When the lies come tumbling down...

[Svetlana Ustinov]

"Mama?" came the tiny voice from an equally delicate child, soft curls framing a plump little face.

"Svetlana...what are you doing out of bed, my angel?" Yelena blinked, turning to see Svetlana in the doorway of her dressing room, clutching a much-loved stuffed lion to her chest.

"I...I can't sleep...can you come snuggle in with me?"

"I'm sorry, my angel...your Papa and I have a very important dinner to go to. We're leaving soon. But I promise to come check on you the moment I get home." Yelena smiled as she rose from her vanity and lifted the little girl into her arms, heedless of the wrinkles it would leave in her silk dress. In a few minutes, she had Lana tucked back into bed, surrounded by her favorite stuffed toys and a pile of warm blankets. "There...all settled in. Try to rest, my love...you've been so tired lately that I worry about you."

Lana closed her eyes and sighed as her mother said goodnight and kissed the top of her head the way she always did. Eventually, she lost track of time as she was waiting and fell asleep, burrowed deep in her bed.

The sound of voices outside her door woke her...unfamiliar voices...two...maybe three of them...they didn't sound anything like Mama and Papa's friends...and it wasn't the guards from outside the house...fear made her shiver as she blinked, staring at the doorway, clutching at her stuffed lion.

They sounded like they were counting...looking for a door...and eventually they moved further down the hall, where Lana couldn't hear them very well. Moving sluggishly she slipped out of her bed and stumbled to her doorway, pressing her ear to it.

Her lion hit the floor when she heard Mikhail and Piotr start to scream. Tiny voices raised in alarm, screaming for mama and papa, screaming for Lana. As fast as she could, she opened her door and darted out into the hallway, though it felt like an eternally slow crawl with her body trying to give out on her. She felt like she was moving through water as the panic in the twin's voices reached a fever pitch, with glass breaking and the strange voices raised in anger.

By the time she'd made it to their door, the men were gone, and the twin's bedroom was a mess. Lights were turning on as the rest of the household scrambled to find out what was happening, and Piotr flew into her, screaming and crying and begging Mikhail to come back.

She woke with a start, sitting up and gasping for air as she relived the terror. It lingered as the real world began to intrude on her awareness, brushing away the cobwebs of sleep with bright jabs of pain in her neck and shoulder. A whimper escaped her lips as she blinked and tried to focus her wavering vision. She was sitting on a faded, but comfortable, blue couch in a small room she didn't recognize. The window didn't tell her much either except even through the frosting, she could tell the sun was still up...maybe late afternoon.

Lana simply hoped it was later afternoon that same day, and not some other day entirely.

"Owww..."

[Alex Kaine]

With a creak and sigh of old upholstery, Alex had rushed out of his seat in a wingback chair and knelt down by the side of the couch. "Lana! Lana, it's okay. We're safe."

Never mind that he wasn't entirely sure that was true. He looked her over and cupped his hands around hers. Her skin was still distressingly cold.

Alex searched Lana's eyes for the clarity and brightness he was used to seeing there. "You were hit with some sort of tranquilizer darts. How are you feeling?"

[Svetlana Ustinov]

"As if I've been run over by a herd of elephants...and...oh god, your hands are so warm...I'm freezing..."

She said softly, her accent thicker than usual as she blinked at him, eyes dark and devoid of warmth, but at least beginning to clear. Shivering, she tugged him up on the couch beside her, promptly curling up in his lap and resting her head on his shoulder, her forehead against his neck.

Lana sighed faintly before she spoke again, stumbling over the words. "Where...where are...we? This...this isn't...Redención House..." she finally gave up and muttered under her breath in Russian, wondering if she looked as wilted and beaten as she felt.

[Alex Kaine]

Alex wrapped her up as well as he could and tried to rub some warmth back into her body, but his hands trod carefully around the puckering bruises he knew were hiding under her shirt, where less than ten minutes ago Spectre and Void had carefully cleaned away shards of the weird exploding tranquilizer rounds Vanguard had shot her with while Alex had watched in a helpless, pacing frenzy. Holding her now was an unspeakable relief.

"No," he said. "We're, um... well, to be honest, I'm not exactly sure where we are."

Right, that was a great job of being comforting. Alex avoided Lana's eyes and pulled one arm free so he could snag the knit afghan off the back of the couch and throw it around her shoulders.

"I mean, we're somewhere in south LA. Two mutants showed up and helped me get you out of the fray. Then they brought us here and took care of your wounds. They said they'd take us back to Redención when you were up to it."

He could see the questions piling up behind her eyes, and he knew the best he could do was to answer the first one. "Lana, they're Brotherhood."

[Svetlana Ustinov]

"Of..course...they are..."

Lana sighed and set her head back on his shoulder, quietly trying to digest that tidbit of information. Between his warmth and the afghan over her, she gradually stopped shivering and settled against him more comfortably. It was, after all, even in light of the circumstances, her very favorite place to be.

Absently tucking a lock of brown-tipped blonde hair behind her ear, Lana tilted her head back and regarded him carefully. "I suppose I'm indebted to them now..."

[Alex Kaine]

Alex had been dreading her reaction. Now he wasn't sure what to make of it. "They were the only help available - I couldn't see the Redención crowd. I just needed to make sure you were okay."

He wasn't sure if it was an apology, an excuse, or what... He had no ground to argue Lana's grievance with the Brotherhood, and he wasn't going to try.

"We can tell them you're ready to go. I mean... if you are ready."

[Svetlana Ustinov]

"Have you called Ana? She'll be worried...and...I need to call Sergei..."

Lana kissed the corner of his mouth lightly, lips lingering there for a long moment before fingers searched the tiny pockets of her shorts. A frown briefly marred her features before she met his gaze.

"I don't remember what I did with my phone? Is it in your pockets? I'd go searching, but inevitably we'd be interrupted..." she tried to say it with a straight face and failed, a smile curling her lips. It was an unexpected moment of levity she somehow knew they both needed.

[Alex Kaine]

The smile was a surprise, but a welcome one. Alex returned it and wrapped her up tighter in the afghan.

"Well, you could always give it try--"

That was when they heard the door.

[Spectre]

It had not taken mind reading abilities to discern the subtle tones of mistrust when Spectre had revealed that she and Void both worked with the Brotherhood. She had no desire to hide that fact from either of the young mutants like it was some taboo cult. Spectre was a true believer. The Brotherhood had the best interests of the mutant community in their works, and one day, an evolved society would look back and they would be the heroes of a world in chaos.

She also understood completely why Lana did not see things in quite the same light. She had sensed when the girl's mind awoke again. It was like knowing there was a light on somewhere in a darkened house. Stopping outside the door of the room where their guests were resting, Spectre recalled the events that had so shaped the way the young girl saw the Brotherhood.

A debacle if ever there had been one. Needless tragedy.

Without being obtrusive to the conversation inside the room, she knocked on the door, giving the occupants time to prepare for a visitor. Opening the door just a crack, Spectre spoke softly. "Feeling better..?", she opened the door a bit more and poked her head around the corner, giving the pair a knowing smile.

[Svetlana Ustinov]

"See? What did I tell you? Always an interruption."

Lana said softly, keeping her tone light as she shifted to curl up in his side. Remaining in his lap, she mused, would make for a rather awkward conversation. Tilting her head, she nodded and managed a smaller smile for the lovely woman peeking around the door.

"I am...thank you. The tranquilizers still have me feeling a little loopy though."

[Alex Kaine]

Alex leaned down to muffle his voice in her hair and murmured, "I don't know, I thought you were always like that."

That brought a self-conscious giggle from Lana and a smack whose windup was fortunately hampered by the afghan. Alex flinched for her benefit.

"I think she's feeling better," he said to Spectre. "Thanks again. We're, um. Really lucky you came along."

[Spectre]

Pulling over a wooden chair with a slatted back, Spectre turned it around backward and sat straddling it with her hands resting on the back. Tapping her fingers, she decided to just lay out all of the facts. There was nothing to be gained from hiding anything.

"You are very welcome. Though, it will no doubt surprise you to know I did not just come along. I had been there the whole time, not far away, keeping an eye on you..", when she said 'you', her sparkling green eyes settled on Lana.

"I'm sorry I let you get hurt. That should not have happened. I was careless.", she looked truly disturbed that things had turned out as they had.

"I am so very glad you are all right. The effects should wear off soon."

[Svetlana Ustinov]

"Its...not your fault. I made a considerable target of myself, to be honest."

She managed to free one hand from its confinement in the afghan, fingers winding with Alex's as her smile slowly faded.

"Keeping an eye on...me? Why am I of sudden interest to the Brotherhood? Is it because I got angry at the one who interrupted our evening at the club?" Lana replied, her voice as level as she could keep it, her mind going a touch numb as it raced through possibilities.

[Spectre]

Shaking her head, Spectre smiled a bit, her subtle gaze dropped to where Lana's fingers entwined with Alex's in an unspoken request for his touch, and support. It was good that she had someone like him by her. He seemed a resourceful kid. "No, not the club."

Looking more serious, she watched Lana's every reaction, without intruding upon her thoughts. Just because she could did not mean she would. "It's not a sudden interest.", she confirmed.

[Alex Kaine]

Alex looked uncertainly from Lana to Spectre. "But the mutant in the club... I thought he was after me, not Lana. Does this have something to do with..."

He stopped himself there. It was Lana's wound, and he didn't feel right yet bringing it up.

[Svetlana Ustinov]

Her fingers tightened around Alex's, her gaze suddenly glittering where it had been a flat chestnut before. It took a moment, and then another...and then a deep. steady breath before she could force her voice to emerge and not shake uncontrollably. "Its about what happened eight years ago in Saint Petersburg, isn't it."

As it was, her voice emerged sounding tired with a short thread of pain wound through it. The pain she'd become accustomed to upon recalling the events of those fateful twenty-four hours and the hell life had become in the subsequent years. She managed a sigh and tore her eyes away from Spectre's, gazing up at Alex before resting her head on his shoulder once more and half-closing her eyes.

Here, she mused, she could think and feel, without it overwhelming her. Lana wondered absently if she'd ever told Alex that.

"What more could you possibly tell me about it? And why would you be interested in me because of it?" she said without moving.

[Saladin]

“Not precisely.”

The door had opened again, admitting a tall, rugged man with a square chin, ice-blue eyes, and a regal mane of golden blond hair. He was dressed in a blue pinstriped shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and under one arm was tucked a charcoal jacket, which he left hanging carelessly on the back of a chair as he stepped into the room. His eyes were on Lana, as if it were gravitational attraction that held them there.

“Tron brought you to our attention, but there is far more to it than that, Svetlana. But, I’m sorry, I really should introduce myself. My name is Saladin.”

[Alex Kaine]

Alex held Lana somewhat more tightly, suddenly gripped by - he wasn’t entirely certain. Admiration, fear, excitement. Embarrassment that he had the man’s face on a T-shirt. “Saladin,” he said with a dry throat. “Oh my God. The Saladin.”

But Saladin didn’t respond to him.

[Svetlana Ustinov]

She gently patted Alex’s hand as he gripped her tightly, her own gaze narrowing as he introduced himself. Lana didn’t need an introduction...she could still hear her mother’s voice describing his features, and the self-assured way he carried himself.

“Please call me Lana...only...only my mother calls me Svetlana.”

Tron...he’d said so much she hadn’t known what to do with that night. Or the next day, until she’d sat down with Sergei and Natasha, both of whom were more than willing to talk about the night Mikhail had died. While they’d been told the same thing she’d had shoved down her throat, Sergei clearly recalled her Yelena vowing that Saladin wouldn’t have done such a thing. Not to any family, but certainly not to hers.

Lana didn’t know what to make of it.

And she certainly didn’t know what to make of the fact that here she was face to face with someone she’d spent the last eight years of her life hating.

“How much more? And why? Why would you have any interest in me?” she asked quietly, pulling the afghan around herself tighter, shivering again, confusion warring with anger across her features.

[Saladin]

Saladin settled back into the wingback across from the sofa, following the transaction between the two teenagers with interest. Usually an adult walking in on a young couple was the surest thing to send them scurrying to opposite corners of the couch trying to look innocent, but Lana looked comfortable where she was, and Alex looked determined to defend her from all comers. Not, he noted with some appreciation, that she looked like she needed defending. Spectre’s account of Lana’s exploits at the rally had been impressive.

And now he found himself on the receiving end of spectacularly wintry glare. That was a problem.

“I promise I’ll explain everything,” he said. “But first, you have a grievance against me. I can’t pretend that I can ever put that right. But I still must offer you my sincerest apologies and condolences for what happened to Mikhail.”

[Svetlana Ustinov]

The deadly Siberian winter inherent in her gaze thawed a few degrees as she cast her eyes down to the much-worn leather braid around her right wrist, a tiny porcelain M and a matching P dangling from the clasp that held it closed. It had been a spontaneous gift from Piotr and Mikhail, who’d chosen it to surprise her during a street fair their mother had taken them to. She never, ever went anywhere without it since the night Mikhail had died.

Her other hand rose and trailed fingertips over the familiar design as she spoke. “I...appreciate that...but you should offer both to my mother. She never quite recovered from it, I don’t think.” Lana’s voice emerged with considerably less ice than even she anticipated. She trusted Sergei and Natasha to an incredible degree...if they truly doubted, then she had to as well.

“I was always told it was your fault and have only recently come to doubt eight years of indoctrination. And I can’t...can’t exactly ask the source of my truth right now. Its been a very disconcerting week.” The gold flecks in her irises glowed a tiny bit as she lifted her gaze to Saladin’s once more. The tightness around the edge of her eyes likely betrayed that there was much she was holding back.

But one did not air dirty family laundry in front of a complete stranger.

[Saladin]

Saladin had an inkling of what she was talking about, but he would not insult her by presuming.

“As a matter of fact, I have offered them to your mother,” he said. “I had tried, repeatedly. But it was only recently that I’ve been able to get through. Believe it or not, I consider it important what you think of me. And I hope you can believe me when I tell you that I never ordered the raid on your house in which your brother was abducted. On the contrary, I had explicitly ordered the Bratstvo to leave your family alone.”

[Svetlana Ustinov]

“Then why? If you ordered them not to, why did they come? Why did they take him? He was just a baby...he never hurt anyone...he couldn’t even control his gift yet...” Lana replied in a rush, blinking back tears that refused to go away. She flatly refused, however, to shed them right then and there, and felt betrayed at how her voice trembled in spite of her efforts at control.

Blast the lingering effects of the tranquilizers she’d been hit with. At that, a fresh jolt of pain coursed across her senses as if to remind her that the wounds peppered across her neck and shoulder were still there.

Lana swore rather colorfully under her breath in Russian and nudged the afghan off of the carefully placed bandages, touching them gingerly with her fingertips.

[Saladin]

Saladin glanced over toward Spectre, and he knew from her eyes that her mind had gone to the same memory his had, that cold, desolate warehouse on the outskirts of St. Petersburg where there had been a confrontation and a reckoning.

“I have not always been the leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants,” he said. “The original leader had died decades before I began to take control, and the Brotherhood was still fractured, a loose collection of independent cells without a common purpose. The Bratstvo was one of the stronger cells, but also one of the most brutal. Its regional leader was a mutant by the name of Czernobog. He ran his operation more like a branch of the Mafia than a revolutionary movement, and he interpreted my rise to power as a personal threat to his own. He was the one who ordered the attack on your family.

“As soon as I heard about it, I and two of my lieutenants traveled to St. Petersburg as quickly as we could. But Dimitri had already ordered a raid to try to rescue Mikhail. They managed to drive the Bratstvo mutants out of their headquarters, but...” A great heaviness settled over Saladin’s frame. “Mikhail had been killed in the crossfire. We were too late.”

[Svetlana Ustinov]

Rising from Alex’s side, she left the afghan behind and wrapped an arm around her stomach, while the other rested fingers on the bandages. Lana just couldn’t sit still anymore, and her skin was beginning to glow a warm gold again.

She paced beside the couch, pausing every so often to stare at Alex, or glance at Saladin. She just didn’t know what to do or think. Even her mother had admitted on the phone that things were not as she’d known them to be, and that there would be a lengthy explanation coming when she arrived.

“On byl prosto rebenkom.” she murmured softly, avoiding everyone’s gaze as she rubbed at her eyes. Uncertain of what to say as she stumbled along on unfamiliar ground.

[Saladin]

Saladin watched her in silence as she struggled with her own thoughts. As much as he wanted to cross over to her and comfort her, he knew it wasn’t yet the time.

“I misjudged Czernobog,” he said. “I should have dealt with him sooner. For that I apologize. But Lana, please understand, I would never order the abduction of an innocent mutant child.”

He steepled his fingers in thought. “I don’t know if it makes a difference. But when I confronted Czernobog, he told me that he had intended to kidnap you, not Mikhail.”

[Svetlana Ustinov]

She stopped in her tracks as he spoke, her spine stiffening and her glow intensifying as she whipped herself around to face Saladin.

“So its true....it wasn’t just Papa’s grief talking all these years. They really meant to take me instead.” Her voice emerged so small and soft it was as if she was nine all over again. “Piotr wouldn’t let me out of his sight for months afterward. He curled up and slept beside me every night. He was so lost without Mikhail...still is...was...”

Blinking, she turned away again, but likely not before pale green tears began to trail down her cheeks. She rubbed at her eyes again and paced to the far side of the room, standing in front of the only window. Frosted over thought it was, she remained there, warmed by its glow in the late afternoon sun.

[Alex Kaine]

Alex had been watching numbly from his seat on the couch as inch by inch Lana was drawn away from him and into Saladin’s story. He was surprised when he suddenly realized that Saladin’s eyes were now on him. Alex stared back, uncomprehending, and then he came to his senses and was on his feet.

“Lana...” He came behind her and wrapped her up around the waist. “Lana, it’s not your fault. Not what happened, not the way--”

Not the way your father treated you.

[Svetlana Ustinov]

“But it is my fault...it is...all of it...Papa was right all of these years. I always wondered why he didn’t...why he didn’t love me. Like he did Mikhail and Piotr. Its because its my fault. It..I...”

Her fingers gently traced his strong arms as they wrapped around her, the comfort and warmth he offered almost too much to bear. But it was what Lana needed, even if she couldn’t realize it. She leaned back against him at first, before turning around to curl against his chest, shaking.

[Saladin]

“No, Lana, it’s not.”

For someone with such command in his bearing, there was an unexpected tenderness in Saladin’s voice. He drew closer to the two teenagers, hands clasped behind his back.

“Nothing he said to you, nothing he did around you, was your fault. I can explain why. If you’ll permit me. But I’m afraid this is something you should hear alone.”

He met Lana’s eyes, then Alex’s. “Alex, if you don’t mind.”

[Alex Kaine]

Alex’s eyes darted from Saladin to Spectre and back to Lana. “Lana, I don’t have to leave you,” he said. “Whatever he has to say to you, he can say to both of us.”

[Svetlana Ustinov]

Tilting her head, she gazed up at Saladin and blinked, surprised by the tenderness in his voice. It was...unexpected, to say the least. Lana would never have believed it possible if she’d not witnessed it herself.

Blinking, the surprise actually registered on her features instead of remaining internal as he continued. But nothing was tripping her internal instincts as false, either...and that was a sensation she’d learned to trust.

It had, after all, guided her to Alex on the first day of school.

“Aleksanderr, it’s alright...I’d...I’d like to hear what he has to say. You know I’ve never kept anything from you, but I want to hear this first....please?” she asked softly, lifting her hands to gently cup his face with her fingers. “You could use the time to call Anna...or text one of the others to tell them we’re ok...I’m sure they’re wondering where we are by now...”

[Alex Kaine]

As much as he wanted to trust Saladin, Alex couldn’t help but feel a fundamental wrongness about the idea of leaving Lana to face him on her own when she was already so emotionally vulnerable. But he couldn’t take that choice away from her, and anyway, she did have a point.

“Right,” he said, and he felt in his pocket for his cell phone. “All right. Oh, geeze, Anna’s gonna kill me.”

He looked over toward Spectre, who rose from her seat and guided him out into the hall.

[Saladin]

Saladin waited until the door had clicked shut, leaving him and Lana alone in the room. The silence expanded all around them until they could hear footsteps shifting on other floors, electricity buzzing through the wiring in the walls, the distant groaning of traffic on the streets below. He turned his face toward the frosted window as if he were gathering himself.

“There is a reason I’ve taken an interest in you, Lana,” he said. “You see, there was a time when your mother and I were very close. It was a short time. Tragically short. But I treasure it all the same.”

Saladin studied Lana’s guarded expression, the worried crinkle between her eyebrows, the slight hunch of her shoulders as she hugged herself and made little circles with her fingers on her upper arm. Everything about her said she was closed to him. He found himself carding his own hands together, a nervous gesture that even traitorous mutants and platoons of genetically enhanced soldiers never saw. He risked another step toward her.

“The truth is,” Saladin continued, “I would have liked to have been a part of your life. But Dimitri wouldn’t have it. And from all the accounts I heard, you and your mother were perfectly happy, so I chose to stay away. I know now that was a mistake.

“This isn’t going to be easy for you to hear, Lana, but it’s the truth. The reason that Dimitri treated you poorly is that he knew... he knew that he was not your father. I am.”

The cunning, the command, the impunity that usually defined his bearing had been set aside. Saladin stood before his daughter, palms turned up, presenting merely himself.

[Svetlana Ustinov]

“Mama always speaks so fondly of you...”

Her lower lip trembled and she was helpless to stop it. Hell, she was helpless to stop anything in that moment. She clapped a hand over her mouth and found herself unable to speak, an unbearable weight settling into her chest.

Seventeen and a half years...and all of it a complete lie. Lana wasn’t certain what hurt more - that her mother had lied to her all these years, or the sharp, sweet sensation of relief that Dimitri wasn’t her father.

No, she was certain the relief stung more. Because she realized that she’d wasted her life trying please someone who would never love her as a daughter. Not the way he loved his precious sons, her beloved little brothers, who could do no wrong where she could do no right.

Her gaze was still locked into Saladin’s - no, her father's - as her hand slipped away from her mouth, the words escaping past her lips before she could stop them. “Do I disappoint you too?”

[Saladin]

So far Saladin had weathered the storm of emotion with typical Danish restraint. Now there was a new tide of conflicting feelings - elation that he had not been rejected, a longing to close the gap between them, anger and disgust at the man who had traded Lana’s love for intimidation and abuse.

He made a noise of staggering disbelief. “Disappoint me? A beautiful young woman who is intelligent, courageous, and a powerful mutant? How on earth could I be disappointed with that?”

Saladin stepped toward her with his arms spread - a clear and earnest invitation.

[Svetlana Ustinov]

Her head dipped as his words registered and rolled about, echoing in her mind. It was what she always wanted to hear from Dimitri and never had. Lana could feel her glow intensifying as she blushed, the pale, golden green bright and warm.

With a faint sound that could have been either a sigh or a curse, she accepted the invitation she read so clearly and wrapped her arms around his waist. Lana closed her eyes and sighed softly, letting her head rest on his shoulder. Even the sharp pain of her wounds couldn’t make a dent in that moment.

“Ona budet zdesʹ zavtra...ya vse yeshche sobirayusʹ krichatʹ na nyee.” she said softly.

[Saladin]

Saladin embraced Lana as tightly as he dared, unaccustomed as he was to paternal affection. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering how different things would be if Yelena had accepted his invitation to join him in America rather than staying in St. Petersburg to marry Dimitri at her family’s bequest, if instead of nurturing a revolution he had spent the last seventeen years helping this remarkable young woman grow into the world as it was. But now, with his daughter in his arms and her head against his shoulder, all the might-have-beens faded into irrelevance.

He laughed at the Russian sentiment. “I don’t doubt it,” he said.

When they stepped back, still arm-in-arm, Saladin found himself studying her in admiration. “Lana, I would like very much to get to know you better. Would you mind having dinner with me this evening? We both have a lot of catching up to do.”

[Svetlana Ustinov]

The warm embrace, the sensation of being held and adored just as she was...it was everything she’d always wanted. Lana was perfectly content to remain where she was and didn’t go far as they eventually separated. She dropped her eyes as he studied her, cheeks warming under his gaze.

“Dinner?” she blinked, and then promptly nodded as her brain finally kicked into gear. “I’d love to...if you like, we could go to where I’ve been living. If Natasha hasn’t prepared something, I’m certain I can make something palatable.”

She arched a brow at his expression and continued. “Just because my mother can’t boil water without ruining the pot, doesn’t mean I can’t. Natasha’s been teaching me.”

[Saladin]

She’d misinterpreted his expression, a slight tensing around the corners of his mouth. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. But I’m afraid I can’t exactly be seen walking into a luxury apartment tower. It would tend to raise inconvenient questions.”

Saladin could tell that simple reality hadn’t yet dawned on her. He smiled lightly, preferring to push past the unpleasantness. “There’s a dining room upstairs, and I can send someone to bring some carry-out. I’m afraid it isn’t quite the luxury you’re accustomed to...”

[Svetlana Ustinov]

“Inconvenient...ohh.”

It did dawn on her, a moment or two later, when her normally sharp mind finally caught up with what was actually happening. Further thought on the precise ramifications of the realization could wait, Lana decided.

“Yes well...the luxury I’m accustomed to normally means I eat alone in a dining room that can seat twelve people. Natasha is a bit of a stickler for formality, when it comes to dinner. Upstairs will be just fine...but I should call Sergei to let him know. If he’s seen the rally footage, he’ll be worried.”

She freed one hand and patted her pockets before wrinkling her nose. “I think Alex still has my phone...I gave it to him at the rally when it wouldn’t fit in my pockets with my cards and my keys.”

[Saladin]

“Of course.” Saladin rubbed her hand fondly for a moment before releasing it. “I’ll let you speak with Alex.”

There was a slight curl to the edge of his mouth that said Alex would also be a topic of future conversation.

[Alex Kaine]

Alex had recently finished a rather terse conversation with Aidan and was pacing idly in the hallway with his hands jammed into his pockets, trying hard not to try too hard to eavesdrop. Saladin and Lana were speaking in hushed tones, far too hushed for him to make anything out anyway.

He had just calmed himself enough to sit down in an antique wooden chair when the door opened again, and when he saw Lana emerge, he immediately bolted back up to his feet. “Hi. I just got off the phone with the House. Are you ready to go?”

[Svetlana Ustinov]

Brushing at her eyes, she smiled and for a split second ignored his questions and just kissed him soundly. Lana took her own phone from him as he held it up to her, and gently shook her head. “You will have to head back by yourself, Aleksanderr...I’m going to stay and have dinner here.”

Lifting a hand, she rested her fingertips on his lips. “I promise I’ll explain, but not tonight. I’ll call you when I get home, ok?”

[Alex Kaine]

“You... you are?”

Alex’s eyebrows came together in conflict and confusion. Leaving Lana alone here seemed fundamentally wrong - but even then he wasn’t entirely sure if he was merely concerned for her or also a bit jealous. Tess’s warning about Saladin flashed across his mind, no matter how much he wanted to disregard it.

“Lana, what am I going to tell Anna - that I just left you here?”

[Svetlana Ustinov]

“You’re telling her that we’re with the Brotherhood to begin with? The woman is pregnant, Alex, she doesn’t need that kind of stress. But if you’ve already mentioned it, then no...tell her you left me at my place. I’ll call Sergei and warn him to expect her call in case she needs to verify.”

Lana frowned slightly and set her phone on the small table by the door. Her hands lifted to cup his face, her thumbs gently stroking his cheeks.

“I’ll be perfectly fine, love. Trust me. Now go and make sure Anna and the other kids are alright. Do you need a ride?”

[Alex Kaine]

It took a moment to dawn on Alex that Lana was actually advising him to lie to an authority figure. Alex felt like he should make note of the date and time for posterity.

“Spectre said she’d get someone to drive us... I mean, me, back to the House. I’ll be waiting for your call, then. Hope you enjoy...” He glanced over to the room where presumably Saladin was still lurking. “...dinner.”

He returned his eyes to Lana’s, then leaned in to kiss her. After a lingering goodbye, he was on his way.

[Saladin]

Dinner was carrryout from Cheesecake Factory served on mismatched dishes that probably would not have looked out of place at Redención House. The dining room had probably been designed for entertaining wealthy business clients back in the 1930s; it had that patina of old luxury that didn’t age well when it wasn’t constantly maintained by an army of curators, but it was clean, spacious, and, even with the windows frosted by necessity, reasonably bright.

Saladin savored a morsel of seared ahi and washed it down with a mouthful of Kostriker Schwarzbier. “So,” he said, “what can you tell me about this Alexander?”

[Svetlana Ustinov]

Her dark eyes were lit with golden pinpoints of light as she took in the decor of the room, and suppressed the urge to trail her fingertips over what remained of the once glorious damask wallpaper. It reminded her a great deal of the formal dining room in the house back in Saint Petersburg, and drew a smile to her features once more.

At the table, Lana tucked a long leg beneath herself, aiming for comfort instead of perfect posture for a change. The pasta she’d chosen was absolutely delicious, and she savored the heat from the cajun spices that had been liberally applied. Another bite savored, and the warmth from the spice reached a comfortably high level. A sip of raspberry iced tea cooled it down a bit, while she lifted a napkin to her lips before answering his query.

Her father’s query, she reminded herself, and in spite of the arched brow she sported, her lips curled into a smile. “His name is Alexander Kaine, he has a twin sister named Andrea who’s currently at the Jericho Center here in LA. We’ve gone to see her a few times. He’s seventeen, lives at Redención House, and needs plenty of prodding to do his homework.”

Lana sipped from her iced tea again and grinned. “And he has one of your t-shirts.”

[Saladin]

Saladin paused with his fork hovering in midair. “One of my what?”

[Svetlana Ustinov]

Plucking her phone from the table beside her, she flipped to a picture she’d taken of Alex with his “Evolution!” t-shirt on. Sliding the Blackberry across the table with mirth dancing in her gaze, she took another bite of her pasta.

“That one...”

[Saladin]

It was a curious thing to be made into an icon. Though Saladin had always made it his goal to inspire young mutants, becoming a countercultural fashion statement wasn’t really what he’d had in mind.

“Oh dear...”

He kept his face diplomatic as he looked over Alex’s modeling pose. Considering the Internet generation’s penchant for irony, it was difficult to tell what the boy really meant by it. He made a mental note to ask Tron for his recruitment file. He slid the phone back toward Lana.

“Well, at least I look younger in that picture. Redención House, you said? I’ve visited Ms. Fernandez there. It’s a good work she’s doing.”

Saladin daubed at the rich sauce on his plate. “And you? Your mother has told me a little about you, but all my information is years old. There’s so much I want to ask you. But fair is fair. Is there anything you want to ask me?”

[Svetlana Ustinov]

“Anna is amazing. She’s so good to everyone and has such a big heart. Everyone adores her.”

Lana said with a soft smile, taking the phone back and politely turning the screen off as she set it aside again. She savored the last bits of her pasta and its spicy sauce, catching as much of it as she could with her last shrimp.

“I...” she blinked, glancing over at him and shrugging slightly with self-deprecation. “...you can ask anything. I’m fairly average for a mutant, really.”

Sitting back in her seat with her drink, she sipped and considered a question. Any question. “How did you meet my mother? What was she like?”

[Saladin]

It was one of the more innocent questions she could have asked. Saladin set his fork delicately on the side of his plate and settled against the back of his chair as he tried to organize a class of memories he didn't use very often anymore.

"Ahhh, well... I was younger than I'd care to admit," he said. "In those days I was a student of Dr. Gregory Cullen, one of the most extraordinary minds ever known to mutantkind. He, I, and a few of my classmates were touring several universities in Europe during the summer to speak on the difficulties facing our kind. Well, one evening I and a few of my friends went to a bar in Amsterdam after our seminar, and there she was."

He said it matter-of-factly, with typical Danish reserve, and he took a calculated sip from his beer.

"Apparently she had heard me speak and wanted to hear more. She was modeling for one of Amsterdam's top designers, but she had never told anyone outside her family about her mutantcy. I could tell that even confessing it to me took a great deal of courage for her. We talked long into the night, until the bar closed and we were forced to leave. Afterward, when I had returned to America, we wrote each other as often as we could. We only ever spent a few days at a time together, but the time was always precious."

There was no use elaborating on that. After all, Lana was material proof.

"I remember her as the most beautiful creature I had ever seen," he said. "And yet, because of her family, she saw herself as... as disfigured, diseased. I did everything I could to show her how wrong they were to think that way, but... it takes a long time to break free of that kind of bondage."

He looked at Lana with the sort of earnestness that causes charges a revolution. "I hope you've never been made to feel that way, Lana."

[Svetlana Ustinov]

Svetlana's eyes were bright as she curled both legs beneath herself and sat back in the chair, fingers clasped around her drink. She didn't sip, however, only sat with rapt attention on her father as he spoke.

Her father.

His words eventually sank in and gave her pause, her features marred with a touch of sudden sadness. "My mother's family...tried. Grandmother Nihilova didn't like me. Neither did Grandfather. Dimitri's family was worse. But they stopped speaking to mother and I after Mikhail died." Lana took a long sip of her drink and stared down into it.

"But it didn't bother me very much. I had Mama and Piotr and Mikhail, so it was enough. My mother though...was very good at hiding how much it hurt her. How much Dimitri hurt her. Piotr and I wouldn't have known if our ghost hadn't told us. But by then it was too late - she was away on a mission and I..." fingertips absently rose to touch her cheek, almost able to feel the bruise that had once been there. "...was on on my way here."

[Saladin]

Saladin's face hardened as Lana told him more of the injustices she had been subjected to by that hateful man Yelena had been browbeaten into marrying. He'd have gladly dealt with Dimitri himself if Yelena had not already taken matters into her own quite capable hands. Saladin reminded himself that Lana most likely knew nothing of this, and it was not his place to tell her. But at least he could take satisfaction in knowing that justice had finally found Dimitri Ustinov.

"You don't know how sorry I am that you had to endure that," he said. "Dimitri lied to me as well. Had I known what he was doing to you and your mother..."

The hardness crept into his voice then, and he broke it off, realizing he was very close to showing his daughter a side of himself that he wasn't yet ready for her to see. He used his fork to separate his rice from his tuna, just to give his hand something to do.

"Your mother is a strong woman. Stronger than you know. As for Dimitri, I have nothing but contempt for a man who would repay your love with fear and intimidation. I wish I could atone for his sins. I wish I could give you the kind of home you deserve. I'm afraid the life of a revolutionary is not the best start for building a family."

Now he was stepping onto uncertain ground, but it was ground that had to be covered. Otherwise, he could not claim to be any less manipulative or selfish than Dimitri had been.

"I don't know what you've heard about me, other than what Dimitri told you. But I am not an innocent man. I have made many sacrifices for the Brotherhood of Mutants, and I have made many enemies. Some of them hurt you today, and for that I am sorry.

"I can't blame you if you are repulsed by the things I am said to have done. Some of them are even true. I hope that you will not be ashamed of me, or afraid of me. But I also don't want to force myself into your life without your permission."

[Svetlana Ustinov]

"You...have nothing to atone for. You didn't know. Knowing that you would have done something if you had any inkling...well that's enough for me." Lana began, her voice soft as she tried to take in everything he was saying. It was...alot to process. In the span of one day her life had gone from perfectly, if painfully ordered to radically different than anything she could possibly have dreamed of.

She shook her head as he continued, interrupting him briefly. "You have nothing to be sorry about, not for today. This..." Lana grimaced slightly as she took the bandage off her neck and felt some of the healing skin pull away. Jewel green, a few drops of her 'blood' trickled down her skin only to be wiped away by her fingers. "...is nothing. But nothing is also what I know about you. What I knew or learned was carefully monitored, and details were never permitted. I was told you were any number of terrible things, but they would never tell me what."

"But my mother...there was always such a wistful look in her eyes when she spoke of you, that it told me more than she did. It tempered the nebulous horror that Dimitri always laid at your feet." Lana sighed and wrinkled her nose, the words seeming too simple to convey everything she intended. There was more she wanted to say, to ask...but she needed to talk to her mother first. To ask why.

To try and ease the headache that was slowly building behind her eyes.

"I want you in my life, so please don't think you're forcing your way in. But I...I need to talk to my mother and I have no way of contacting her right now. I've been cut off."