Kirochka awoke with a start. Not again she cursed, slipping naked from the bed and running swiftly to the bathroom...

20 minutes later, she stumbled weakly back into the open area of the studio apartment, silently cursing her radiation. Third time this week I have been sick... Shrugging into her favorite green satin robe, Kirochka twisted her hair into a large knot, and walked silently to the stove, putting a kettle on to boil, pulling the Chamomile tea from the cabinet. This should help...as long as he does not wake up and fuss at me for fainting last night.  She glanced swiftly at the large bed that dominated the center of the apartment, noting that her paramour still slept soundly, although she noticed he had moved to claim the middle of the bed in her absence...as always.  Laughing softly, she padded silently to the plate-glass balcony door, cradling the hot mug of tea between slender hands dotted with tiny green freckles. Winter...like home, like Boston she thought, watching as storm clouds gathered on the horizon. The news was calling for snow and the apartment was definitely getting colder.

Kirochka turned, snatching up the remote and flipping on the TV as she walked across the apartment, headed for the bed where Mikhail slept, barely covered from where she had thrown the sheets back during her hasty exit.  He will be cold she thought, reaching for the sheet that lay pooled about his hips.  He stirred fretfully as she leaned over him, talking softly in his sleep, his brow furrowed, arm flung tightly over her pillow.

"Don't go Kisa. Please, I dinna mean it.."

She froze, nearly dropping her mug as she sank to her knees by the bed, remembering when she wanted nothing more than to hear those words...

...Five years earlier, after Boston College's graduation ceremony...

The party was their idea, originally, but it had grown and taken on a life of its own, far beyond the simple farewell gathering that Mikhail and his housemates had planned, but she did not mind.  In fact, she was enjoying herself...even though it had taken the past four years of dating him for her to get used to the parties, and his obnoxious friends, she was finally at ease.  Their relationship had always been a volatile one, and not many of his friends had liked her at the start, but the truth was, at the core they were well-matched, just too stubborn to see it or admit it openly.

Which is why he caught her by surprise...

Joey's girlfriend (she did not remember her name) cornered her by the bar, gushing with congratulations on Kirochka's acceptance to MIT for graduate school, wanting to know when she would start classes there.  She opened her mouth, answer forming on her lips, when Mikhail slipped up behind her, snaking his arm around her waist, and swiftly interjecting, "Oh, she won't be. She's comin' with me, I've got a job with the force in South Boston. I start next week!"

She had gaped at him in shock, but he just grinned lopsidely back at her as his friends shouted their congratulations. "I've got a house rented. It's furnished, you'll love it." Her eyes narrowed, and the smile began to fade from his face. "Come on Kisa, we'll get married, have kids...the place even has a nursery."  She had stared at him, visions of her mother, sold as a wife to a man she barely knew, flashing through her mind...memories of her sisters, her aunts, always expected to obey the men in her family, with never a regard for themselves, fears at being unable to be what he wanted dancing in her head. "You planned my life, Mikhail, without even asking me?" she had whispered, backing away. He had cursed then, clinging to her hand. "Dammit Kisa, it was a surprise...I was going to take you there tonight," he muttered, looking sheepish as everyone had stared at them.  She had yelled at him then, screamed that she was not a 'thing', not something that could be placed where he wanted it without asking...and she had walked stoically from the room, wanting more than anything to hear him beg her to stay, to come back, to say anything.  He did not, and at the front door, she ran...

She was gone for MIT by the time his hangover cleared the next morning.  She hadn't known then...

She lost the baby two months later.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she angrily swiped it away, sloshing tea on her robe. Big, dumb, Irish lout... she thought sadly, climbing onto the bed, folding her feet beneath her as she looked at him, gently laying her hand against his chest...

...Six months ago...

She sat in South Boston Precinct 37, waiting to give yet another statement to a harried detective.  Her neighbor's car had been stolen, and she had been lucky (or unlucky, she thought now) enough to witness the theft.  Tired, and hungry beyond belief, Kirochka wandered through the lobby of the station, heading for the vending-machine room.  Intent on the crappy coffee machine, she jumped when the door banged open, spilling coffee on her skirt. A curse formed on her lips, and she turned to hurl it at the men that had slammed through the door, and then froze, face to face with a past she had thought beyond her.

Same roguish smile, same soft Irish lilt - words dying in his throat as she turned, same infuriating black sunglasses that hid what he was thinking.  She drew a deep breath, straightening her skirt as she watched the two men flanking him exchange confused glances, mind racing for something to say, anything...

He beat her to it, flashing that lopsided grin in her direction - a hard smile, not the carefree, playful one she was used to - "What's the count now, Kisa?"

"The...count?" she stammered, confused, feeling she was being made fun of...

"Mmhm. How many hearts have you broken in the past four years, or did you content yourself with just one?" He smirked at her, or rather, through her.

It was too much. She hurled the cup of coffee at him, not caring if she hit the other men or not, and took off down the hall.  He caught her by the stairs, grabbing her arms and shoving her against the wall, his face inches from hers.  If she had not been so scared, she would have laughed at the irony...he had done the same thing the first time he asked her out, only then he had grabbed her rear coming out of Chemistry 101, and she had slapped him.  Now...he shook her, hard, opening his mouth to yell something hurtful at her, most likely.

She kicked him in the shin, and he jumped, then turned his face away from hers, pulling off his shades and running a hand through his hair. She thought she saw a flicker of sadness cross his face as he shook his head. "I dinna mean to.." he sighed, still holding her to the wall with one hand. "Have dinner with me Kisa, and I'll let you up.."

He stirred again in his sleep, and she shook herself from her memories, curling up in a ball by his side, her cheek nuzzled into the tangle of soft black hair on his belly. "I am here, love," she whispered softly, her gaze drifting out the window to follow the first snowflakes of the winter...