Goodbye To Myself

When Valerie hugged him before they parted, it felt like goodbye. A forever goodbye. Not the kind she usually gave him before the slept, or whenever she left to go wandering in the woods. This time there was no see you soon. The way she held him spoke more than words. And then he saw the others doing the same. Hugs that seemed to balance on time before it caught up to them, casting them all in different directions.

Goodbye.

Tomorrow is an approaching storm and some of them were going to be swept away. It has his heart hammering inside his chest. Fluttering like a trapped bird.

Leon leads their group of four towards Annesberg. The thickness of the air is the first thing he learns about the town. The taste of coal and smoke linger on his tongue before it makes his eyes water. Workers pass him by, their faces covered in soot and a cough that followed like a badly sung song. A few give their group a curious glance, but none dare says a word, too bone-tired from being underground for so long.

Soon they dismount and Leon enters a gunsmith’s, leaving Yuliy with two of Leanna’s men. The past few weeks there were no ill words between the different groups. Especially the last day cooped up in Leon’s childhood home. They sat like old friends, laughing and talking with the group as though they weren’t their captives, weren’t the ones who ripped the children away from them. They glance at Yuliy, who gives them a passive smile before hiding under his cap.

It’s a relief when Leon returns with a set of keys. He throws the pair theirs before handing Yuliy his own. Together they enter the neighbouring building where a woman greets him, exiting from one of the rooms. Words are exchanged and as always Yuliy finds himself distracted by the décor of the place, ignoring what was being said. Not that he’d understand. Sometimes everyone just talked too fast or over each other. It was difficult to keep up, so he didn’t bother.

It’s only when Leon beckons him over with a wave of his hand does Yuliy snap to attention.

“Your room is 1A. The bath is just down the hallway and to the left. Miss Lockwood will take you.” Leon smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. Valerie and Isabella were long gone, somewhere deep into the mountains waiting for a train that will change everything.

With a hand on the bottom of his back, the woman ushers him into the bathroom. He sees the edges of her jaw moving as she leads him, but she talks too fast for him to understand a single word. His feet try their best to keep up with her rapid pace, but he feels like a foal just born. He turns and Leon gives a reinsuring look, as though the biggest danger Yuliy was facing is this woman and not the train robbery to come.

Waiting for him in the room to the left is a hot bath, filled to the brim with bubbles. The woman pats his shoulder once before slamming the door closed behind him, the swiftness of it hitting his back. And then there’s left alone.

It’s been a long time since Yuliy’s been alone. Even back at the ranch, there was always someone close by. The children were clinging to his trouser leg or pulling at his arm to show him the wonders they’d discovered. Valerie was usually close by with a thousand things to say, her hands speaking in a language that was completely their own. So many secrets had passed through them. Or even when he was working, mucking out the stalls or tending to the garden, he found company in the horses or the stray cat that wandered in over winter.

Alone. It felt quieter than his world usually was. How? He doesn’t know. But there are different types of silences, and this is his least favourite.

Not wanting to waste the hot water, Yuliy undresses, timidly looking over his shoulder, making sure that the door’s locked. Once he’s tested the lock far too many times, he slips into the bath.

A sigh breaks from him, the air rushing from his lungs. He sinks further until his hair halos around him and the bubbles bob above him like clouds. He scrubs the journey from his skin, washing away the smell of horses and pine, and the hot stench of a few weeks without a washcloth. He’s forgotten the colour of his skin and how it isn't as dark as it seemed to be lately. His hair smoothens into golden silk ribbons once he runs his fingers through the tangled knots. It's getting long now, soon he’d have to start tying it up like Jake.

Jake.

The man passes him as troubled thoughts. Tomorrow’s his last day. It almost doesn’t seem real, but he’s seen the way Leanna watched the older man. It was the same look a hawk gave a mouse. But Jake was no mouse. And yet he was still to be her prey, her talon waiting to puncture flesh.

And Jake waits for it with poise and a sense of tranquillity. Or at least that’s what he's allowing the others to see. Yuliy wonders how someone can be so brave when their life's about to end. His fingers skim along the water’s edges, creating patterns through the suds.

Everyone has to grow up sometime.

Leanna’s word tastes bitter though he cannot speak them. They ring true, and he’s left wondering if he’s an innocent in the world, or whether this is a world he has yet to survive in. An undisturbed body of water waiting for a ripple.

His life before all this was a rat among the skirtings of Saint Denis. Living with the golden thread that holds him together, thinning. The city, with its burning lights and smoking chimneys, is wild and untamed just the same as the rolling hills and towering forests of the uncivilised lands. He sees no difference. Men with guns prowled the streets as well as the dirt paths that cut through America. The only real difference was the standings of one’s mind; those in the city thought themselves as gentlemen in tailored made suits. The other were part of a past trying to pave a way into the future, but were doomed, edging extinction like the proud condor’s fate to come.

Yuliy’s neither of those. He’s never owned a suit. Nor is he what Leon and Jake are. Somewhere in the in-between, he thinks. Though, the life of an outlaw tips the scales, tumbling over everything he’s ever known.

He’s tried sitting on the fence. The time at the ranch, the one deep in the mountains, was peaceful. It was a chance for the children in his charge to thrive and learn what it meant to be children without the worry of Michael’s clawed hand over their heads. It was a dream, and like all good dreams, it was bound to end. He woke and found himself in a reality he couldn’t control, nor even take part in. He was like a leaf stuck in a current, doomed to wash away before spilling into the open ocean where he’d drift forever.

When Leanna’s men broke into the house…he was useless. Though he couldn’t hear the terror that reigned the house that morning, he saw it when his kids were torn from his side. He saw it in their watery eyes. The same ones that echoed Femi’s death. History repeating.

He sinks lower into the bath. A sigh parting his lips.

Back on the boat, he was their protector for nothing could hurt them while onboard. They were safe in their nest until a snake came in. Now the snake is gone, and a wolf has found them instead with her glistening white fangs.

Everyone has to grow up sometime.

They’re still out there. Scared, alone and waiting for him. No amount of wishing will bring them to him. If he wants them, if he wants to protect them, he can no longer run and hide. If he wants to stay with their newfound family, then he needs to fight for it. The world isn’t going to care for his pacifistic ways. The world he wants and the world that is are two different things.

He wants to bend reality, to exceed its expectations of him. He lashes out at the water, splashing it over the rim of the tub. And waits. Listening for the sound. He hears nothing. Reality is the same as it’s ever been. The water stills. Yuliy sinks further.

He thinks he’s crying. It’s hard to tell under the water.

The water parts for him as he surfaces, draping his hair over his eyes. He slicks it back and stands, grabbing the towel on the little table next to the bath.

Once dried and dressed, Yuliy leaves the tub for the next person and retreats to his room, which is a decent-sized thing with a single bed, a vanity table and a cupboard. It’s more than he’s ever had. It feels empty.

The sun is low, basking a purple hue through the curtains next to his bed. It’s too early to sleep, but the thought of it drives him towards the bed, which creaks and whinges under his weight, which is nothing at all. Exhaustion tugs at him, but he knows there’s no sleeping tonight.

The parting of the door chases from him his thoughts, and a familiar face pops through the crack.

“Just checking on you before calling it a night.” Leon’s hands move, carefree and simple. Yuliy pretends not to see the stiffness in the rest of his body. The tension knotting his shoulders or the weight under his eyes.

I’m fine.

He doesn’t say it. Yuliy doesn’t like to lie.

‘I’m scared.’ Yuliy signs, though he doesn’t look Leon in the eye. He feels the echo of Leon’s footsteps as he crosses the room and sits on the bed next to him.

“Jake’s planned this perfectly.” Leon rested a hand on Yuliy’s knee before signing once again. “You’ll be okay. I’ll be there to keep you safe.”

Yuliy furrows his brows.

‘I’m scared for the kids.’ Yuliy corrects.‘I’ve been willing to die for them since they came under my care. Back in the city, if it wasn’t the police chasing it, it was the factory owners cheating me out of money, or it was the fumes in my lungs trying to kill me, but I didn’t care what happened to me as long as those kids lived.’

Yuliy looks down at his hands as he signs. Tomorrow there’s a chance there’ll be blood on them. Was he lying to Leon? Is he really willing to throw everything he believes in to give those kids a chance?

He turns and collects his satchel, pulling out a pistol Ripley had once given him when Michael still haunted them. It sits loaded. The trigger never pulled.

Placing the cold metal in his lap, he signs. ‘Ripley tried to teach me. But she’s not very patient.’ Yuliy looks across to the older man next to him. ‘I know I won’t be as good as you or Jake, but I need to know how to protect those kids.’

“You sure?” Leon asks, a heavy heart sits in his chest.

‘I won’t sit back and let others walk over me again. I’ve let too many people hurt those kids.’He can’t help the tears that burn. He clings to the past, to the boy who starved so they could eat, to the chemicals in his lungs so they didn’t have to work, to a madman who used him as a puppet so they could play. Yuliy’s abandoned many things to keep his children safe. If he had to spill blood to do it now, then so be it. ‘Show me.’

***

There was only so much teaching Leon could do when keeping a low profile in a relatively small town, if they went out firing off rounds at this time of night they'd likely have the Sheriff up and questioning them in a heartbeat. So with that in mind he simply shows Yuliy the basics with an unloaded revolver. How to hold the weapon correctly and firmly, how to squeeze the trigger, how to aim the best he could without any real target practice.

Of course, their main objective was that nobody got hurt. That their weapons would be used only as instruments of control and capture. With any luck, none of them would need to fire a round and Yuliy's conscience could remain in tact.

Leon had never been much for prayer, but that night as he washes up before turning in himself, he offers one out to whomever may be listening. That this family they'd built would come through this, that nobody had to die tomorrow. That they'd get those children back safe.. and that however Jake's end came, it would be swift and painless. He prayed Leanna had that much humanity left in her, though he feared perhaps that wasn't the case.

Sleep is fitful. He tosses and turns on the squeaky single bed and wakes with legs tangled in musty sheets time and again. It barely qualifies as rest and by the time the rising sun turns the sky electric blue, he's sat on the edge of his bed gazing out at the murky water, thinking about all the better days they'd had, and hoping they would have them again.

Move West, Jake had said. After this move West, lie low. Take care of Mia and Elizabeth, make sure the little girl had some semblance of a normal life and that Mia worked through her grief and came out the other side able to live and maybe even love again. It was a responsibility he took on with every ounce of his heart, but one he desperately wished he didn't have to.

As he dresses in the military uniform the women had snatched back in Saint Denis, it's familiar and disconcerting. Like slipping back in to a skin he'd shed long ago. The Army hunted him for his desertion to this day, now he was back wearing their colors.

He fastens his belt and slips on the hat, shoving his other clothes in to a satchel he slings over his shoulder.

He drinks a cup of water and a sip of whiskey from a hip flask, then heads out as the sun breaks over the horizon and bathes his rented room in gold.

A few steps down the hall, he knocks quietly on the door to Yuliy's room. Finding the boy dressed and anxious, with a grim look of determination on his face.

"All I need you to do is cover for me." Leon explains. "I'll take care of the guards, you just need to look official."

Agreeing, they head out of the small hotel and find the two of Leanna's men already outside in full uniform, waiting for them. Larry and John. A couple of cowboys by the sounds of them, God knows where Leanna had found half of her people. One of them spits a wad of chewing tobacco to the ground.

"So whats the plan?" He asks, tobacco juice sticking to his beard.

Leon holds in the urge to gag and clears his throat. "Shift change will be here soon. We just need to take em down quiet, tuck them away somewhere outta sight. There's some kinda construction going on here so.. good cover." He gestures toward piles of wood stacked on the platforms.

"We killin em?"

"No!" Leon snaps in a hushed whisper. "Nobody dies. Not unless we ain't got any other choice."

"So how do we take em down?" Larry asks, snorting. "Ask em nicely?"

Leon boggles a little. "I don't know, hit em over the back of the head? Or... do this." He wraps his arm around Peters throat and applies pressure from behind, the younger man instantly struggling and pushing him away.

"The hell was that?!" He barks, rubbing his throat and spitting more tobacco.

"Enough pressure like that, cuts blood flow off to the brain. Pass out in a few seconds." He snaps his fingers.

"This son of a bitch just tried to kill me." Peter complains to Larry. Larry holds up a placating hand.

"He was just showin' you what you asked, dumbass."

As they bicker, Leon grits his teeth and glances at his watch. "Get in place. Train'll be here in a few hours. Keep your heads down and don't draw any attention. Rest of em are relyin' on us."

They move out. Larry and Peter heading to one end of the platform while Yuliy and Leon take themselves a seat on the other. As time ticks by and sun rises higher in the sky, the waters they look out over begin to bustle with boats coming in to dock or sailing by. The Annesberg streets begin to fill with people and chatter, the smell of food cooking in the little miners homes drifting over to them and making stomachs grumble.

Yuliy's knee jiggles as they wait, largely ignored by passing folk as they head toward jobs at the mine, or in to the small post office to pick up and send mail.

As it approaches 10am, Larry peers around the edge of the cabin that stood between them, hissing to get their attention.

"Pssst, I see em!" He shouts in a whisper.

Leon tenses, leaning to get a better look as men in military gear emerge from a wagon. Some of them head up to the far end of the station. Five come to a stand near by. One by one they're quietly taken down, bound and gagged and stashed in the maze of stored wooden planks. They'd be found by workers, eventually.

Taking their ID's, the four of them move out to stand on the platform, bold as brass.

Leon's heart pounds in his chest and he glances to Yuliy at his side. The kid pale with his arms wrapped tight around himself.

Soon, the sound of his heart thudding in his ears is overtaken by the unmistakable chug of the train approaching. This was it. He tightens his hands around the rifle in his grasp.

No turning back.