ER, can you drop me off?”

“Anora, what is wrong?” He asked, his usually calm demeanor immediately cracking as he closed the already short gap between them and gripping her shoulders.

“Fuck, I said I’ll be fine, can we just go?” Ani stepped sideways to loosen his grip on her arms and had to stop from the pain of suddenly moving. Gritting her teeth she exhaled hard and doubled over, wrapping her arms around her waist.

Without a word, Igor stepped close again and wrapped an arm across her back to steady her. Ani went to tell him to fuck off, but couldn’t make the words come out. 

“Can you walk?” He asked, holding her against him.

“Yeah, fuck.” She responded, righting herself. Crossing the alley she leaned on him and let him help her into the car, she couldn’t help it. Once Ani was in the seat Igor hurried around and started driving to the hospital.

“What happen? Did someone hurt you? Please talk to me, ” Igor said, his voice low.

“I don’t even know where to fuckin’ start.” Ani groaned and gripped at her waist as they passed over a bump in the road. She looked up and met his anxious glances. “Igor I can’t, don’t make me talk about it please.” There was a softness and desperation in her voice that she didn’t intend. Igor made a low noise in response, and the rest of the drive was silent besides the small groans Ani made when waves of pain rose. 

They arrived at the ER in record time; Igor hopped out of the car to help Ani inside. Once they made it to the front desk, she tried to tell him to go, but she was feeling faint and the room was spinning, so she leaned on him and let him walk her to a chair. Nurses triaged her faster than she expected, maybe ten minutes or so, and began asking questions. Igor stayed with her, despite her weak protests, silently watching over her and inadvertently learning too much about her.

“Tell me what’s going on, hon,” a nurse said.

“I won’t stop bleeding, the room is spinning like a top, and these fuckin’ cramps are killing me.” Ani paused, “I uh, think it’s a miscarriage.” She felt her cheeks flush, from embarrassment or maybe shame. Igor didn’t react in any noticeable way at first, but after a beat, she felt his hand rest on her shoulder momentarily and squeeze gently. Just a moment. 

“I missed my Nexplanon appointment a couple of months ago,” Ani added, finding herself somewhat relieved to say it all out loud and see that the world wasn’t suddenly ending.

The nurse asked her some more questions and got increasingly concerned as Ani described some of her symptoms. By the end of the conversation, she had been moved to a small room and had an IV dripping saline into her vein. 

The rest of the night was an exhausting blur of tests, ultrasounds, and an immeasurable amount of poking and prodding. By the time the doctor spoke with her, she’d been there for hours, and she was feeling a lot better, albeit sore and crampy. The doctor was curt but kind; she told Ani that it was indeed a miscarriage and that there wasn’t much they could do for her at this time. The best course would be to go home and ride things out, but they did tell her to come back if her symptoms got worse or she was soaking through a pad in thirty minutes or less.

The sun was up, and it was still early morning when she was released. Igor drove her home, not saying much besides offering to help her here and there, but she was much steadier on her feet after the fluids and meds she received at the hospital. Ani was thinking much clearer during the car ride home, and the whirlwind of emotions she felt were overwhelming and far too exhausting to address anytime soon– maybe she could avoid it indefinitely. Thankfully, Igor was not pushing her to talk, and he certainly wasn’t voicing any opinions about the situation.

Pulling up to her house early in the morning with him in his grandmother’s car put her on edge. She got out as quickly as possible and made her way to the door. Unfortunately, Igor was much faster than her in this state, and he beat her to the door, standing behind her at a respectful distance while she fumbled with her keys. After a moment, he gently took them from her and opened the door, pausing at the door frame.

“Well, you comin’ or not?” Ani asked, surprising herself. After the tumultuous night they had together, any semblance of reticence she had at the moment was absent. Maybe he was a fucking creep, maybe he was a weirdo who was obsessed with fixing things or making it up to her, but right now all she could think of was falling asleep in her bed. Despite her prickly demeanor, Anora was scared. She had never messed up this badly, this consecutively, and certainly not without any real support. As fucked up as it was, Igor and her had some weird baseline trauma bond thing going, and he had stuck it out so far. Even if she had confusing, sometimes infuriating, or downright horrifying feelings about him, there was some comfort in his presence.

Without any further discussion, Igor followed her inside and locked the door behind them. Ani tossed her shoes haphazardly by the door with her coat, padding towards the bathroom sluggishly. Igor followed behind, picking up her coat before hanging it in the closet and placing her shoes on the rack. On the way to the shower, she gestured towards her room before disappearing into the bathroom. 

Igor was surprised by her bedroom; he didn’t necessarily have any set ideas about what it would look like, but he didn’t expect it to be so nice . She had organized books, incredibly fresh linens on the bed, heavy curtains in warm beige tones, and a large plush rug. Her heels were arranged on racks in her closet by color. There were some piles of clothes on the floor and stacks of books on her nightstand with colorful tabs poking out, a couple of spent vapes scattered about. All in all, her room smelled like something fall-themed, maybe pumpkin spice, and being in it was like getting to peek behind the curtain– seeing past Ani to get a glimpse at Anora. 

He felt like an intruder, but knew that she needed someone right now; she needed him. Even if things were awkward and he couldn’t get a good read on her, he knew he needed to stay with her for now, to make sure she was okay. So he waited for her patiently, sitting at her small desk until he heard the bathroom door swing open.

Ani made her way directly to the bed, an oversized t-shirt just barely covering the hem of the shorts she was wearing. She crawled beneath the covers and sunk into her bed, sighing as her body finally relaxed.

“ Do you need anything Anora?” Igor asked.

“Just sleep.”

“I can go,” Igor said cautiously.

Her eyes cracked open, and she had to stop herself from telling him to leave. “Can you just stay for a bit, maybe just til I fall asleep?” 

“I will stay.”

Ani scooted from the center of the bed and gestured for him to join her. Igor stood up, but didn’t move closer, awkwardly putting his hands in his pockets.

“What’s the problem?” She asked, exasperated.

“You want, I mean, I should come to bed?” 

“Unless you want to sit in the corner like a fuckin’ creep or sleep on my floor, yeah, you should come to bed. Just don’t be weird and touch me and shit, alright?” Ani replied.

Hesitantly, almost as if he were scared to get too close to her now that the temporary permission to touch her due to her emergency had passed. Carefully, he got into bed next to her, sitting against the headboard and trying to take up as little space as he could, despite his considerable size.

Anora began to drift off, so he checked his phone for the first time all night; he had several new messages from Garnik:

I need you tomorrow night.

Be ready by 8:30, meet me at bar.

Did you get texts Igor?

Acknowledge texts.

What the fuck is the problem?

Igor sighed and replied:

I will be there at 8:30.

He looked over at Anora, her features relaxed as she fell into a dreamless sleep. He had the urge to stroke her hair, and even moved his hand towards her, but he thought better of it and let it fall to the pillow. He might have to go to work this evening, but he intended to stay with her as long as possible and savor every moment he could.

Chapter Text

SIX WEEKS AGO 

Ani was on top of him before he could react; he never expected this, never planned for it to happen. But it was happening and she was straddling his lap, staring into his frozen expression as she slid him inside of her. His breath hitched but he was still a deer in the headlights, rapidly flipping through the events of the day, desperate to understand what he did right. He couldn't come up with anything, so in that moment he knew: she feels it too. Too Hell with “too soon”. 

Suddenly his muscles unlocked and he cupped her face. Igor needed to kiss her in the slow, deliberate way she deserved– with love and intention. Something changed in an instant the moment that he began to pull her in. Ani’s body went rigid and she resisted his gentle coaxing. It was at this point that he realized that it wasn't that he had done something right, it was that he had done something horribly wrong. Igor's mind immediately went back to the ring and how she had changed the moment that her gaze fell upon it in his hand. Something twisted in his stomach because he knew that this was just another instance of Anora– no, Ani, settling a score. He put slightly more force into pulling her down; she needed to know that wasn’t what this was for him. Igor didn’t want her for her body; he didn’t want to use her, he needed to share something deeper than that with Anora.

As the realization dawned on him that she saw this moment as a transaction, he lost all desire for her, but something shifted inside of her as well the moment that he tried to kiss her. He watched the instant that the switch flipped, and Ani slipped back below the surface. The carefully sealed bottle in the back of her mind suddenly popped its cork and he experienced the rush of emotions flashing across her face in rapid succession. First she was angry– how dare he try to validate every kindness he had shown her, he had to want this all along. She started hitting him ineffectually and screaming at him. After a moment he grabbed her wrists, he had to make it stop. Once he took away her ability to lash out, she shifted from a wounded animal to desolation. They stared at each other, Anora’s breathing heavy as her composure began to crumble. So many feelings bubbled to the surface, not just for her, but for Igor too; it crushed his heart to see her in such agony. Her lip trembled and tears rimmed the bottom of her eyes, threatening to burst through the carefully constructed dam. In one swift movement, Igor released her wrists and pulled her against his chest, cradling her head and swadling her in his arms; Anora crumpled instantly and began crying hysterically, collapsing against his chest with no resistance. Violent sobs racked her body as Igor held her silently, softly rubbing her back. He wanted to give her the space to feel this, some part of him knew that if he didn’t, there was a chance she would bury this too, let it harden her beautiful heart even further. He closed his eyes and let the minutes pass by as her sobs became quiet whimpers. By the time she had calmed down, her eyes were puffy and her nose was clogged so bad she couldn’t stifle her shaky mouth breathing.

Igor finally broke the silence, “E verything is going to be okay Anora. ” He soothed her, untangling his hand from her hair gently as she shifted.

“Yeah.” She was short with him, her walls coming up again. She stared at him, embarrassed maybe, there was a strange expression on her face.

“How can I help now?” He asked genuinely.

“Just don’t fuckin’ say anything else alright.” Ani sniffed hard and rubbed her sleeve across her nose. “I gotta go, just leave it.” She said, climbing off of him and getting out of the car. 

Igor wanted to say more, but before he had a chance, she slammed the door and walked towards the house briskly. He sighed and watched her close the front door behind her, windshield wipers still rhythmically swishing back and forth. 

“ Fuck. ” Igor said to no one in particular, his hands drumming on the steering wheel. He stared at her house for a moment, contemplating. It was clear she needed space, and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing again, but he wanted to follow after her desperately. Needed to make sure she was okay, hold her more if she needed it. Despite the desire to be with her now, he knew he needed to let it go for now, give her some space and go check on her somewhere more neutral than her house. Maybe if she had some time to herself, she would be more amenable. All he knew was that he couldn’t leave things like this, the thought that she truly believed he had always just been after a quick fuck made his stomach turn; Igor couldn’t bear the thought that Anora saw him that way. With crushing reluctance, Igor put his grandmother’s car in drive and pulled away.

PRESENT DAY

Anora was sleeping soundly next to him, her soft breathing comforting him as Igor watched over her. He’d been lying in bed with her for hours, and he knew she would probably wake up soon, so he gingerly slipped out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. Once there he checked the fridge and cabinets, trying to find something for her to eat. There was hardly anything stocked, the grocery list stuck to the fridge was covered in multiple colors of pen. Igor sighed and grabbed his keys off of the table by the front door. Within fifteen minutes, he had hot coffee and a pastry from down the road; it was better than nothing. Before he went to meet Garnik, he would have to run home and snag a portion of whatever meal babushka had prepared for dinner. 

Coming back into her room, Igor tried to be quiet, but the moment her door creaked Ani opened her eyes and propped herself up on an elbow.

“Thought you fucked off for good this time,” She said, a small undercurrent of humor in her tone.

“Do you feel better? You seem better .” Igor replied, padding across her thick carpet with her late lunch, if you could call it that.

“I’m still cramping like a motherfucker, but yeah, the bleeding isn’t as bad,” Ani replied, taking the coffee out of the drink carrier.

“Sorry if it’s not right– I didn’t know how you like your coffee. I also get… this thing.” He said, pulling out a pastry that looked like a Danish.

“God, I’m fuckin’ starving.” She took it from him and took too big of a bite. “Thanks.” Her cheeks were so stuffed it came out muffled. “Next time, go for matcha or chai; coffee tastes like shit.” She exhaled through her nose, and the corners of her mouth twitched.

Next time.

Ani couldn’t believe she’d said that so casually, like they were going to be hanging out or something.

Igor gave her a small smile. “Do you need anything for pain?” He asked, pulling her prescriptions out of his coat pocket.

“You went to the pharmacy? Jesus, you’re kind of fuckin’ unhinged, you know that, how’d you even get them to give you my meds man?” Ani asked, confused as Hell.

“I get birthdate from uh, hospital. You had to say it a lot.” Igor replied sheepishly.

“That is some serious fuckin’ stalker shit, why the fuck were you even there? I told you to just leave.” Her demeanor shifted, but Anora didn’t even know why she was being cruel right now. Lashing out again, maybe.

“You are acting like child. I stay because you needed someone, because I–”

Ani cut him off, “I don’t need anything from anyone. I didn’t need any help from you motherfucker.”

Igor sighed and his brow furrowed. “I wanted to. You never let me finish Anora. I was worried.”

Ani paused for a moment before continuing, her tone shifting to something softer but still disingenuously firm, “Well you don’t need to worry about me, not like you’re my fuckin’ boyfriend or something.”

He said nothing and sat on the edge of the bed.

Anora regretted taking the last shot at him immediately, watching the subtle ways that his face fell and the nuanced changes in his body language. Things were weird between them, and she wasn’t sure how she felt if she were being honest, but so far he’d been reliable and kind, and she felt guilty being unnecessarily mean. She cleared her throat, “Do you want this coffee, since y’know, I hate this shit?” She gave a half-hearted smile. “ Olive branch,” Anora added quietly in Russian.

Igor’s eyebrows raised as he took the coffee from her outstretched hand. “ You should do that more often. ”

“What, be nice to you?” Ani snorted, taking another bite of her Danish.

“ No I mean, yes, but I meant speak Russian. You’re not half bad.” Igor replied, the tension beginning to fade.

“Maybe. I think my accent is just fuckin’ horrendous. I also like English, I’m good with it.” Ani replied.

“No, accent is not bad at all. You sound out of… practice. Sorry, my English is shit,” He complained.

“You just need to practice. Maybe you’ll pick up some stuff from me.”

“ I will learn how to cuss like a sailor, maybe.” He smiled for real this time.

Ani giggled, full-on giggled, and she couldn’t believe it. She looked up from her pastry and met his gaze. It was intense the way he was looking at her, like she was the only star in the sky and he just couldn’t believe he found it. After a moment, she broke their line of site and rubbed her upper arm.

“ I have to leave around 6, will you be okay?” He asked casually.

“Yeah, Vera will be home by then, I’ll tell her I’m sick.” Ani responded, feeling an unfamiliar but nonetheless concerning amount of disappointment as he told her he would be leaving.

“I go home to get your dinner, come back to drop off, then I have to work tonight,” Igor said.

“What do you have to do, kidnap more women?” Ani responded, some spite in her words.

“No, well, not sure. Garnik just told me to meet him somewhere, it’s always something with this guy. This fucked up family . ” Igor seemed exhausted at the thought and entirely too reluctant to go.

“Well,” Anora started, “that it then? You go back to work and you won’t bug me at my job anymore?”

“Is that what you want?” Igor asked simply.

Anora hesitated, went to say something, then stopped herself. 

“I come check on you often, here for now, then club. The train is dangerous at night, will you let me drive you home? It doesn’t have to be every night but I worry about you. ”

“I dunno. Guess you’ll have to show up and find out, huh?” Ani replied. She maintained her cool exterior and respectable distance emotionally– it was the only way to survive these men, but there was some small, long silenced part of her that was happy about what he’d just said.

Chapter Text

TEN YEARS AGO– REUTOV, MOSCOW OBLAST

Anna and Igor had always been close, although they shared different mothers, he never treated her anything less than his blood. He was 6 when she was born, but he could still remember how she brought the sparkle back into his father’s eyes; it was hard to appreciate it, even at six, he had complicated feelings about their father. But there was laughter in the house again, and as much as he tried to hate his stepmother, it was good to have a woman in his life who smiled at him. 

All through his childhood, he buried the more complex and sometimes resentful feelings. It might not have been the most healthy way to process his trauma or their strange family dynamic, but being Anna’s older brother made it feel worthwhile. She gave him someone to care for and a niche to fill, and that is often how he contextualized himself: Anna’s protective older brother. This was comfortable for him; Igor hated being the center of attention and felt most at home in a supporting role. Anna, on the other hand, always had everyone’s eyes on her. Through everything, she was solidly herself, and that was of great comfort in a way. He also just really enjoyed scaring the little pricks that bothered his kid sister.

Things changed when he went off to university; their dynamic naturally changed. He was undecided the whole two years he was there, but he was determined to plot his course. Igor was finishing up his gen-ed courses and needed to nail down what he was going to do with his life. It was no small decision, and it took up a large swath of his bandwidth. The physical distance, as well as his shifted focus, had fundamentally altered their relationship; he was still there for her, and Anna called him often, but slowly the phone calls had decreased lately until they stopped altogether. Igor was so hyper-focused on the rest of his life that he didn’t think twice about it, that was until it was too late.

It was winter break, and he had come home to spend time with his family, but he hadn’t told anyone when he would be returning. Igor knew his father and stepmother’s work schedules, so he planned to come home and wait for them, maybe make dinner. When Anna got home from school, he would make a point of spending some time with her; she may have only been 14 and sometimes completely annoying, but he still loved her, and she absolutely adored him.

When he entered their family home, it was dead silent. Old school Soviet block housing was like that; quiet as a crypt due to the thick concrete walls. He dropped his luggage in his room and walked to the bathroom to freshen up after his train ride, but when he approached the door, he realized it was not only closed, but there was a light on inside. Igor’s brow furrowed; no one should have been home. Carefully, he leaned forward and pressed his ear to the door. What he heard stunned him– Anna, he could recognize her crying anywhere. It was the sound of running water and his sister sobbing quietly.

“ Anna?” He knocked on the door. 

No answer.

“Anna, are you okay?” He asked again, trying the knob. It was locked.

“What is going on? Are you hurt?” Igor’s voice began to take on a much more anxious tone.

“Is this some sort of joke? Anna, let me in!” He decided he had waited long enough; in one solid thrust, he broke through the door with a shoulder check. 

“Get out!” Anna screamed– the scene before him still turned his stomach to this day. Anna was sitting on the edge of the tub in a bra, her arms and legs scratched and rubbed raw, angry red skin glaring at him from repeated scrubbing. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed red, cheeks splotchy and streaked with wet mascara. She was holding a razor blade and had cut her upper thighs several times, small trails of blood on her normally pale skin. Igor crossed the small room in one stride and grabbed her wrist firmly with one hand, the razor with the other.

“ WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” His voice was laced with panic as she burst into fresh tears and tried to grab the razor back from him.

“Give it back! I have to! I need to cut him out of me, nothing else has worked!” Her speech was so different.

“Anna, stop this! What are you talking about, please!” Igor was desperate, “I can’t do this again, please.”

Mention of his mother seemed to give her pause because she stopped struggling and dissolved before him into a mass of tears. “I can’t talk about it, I have shamed this family enough.” Her voice quivered as she spoke. She was afraid.

“Anna, there is nothing you could do that would shame our family, nothing that would warrant this. Tell me what happened.” Igor pleaded softly, placing the razor on the vanity high above the sink and grabbing a big towel to wrap around her shoulders. He could address the cuts later; they did not appear to be particularly deep.

“ Mr. Rylov, oh, Igor, I was so stupid.”

Igor had an inkling where this story was going. “Your math teacher? What did he do to you, Anna?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She was so defeated that it made his heart ache.

He spoke softly, gently wrapping an arm around her soldiers, “You know you can talk to me. It is bad to keep these things inside; they eat at you, make you do things like this. It will stay between us.”

“The only part that matters is that I went to his house, I don’t even know why I did it, I thought things would be different. He made me…” She stifled a sob, “He forced me to do things. He hurt me, Igor. I had bruises on my thighs for two weeks.”

His blood was boiling. His baby sister, his 14-year-old baby sister. The monster who did this to her was at least double her age. Igor was ready to kill him. He sat there silently waiting for her to continue; she looked like she had more to say.

Anna barely choked out the rest of her story, “I haven’t bled, it’s been almost three weeks, oh God, Igor, I don’t know what to do. Every day, I take hot showers and scrub until my skin bleeds. I can hardly eat. I can’t sleep. All I do is think about him and what he did to me. I haven’t been going to school. I don’t know how to tell anyone.”

“I can fix some of this. But you have to tell Natalya, she will get you to doctors, take you somewhere if you want an abortion, and get you a therapist. She is your mother; she will not be angry. Not with you.” Igor said, his voice calm despite the violent rage he was feeling.

“I’m so scared,” Anna said, leaning against him. “You’re right. I do not want this, I just want to feel normal again, I want it out of me. I will tell her tonight. Please don’t tell Mom about the… cutting. I just want it to be normal again.”

“I know, dochen'ka. We are all here for you. I am going to deal with Rylov for you.” Igor assured her. “You should not be afraid to return to school; you need an education. That zhopa should not be around anyone’s children.”

“Igor, you can’t!” Anna responded, “I don’t want you involved…”

“I was involved the moment that predator hurt you. Do not worry, focus on yourself and rest assured, he will not ever hurt you again,” Igor said firmly.

Igor stayed with her then, helping her clean and bandage the lacerations on her thighs. He made her a hot cup of tea while she dressed, and when she came into the kitchen she was still upset, but had calmed down considerably. They talked for hours while waiting for their parents to get home, and she shared other details that confirmed Igor’s fears that she had been groomed. Anna cried several more times, but it was so different than the heightened emotional state she had been in earlier. The more she told Igor, the angrier he got. She never knew though, Igor had perfected the art of stuffing strong feelings down over the years. He managed to get Rylov’s address from her during their talk despite his seething rage. 

Anna told him that it felt like a massive weight had been lifted off of her, how she had felt so alone for weeks. Igor promised her that she would never be alone and that she would make it through this– that the evil bastard who hurt her would not define her life. By the time his stepmother was home, Anna was ready to tell her, and the fallout was as expected. Natalya was angry and so incredibly upset, but none of it was directed at Anna. Igor decided it was safe to leave once Anna and her mother were hugging and crying together; he knew she would be taken care of.

The first thing he did was layer on his coat and walk directly to his Uncle Boris’ apartment. He wasn’t home, but Igor had a key. Uncle Boris was mixed in with some questionable people, and Igor knew he had a Makarov in a drawer by his front door. Igor grabbed the heavy handgun and a balaclava from the coat rack. He checked to ensure the pistol was loaded, then, satisfied, he walked directly to Rylov’s house, yanked down the balaclava and pounded on the door.

Within a minute the door cracked. A man in his late thirties poked his head around the door; Igor took his chance immediately, shoving the door open as hard as he could while bringing the pistol up, leveled with Rylov as he stumbled backwards. He threw his hands up and stared at Igor in horror.

“Who are you? What do you want?! Money?” Rylov cried as Igor kicked the door behind him, causing it to slam shut.

“I know what you did to Anna Nikolsky, you sick fuck!” Igor said through gritted teeth.

“I didn't touch her, I swear! ” he pleaded. 

Igor pistol-whipped him across the cheek so hard that he knocked him to the ground. 

“Did that fix your memory, motherfucker!” Igor had never felt this angry before in his life. 

“That girl is a liar, nothing but trouble! I never did anything to her!” Rylov almost sounded angry, defensive even as he was on his hands trying to scuttle backwards. 

“I expected nothing less from a pathetic coward of a man who preys on little girls. But calling her a liar? She's fucking pregnant! How could you do that to her?!” Igor roared, still keeping the gun level with Rylov. 

“Everyone knows she's an easy girl, she's just claiming it's mine because I'm not a broke high schooler!” 

“Easy?” Igor repeated bitterly before stepping forward and kicking Rylov in the ribs so hard he rolled onto his side, crying out. Igor racked the slide on the pistol. 

“Fuck, fuck, please don't kill me, okay please.” Rylov begged him, “Okay, okay, I did it, but I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I couldn't help myself; she teased and teased, and I snapped. I’m weak. But-”  

“ You're no better than a fucking rabid animal .” Igor interrupted Rylov’s pathetic attempt at excusing what he did and put half the magazine into his chest. 

Igor stared at Rylov's body for a moment before the realization of what he'd done hit him like a freight train. He felt a surge of panic and bolted. He rushed out of the block housing, catching confused and concerned glances. Igor ran back to his uncle's house, ripping the balaclava off as soon as he barged in the door. His hands were shaking as he dropped the handgun on the table. He felt like he was going to be sick for a moment, but managed to steady himself. 

“Nephew? Do I even want to know?” Boris asked from behind Igor. He had been so distracted that he didn't even notice his uncle sitting in the living room. Igor immediately blurted out what happened without even intending to, omitting as many details as he could. 

“Suka. And you had to use my gun, right? No matter, I'll take care of it. Sounds like you had good cause. Did anyone see you?”

“I don't know, ” Igor replied. He genuinely had no idea. 

This was bad. Extremely fucking bad. 

“Shit. I have to disappear you now, don't I?” Boris was too casual, like this happened every day. 

“What do you mean?” Igor asked anxiously. 

“Well, you just haphazardly murdered a man. You don't know if anyone saw you or if you left any evidence behind. You cannot stay here. I know people, we can take care of you. I'm not letting the only piece of my sister I have left rot in prison.”

“What are you going to do with me?” Igor was terrified to hear the answer. 

“Like I said, I know people. We get you a new last name, new papers, send you somewhere new. Maybe America.” Boris clapped him on the back, “Proud of you, Nephew, it isn't easy to follow through with something like this. You already have more experience than some of the guys we bring in; there will be much work for you.”

ONE YEAR LATER– BRIGHTON BEACH

Igor stood in the alley and learned against his grandmother’s apartment building smoking a cigarette. He thought St. Petersburg was loud, but it had nothing on New York City. He was waiting patiently to be picked up; he was finally getting to do something other than beat people nearly to death. It had only been one year since his uncle’s connections had landed him a new life, and it certainly wasn’t what he had imagined, but at least he didn’t have to worry about figuring it out for himself anymore. Igor knew he probably wouldn’t see his family in Russia again, but it was worth it, and he would do it all again for his sister.

After everything that happened, Anna was still in therapy and probably would be for years. He didn’t get to talk with anyone back in Russia on the phone much these days, but he’d send novels to Anna through email, and she’d always respond in kind. She went back to school and was trying to regain some semblance of normalcy. His parents didn’t know all of the details, but when the news broke about Rylov they put it together quickly. Igor had no idea if he was a suspect or even if the authorities were looking for him, but as long as he kept using the assumed last name and papers, he didn’t worry too much. Working for powerful oligarchs had its perks, even if most of the time you were forced to degrade yourself, reduced to the worst kinds of dirty work. Maybe he didn’t recognize himself much these days and things didn’t go how he planned, maybe this was always where he was going to end up. Maybe it didn’t matter because this is what he deserved.

Igor sighed and put the cigarette out on the wall as the car pulled up, idling in front of him expectantly. He slid into the back seat and picked up the Makarov in the seat next to him, checking that it was loaded.

Chapter Text

PRESENT DAY– BRIGHTON BEACH, NEW YORK CITY 

Anora sat on the edge of her bathtub and stared at the single pink line on the pregnancy test. She knew she should feel relieved, and in a lot of ways she did, but there was another part of her that felt a deep sense of loss. Ani was conflicted because even though it was for the best she felt the tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. Although her body had seemed to recover from the miscarriage, it was as if it was the last straw. She thought sobbing into Igor's chest weeks ago had been therapeutic enough she didn't need to revisit this shit again, but here she was, crying about Vanya treating her like trash and fucking up her body. Her phone buzzed and she grabbed it off of the sink:

Out of matcha, getting Chai… Will be nice and warm. Pastry? Bagel? 

Igor's texting had gotten better, his English too to an extent. He had been stopping in for the past week bringing Ani meals, snacks, and to just sit with her while she slept. They had fallen into a bit of an unspoken routine and Ani was grateful for the support. Although she wouldn't admit it, the entire experience had been completely exhausting and she didn't have the physical or mental energy to take care of herself. The only motivation she had to get out of bed was to shower because the thought of being gross in front of Igor horrified her. 

Ani dropped her phone back on the counter, unable to calm down enough to consider his question, which currently felt so unimportant. She slid to the floor and sat on the bathmat, bringing her knees under her chin and wrapping her arms around her shins. Head bowed between her knees, Ani couldn't stop herself from quietly sobbing. 

Ivan was in Russia, living out whatever beautiful life his family had planned for him, and he wasn't thinking about her. And here she was, not only still thinking about all the shit he put her through, but dealing with the fallout. Ani picked the negative pregnancy test up again and threw it vaguely towards the trash can, overshooting entirely and hitting the wall. 

“Motherfucker,” she said between choked sobs, “I fucking hate you.” 

Igor checked his phone ten times on his way to the bagel shop, but she didn't respond; maybe she fell back asleep. He didn't want to show up empty-handed. If he didn't feed her, she would go all day without eating and the thought of Ani going hungry, even if it didn't seem to bother her, really bothered Igor. It was probably a trait he'd picked up from his bubushka, but there was something to it; feeding other people was just another love language. 

He ordered her a lox bagel and headed back into the falling sleet. It was March now, too warm for it to ice the roads but cool enough for gray slush to build up on the curbs. Igor glanced at his phone as he climbed into Babushka's car, sighing when he saw there was still no text from Anora. In a way it was like their communication was simultaneously better and worse. She was horrible about responding when he had important questions for her. What if she hated the bagel? 

After a short drive, he arrived back at her house. Vera was at work per usual, and Igor still hadn't run into her. He used the key under a plant next to the door and let himself in, heading directly for the kitchen. As he walked down the hall, he froze, his blood running cold as soon as he heard her. The door to the bathroom was closed, but he could hear her crying quietly on the other side. Igor dropped everything on the table and felt his hands shaking as he approached the door. 

“Anora?”

He almost couldn't say her name; it came out as a whisper. But it must have been loud enough because he heard her stir on the other side of the door. 

“Yeah?” Anora asked in a low, broken voice, standing up and walking to the door, her hand hovering above the knob as she rubbed away the tears with the other. 

“ Are you alright? Need anything?” His tone was different, strained like he was approaching with caution, and his throat was tight with fear. 

“I'm fine.” She said, her own voice strained from crying. Anora didn't know why she did it, but she opened the door. Igor was standing far too close; he looked pale and terrified. She had never seen him make that kind of face before. Before she could say anything else, he put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into an embrace. 

“Jesus,” Anora started, muffled against his chest, “What the fuck happened? Dude you're shaking.” She was so concerned about him that she didn't seem to register or react to the almost forceful hug. 

A beat passed, and it seemed like Igor realized he was holding her, probably against her will, again. He released her and took a step back. “ Sorry. You do not seem okay. What can I do?” Igor said, forcing his voice to be steady. 

Anora stared at him, her red-rimmed eyes looking him up and down. “You look like you just saw a fuckin’ ghost. What's the matter with you?” 

He took a breath, gaze falling on the pregnancy test on the floor momentarily; the scene he'd walked into clicked. “Maybe I do.” He hardly recognized his own voice, there was an unfamiliar smallness and restraint to it, “Bad, uh, memories. ”

“You're bein’ real weird right now.” Anora said, an unexpected softness to her tone. 

“I tell you someday. You scared me, that's all.”

After the awkward bathroom encounter, they were both grateful for the silent reprieve that is eating. 

“I'm goin’ back to work tomorrow,” Ani said, taking a bite of her bagel. 

“Is not too soon?” Igor asked, his cheeks stuffed.

“Doesn't really matter, Vera's gonna start riding my ass soon if I don't have my half of the rent on time, ” Ani said nonchalantly. 

Igor made a noncommittal noise before taking a sip of his coffee. 

“You got somethin’ to fuckin’ say?” Ani challenged, narrowing her eyes at him. 

“Maybe unwise . You seem like you need more time,” he kept his voice casual. 

“Well, I still need to come up with $300 in the next two weeks, so whatever.”

Igor raised an eyebrow at her. He said much without saying anything at all. 

“I'm not using the fuckin’ money I got from Vanya's parents. It may as well not even exist, so drop it,” Ani said resolutely. She thought of the $10,000 tucked neatly into a bag hidden in the back of her closet. She couldn't touch it, couldn't use it. Anytime she thought about it she felt sick to her stomach. Humiliated. 

“Fine. If you want I help you out this month.” Igor offered, no hint of expectation in his voice. 

“God would you just stop it,” Ani sounded exasperated, “I'll be fine. I've gone to work feelin’ shittier than this, I don't need you to save me, man.” 

At this, he sighed, “I just try to help. I know you do not need me to save you, Anora. You are self-sufficient. ”

She softened some, “Look, I just don't wanna owe anyone anything. I don't like feeling that way, or worrying about paying people back.”

“I understand. I am same way.” Igor said, taking another sip of coffee. “But sometimes it is good to have friend.”

“Oh, now we're fuckin’ friends?” Ani asked, her tone almost amused. 

Igor made an exaggerated expression of faux offense. “What you call this, Anora?” He gestured at them sitting at her table, sharing a meal. 

“Man, I don't know what the fuck this is,” she paused. Anora stared at her latte and fidgeted with the wooden stir stick, refusing to look at Igor for a moment. “Is that what you want?” Her eyes flicked up and met his. “To be my friend? That's why you're always doin’ nice things? Not lookin’ for some kind of pay off?” Her voice had an uneasy, almost tentative quality. 

“Anora,” he started, brows furrowing, “I like you. I don't want anything. I don't have expectations of you.”

“I gotta hard time believing that.” She replied, sniffing. 

Igor took a deep breath, his gaze suddenly had a deep quality as he looked into her eyes, “Why do we do anything?” A pause, “ You are like me in many ways. I respect you. I respect you too much to reduce you to your job. I do not assume anything about you, and I do not expect anything from you. For me, it is enough to spend some of my limited time with you. Being around you? It makes me happy. You make me laugh, Anora. You make my days fuller. When you are happy… it is like clouds clearing after heavy rain. I help you because that is enough for me, not because I hope for more.”

Anora’s voice caught in her throat, and her chest was warm; her heart racing with each sentence he spoke. She had never heard Igor speak so freely or eloquently. Hell, this was probably the most he had said to her in one sitting. The worst part was that despite the fact that she had really tried to hate him after all the horrible shit he helped put her through, his little monologue made her heart flutter. Her mind immediately went to the dozens of men over the past few years who had promised her the world and then tried to ruin hers. She thought of the constant lies, the deceit, how men would manipulate and play games to get in her pants. How many wanted to own her? Put her in a cage and break her because they hunted women like her for sport. Women like her – incapable of being loved or loving anyone because love was her trade, well, some fairytale faux version of it, sex and lies. Drugs, partying, anything to give the fantasy to men. She was simultaneously a sexy vixen who brought pleasure to the world and an unfeeling, cutthroat bitch too oversaturated and desensitized to love. And so she was disposable. What good was she once the party ended? That’s how they treated her, the clammy hands grasping at her glistening skin, desperate to mark her, ruin her, destroy her. Vanya was no different, using her to keep the fantasy going longer, clambering to keep her close when the good times were rolling, but ready to leave her on the side of the road as soon as real life seeped in. But here he was, Mr. “ I like Anora” himself, bringing her food, dropping everything to run her to the hospital. Practically begging to chauffeur her home because he was worried about her taking the train late at night. And for what? He didn’t even want to fuck her. And why not? Didn’t he see her like every other man? A prize? A piece of meat? 

Anora didn’t realize she had been staring past Igor for a solid minute while he watched her expectantly, or that silent tears were streaking down her face.

“Anora?” He asked, breaking her trance.

“Shit.” She said, wiping her face with her sleeves. Women like her, incapable of being loved or loving. “Fuck.” Disposable. “God dammit.” She was really crying now, and she couldn’t shut it down. Igor stood up next to her and tentatively touched her. Anora collapsed against him, fresh, hot tears flooding from her eyes. He folded his arms around her and let the lower half of his shirt soak up her tears.

“I did not mean-” He began to speak.

“I-It’s not you,” Anora choked out, “It’s e-everything.”

“I know.”

Igor kneeled so he could properly embrace her, and she practically fell forward against him, hugging him back in a way she hadn’t before. He stumbled back a bit but steadied himself on his heels. Anora pressed her face into the crook of his neck and his face was buried in her hair. He held her for a short while, rubbing her back lightly.

When she finally began to calm down, he helped her stand. Anora was exhausted, so he took her to her bed and helped her climb in. Igor turned to go, but she stopped him with one word: stay.

Chapter Text

Igor's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he sat up on his elbows immediately with what was probably an unreasonable amount of panic. Anora was sleeping soundly still, early morning light filtered through her sheer curtains, illuminating her soft features. Igor must have fallen asleep next to her; he forgot to draw the heavier blackout curtains. He forgot to do a lot of things when she asked him to do things, especially when she asked him to get into bed with her. He opened his texts and saw a message from Toros:

What we discussed last week, it's tonight. Send text when it's done. 

Igor roughly ran his hand down his face, sighing quietly. He might actually have to kill some stupid motherfucker tonight, and it absolutely was not his decision. He was taken aback by his own nonchalance; when did he become so desensitized to death? 

He sat up fully now, scooting back against the headboard. Anora stirred from the movement and sleepily reached out, draping her arm across his lap. Igor's breath hitched for a second, as she inched forward and nuzzled her face against his thigh; she wasn't fully awake yet. Igor loved her tired disposition the most; it softened her edges, almost like it tamped down her anxiety. 

“ I have work tonight, need to go take care of some things before.” Igor said softly, daring to reach down and brush her long hair off her face.

“You comin’ back later?” Anora asked, her voice husky from sleep. Her eyes were still closed, and she didn't recoil from him now that she was awake.

“Not sure, maybe not.” He didn’t want to commit to coming back over; there was no guarantee he was going to be presentable.

“Asshole.” A small smile teased the edges of her mouth.

Igor exhaled through his nose and eased himself out from under her. “I text you later, let you know what I plan to do.”

Anora grunted quietly and rolled over, “Don’t forget to lock the door.”

Igor splashed some water on his face in the bathroom and rifled through the drawer until he found a new toothbrush; he really needed to keep one over here if he was going to keep accidentally staying the night. After some semblance of a morning routine, he felt put together enough to head out. 

First, he needed to run some errands for Bubushka, she’d asked him to get groceries and pick up her medication from the pharmacy. Igor drove around Brighton Beach for a little over an hour, getting everything she’d asked for before heading to their apartment. 

It was still fairly early, and a Saturday no less, but there she was in the kitchen, making pirozhki. Bubushka’s back was to him as she sprinkled flour on the table.

“Back to keeping strange hours again, hm? Come eat something, there is borscht on the stove.”

Igor kicked off his shoes before bringing the groceries into the kitchen. “I’m helping a friend.”

She made a noncommittal noise in response, not dissimilar to the one he made at times. He put all of the groceries away and made his way to the bathroom to restock her pill minder. The bathroom was small and very much his grandmother’s; the theme was a dusty pink color, and floral wallpaper covered the walls. Igor opened the medicine cabinet and restocked her medications once the pills had been distributed for each day. He closed it and stared at himself in the mirrored surface of the cabinet door; he looked tired. There was a shadow of a beard growing in, and he had dark circles under his eyes. Igor grabbed his razor and shaved before taking a long, hot shower. He would definitely need another one after work, but at least he’d get to feel more human in the mean time. 

Once he was finished, he got dressed in his room and stopped to examine the backs of his hands as he was opening a drawer. It’d been a couple of weeks since he’d last beaten someone with his bare knuckles, so his hands were looking pretty good for once. Igor stared at them, pale scars and raised skin glaring back. He yanked open the finicky drawer and pushed his socks to the side. Reaching in, he felt the cool metal against his skin and, for a moment, completely forgot how ugly his hands had become. The Makarov in his underwear drawer fit comfortably in the holster under his coat.

SEVEN HOURS LATER

It was getting dark now, the perfect time to get the jump on someone working late into the night. Igor sat in the passenger seat of Garnik’s car. They sat in the still darkness of the alley smoking together, hardly speaking as they waited. A few moments later, the back door to the building swung open, and a man walked to the dumpster, throwing a bag in. He dusted his hands off and walked down the alley towards the street.

“Now.” Garnik said, opening his door and stepping into the cool night air. Igor followed suit, silently. Quietly, Igor opened the back door of the building and began walking up the long hallway, all the while with his hand wrapped around the grip of his gun. At the end, he could see one office door open, the light pooling against the far wall of the hall. Approaching slowly, the pair stopped right outside the door, and Igor glanced back expectantly, waiting. He pulled the gun from its holster slowly, reading the pistol. Garnik nodded and Igor rounded the corner in an instant, handgun level immediately with the unsuspecting man sitting at the desk in front of him.

“Grigoriy! Money now!” Igor barked, sights set on the man’s chest. 

“Oh fuck!” Grigoriy exclaimed, jumping in his seat.

“Where is it?” Igor continued. Garnik stepped into the door frame behind him, his own gun drawn.

“Everyone just calm down!” Grigoriy cried, his hands half-heartedly raised, “I have it, okay? It’s right here in my desk!”

“Why the fuck are you making us come pick up your payment?” Garnik replied, still several steps behind Igor.

“I was going to bring it by the bar tomorrow morning, I swear,” Grigoriy responded, “can I just?” He gestured towards the desk drawer with his still raised hands.

“Go ahead, slowly,” Garnik said, lowering his firearm slightly.

Grigoriy slowly lowered his hands and opened the drawer. From where Igor was standing, he couldn’t see inside the drawer. He remembered thinking to himself that was probably a bad thing, and just how off the vibes were, but the next thirty seconds were a blur.

Grigoriy whipped a pistol out of the drawer and managed to get one shot off before Igor and Garnik unloaded their magazines. Igor was so panicked about discharging a pistol in the middle of the city, albeit inside a building, that he didn’t feel the bullet lodged in his shoulder. Garnik screamed something at him and they both booked it down the hallway and all the way back to his car.

“I knew that stupid motherfucker was going to try something, but fuck ,” Garnik started, “It didn’t have to go that way, he could have asked for more–” He stopped, staring at Igor in the passenger seat, now gripping his shoulder tightly. “Oh fuck, he hit you?” Garnik asked, his voice rising. Igor’s face was pale, and his breathing came in harsh heaves as blood trickled from between his fingers.

“Shit. Okay, we’ll go see that Romanian doctor, we’ll just tell him to send the bill to Toros.”

Igor grunted in pain and pulled out his phone. “Just drop me off there. I can pay for myself.” He said through gritted teeth, opening his messages.

“I don’t know, man,” Garnik said, glancing at him nervously, “I shouldn’t leave you alone.”

“I’ll be fine.” Igor didn’t have to scroll to find her name.

__________________________________________________________________

Ani was lounging on the couch, watching trashy reality TV with Vera when her phone vibrated.

“New boyfriend?” Vera asked, stretching out on the ottoman.

“No,” Ani shot her a scowl.

“Shouldn’t you be at work right now?” She followed up quickly.

“I’m fuckin’ sick.” Ani replied, unlocking her phone.

Need you to meet me at this address as soon as possible, bring most of Ivan money. Will explain later.

“You don’t look sick to me.” 

“Shit, you’re right, I’m lying. Do you ever stop being a pain in the ass?” Ani asked, staring at her screen. The address came through a second later.

“I’m just sayin’.” Vera sighed. “Gotta make rent..” She trailed off when Ani looked up and met her line of sight. “What’s wrong?”

“I need a ride, can you drop me off over in Sunnyside?”

“Jesus, that’s like a forty-minute drive, what’s in Sunnyside?” Vera asked, getting off the couch to grab her shoes.

“My boyfriend.” Ani disappeared into the bedroom.

________________________________________________________________________

Igor leaned on Garnik as they walked up the backsteps of an old building. Igor couldn’t help but groan in pain after the first few steps. Garnik pounded on the door and helped him steady himself on the porch while they waited. Within a minute the door cracked open and an older man’s face appeared in the sliver.

“What do you want?” He sounded suspicious and guarded.

“Let us in Petru!” Garnik hissed, pushing the door open.

“Garnik?” Petru asked, a stethoscope dangling from around his neck, “What happened?” Petru walked next to the pair and tried to get a look at Igor’s wound, but his hand was clamped down so tightly that there wasn’t a chance.

“I was shot,” Igor replied, making his way to the table Garnik was leading him towards.

“Shit, let me dig it out then,” Petru said, rushing to a cabinet next to the table and pulling out several instruments inside a plastic bag. He then hustled to the sink and washed his hands while Garnik helped Igor onto the table.

“Lay down,” Garnik commanded, helping Igor to lean back slowly.

Igor gritted his teeth and groaned all of the way back until he was flat on the table. “Garnik, you go, deal with Grigoriy shit. Toros is going to be pissed we killed him at his job.”

“Are you sure?” Garnik asked nervously, watching the doctor pull on gloves.

“I’ll be fine.”

It was not fine. Garnik left, and almost instantly the doctor had descended onto him, cutting his shirt off and examining the wound. 

“It didn’t pass through; little fucker is jammed in there. I actually will need to dig it out.” Petru paused, reached into the drawer and pulled out a syringe. He discharged some of the liquid. “This will burn like a motherfucker.” He stabbed the needle into Igor’s other arm and pressed the plunger without another word.

“Fuck! What is that?” Igor asked, gripping the table.

“Morphine, you’re welcome!” Petru replied, grabbing a medical implement and hovering over the open wound, blood still slowly trickling down his shoulder.

“No, fuck, I don’t want–” Igor started.

“Too late for that, hold still.” Petru slowly pushed the spreader into the hole right under his shoulder. It was dulled, but Igor could still feel the pressure and a dimmed shooting pain.

“I need, fuck, I have to be lucid, she’s coming for me. ” Igor said.

“You need what?” Petru asked, concentrating, “I don’t speak your gopnik tongue.”

The morphine was definitely hitting now, everything was softening, and he could hardly feel the doctor digging around in his pectoral anymore.

“Lucky, lucky, a few inches southwest and you wouldn’t be breathing right now.” Petru commented, the clink of metal falling against the metal tray as he pulled the fragments out.

Igor felt his breathing slow and his eyelids become heavy as he stared at the fluorescent lights above him.

Then there was a bang; the heavy door closing. Clicking sounds like heels on tile flooring.

“What the fuck are you doing to him?” Anora’s voice, agitated, but it was distorted. Igor forced his eyes open and turned his head to see her standing in the room.

“I tried to stop her, but she just pushed passed me.” Another person, some lanky young guy. Where did he come from?

“This moskal went and got himself shot, I’m removing the fragments.” Petru said exasperatedly. “Simon can you get her out of here? I’m trying to work.”

“Ma’am–” Simon started, extending a hand towards her.

“Do NOT touch me motherfucker,” Ani whipped around and glared at him, “I’m the bitch putting money in your boss’s hand, so just back the fuck up! I’m staying.” 

Simon held his hands up for a moment and backed away.

“If you’re staying, keep some distance.” Petru sighed.

Everything was distorted, and Igor was fighting to keep himself awake; he needed to stay awake. If he didn’t explain, Anora wouldn’t understand what was happening; she might even hate him or think he was a monster. There were quite a few things he needed to explain: the money, the blood on his hands, and the way he couldn’t focus on her form, inching closer to his head. She was standing so close now, but she was bleeding into the background. So soft that her lines were fuzzy and light; he was losing her. But her hand was there, on his cheek so softly, a feather.

“Are you okay?” She said, then something else, maybe “I’m here”...

…?

Then there was nothing.

Chapter Text

“He'll be fine, just needs to rest. Sutures could bust open if he isn't careful.” Petru was talking and Igor was finally lucid enough to understand. He wasn't sure if he had been unconscious or simply so high he couldn't remember what happened. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, felt the cool table beneath him. 

“Anora?” He said, the low raspiness of his voice surprising him. 

“Igor?” Almost immediately she was standing over him, peering down. 

“ You came.”

“Of course I did, I owed you one.” She had a small smile while she said it. Igor liked this version of her, liked Anora. 

“I'm sorry for involving you. Needing your help.”

Anora made a face and put her hand on his arm reassuringly. 

“Seems you will live.” Petru said, also leaning over Igor. “Girlfriend has already paid me, Ibuprofen and Tylenol for the next few days, you'll tough it out.” 

“He got shot and you're telling him to take fuckin’ Tylenol?” Ani asked angrily. 

“This is common pain management for women after surgery, I do not see the issue.”

Ani scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief, “Of course you don't see the fucking problem, men like you are the problem.”

Before Petru could respond Igor spoke up, “Is okay, I don't need anything.” 

“No, you need something stronger.” Anora protested. She went to say more to Petru, but Igor raised his hand opposite of his injured shoulder. 

“Rest here until you can walk without help. Grab antibiotics and sling on the way out. No lifting or punching for four weeks at least. I'll be in other room if you need me, Simon too.” Petru said, leaving them alone in the clinic-like room. 

“You gonna tell me what the fuck happened?” She asked, helping Igor sit up after watching him begin to struggle to do it himself. 

“ Hazard of my job,” he started, “ I won't involve you. Let's get out of here, I want to pay you back.”

Anora crossed her arms and glared at him as he lowered himself off the table, his jaw tight from the pain. 

“What?”

“You don't want to involve me but you called my ass down here without a second thought.” Her voice was flat 

“ I didn’t have a choice. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just like, fuckin’ explain yourself.” 

“I needed you to come here because if I didn’t pay, Toros would, and that asshole already says I owe a debt. I don’t want to give them anything else to use against me. I just didn’t have any money on me, I have saved enough I can pay you back now, just need to go to Bubushak’s.”

“How the fuck could you possibly owe him anything?” Anora uncrossed her arms, but her eyes narrowed as if she was trying to suss things out.

“Long story.” Igor took a few tentative steps. Anora grabbed the sling and pill bottle off of the table and followed after him.

“Stop making me have to fuckin’ drag shit out of you, man just tell me.” She sounded annoyed, trying to make him slow down so she could help him put the sling on.

“It’s bullshit so it does not really matter. Oligarch families have run my life for a decade, in their eyes I have a lifelong debt I can never repay. On top of this, everytime they have me do something illegal, they cover it up or help make it go away to keep me out of prison, undetected by the US governemnt. Of course this means my debt grows everytime I commit a crime.”

Anora was speechless, her lips parted in surprise. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, what a shit deal.”

“It is my life. Come on.” Igor led them out into the alley and pulled out his phone with one hand. There was dried blood under his nails and smeared on the glass screen. He sighed and smeared it on his jeans. He had a text from Toros:

Let me know when you’re able to work again. Need you ready to go ASAP. 

“Motherfucker, they never quit.” He flashed his phone at Anora who’s expression soured immediately. 

“Toros is such an asshole. How about a “glad you’re alive” text, or fuck, he doesn’t even know you made it.” Anora scoffed and pointed at the parked car ahead of them. “Vera’s asleep in there, c’mon. What an awesome way for you guys to meet.”

Ani knocked on the passenger window to rouse Vera. She sat up with a start and stared daggers at Ani before unlocking the doors and turning over the engine. Ani climbed into the front seat and Igor cautiously slid into the back.

“Geeze, what the fuck happened?” She asked, glancing in the mirror at Igor and at Ani in the seat next to her.

“Okay, well first of all this is Igor. Igor, Vera.” Ani started, eliciting a short wave from Igor in the back. “He got hurt at work so he needed a ride, that’s all.”

“That wasn’t a hospital.” Vera replied, exhaling through her nose. She put the car in drive and pulled out of the alley.

“Look it’s 2 in the morning, do you seriously want to get into this shit right now?”

“I do if there’s a fuckin’ criminal in my back seat.”

Anora huffed exasperatedly, “As if that matters one little fuckin’ bit Vera, everyone knows Vlad sells blow on the side. That motherfucker doesn’t just work back of house on the prep table.”

Vera’s cheeks flushed, “I don’t give a shit! I just don’t want to be caught up in anything crazy Ani. Is that really that unreasonable?”

“You don’t need to worry, I would never involve either of you in my shit .” Igor replied before Ani had a chance.

Vera looked at Ani expectantly, “Wow. That’s– wow. Hey at least your boyfriend won’t intentionally get us caught up in the cross fire when whoever shot his ass comes knocking.”

“Could you just not do this right now? I do not have the fuckin’ bandwidth to deal with you giving me shit about him. Igor wouldn’t do anything to put us in danger so just fucking drop it .” Each final word Ani said was laced with venom.

“Fine.” Vera said, locking eyes with Igor in the mirror again. “Do not bleed on my fuckin’ seats and do not get me or my sister killed. We have enough bullshit going on already.”

Igor nodded and Vera looked back at the road. The rest of the ride was tense but quiet.

They arrived at Anora and Vera’s house about forty minutes later and Igor had dozed off in the backseat. Ani glanced at him leaning against the window with his eyes closed and turned her attention to Vera. “Look, I know you and I don’t always see eye to eye about everything, but Igor has been really good to me this past week, he’s been taking care of me while I’ve been… sick.” She whispered, stealing glances to make sure Igor was still asleep.

Vera looked at him too for a moment. “He must be a pretty decent guy, being there for  you even though you were pregnant with that rich prick’s kid.”

Anora felt her ears start to instantly burn and her heart rate tick up. “What do you know about it?”

“I’m your sister and we live together. I literally picked the fuckin’ pregnancy test up off the floor in the bathroom… I mean it makes sense. I wish you’d just told me.” Vera sighed and leaned in closer. “Adult shit has really pried us apart these past few years… but you’re still my little sister, Trouble. I love you. I feel like we don’t talk enough anymore, but you know you can right?” Vera was whispering too but Anora could hear the strain in her voice and see the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “If I was a better sister I would have known more about the Vanya shit, and maybe I could have been there for you, helped you out, I don’t know.”

Anore felt tears prickling in the corners of her own eyes. “We used to be so close, didn’t we?” She pressed her forehead forward against Vera’s and they both closed their eyes. “I love you too. I don’t wanna lose you, Sis. I’ll talk to you more, I promise.” After a moment they both retreated some and met eachother’s gaze. Anora smiled and hugged Vera across the center console. 

“I’m sorry I grilled your boyfriend, I’ll be nicer, give him the benefit of the doubt and all that. I just want you to be happy, but after Vanya I feel like I need to protect you more,” Vera said quietly into shoulder.

“I know. But he’s a good man,” Anora replied.

“Shit, we should get inside, it’s after 3.” Vera commented suddenly, looking at the clock on the radio over Anora’s shoulder. They separated, but there was a warmth in Anora’s chest she didn’t even realize she had been missing. Her sister. Her bestfriend.

They got out of the car and Anora gently woke Igor. She helped him inside to her room. Inside, they lay in bed together, and Igor pushed a support pillow under his elbow with some effort and grunting. Anora gave him one of his antibiotic pills and got ibuprofen from her nightstand.

“How the tables turn, huh? Guess I’m gonna be takin’ care of you; who’s the sorry motherfucker now?” She said it while laughing to herself and it made Igor smile.

“See, you don’t need someone to save you, Anora, you save people.” Igor closed his eyes and took a slow breath. “First thing tomorrow I go to Bubushka’s and pay you back. Doesn’t feel right owing you money.”

“I’m not in a hurry to get it back, I mean Hell, it's been sitting in the back of my closet for the past couple months. Felt like a relief to get rid of it, in a way.”

“ Either way, you suffered for it so you should spend it on yourself.”

Anora chuckled bitterly. “Yeah. You’re right. It could come in handy down the road.”

She settled into bed next to Igor and looked at his profile in the low light; the slope of his nose and the curve of his jaw. He was really handsome from this angle. Did she really just think that?

“So,” Igor started, still dozing, “boyfriend now, huh? What happen to friends?”

A few moments of silence passed so he opened one eye and looked at her, staring at him with rosy red cheeks and burning ears. She looked like she got caught with her hand in a cookie jar. “Well I– I mean, given the situation…” Anora trailed off, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Dude, I don’t know what you heard, but–”

“Not complaining.” Igor interrupted her verbal stumbling. “Maybe too soon.”

“For me or you?” She sounded offended. 

Igor rolled slightly onto his side to face her and met her intense gaze. “Anora…” She looked like she was about to say something or scream or kick him out. Before she could start talking he continued, slowly, not wanting anything lost in translation, “ You mean so much to me, and I am so bad with words I couldn’t begin to explain it to you. It feels like I’ve been digging a hole for so long I do not see the sun anymore, and for many years I had no hope of ever climbing out. Since I met you, something changed. I do not know how to articulate it. But I feel it, I have… hope. Maybe I never make it out of my hole, but you make me feel like I have to try. I didn’t think I could feel this way, it is new.. Scary even. I don’t know a lot of things, do not know what my future holds, but I do know one thing: I don’t want to lose you. Friendship, anything with you is enough because being around you fills me with warmth. I am terrified to ruin things. I can be an asshole, I have done things to you I regret deeply. It feels so fragile whatever it is between us. I do not want to push you away. So… if you think of me as your boyfriend I am the happiest man I can be. If not, I have no hard feelings, I just hope you won’t punish me for feeling this way. Being vulnerable is not something I am used to but I do it for you.”

She stared at him saying nothing for what felt like an eternity. Igor could feel his heart pounding, something he didn’t even experience when he was in a fist fight these days. Then, without warning, she leaned in and kissed him. Slowly at first and then with the kind of passion he’d been craving for weeks.

Anora pulled back and searched his eyes, so many intense and confusing feelings surging inside of her at once. “I don’t know if I’m ready to commit to something serious, but if you promise to keep your asshole behavior to a minimum… and to keep looking at me just like that, we can take it slow. I didn’t ever expect I’d see you again, and when I did I just got so mad because I couldn’t stop thinking about fuckin’ Vanya, but now it’s like totally different. Maybe it’s just cuz we’ve been hanging out like way too much lately, I don’t know. But when I saw you on that table I felt like I was going to be sick. And when you found me in the bathroom, I can’t stop seeing that look in your eye. You looked so scared, I’ve never seen you look like that; like you were scared for me. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you really, really care about me. And I’m not used to that, not like this, and it’s kind of freaking me the fuck out. But, there’s this part of me. Fuck . I want it. I like the way you treat me, even if you piss me off all the time. I hate to admit that but… you make me want to be vulnerable too. How fucked up is that?”

“Not fucked up.” Igor reached out with his uninjured arm and brushed her hair from her face. “Best thing I heard all day.”

Anore sniffed and looked past him at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s almost 4 in the morning, we should sleep.”

“Good plan.” Igor rolled onto his back and adjusted the pillows for maximum support. “Is okay to hold you?” 

Anora didn’t bother responding, just pulled herself closer and rested in the crook of his arm, nuzzling against his shoulder. She was careful to drape her hand across his stomach to avoid touching his injury or moving his immobilized arm. Igor inhaled the sweet coconut scent of her hair and closed his eyes. “Goodnight, Anora.”