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    Yes to Gossamer   
      
    All That I Love   
   by Lashala   
   Lashala@hotmail.com   
      
   Part 5   
   See part 0 for header information.   
      
      
   I looked up and found him extending his *left* hand. For a moment I was   
   confused then I understood. Extended mine and shook it; let him feel the power   
   *and* the control. His eyes never left mine.   
      
   "Thank you...*tovarish*."   
      
   No... He's *never* lied to me.   
      
   "Thank *you*, comrade.   
      
   We lowered our hands, road for another mile or so in silence, then I couldn't   
   help myself. "Boris?"   
      
   "Da?"   
      
   "*Still* in your will?"   
      
   I thought he'd never stop laughing.   
      
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
      
   Later that night at the dacha, after we'd dispersed the 'troops', sent our   
   thanks to his associates and seen to the injured, Boris and I sat in his   
   stately living room surrounded by pictures of old Tsarist Russia. There amongst   
   the beauty of the Royal Palace, the Summer Palace, the city of St. Petersburg,   
   the Hermitage and other works of art, we sipped hot tea laced with rum (now you   
   didn't think it wouldn't be, *did you?*) and talked.   
      
   That's when I told him about the dreams, about Fox's life (what I dared, I'm   
   still careful and you know why), about mine; what we'd both suffered thanks to   
   the smoking bastard and he listened. Really listened and made no judgments. It   
   was hard to talk about *some* things, easier with others. I can say now that   
   like with Lyuda, it helped me in ways I still can't fathom but I felt a weight   
   lift.   
      
   They say confession is good for the soul. I suppose, in truth, all this time I   
   didn't really feel I had one left to do any good *for*.   
      
   When I finished my story, I sat there waiting. For what I wasn't sure - that   
   he'd call me crazy, call for the guys to lock me away, shoot me; I didn't know   
   and didn't really care. I just felt it was *time* to talk.   
      
   I sat there quietly waiting for his reaction, prepared myself for whatever and   
   watched as he lowered his cup onto a side table. Then he leaned back in the   
   chair, folded his hands over his chest and sighed.   
      
   "Alexei, I don't claim to understand all this 'metaphysical', 'cosmic   
   spiritual', new-age mysticism, as I think it's more for the young. They like   
   variety nowadays. But what I *do* know is that something happened to you. To   
   Fox. Something that in *my* humble estimation is a good thing. You've changed,   
   my boy. Changed into someone stronger than ever. What we've done, what we plan   
   to do, takes focus and determination. You were a young man of conviction before   
   but now..."   
      
   He pauses, looks at me and there's an expression on his face I've *never* seen   
   directed at me - by anyone - and for a moment I'm stunned. It's *pride!*   
      
   "But now, you've added a new title, son. You've become a 'leader'. One that I   
   think will be a *very* good one in the time ahead. I'm proud of you."   
      
   He reached over, took his cup and lifted it to me. I couldn't say a word, could   
   only smile back fighting tears. I lifted mine, we sat a bit longer just   
   drinking quietly and I couldn't help but think it again.   
      
   He's never lied to me.   
      
   Now I feel his fingers stroke mine and look up. His smile is content. "I'm glad   
   they were able to help you, Alexei. I'm glad you trusted them enough to let   
   them. You didn't deserve what happened to you back then."   
      
   "I didn't deserve a lot of things, Boris, least of all this. But we pay for our   
   errors sooner or later. I was prepared to live the rest of my life with one   
   arm. I never expected to get a second chance." I look at him and he knows I   
   mean more. "With *any* part of my life."   
      
   He lowers my hand with a frown. "You regret this? This chance to be whole   
   again?"   
      
   I shake my head not feeling entirely snide. "No. What I *do* regret is *owing*   
   them. I don't like to owe *anyone*."   
      
   "Sometimes we don't have a choice, Alexei, if it gets us what we need. What we   
   want."   
      
   I get the message and frown. "Boris, I *told* you back then, this isn't a   
   debt..."   
      
   His look stops me. "I wasn't talking about *our* debt, my boy. I was referring   
   to a more important one. For *you*."   
      
   Oh.   
      
   He doesn't say more, lets me think. Instead, he sits with his hands resting on   
   his thigh. There's a lot less flesh to cover now. The years have seen Boris   
   thin out a lot, bulk up with muscle in place of fat. He's starting to again   
   resemble the man I first met and respected then; admire more now. A man built   
   like a mountain and nearly as indestructible. A man that's been more honorable   
   despite his 'professions', then and now, than anyone I've ever met.   
      
   Save one.   
      
   He said he wanted to help me. He has. In more ways than *I'll* ever be able to   
   repay.   
      
   I start a bit when he reaches out again to pat my shoulder. "Why don't you go   
   tell the cooks what we'd like to do? Make some arrangements. I'll finish this   
   and join you shortly."   
      
   I rise nodding then remember my previous suggestion. "You'll look into getting   
   some help, Boris?"   
      
   He sighs, walking back around the desk and settling into the chair. "Yes. If   
   only to keep me sane." He looks up and smirks. "If I can still be after all   
   *this*."   
      
   I know how he feels, smile at him and take my leave.   
      
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
      
   Dinner turned out to be a good time, Boris even allowing the boys to join us.   
   The toasts were light in deference to my early flight the next morning and he   
   put on some dinner music, taking a moment to twirl Lyuda around the floor   
   before she snagged me for an impromptu jitterbug.   
      
   Yes, I can dance. Just didn't get to do it much in the past. Hope I have   
   someone to move with in the future.   
      
   I returned to my room a few hours later feeling a bit better about my leaving   
   until I see my bags on the floor. Remember what I'm going to do, where I'm   
   going to go. Think about Fox. Realize it's been some time since I had. Not that   
   I didn't *want* to...   
      
   I'd been fighting *not* to.   
      
   Suddenly the memories, the dreams, flood over me in a wash that battles with my   
   hormones and leaves me sprawled on the bed shaking with need and tears. I curl   
   into a ball and sob helplessly; fear, worry, you name it fighting to take over.   
   Finally, I think pure lust gets the upper hand.   
      
   I didn't want *Boris'* cleaning staff to know any more than I did back in the   
   hotel, so I stripped off and practically staggered into the shower where I   
   jerked off frantically, managed to keep my screams under the roar of the water   
   then collapsed into my bed.   
      
   It didn't help like I thought it would. I was physically sated but my mind kept   
   thinking about my distant lover. I was terrified, wondered about too many   
   things and didn't expect to get any sleep. I was startled when the next thing I   
   knew, Lyuda was banging on my door telling me to get up for my flight.   
      
   At the airport, as the flight crew makes final checks and fuels the jet, Boris   
   and I stand on the tarmac waving as Lyuda hops into a Mercedes and heads off,   
   her new beau driving with a speed that makes even *me* a bit nervous.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)