Fan Fiction ❯ Exodus ❯ Chapter 1

Exodus

 

Russia

Year: 1915 October, 15

 

“12 o'clock noon.” A gentleman spoke, voice gruff with old age. Nearing 73, his bushy, gray eyebrows had made it hard to see his eyes and his moustache, his mouth. Dressed in a gray suit and top hat he tucked the silver pocket watch away and preceded on his way, cane aiding.

 

Everyday he traveled the same route, for he was a man of habit. He would hobble from his house to the crossroads where from there he would stop by the café to tease the young girl working there, good-naturedly of course. Then he would proceed to the produce store to pick up his daily coffee and paper along with two cigars. He would then sit in the park for an hour in sun, rain, or snow. From there he would return on the long trip back to his house. Which is quite a way for an elderly man.

 

Everyday along this route he'd pass an alley. It was where the garbage was thrown and those who had nowhere to go stayed tucked in the shadows. This time however, garbage wasn't the only thing sitting with the older poor folk.

 

A child, one of eight or nine years sat crouched by a heap of boxes, clothing and litter. Her bound hair was filthy from street life just as the rest of her was. Her hair was either black from ash and cinders or was so naturally, he couldn't quite tell.

 

Any other day this gentleman would have ignored these people, but something was different about this child than the others. He didn't take notice at first about how her clothes seemed of past elegance; a low shouldered dress that had been sewn between her tiny legs to form makeshift pants, pink, satin shoes with their heels torn off and a chain necklace whose end disappeared in her dress. Oh no, he paid attention to the look in her eyes. They burned with a distinct fire that the others here didn't possess. It was a fire of resilience and of purpose.

 

Steadily, he approached the girl. Kneeling with some trouble, glad she hadn't tried to run, although he hadn't really thought she would, he asked her gently in Russian, “My dear, why are you out here on such a day? It's simply frigid.”

 

Her reply was a nonchalant shrug.

 

Smiling he tried again, “Do you have any parents or family around here?”

 

It was a bit of a pause before she shook her head `no'.

 

“Hmm.” Rubbing his bushy speckled moustache he gave her a generous offer, “Would you like to return home with me?”

 

Now that seemed to spark an interest he noticed as the child lifted her head from her knees and looked curiously at him with big, blue eyes. Innocent though they looked, they held a tinge of mischievousness.

 

Speaking silently so hardly a dust bunny could hear, she said, “Yes, I would.” It would get her off the streets at least.

 

Standing, the gentleman reached for her hand. “My name is Nicholas. May I ask yours?”

 

Blinking twice, the child reached out, taking Nicholas's hand graciously. A smile came across her lips as she replied. “Mine is Anne.”

“Alright my dear Anna. Let's get you cleaned up.”

 

***

 

This was more like it, Anne decided. Though Nicholas's home was quaint, it was quaint but rich. His wealth influenced the tub, sink, toilet and even the floors and walls. Everything screamed wealthy. It reminded her of some tale in a book.

 

Anne sunk down into the bubble bath, ridding herself of the dirt and grime that her two months on the street had caused. Her hair was indescribably filthy with mud and soot caked in it. She scrubbed like a mad woman to get it out and wasn't satisfied until the light brown of her hair shined and her scalp burned.

 

She glanced over, catching her ragged clothes on the smooth floor. Silently she remembered how she beat the heels of her shoes off to be able to sneak and steal better and how she had sat tearing at her dress, ripping it so she could mend it with needles and string she found in the trash to be pants allowing her to run more better.

 

The necklace she wore was coming clean again and the brilliant colors of its pendant shown through. She didn't own much anymore and this necklace meant a lot to her. Others might not think it much but she did.

 

Clutching it, Anne rose from the black water, taking the towel hanging on the wall. As she dried off, her inquisitive, blue eyes inspected the new clothes left for her. Surprisingly, they were her size. Pink and yellow silk bottoms with a matching long sleeved top.

 

Anne cocked her head to the side. Either Nicholas had gone out of his way and purchased them earlier when she didn't realize it (unlikely) or he had a child of her age once.

 

“That's strange. He seems like some old office worker.” She mumbled. “I haven't seen and photos of family or anything around.”

 

Dropping the towel form her head for a moment, she slid into them and stretched, testing the wear of them. “Hey! These are really comfy.” She decided. “I need to remember to thank him.”

 

Picking up her towel, Anne returned it to dry her severely crimped hair. It had been in a tight braid all along. The waves did mostly fall out and her hair was mildly damp.

 

Anne reached in and unplugged the tub before moving out the door. Silent as a mouse, she tiptoed down the spiraled staircase, around a corner and down a hall where a fire was crackling in the last room. Eyeing around the corner, she found it to be a study. Nicholas was sitting in an overstuffed red chair, trying his best to read though he was for the most part blind.

 

Hearing the creak of a door followed by a small gasp, Nicholas looked over. His bushy brows rose and he laughed, “Why Anna! I didn't see you there. Come in my dear. I've made some hot cocoa for us.”

 

Timidly, Anne walked in the homely room. Her alert senses were dimmed by it all; the crackling fireplace, the numerous books and the tray of two cups and teapot waiting to be poured, full of wafting sweetness.

 

A new confidence was instated in her chest allowing her to go skittering forward happily. Anne dropped to her knees and slid right to the poured cocoa. Small hands lifted a cup closest to her and she began sipping the hot liquid.

 

Steadily, as Nicholas watched her, a hearty laugh jumbled its way out at her energetic antics. The blinking eyes over the rim of the cup fueled it. “I'm sorry!” he apologized, “It's been a while since I've been around a child and I have forgotten how they can be. Please drink all you like.”

 

Warmed by generosity and smiling face, Anne finished three cups before she slowly began sipping her fourth. Needing to ask before her curiosity ruled, she sat the cup on her folded under legs. “Sir, why did you bring me here?” She was very careful with her words, not wanting to make a mistake.

 

Setting down his book, Nicholas gave his explanation, “You seemed so out of place to me there. Also,” his face looked grave. “You remind me of someone, a little girl like you, named Cian. I had to take you home.”

 

“So you only wanted me as a replacement for your daughter?” Although she hadn't meant to, the words had come spilling out more harshly than she wanted. Thankfully, the gentleman didn't comment. He only gave a sad smile and poured more cocoa into his own cup.

 

“No, my dear. I want to give you a home. I'm placing you in my will to inherit what I have so you'll have something when I'm gone. Not just because of some daughter.” He picked his book up again.

 

Anne was stunned. She had to even remind herself to breath. Looking from Nicholas to the rest of his large place, she took it all in. All of this, hundreds of books antiques in finished gold, everything, this abundance of fortune left to her. How could someone just hand away his or her life like this? “Oh no, I'll be fine! Besides, you're going to be around to make sure I can be on my own.”

 

Nicholas laughed again at her. “So optimistic. No wonder you looked so determined in that alley!”

 

Anne turned her head to the side and huffed. “I told myself I wouldn't cry, so I didn't. That's all.”

 

“But still, you must have been afraid once or twice, wanting someone? So alone out there. How long did were you there?” he asked.

 

“Two months.” She closed her eyes. Those two months were certainly frightful to her. People she never knew speaking to her and trying to coerce her into things. Scavenging for food in trash and thievery and quickly learning the value of money as the single twenty dollars she had when she left home had hardly gotten her through a week. Opening her eyes again, she crawled over to the armchair and rested her head and arms upon its armrest. “Sir-”

 

“Please, call me Nicholas.” He insisted.

 

“Uh, Nicholas…” she wanted to tell him. He never asked but she wanted to tell. But all that came out was, “Thank you.”

 

Smiling, Nicholas patted her drying hair. “My dear, my princess, you're quite welcome.” Taking out his pocket watch, his brows rose. “Oh look at the time. Little girls like you should be in bed!”

 

“Huh?” she blinked. It had been so long since she had a set bedtime.

 

“Come on. I'll tuck you in.” With trouble, but still managing, the old man rose and walked Anne to a room beside his own.

 

Pulling the blankets up around he, he kissed her forehead. “Sleep well, my princess. I'll be right next door if you need anything. Anything at all.”

 

Anne watched him hobble to the door before she called out, “Wait! You didn't ask anything about me! For all you know I could rob you while you slept!”

 

Nicholas looked at her small form tucked in the much larger bed and just chuckled, “If it would make your life better. I don't want to remind you of any bad times. I want you to be happy.”

 

Silently, she watched the door close gently.

 

“Nicholas…”

***

 

The morning found Anne completely hidden under thick covers. The smell of sweetened sausage drifted up the stairs to her senses. Twitching her nose, Anne was pulled up, still half asleep from her eyes and she was halfway through a yawn before she realized she wasn't on the street anymore…or in the bed she had been tucked into. “Wait a minute!” she looked around, confused. “Where am I?” This room was much larger.

 

Not remembering, she got out of her warm place and hurried towards the breakfast smell, the floor cold to her feet.

 

With her pace, it didn't take very long to reach the kitchen. “Nicholas!” she exclaimed, and then blinked, “You're cooking?”

 

“Hmm?” he turned, being hard of hearing. “Oh, Anna! Good morning. I hope you slept well. You seemed so frightened last night when that dreadful storm blew in, the crying and all.”

 

Anne turned bright with embarrassment. “Oh yeah…” she muttered. Her eyes took to the floor as she recalled. The thunder and lightening woke her around one and she had then promptly run to Nicholas's room for protection. The old man had kept her sage in his arms the rest of the night. Somehow, the storm didn't bother her so much then. “I'm sorry.”

 

Nicholas waved a hand and motioned for her to have a seat. “I hope you like sausage and eggs. I sweetened the meat for you. I figured you would like something sugary.” He shuffled over and set a heaping plate in front of her, laughing when her blue eyes grew as big as one of the eggs. “Later I'll take you out and buy you some proper clothing and things of the sort.”

 

Anne dropped her fork and stammered, “No! You don't have to get me anything! Being here is enough! You've saved my life.”

 

In reply, the old army man began to eat then looked at Anne from across the table. “And I intend to make that life the happiest one. You are precious to me now and you deserve gifts. My dear, my princess, later you shall have anything you wish.”

 

***

 

Anne's past was never acknowledged by either of them again and Nicholas gave Anne all she wanted and more. He did, although, have to pull it from her due to her modesty. Dresses and shoes were purchased along with much jewelry to match her clothes. Stuffed animals of the sorts were also bought. One that she treasured the most though was a white bear. It wasn't fancy or outstanding, but Anne took a deep attachment to it.

 

Through the next months that passed, Anne only became more cheerful, hardly ever not smiling, and became unceasingly more attached to Nicholas, whom she now called father. To Anne, this was the high point of her life. Her happiness seemed never ending. Games were played everyday and a hot cocoa time was scheduled into their lives.

Nicholas, however, developed a hard cough accompanied by severe chest pains. Ignoring instructions from his doctors to rest, he continued his exercise with his energetic princess, for it seemed the more he was with her, his health problems were obliterated.

 

Anne developed a saying, one that echoed around her life, “My life is like a double carriage at the carnival's carrousel. A seat for you, a seat for me and the more life turns, it can only become a better ride.”

 

A seat for Anne.

 

A seat for Nicholas.

 

***

 

London, England

Year: 1916 March, 23

 

“Nicholas! Nicholas! Look at the big tower!”

 

Nicholas chuckled at his daughter's behavior. They had only recently arrived in England just last week and he was taking the time to show her some other city than her home of Petrograd, Russia.

“The pam says its Big Ben.” Anne recited studiously.

 

“Actually, Big Ben is the name of the bell inside the tower.” He corrected, placing a wrinkled hand on her fluffy shoulder.

 

“Really?” she looked up at her well-dressed guardian in his usual gray suit and top hat and blinked. “It must be really big to make that much noise.” Anne fixed her thatched hat and her new, blue and white ruffled dress and proceeded to walk towards the courthouse. “Let's go look!”

 

Gentleman as he was, Nicholas smiled his weary smile and followed her as she bounded away. For a moment, as he watched her twirl in circles, dress puffing out, he could almost swear his Cian had come back to him. But just for that moment. Illusions in old age he called it.

 

After exploring the town as much as they could by nightfall, the pair retired to their apartment house by the Thames River.

 

Anne tossed her hat off, watching it fly, landing in the chair by the window. “Today was great!” she exclaimed in laughter. “I got to see so many wondrous things!” Blue eyes followed her surrogate father's movements as he lit a candle but stumbled a bit.

 

“Daddy?” she hurried towards him. “Are you alright?”

 

The old man huffed in air and nodded, “Yes, my dear. I'm fine.” He took her gloved hand in his own and lifted the candle with the other. “Let us get you to bed, hmm?”

 

In an instant Anne's face lit up, her hair bouncing as she nodded rapidly. “Yeah, I am kind of worn out.” A yawn punctuated the end of her sentence. Allowing herself to be changed into night clothing and tucked in, Anne undid her hair from the weave of braids letting the wavy locks flow down.

 

Before Nicholas turned away with the candle, she reached up and hugged him tight, kissing his wrinkled cheek. “Night, papa. I love you.”

 

“Good night little princess. I will see you in the morning.” Leaning over, he kissed her forehead and slid the well-hugged, white bear in beside her. “Sleep well.”

Anne nodded and cuddled down. The chirping of night bugs escorted her to sleep as she listened to the hobble of Nicholas moving to his room.

 

***

 

A loud crash and sweltering heat rent Anne from her peaceful slumber. Looking around in panic, her peripheral vision caught sight of flashes of a red aura from outside her door. The rush of something moving and cracking filled her ears.

 

Leaping from her bed, barley managing not to trip on her long, nightdress, she tore open the bedroom door with both hands and was blown back. Fire raged through the apartment like a vicious plague, devouring anything it touched.

 

“Nicholas!!” she screamed. “Nicholas!”

 

She tried to step out but the monster was too strong. Flinching, she used her arms to cover hers eyes and tore from the bedroom yelling for her guardian. Anne could hardly see anything other than reds and oranges. The smoke burned her throat and lungs making her choke, giving the sensation of being strangled slowly. “Nicholas!” Her voice was little more than a rasp now.

 

Running to his room she caught sight of a dark spot lying just inside the doorframe. Nicholas lay lying on his chest, grasping for the wall that might give him support. He had dropped the candle in the living room when he was struck with an attack.

 

Hurriedly Anne ran towards him and dropped down, coughing fiercely. She shook his shoulder saying, “Nicholas we have to get out! What's wrong?” Tears began flooding her face.

 

As strong as he used to be, Nicholas was and old man now and his aged body was no match for a heart attack. Barely able to open his eyes to her, he rasped out, “An-na…run…”

 

Strongly she shook her head, screaming as a mantle fell beside her. “No! Not without you! You have to get up!” Anne pulled at his arm trying to help him move.

 

Reaching out a shaky hand, he held her face. “Please,” horrid coughs interrupted him, but he finished with a strong, “Leave!”

 

Anne, in shock at his sternness, finally managed to roll him to his back before collapsing in tears on his heaving chest. “No…”

 

The fire was worsening by the second and Nicholas, through his hazy mind knew it was imperative to save her. “My…dear…please live…for me if…anything. You were so…strong when I first met you. Show…that strength now. I know…you have…a will to live. Let yourself overcome anything and let me watch…you do it!” His time was up but her life was still very young.

 

The windows in the living room shattered in anger.

 

Anne starred at the pained soul of her keeper. “I love you!” she whispered through her tears. Resolve conquered her features. He was right. She needed to be strong and treasure what they had had together. This would be the last she saw of him, his kind smile he gave her even in so much pain. This would forever be chiseled into her memory.

 

Giving him one last, chaste hug, into the fire she ran. Her feet skidded to a halt as she ran past her bedroom once again. Jumping through the flames, ignoring how they licked at her flesh, she rolled across the bed to grab her teddy bear in a leap. “Let's go!” she said to the bear.

 

Making a run for the door, she used all will to ignore the monster that bit at her, scorching her hair, gown and skin, but the bear remained tucked safely into her chest. The front door had already been burned down so it was easy enough to run through. She fled a sanctuary once safe to her for crowded, cobble streets. Those cold, gray things she had suffered on.

 

Slowly, as she watched the fire billow out and into the sky, the shock of the situation caught up with her. People from every side tried to speak and question her, checking her, wanting to know what happened and if she was all right, but all she could mutter was Russian. She couldn't bring any of the English Nicholas had taught her to mind. Looking down at her bear she whispered, “A carousel. You and I in a double seat going round and round…”

 

The little, white bear was worse for wear even for all the protection Anne had put into trying to keep it safe. Its left ear was burnt off along with some of its fur. Stitches were coming undone as well. Something she did notice that was curious was a silver chain coming from the bears back. Pulling lightly, Anne tugged out a silver pocket watch. Blinking slowly, she examined it as medics tried to help her be bandaged up.

 

Old it certainly was. At the least fifty years old. It had ornate swirls of flowers across it and a small, cursive inscription written on the back. Straining as hard as she could, to the point of tears, she read aloud, “Nicholas LeHarve, 1863.” Opening it, it held a regular clock that was still ticking away the seconds. On the inside of the lid, however, it contained a portrait; Nicholas, a Victorian woman with bright, red hair and kind looks and a child of her own age that looked remarkably like her.

 

Swerving, Anne stared at the photo. The image sent reality crashing down on her, rendering Anne to the ground in high pitched, thick weeps.

 

***

 

The fire was put out later that night and early into the morning. Anne was taken to the local hospital for burns that ran the length of her body. The worst were on her arms and legs. Some would most likely scar. Eventually, she began communicating with the staff and police, telling them where to return her to and retaining Nicholas's fortune for those on the streets and the poor when she returned home.

 

She remained in London long enough to attend Nicholas's funeral. After that, she was escorted on a train that would take her back to Petrograd.

 

***

 

The metal gates were large and foreboding, but she didn't care. This place wasn't as scary as it seemed. After all, one learns to accept them when you live among them.

 

Going inside, she made her way past the people who stared in shock and past the many rooms. The long hallway led to the ballroom at the very end of the hall. When she opened the door a woman stood at the opposite end of the room, almost fainting. “Anastasia?! Is that you?”

 

A man rose beside the elegant woman and the pair watched the girl walk toward them like they had seen a ghost.

 

The Imperial Russian emblem dangled from her neck on the still clean chain and the pocket watch also had a place in her pocket. Heartily holding the bear in her arms, Anastasia smiled lightly at them. “Hi mama. Hi papa.”

 

The queen broke down and grasped her child close to her chest. “Oh Anastasia!” she wept, pushing the girl back to arms length. “Why did you leave us? We had thought you were dead!” Once again she pulled her back tight against her body.

 

Anastasia ignored the jewels her that her mother wore pushing into her body and burns. She patted the woman's back and smiled, “I was learning from a guardian angel.” In response to her parents' confused looks, she just laughed, “I'm ready to go to the ball now, Mama.”

 

 

Responsibility for different things made me come up with this idea. Everyone has responsibilities but it's just a matter of getting out there and making the commitment needed for your life that turns it around. That's kind of what I was going for with this.

 

As always….feedback is mighty welcome!!!!