Post by tingrin on Nov 15, 2006 15:38:36 GMT -5
Nikolai was asleep once again, and Piotr had all but forcibly removed his mother and sister, saying that he would like a little time with his father without them being there - and they could use the opportunity to go and change their clothes, get something to eat, bring back some one or two things from their home back at the far that his father had asked for. He had paid for a taxi to drive them and had used his new credit card to pay for the same taxi driver to wait for them and bring them back when they were ready.
Now it was just him and Sibyl in the room watching over the old man.
Nikolai was a great deal older than Piotr had alluded to, well into his seventies, but his illness having left him looking older still. Yet there were marks of Piotr in his face, similiarity in facial features and, despite his age, his hair was still jet black with only a few hints of silver amongst them. His skin was nut brown and wizened from the days he'd spent working outdoors.
Piotr sat at his side, his father's hand in his own, his head bowed.
He looked up after a time and smiled at Sibyl.
"I told you that they would love you too," he said, as though there had never been any doubt.
Sibyl smiled softly, and blushed. “Your family is lovely, Piotr,” she said. She wouldn’t take to calling him Petya in front of his family just yet; that name was reserved for those closest to him and while she knew she had his heart, his family needed to see that too. It was the sort of respect that had been ingrained in her from the time she was very young.
She had seen the despair in his mother’s face. She was a beautiful woman, though aged the shape of her eyes and mouth made it clear she had been every bit as radiant as Illyana in her youth. It left no doubt in Sibyl’s mind, where Piotr got his looks.
And then there was Nikolai. Her heart ached with wishing she had known him when he was well. No doubt she would hear stories of him from Piotr and his family long after he passed. Now she only wished him peace. She had heard sometimes people on their death bed were waiting for something; could it be Nikolai had been waiting for his son?
Standing, Sibyl moved to Piotr and ran her hand along his broad shoulders, kissing the top of his head. “I know even better now why you have struggled so to be away from them.”
He closed his eyes at her ministrations and she felt the tension in his shoulders begin to melt away a little. "I love my family," he said, simply. "The day they discovered that I was a mutant, they did not fear me, or shun me. They embraced what I was. Have I ever told you the story of how my powers manifested?"
Piotr released his father's hand and turned so that he could look at Sibyl properly. Every so often, his gaze stole to the dying man in the bed, checking, as best he could, on his father's comfort and situation.
She shook her head, leaning back against the small sill of the window behind Piotr. “No, you haven’t.”
"I was sixteen years old," he said. "And Illyana was not quite five...she was such a beautiful child, everyone loved her. She would come and play in the fields whilst we worked. Mikhail was away with the space agency all the time and as a family, we enjoyed being together."
He looked back at his father and smiled, mostly to himself as he reminisced.
"I looked up because I heard someone cry out. A tractor had broken its brakes and was racing towards where Illyana was playing."
He told her how he had raced across the field, gathering his sister up in his arms and throwing her clear. Knowing there was no way to escape the impact of the vehicle, Piotr had braced himself...
And had destroyed the tractor when his steel form had awoken in the moment of extreme anxiety.
Sibyl smiled more the longer the story went on. “It is no wonder that they were so proud of you. I’d have wanted to tell the whole town that story.” She touched his face, and chuckled.
She looked to Nikolai for a moment. There was a secret desire in her heart, something girlish and now because of the circumstances, a little sad. She stifled a desire to take the old man’s other hand, and whispered.
“Piotr do you believe we will have children someday?”
He looked up at her, surprised by the question, a light blush touching his cheeks.
"I would love to have children someday," he said, after a few seconds of thought. "And to have children with you...would be most wonderful." He looked sadly down at his father. "Papa loves little children. Illyana was saying even whilst he was having his heart attack he was reassuring the younger children he had been teaching."
Nikolai had been a moderately well educated (albeit self-taught) man, who had taught all of his children and many others on the farm the basic skills of reading, writing and simple mathematics. Even in his old age he'd been known as 'Teacher' amongst his fellows.
Sibyl’s smile was a little sad. Her fingers brushed through the short hair at the back of Piotr’s neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… assume.” She cleared her throat.
“It is just… being here. With your family. I apologize.” She bit her bottom lip, then decided to change the subject, smiling again.
“You need to eat. Let me go and get you something. Are you in the mood for anything?”
He rubbed at his eyes. "I AM a little hungry now you mention it," he said and almost as though in response, his stomach growled furiously at him, making him laugh softly. "I would like a sandwich of some sort, perhaps, and another coffee..."
Tipping his head slightly to one side, he examined her.
"Any children born to you would be very beautiful," he said, shyly.
Sibyl watched him, a lingering blush and smile telling him what she thought of his words.
“I’ll be right back.”
Stepping down the hallway, she chalked up her stupid remark to being worn from the long flight and all the emotion. But she couldn’t really understand why tears were stealing down her face, and she quietly pushed them away before getting Piotr his food.
Left alone with his father for the first time since their arrival, Piotr found himself staring down at the much-loved face.
"I am sorry, Papa," he said, in a soft, gentle voice. "I am sorry that my gifts cannot help you as they have helped others."
There was silence.
What had Sibyl said? Tell him the things that were in his heart. Easier said than done. Nikolai and his son, whilst deeply respectful of one another had never been particularly demonstrative.
"I have always loved you," he said, quietly. "And been proud of you. I have worked and strived at everything hoping that you will be proud of me, too. Everything I have done in my life I have done for you, Papa. I did not wish to go to America, but you wanted me to. You gave me that chance."
He took Nikolai's hand in his own again. "I will make sure that Mother and Illyana are cared for and safe when you are gone," he said, tears making his voice thick. "They will want for nothing, I promise you."
She returned a few minutes later with a tray laden with enough food to feed Piotr for the rest of the day- though it was just as likely, were he in the mood, that he could eat the whole thing at one sitting. There was something about that that charmed her, as if it were a sign of strength.
Pausing at the door, she made sure he was not speaking or crying before opening the door and setting the tray on the table near the bed. “Father, has Piotr told you about his job in America?” She spoke to the man as if he were not near death. Who wanted everyone to be sad around you? She thought perhaps Nikolai was not that vain, and resolved to be a little sunshine in the old man’s day. “Piotr tell him about wishing to teach.”
Almost in response to her words, the old man's eyes flickered slowly open and he considered her for many moments. Piotr realised that he had been awake the whole time.
"You old faker," he said, fondly.
Nikolai ignored his son for a moment.
"My son wishes to teach?" he said, in a surprisingly strong voice. "Piotr, is this true?"
"Yes, Papa," said Piotr, a little meekly. "As you have taught all your life, I know wish to teach what I have learned." He glanced at Sibyl. "I ... have realised that it is my life's calling, to share the knowledge I have."
Sibyl gave Nikolai a beautiful smile, and put her hand on Piotr’s back again, setting Piotr’s sandwich in front of him.
She really was so proud of him, and knew his family was too. He was a brilliant and kind person with a good soul- something difficult to find, unfortunately. As she looked at him she realized it could not have been more transparent that she absolutely idolized Nikolai’s son, and as she glanced back at the old man, she blushed.
Nikolai smiled at her.
"You look at Piotr the way that my lovely Alexandra used to look at me," he said. "This is good. You have found a good woman, my son?"
"Da, Papa. The best." Piotr addressed his words not to Sibyl, but to his father, demonstrating to her that he was not in the least afraid to state his feelings for her. "She is gifted too, like I am, only in a different way."
Sibyl laughed softly and swatted Piotr on the arm as he called her ‘the best’, blushing the brightest pink he’d coaxed out of her yet.
Now it was just him and Sibyl in the room watching over the old man.
Nikolai was a great deal older than Piotr had alluded to, well into his seventies, but his illness having left him looking older still. Yet there were marks of Piotr in his face, similiarity in facial features and, despite his age, his hair was still jet black with only a few hints of silver amongst them. His skin was nut brown and wizened from the days he'd spent working outdoors.
Piotr sat at his side, his father's hand in his own, his head bowed.
He looked up after a time and smiled at Sibyl.
"I told you that they would love you too," he said, as though there had never been any doubt.
Sibyl smiled softly, and blushed. “Your family is lovely, Piotr,” she said. She wouldn’t take to calling him Petya in front of his family just yet; that name was reserved for those closest to him and while she knew she had his heart, his family needed to see that too. It was the sort of respect that had been ingrained in her from the time she was very young.
She had seen the despair in his mother’s face. She was a beautiful woman, though aged the shape of her eyes and mouth made it clear she had been every bit as radiant as Illyana in her youth. It left no doubt in Sibyl’s mind, where Piotr got his looks.
And then there was Nikolai. Her heart ached with wishing she had known him when he was well. No doubt she would hear stories of him from Piotr and his family long after he passed. Now she only wished him peace. She had heard sometimes people on their death bed were waiting for something; could it be Nikolai had been waiting for his son?
Standing, Sibyl moved to Piotr and ran her hand along his broad shoulders, kissing the top of his head. “I know even better now why you have struggled so to be away from them.”
He closed his eyes at her ministrations and she felt the tension in his shoulders begin to melt away a little. "I love my family," he said, simply. "The day they discovered that I was a mutant, they did not fear me, or shun me. They embraced what I was. Have I ever told you the story of how my powers manifested?"
Piotr released his father's hand and turned so that he could look at Sibyl properly. Every so often, his gaze stole to the dying man in the bed, checking, as best he could, on his father's comfort and situation.
She shook her head, leaning back against the small sill of the window behind Piotr. “No, you haven’t.”
"I was sixteen years old," he said. "And Illyana was not quite five...she was such a beautiful child, everyone loved her. She would come and play in the fields whilst we worked. Mikhail was away with the space agency all the time and as a family, we enjoyed being together."
He looked back at his father and smiled, mostly to himself as he reminisced.
"I looked up because I heard someone cry out. A tractor had broken its brakes and was racing towards where Illyana was playing."
He told her how he had raced across the field, gathering his sister up in his arms and throwing her clear. Knowing there was no way to escape the impact of the vehicle, Piotr had braced himself...
And had destroyed the tractor when his steel form had awoken in the moment of extreme anxiety.
Sibyl smiled more the longer the story went on. “It is no wonder that they were so proud of you. I’d have wanted to tell the whole town that story.” She touched his face, and chuckled.
She looked to Nikolai for a moment. There was a secret desire in her heart, something girlish and now because of the circumstances, a little sad. She stifled a desire to take the old man’s other hand, and whispered.
“Piotr do you believe we will have children someday?”
He looked up at her, surprised by the question, a light blush touching his cheeks.
"I would love to have children someday," he said, after a few seconds of thought. "And to have children with you...would be most wonderful." He looked sadly down at his father. "Papa loves little children. Illyana was saying even whilst he was having his heart attack he was reassuring the younger children he had been teaching."
Nikolai had been a moderately well educated (albeit self-taught) man, who had taught all of his children and many others on the farm the basic skills of reading, writing and simple mathematics. Even in his old age he'd been known as 'Teacher' amongst his fellows.
Sibyl’s smile was a little sad. Her fingers brushed through the short hair at the back of Piotr’s neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… assume.” She cleared her throat.
“It is just… being here. With your family. I apologize.” She bit her bottom lip, then decided to change the subject, smiling again.
“You need to eat. Let me go and get you something. Are you in the mood for anything?”
He rubbed at his eyes. "I AM a little hungry now you mention it," he said and almost as though in response, his stomach growled furiously at him, making him laugh softly. "I would like a sandwich of some sort, perhaps, and another coffee..."
Tipping his head slightly to one side, he examined her.
"Any children born to you would be very beautiful," he said, shyly.
Sibyl watched him, a lingering blush and smile telling him what she thought of his words.
“I’ll be right back.”
Stepping down the hallway, she chalked up her stupid remark to being worn from the long flight and all the emotion. But she couldn’t really understand why tears were stealing down her face, and she quietly pushed them away before getting Piotr his food.
Left alone with his father for the first time since their arrival, Piotr found himself staring down at the much-loved face.
"I am sorry, Papa," he said, in a soft, gentle voice. "I am sorry that my gifts cannot help you as they have helped others."
There was silence.
What had Sibyl said? Tell him the things that were in his heart. Easier said than done. Nikolai and his son, whilst deeply respectful of one another had never been particularly demonstrative.
"I have always loved you," he said, quietly. "And been proud of you. I have worked and strived at everything hoping that you will be proud of me, too. Everything I have done in my life I have done for you, Papa. I did not wish to go to America, but you wanted me to. You gave me that chance."
He took Nikolai's hand in his own again. "I will make sure that Mother and Illyana are cared for and safe when you are gone," he said, tears making his voice thick. "They will want for nothing, I promise you."
She returned a few minutes later with a tray laden with enough food to feed Piotr for the rest of the day- though it was just as likely, were he in the mood, that he could eat the whole thing at one sitting. There was something about that that charmed her, as if it were a sign of strength.
Pausing at the door, she made sure he was not speaking or crying before opening the door and setting the tray on the table near the bed. “Father, has Piotr told you about his job in America?” She spoke to the man as if he were not near death. Who wanted everyone to be sad around you? She thought perhaps Nikolai was not that vain, and resolved to be a little sunshine in the old man’s day. “Piotr tell him about wishing to teach.”
Almost in response to her words, the old man's eyes flickered slowly open and he considered her for many moments. Piotr realised that he had been awake the whole time.
"You old faker," he said, fondly.
Nikolai ignored his son for a moment.
"My son wishes to teach?" he said, in a surprisingly strong voice. "Piotr, is this true?"
"Yes, Papa," said Piotr, a little meekly. "As you have taught all your life, I know wish to teach what I have learned." He glanced at Sibyl. "I ... have realised that it is my life's calling, to share the knowledge I have."
Sibyl gave Nikolai a beautiful smile, and put her hand on Piotr’s back again, setting Piotr’s sandwich in front of him.
She really was so proud of him, and knew his family was too. He was a brilliant and kind person with a good soul- something difficult to find, unfortunately. As she looked at him she realized it could not have been more transparent that she absolutely idolized Nikolai’s son, and as she glanced back at the old man, she blushed.
Nikolai smiled at her.
"You look at Piotr the way that my lovely Alexandra used to look at me," he said. "This is good. You have found a good woman, my son?"
"Da, Papa. The best." Piotr addressed his words not to Sibyl, but to his father, demonstrating to her that he was not in the least afraid to state his feelings for her. "She is gifted too, like I am, only in a different way."
Sibyl laughed softly and swatted Piotr on the arm as he called her ‘the best’, blushing the brightest pink he’d coaxed out of her yet.