Learning to Shut Up [February 19, 1964, 9:25 am]

[charushkin.livejournal.com]

It had taken several days for Matvei to have grown used to having Sergei's bunk empty when he awoke in the morning.

His other bunkmates tried to cheer him up, but could see he was better off left alone. They understood that. Matvei was grateful, and more so that they, or one of his other friends, had left Sergei's stuff undisturbed for a few days. It would've been nothing short of traumatising to see all evidence of his existence disappear overnight, as official protocol would've demanded. But they were Ocelots. They were treated exceptionally well.

He had woken up that morning feeling, for the first time in days, a sense of focus and determination, capable and ready. He mulled over breakfast absently, but ate a reasonable amount. He needed to do something. It lay uncomfortably on his conscience.

He knew where the MVD had their current laboratory. He'd overheard Kolyin moaning to Semeyonev about it at some point.

He left early, a good fifteen minutes before he had to be anywhere, and quickly located the building. Fully uniformed and ready to rejoin his group, and they'd be none the wiser.

He hesitated when he arrived. Probably wouldn't do any good to cause any more alerts, given how... on edge everyone was the last couple of days. He opted to knock, carefully. He was fairly sure in his timing; they were probably holed up in there, busy, but he could just leave very quickly if he wasn't told to fuck off.

At least he'd have tried.

Comments

[charushkin.livejournal.com]

Obviously, the innate madness of Groznyj Grad was contagious. They'd caught it, too.

Apparantly, so had he, as he promptly stuck out his tongue for inspection.

[nikanor-liadov.livejournal.com]

Liadov raised his eyebrows, assessing.

"Not bad," he said with a slight smile. "I think we can safely say you're a lizard man."

He frowned, after a moment.

"What was it you wanted to know, Lieutenant?"

[charushkin.livejournal.com]

Matvei's tongue vanished, and his expression faltered slightly.

He was rapidly losing the courage he had mustered up in the first place.

I am such a pathetic specimen of manhood, he thought, irritated that he had been caught in a deer-in-headlights moment.

He cleared his throat. "About that... other Charushkin."

He was faintly uncomfortable by seeming at all interested in knowing anything about... that kind of person, but his name was attached to it. He was... intrigued. Morbidly curious.

It had always only been him and his Ma, and a small part of him wondered if he had any more family further afield, even if it was an unpleasant connection.

[nikanor-liadov.livejournal.com]

"Oh," said Liadov, slowly. "Him."

He paused.

That had been an interesting night, to say the least. To say more would incriminate his own memory of witnessing liberties taken under the badge.

"I don't know much about him, and it wasn't a memorable arrest, really. I do remember that his name was Anton....Antony. Something."

He shrugged.

"It was a long time ago. He was just a night butterfly. There's a million of them flitting around Moscow, turning tricks."

[charushkin.livejournal.com]

"Ant-"

Matvei was struggling to process this information.

He was being ridiculous, of course. His shock was unnecessary. Of course it was likely someone shared his father's name in the whole wide world.

And yet...

Matvei's brain clunked into brain, drawing together dates. His father left when he was... five? Six? And his mother hadn't talked about it much, and Matvei hadn't really cared, except when he'd found himself alone.

"... Could you tell me more?" he asked, imploringly. "Whatever you remember."

He shifted, uncomfortably, realising this must have seemed an odd inquiry to make; none of his business.

"... My- I knew an Antony Charushkin."

[nikanor-liadov.livejournal.com]

Liadov frowned. The boy looked almost desperate all of a sudden, but trying to conceal it.

It occurred to him that this boy might have known the man, after all. Perhaps he was a relative.

"I don't remember anything else," he said, evasively. "He wasn't charged. He was exonerated."

He gave Charushkin a meaningful glance.

"You don't need to know any more than that."

[charushkin.livejournal.com]

Matvei bit the inside of his lip.

He didn't really want to say anything, but he was certain that Liadov knew more than he was saying, hoping to dissuade him. How else would he remember a name, the crime, and nothing inbetween?

He weighed the situation up, and found he could live with them knowing. They seemed like the kind who understood secrets.

"... It was my father's name," Matvei explained quietly.

[nikanor-liadov.livejournal.com]

"Oh, I see," said Liadov, quietly.

He frowned, drumming his fingers dully on the black lab composite.

"Well, there are probably a lot of Antons in Mother Russia, Lieutenant. It's unlikely that-"

He trailed off.

"Trust me," he said, smiling. "It's unlikely."

He tilted his head, angling his gaze down as he toyed with one of Polya's instruments.

"This particular individual...did not have a propensity toward offspring...at least, not toward committing the things in the way from which offsping might occur."

[charushkin.livejournal.com]

"... I see."

But Matvei really didn't. He sensed that Liadov was holding back information, and all he needed was a yes or no. How the fuck was he going to sleep not having his father's name in the clear?

"... So he was younger than me then," Matvei said, sounding his best at presumptious.