When the lies come tumbling down...

[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...”