A/N: This is it. The last chapter of the second book. I wrote all of this down on a sleepless night after a long day of helping my mom pack the last few boxes for moving. I am sure all of you will enjoy it. At the end of this chapter will also be a brief explanation of what is going to happen now.

Chapter Twenty-three

June 15th, 1943

Despite several thorough interrogations, Chertov refused to release the lieutenant colonel's name. The militia could pull all they could out of the stubborn firebrand except for that one crucial fact. It was more than just a single rogue officer and a quintet of agents seeking vengeance. There was a potential conspiracy afoot, potentially running deep in the Soviet Union. However, despite this major uncovering, it was a lead cut short by the brick wall of politics and war. It seemed like a case that was closed for now…or better left to other powers that be.

At the militia office, things were just starting to wind down for the day, and Denisov was about to lock his office door when he heard rumblings from the Major's office. Denisov was puzzled; Major Volkov always left before everyone else, tasking the officers and men on duty to lock up afterwards. In fact, he thought as he moved closer to the Major's office, he could hear a lively conversation between him and at least two other men. Who could be here meeting with Volkov at such a late time? As far as he knew, there were no visitors expected at the office. If only Talho was not on leave, he cursed to himself, then he might be able to use her investigative skills here. She always was resourceful and cunning, and it showed through her vigorous pursuit in the Chertov case.

He was about to open the door when Volkov called out his name.

"Lieutenant Denisov!"

Denisov practically jumped at that call, and hesitated for a moment to open the door. Who was Volkov speaking with moments before? It sounded like a very intense and heated conversation. He could swear he heard some Russian being spoken as well. Being that most of the militia was made up of Russian immigrants, it was to be expected, but it was almost always kept to a minimum in favor of English. It was ostensibly for ease of communication of orders, but it was also to keep reinforced the idea they were serving a new country, one that had given them sanctuary from the repressive, murderous state that betrayed them.

"Denisov, could you come in here for a moment, if you please?" Volkov sounded again.

At that, Denisov opened the door to Volkov's office and walked in, surprised to see three gentlemen, clearly in their early 40s, standing across from the Major's desk. The Major himself looked to be physically frayed and stressed, his hair and goatee uncombed, his eyes glassy as if he had been grilled over hot coals. The trio of men looked to be in the commanding position, and one of them, Denisov noticed, held an official-looking document in his hands. Who were these men? What had Volkov so on edge?

"You called for me, sir?" Denisov asked.

"Yes, Lieutenant," Volkov replied. "Would you kindly fetch Chertov from his cell?"

"May I ask why, sir?"

Volkov wanted to reprimand him for questioning orders, but one of the men, wearing a brown suit and a sporting a large mustache, raised a hand indicating that it was better for him to explain.

"Allow me. Lieutenant Denisov, is it?"

"Yes."

"I am Pavel Vorshevsky, and we are from the Soviet consulate in San Francisco. We heard all about your recent murder case. First, allow me to say we offer our deepest sympathies to the Thurston family for their tremendous hardships."

Denisov said nothing, but rolled over and over in his mind just what Soviet diplomats were doing here. Now that the Soviets were involved, everything had become complicated.

"Now, onto the matter before us. You apprehended a Red Army officer named Ilya Chertov as the primary suspect in the murder, did you not?"

"We did."

"Seeing how he has done a great deal of damage, we at the Soviet consulate believe, as I am sure you do, that he must answer for his crimes. We came here to take him off your hands for that very purpose."

Now the lieutenant knew something was wrong, and immediately protested.

"Are you to tell me, Mr. Vorshevsky, that you expect me to hand over a criminal after the sacrifices in both blood and treasure for his capture? What am I to say to Renton Thurston, then? To his family? To the soldiers who fought and died to capture this man?"

"Your sacrifices to bring him to justice are invaluable, Lieutenant, but this is more than just a criminal you apprehended. He is a Soviet citizen, and must therefore be tried before a Soviet court of law."

Before he could say anything, Vorshevsky thrust into his hand the official papers.

"We've received orders just today from Stalin and the Central Committee itself to bring him back home for court-martial."

Denisov looked down and read the paper. Indeed, Vorshevsky's words were true, as the contents were a telegram, signed by Josef Stalin himself, demanding Chertov's return to the Soviet Union.

15/06/1943 14:00

Comrade Vorshevsky:

In light of the events that have occurred over the past week, and regarding the immense harm caused by Jr. Lt. I.P. Chertov and his associates, both I and the Political Bureau of the Central Committee deem it vital that this man be retrieved and brought back to Soviet territory at the earliest possible opportunity. Once there, he will be brought before a court-martial of the Red Army to decide his fate. We CANNOT allow this officer's antics to cause damage to our agreement with the Americans. Once you have explains the situation to the militia currently holding him, he is to be extracted. From there you will transfer him to San Francisco and secure a means of transport for him back to Soviet soil. Reply to this telegram as the situation develops.

-J.V. Stalin

Denisov, as he read the dreaded signature of Stalin, soon realized that he and the militia, and indeed every participant in this long escapade had been outmaneuvered by the politics of alliance and the demands of war. If they refused to hand him over, it would cause a potential strain in the already tense relations between their nations. If they handed him over now, they ran the risk of letting the devil run free again. They were caught in a political trap from which there was no escape.

"So you see," Vorshevsky said knowingly, "Chertov must be handed over to us, and that is all there is to it."

"Bring him out, Denisov," Volkov commanded with a hint of resignation in his voice. "That's an order."

The lieutenant sighed, and saluted before exiting the office, calling for the aid of one of his men.

"Corporal Weaver!"

Appearing from the interrogation room was Weaver, a veteran of the militia for three years. Despite never seeing action overseas, Weaver had a reputation for being a tough, disciplined soldier who never disobeyed an order given to him. Whenever Talho was on leave or unavailable, Weaver was almost always assigned to personally aid Denisov on patrols. However, when he was informed of his last orders for the day, Weaver was concerned.

"Don't you tell me we're letting that rat bastard go scot free, Lieutenant!"

"We're giving him to the Soviets for prosecution," Denisov tempered, trying to conceal his own displeasure. "He's going to be put on trial in Moscow for what he's done."

"I still don't like the sound of any of this," Weaver grumbled as he made his way to the stockades. "There's just something off about all of this."

"I don't like it either, Weaver, but the matter is not in my hands…"

Denisov waited and contemplated just what would come of all this when the transfer was done. History had taught him the Soviets were cunning and underhanded, not above using murder to get what they wanted. His own family had been the victims of such coldblooded ruthlessness, as they were all but wiped out by the Bolsheviks during the Revolution and the bloody civil war that followed. He couldn't help but feel they were all being cheated, their single lead on a possible larger conspiracy to kill Renton Thurston being snatched from under their noses. Bolsheviks had a way of making empty promises. Just as it had been with Lenin and his talk of "Peace, Land, and Bread," the same degree of suspicion was in the air with Vorshevsky's promises of trial and prosecution. How sure could he be that Chertov would not just be thrown back into circulation?

"Here's the brat, sir," Weaver said at last, coming back with Chertov in tow. "Hope this is worth it."

"I hope so, too, Weaver. I hope so, too."

Weaver roughly nudged Chertov, shackled around the wrists in handcuffs, looking the object of despair and humiliation, with the butt of his rifle. Chertov winced at Weaver's harsh move.

"Come on, kid. Move it or lose it."

They soon brought him back to the Major's office, where Chertov was turned over to the awaiting Soviet diplomats. Vorshevsky smiled expectantly while he grabbed the young officer by the arms. He spoke to all the soldiers present with a saccharine sense of gratitude.

"I and the Soviet Union thank you for your cooperation, gentlemen."

"Just make sure that kid gets his just desserts," Weaver quipped. "The little bastard gave us a lot of trouble."

"Rest assured," Vorshevsky swore to them, "he will be properly attended to. Now, if you'll excuse us."

Chertov visibly resisted, as Vorshevsky and the remaining diplomats practically dragged him out of the office and into an awaiting black sedan, adorned with ambassadorial markings. Denisov could only look on with anxiety as Chertov was pushed into the car, carried away to an uncertain future. A dark fog of worry hung over the three men, wondering what could result from handing over the firebrand officer. So much ambiguity clouded this day. Then again, Soviets were fairly tightlipped about these things.

"You think he'll be tried?" Weaver asked.

"He better," Denisov grumbled. "We paid a high price to get our hands on that kid. I'll be damned if we gave him over for nothing."

Denisov turned to Volkov, who looked paler than a bed sheet. Obviously, this decision hit him the hardest.

"Don't you find any of this odd, Major? The fact that the Soviets picked him up right after this moment? And how are we to know they'll live up to their side of the bargain?"

"We don't," Volkov admitted ruefully. "And that's our problem. But we can't do anything now, Lieutenant. We still have a war to win, and an enemy to beat. And for that, we need their help."

"War makes things complicated."

"Well, there's one bright spot to this," Weaver put in. "When the town learns he's off to Moscow, it will be glad to be rid of that kid."

"True, true," Denisov concurred. "Renton will be pleased, at least."

Volkov nodded thoughtfully, knowing that even if Chertov didn't receive the trial which he deserved, the locals will be relieved that he was taken off their hands. Far too often ordinary people would like problems put away on the shelf like old toys, expecting them to fade with the passage of time. Doing so, however, only meant temporary alleviation.

"The fools," he muttered in anxiety.

»»»»»

June 17th, 1943

Things had calmed down in Bellforest, and it finally seemed like life could go on as normal. The storm had passed, it seemed, a calm had settled over the town. Renton and Holland in particular took the opportunity to spend time together at the local cafe in the center of town. It had been a long while since the two friends had time to talk and recap recent events. Holland was tightlipped about where he stayed and with whom, though it was understandable; if Chertov found out he was still alive sooner, he would have killed him too. So it was they sat in the cafe, shielding themselves from the hot weather while Renton read the local newspaper. According to the weather poll, he said,

"It's going to be even hotter in July."

Renton's closest friend groaned with annoyance as he leaned back in his chair.

"Akh, tell me some good news for once, Rentoshka!"

He turned to the next page and sure enough, found what Holland wanted to hear. One article mentioned a certain psychotic nemesis of his that he wished would just go away. There was even a mug shot of the young man to further remind Renton of the trauma that had only just ended. However, the article bore good news, bringing hope that his escapades would be over for good.

Chief Suspect of Thurston Case Handed Over to Russians

Yesterday at 10:45 am, three officials from the Soviet consulate in San Francisco arrived at the office of the 303rd Militia Regiment, where the Red Army Lieutenant Ilya P. Chertov, 18, has been held for seven days. Chertov was the ringleader of the conspiracy to kill Bellforest local Renton Thurston. Thirty minutes later, Chertov was escorted by the three officials back to the consulate.

A representative, Pavel Vorshevsky, clarified that this was not a release, but merely a transfer.

"He is a danger to the public, of that there is no doubt. But the boy is a Soviet citizen," Vorshevsky explained to reporters. "He must be tried in a Soviet court for his crimes."

Chertov was last reported being placed on the Soviet freighter "Snyegurochka" (meaning Snow Maiden) bound for Vladivostok. He is expected to face trial in Moscow for the charges of attempted murder, conspiracy, and attempted sabotage of Soviet state policies. Vorshevsky refused to comment on the chances Chertov stood in court.

"He is charged with very serious offenses. What happens to him is not up to me; it is up to a jury by his peers."

Since he was a soldier in the Red Army, Renton thought, he'd be tried court-martial. Awards and congratulatory pats on the back were nothing compared to this victory. After all the struggle, fear, and paranoia Chertov had put him and his friends through, they were finally granted peace of mind and an assurance that Chertov would answer for his crimes. Renton smiled and showed Holland the article, knowing this news would perk his spirits.

"Here's something that'll cheer you up: Chertov's going to face trial back in Moscow."

Holland's blue eyes read over the lines, and saw Chertov's despondent mug shot, appearing absolutely humiliated. He laughed and cracked an ever-relieved and triumphant grin. His gold teeth flashed like stars as he spoke.

"Now, that is some good news. Here's hoping that rat bastard gets life…or maybe longer!"

Renton and Holland laughed together at that.

"What do you think he'll get, my friend?"

Renton glanced at Holland for a brief moment, contemplating the question. As much as Chertov had been a thorn in his side, a contemptible enemy, he was simply corrupted by hatred and violence. Even if it meant being put in prison for the rest of his life, he hoped that the young officer would get some kind of help somewhere. He never truly hated Chertov. At least not the with same passion. Renton just was not someone who could wish ill will towards anybody, friend or foe alike. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed resignedly.

"Honestly," he muttered, "I don't care what happens to him, as long as he's out of our lives. I'm just glad he won't hurt us anymore…ever again."

"I'll drink to that," Holland agreed as he sipped from his glass of water.

A brief pause went by, and Holland raised another question. One that had clearly bothered him.

"You know, maybe it is not my place to say, but sometimes I wished you had put him down that day."

"When?"

"Back in December. In Stalingrad. At the park, when we were all there together. Remember?"

Renton nodded. How could he forget that day? It was a day when a horrid memory of his past came back into focus and made himself known. It was a day that started a long and arduous trek out of Russia and back home, made treacherous by Chertov. If they had never crossed paths that day…if they never clashed in the snow-covered fields that day…was it possible that boy could have forgotten about them all entirely? No. Renton knew better, and so did Holland. Chertov was a notorious guilt collector. No matter how much time passed, no matter if everyone had grown up and moved on, Chertov never let anything go. He especially never let go of his obsession with Renton, with how he shook the foundations of his life, and changed everything in Stalingrad on that warm summer day in 1938.

"Part of me really did want to kill him," Renton admitted solemnly. "But I don't think I could have faced Eureka afterwards if I did. I hated the thought of losing her over someone like Chertov too much to kill him. So I walked away. Call it soft if you want, but I am comfortable with the choice I made."

Holland couldn't quarrel with it. In the end, Renton chose pursuing Eureka's love over indulging Chertov's rage. It was a choice that, in both of their minds, was made for the better. Eureka was safer, happier, than she ever would have been in Stalingrad because of what Renton did and didn't do to save her. He would not have known the consequences of sparing Chertov that day, but upon retrospect, even if he did, it would not have changed a thing.

"You listened to sister instead of killing Ilya in rage," Holland said, rubbing the lip of his glass intently. "You held back instead of striking. I wish I could possess your temperance. Perhaps my life in the partisans would have been better for it…"

Renton wondered what he meant by that. Holland, when he last saw him in Stalingrad, seemed happy and content with the partisans. Of course, Chertov destroyed them in one fell swoop, but how would that impact Holland so profoundly to question his very choices there? Just as he was about to ask for an explanation, a familiar figure approached their table. It was a young girl, about Holland's age, with shoulder length black hair and strong, resolute hazel eyes. She was lightly clothed for such a sweltering day, clad only in a white summer dress with puffy sleeves and a frilled neckline, embroidered with a single violet flower on her bosom. On her heels were matching white ballet flats, adorned with the same violet flower decoration. She greeted them both with a warm smile, happy to see this ordeal finally at an end.

"Corporal Yukieva," Renton said to her, "how is your week off, so far?"

"Please," Talho laughed, "just call me Talho. No need to be so formal when I'm out of uniform. My week is moving just fine, thank you. Denisov hasn't been calling me AT ALL! It's nice to finally have some peace and quiet."

"On that, we can all agree," Renton said as he took a bite from his sandwich. "I can't thank you enough for what you've done, Talho. You deserve this break more than any one of us."

"Thanks."

At that, Holland stood up, and wished Renton a farewell.

"I will see you later, my friend. Talho and I have some duties to attend to."

"What are you talking about?" Renton asked, eyebrow raised in confusion. "I thought Talho didn't have to work all week."

At that moment, Renton noticed the girl touching shoulders with Holland, and her hand latched onto his. They were both hiding something, and seemed rather close. At one time, Talho was merely the soldier who pulled Holland off the streets and saved him from a fetid life. Had they evolved to something more than that, now? Were they at the same place both he and Eureka reached not long ago?

"You never told him, did you?" Talho asked Holland knowingly, giggling.

"Told me what?" Renton said, completely oblivious to what she meant.

Holland in the meantime was completely tongue-tied, not knowing what he could say to his best friend about what happened to them emotionally over the past months. The tables had finally been turned on Holland, and now if Renton found out he had fallen down the same route, he would never live it down in his lifetime. Talho certainly didn't help matters by refusing to let go of his hand. Renton cracked a knowing smirk at his friend, who stuttered nervously, failing to make one cohesive sentence. Why did love have to be so difficult?

"The thing is…well…you see, Rentoshka…I…I mean, we…!"

"You didn't tell him anything," Talho gently cajoled. "That's alright. It gives me a reason to do this."

To resolve the situation, and show some mercy for Holland, Talho pulled on Holland's trademark and anachronistic yellow scarf right into a soft kiss, the same kind they shared in her small apartment before being called to the streets to rout the Zoot Suits from the Pathfinder Hotel. For what felt like an eternity, both were in Paradise, with nothing but each other for company. Holland bit his tongue to suppress a moan, and wrestled with his own willpower to keep the kiss from dipping into passionate territory. No, he couldn't deny loving Talho, even if it meant being on the receiving end of teasing he had subjected Renton to not long ago. She was his benefactor, after all. His comrade in arms. The only real cause he had left in life to fight for.

Seconds after their lips touched, they broke apart, with Holland gently panting for much-needed oxygen. Renton could no longer contain his laughter, as seeing Holland bright red in the face almost had him on the floor.

"What's so damned funny?" Holland demanded, blowing like time bomb. "It all happened spontaneously!"

"I remember when I said the same thing to you about Eureka not too long ago," Renton reminded him, choking.

Holland rolled his eyes, knowing he had a point. The fact the tables had turned on him stung badly. Then again, it wasn't a shameful thing to hide. Finally after much mirth on Renton's part, he finally rose from his seat and took his newspaper with him. Far be it from him to intrude on something that Holland always took note to do with him and Eureka in their youths.

"Well," he said finally, "at least I'm not the only one who's 'in the club,' now. See you at home, Romeo."

He nudged him jokingly in the shoulder before exiting out of the cafe, whistling a happy tune. Holland sighed resignedly as Talho whispered in his ear.

"Mind explaining what that was?"

"Back in the day, before the war, my brothers and I always gave Renton a hard time for liking my sister. I guess that was his payback."

Talho laughed quietly as they sat down.

"You shouldn't have to hide it, Holland. It's not something to be ashamed of."

"I know, I know," he admonished, rubbing the back of his head anxiously.

"Because I'm telling everyone I know."

"Even Denisov?"

"Even Denisov."

Holland groaned at that prospect. Denisov was never too fond of him, a dirty ragged street urchin when they found him. He always did everything he could not to let him get near Talho. If the truth was out, chances were he'd only double his efforts.

"I get the feeling he'll like me even less when he learns about it."

"Too bad, my dear Holland Petrovich. We can't predict who we fall in love with or why."

At the utterance of his first name and patronymic, Holland gently placed a finger on her plump, inviting lips.

"Please, Talho. Just Holland. Nothing else. We're more than just friends now; no need to be so formal."

"That's more like it."

Their lips touched again, and the whole world faded along with their troubles. Chertov was gone. Stalingrad was gone. Mikhail was gone. The partisans were gone. Holland had lost almost everything in his life, but he gained something that did more than just replace it all. It gave him a new purpose, one that he was determined to fight for. The war would go on, of that he had no doubt. But knowing he had someone like Talho at his side made that fact seem like a tiny speck of gravel out of place on the long road of life.

»»»»»

June 21st, 1943

Long ago, there was once a farming community, where the Thurston family once lived. It was the same community where Renton and William had been born and raised in. Shortly after their mother's untimely death, in the midst of a nationwide economic depression, the family was forced to move out of their beloved home and journey south, taking whatever jobs they could find. It was a place close to Renton's memory, and a place he had a strong desire to return to one day. It was a place he wanted Eureka to see as well for the date he promised her back in Sacramento, but several factors conspired against him.

As much as he wanted to show her the place he grew up in before meeting her, he feared the car ride would be too long. The farm they lived in was several hours away from Bellforest. Renton had doubts if Eureka would be patient for that long. Furthermore, there was one place, much closer by, that he wanted to share with her. He shared it with so few people in this town, only with those he deemed trustworthy and were particularly close to. There would be another time when he could revisit the farm, a better time when he made plans ahead for it.

Renton told William about his plans for the promised date, and asked if William had a time off from work when he could help them. Everything had to be perfect for this date.

Eureka was kept completely in the dark about his plans until he sprung it on merely the day before when they were both in town. She had thought that after the passing of this major storm, and following the major fight with Chertov, Renton would be more inclined to peace and quiet. However, he was adamant about taking her on the date, since he did promise her. If there was one admirable quality Eureka loved about him, it was how he always kept his word.

She spent all day out with Anemone, who, when the news was broken to her, immediately dragged Eureka off into town for a new wardrobe. She had managed to get some new clothes thanks to Anemone's help, but she didn't think that going out for the night would warrant an entire change of clothes.

"I…I didn't think I'd need to…do I?"

Anemone sighed, rubbing her nose at the sheer density this girl had when it came to matters of courtship. In that sense, Renton and Eureka were the perfect match for each other.

"Eureka, let me tell you something," she sighed frowning.

She crossed her arms across her chest as she looked back into her friend's ashen eyes and said,

"As cute as you look in what you usually wear, you need something else for a date. Something special that he'll remember and never forget."

"It's that important?" she said, her naïveté worn plainly on her face.

"Well of course!" she exclaimed, placing her hands on her waist. "Now you willing to do this or not?"

"…Of course, I am," she said meekly.

Over the course of three hours, the two girls agonized and tried different outfits, seeing which one would catch Renton's attention the most. Eureka tried her best to stick to her usual colors of blue and white, but Anemone stubbornly pushed her out of the comfort zone, saying that if the date were to go smoothly for them, Eureka had to wear something eye-catching.

As the evening approached, Eureka came back to the house, struggling up the hill in her new high-heeled shoes. They were not designed for climbing, and walking on the stone steps hurt her feet. When this was over, she thought, she had to point out that Anemone didn't give the best advice on everything. However, three hours in clothiers managed to produce a new wardrobe for herself: a white satin gown with pink puffy sleeves and a low neckline, enough to tease the imagination and show off her ever slender figure. The hem of the dress was trimmed with lace and underneath was a white frilled petticoat. Needless to say, she was finally starting to find some physical confidence in herself.

Eureka jumped up to the front door and hesitantly knocked, knowing that she was slightly late. She heard footsteps from inside the house and awaited his arrival. The door opened with a squeak, revealing Renton still dressed in his normal day clothes with the addition of his old trench coat, as the evening weather was getting chillier. He smiled, looking happy to see her.

"You're late," he said knowingly.

"Yes I know. Anemone took me out to get some new clothes for the date."

"I can see that," Renton noted, looking her over.

As much as he disliked her being tardy, he could not deny that she looked beautiful in that dress, whose low neckline called attention to her developing figure. To add to it, she had abandoned her old cotton stockings which looked childish on her; now her trim and smooth legs served to grow a hard lump in this boy's throat that was barely swallowed. He coughed gently and spoke again.

"You look good in pink," he observed, knowing that Eureka was eager to hear his thoughts on her new wardrobe.

She smiled, seeing that Anemone was right about one thing: looks mattered on a date. However she blushed at the next thing that Renton said as he leaned in and whispered in her ear, his hot words tickling her.

"I prefer you in blue, though."

"A girl doesn't always stick to a routine, my dear," she giggled in reply. "So, where are we going exactly?"

"You'll know soon enough; my brother will be driving us there."

Just then, both of them heard a car horn honk. Renton took her by the hand and led her down the steps to the curb, pointing to a red car parked on the curb. The car was clearly an old model, ten years old at most. It wore the logo of the Ford Motor Company on the grill, and had two doors on each side of the body. The inside of the car was showing signs of aging. She heard the scrunching sound of the old leather seats as Renton's and her weight sunk into the back of the car. With a closing of the car door, Renton motioned for his brother to drive on.

"We're ready, brother," Renton advised. "Take us there. You know the way."

"Roger that," William nodded firmly.

The older boy started the car and it took off with a slight jolt. Then, it turned a hard right onto the road leading out of town and towards the coast. The fading evening light cast an otherworldly glow over the headlands that shadowed their small town, as if God Himself was casting the last lights of hope over a world that seemed on the verge of its own destruction. The car moved onto a road through the redwood trees that stood tall like sentinels on guard, and up onto a grade.

After a short hour of driving, the car had finally stopped with a gentle nudge, and William turned around to look to his two passengers.

"We're here, brother," William said.

Renton, who had just been starting to nod off woke himself up and turned to Eureka. She had fallen asleep completely, with nothing but the sound of her gentle sweet breathing filling the car. He could hear nothing else, and see nothing else but her. Not to say he wasn't content with watching her sleep on into the night, as she looked beautiful and serene in such a state. However, the night was young, and he didn't want her to miss what he had planned for them. Eureka's indelible sleeping habits shone through, as he almost had to shake her to wake her up.

"Eureka, wake up. We're here."

"Already?" she asked, yawning.

He told her to wait in the car while he got things ready, and promised that he'd be back shortly. At that moment she was alone, and silence gripped the car. Silence created such a bad atmosphere, but having said that, she didn't want to give a bad impression to William. Although Eureka and Will were aware of each other's existence since the day she arrived in their home, they never had time to converse. Eureka already knew that it was a matter of his work in the shipyards through Renton. She was quite familiar with Will, but the thought of actually speaking with him in person seemed rather surreal. Surprisingly, he opened up quite well.

"Eureka," William spoke at last. "It's been a while, yeah?"

"Yes, it has."

"I want to thank you for staying by my little brother," William expressed his gratefulness. "He truly cares for you a great deal. I've finally seen it with my own eyes."

"Honestly?" Eureka asked.

"Yes. I wish I had that kind of relationship with him," William responded with a note of melancholy.

Eureka was silent, but wondered why William suddenly had a change of mood and what could be contributing to the sadness he suffered now. The worst was over, she thought. Chertov was long gone, and they could finally go back to leading normal lives. There would be no more fighting or fleeing.

"Tell me something," he posed to her. "You already know about how our father is fighting in the Marines. I don't suppose Renton's told you about our mother, either?"

"It doesn't come up very often. Why?"

"His mother's dead, Eureka. Has been for several years."

Eureka was struck silent by this. Renton had never talked about his mother ever. He never seemed comfortable with it, even as a child when he first came to Russia. The instant she heard that dreadful word that no one ever wanted to hear, it made sense to her, although she still wished Renton could've told her himself.

"From the beginning," he continued with a note of glumness, "I was skeptical and cynical about love. The horrors of war and the struggling my family had to go through changed me. Ever since Renton and I lost our dearly departed mother of cancer, I was incapable of being a better brother for him. It's because I was too scared to lose him, like my family has lost so much else. I didn't want to lose Renton to anything, even a potential girlfriend."

Eureka gulped at that. It was no wonder, then how William fought with Renton over going to Stalingrad to find her. After losing both of their parents and their home, to lose the only family he had would have been devastating. Yet Renton defied him and went on searching for her through the icy steppes and the blood-soaked streets.

"But, Eureka, you changed all of that for me. You wanted to stay by Renton's side. You helped him endure the darkest times in the world. You've given him a reason to live and fight onward. Your love saved my brother. I truly thank you for that."

Eureka couldn't help but blush over such sentimental comments. She felt undeserving of such high praise from the frank older brother.

"I'm very relieved you have such a high opinion of me, but I cannot take all the credit."

"Really?" he said in slight disbelief. "But it was for you that he left America and fought in Stalingrad, wasn't it? Didn't he bring you back with him because you asked him to?"

"Yes, but Rentoshka really didn't start to change until after he confessed to me his true feelings. In the end, he saved himself. I was just there to listen to him and reciprocate those same feelings."

"That's all you needed to do. You were there when he needed you to be, and you said what was in your heart. For that I'm eternally grateful."

William smiled genuinely, his brown eyes twinkling like the stars of a wintry sky.

"I'm a brother who can't live up to his role, and I know I'm not looking after him even now. Honestly, I'm already at my limits just working to pay the roof over our heads. Even this car is something I borrowed from a coworker. But even for a failure of a sibling like me, I'm very proud of Renton. I trust in his judgment, and if his judgment led him to you, then I'm convinced: you're the one for Renton, and you're the one who will set Renton right again. Please take care of my brother, Eureka."

Here was a man who had failed his brother, and now, in the darkening evening hours, had poured out all of his heart to her, and told her secrets that no one, not even Renton, could bear to tell her. A sibling who could never live up to his commitments was now entrusting the care to his younger brother's lover. The first love he ever truly had in his life. This young man who had little to no contact with his own brother felt ashamed, and now turned to her. And how could she refuse that?

"Of course I will," Eureka vowed. "He's everything to me now."

At her heartfelt admission, Renton came back, and ushered Eureka out of the car. She heard the distant rolling of ocean waves lapping on the shore, and saw they were at a small plot of beach, just as the sun was about to go down. He spoke briefly to William in the driver's seat, instructing him with what he needed now.

"Thank you for taking us here. The whole thing should take about two hours or so; you can come back then."

"Are you sure?" William teased. "I wouldn't want to interrupt you two love birds."

"B-brother!" Renton protested, blushing. "Shut up with that!"

"You won't be bothering us," Eureka assured him, giggling. "You're family, too, aren't you?"

As the car drove away, leaving the two young people in the fading evening light, Renton reached into his pocket for something he meant for Eureka to have.

"Oh, I almost forgot!"

It was a black blindfold. He placed over Eureka's snow grey eyes and tied it up from the back of her head, carefully. He waved his hand towards her face, making sure the girl didn't see anything.

"Alright," Renton said sternly, "follow me and don't take that off until I tell you."

"Any reason why?"

"You'll find out soon enough. Trust me."

Eureka shrugged her shoulders. Renton took her soft hand and lead her the way to their spot.

The distant crashing of ocean waves on the shore grew closer and louder the further they walked. She smiled thinking how romantic a date on the beach would be, especially with the night fast approaching and the last vestiges of light slipping away. It was a rather surprising change for the boy. Renton had always been shy, oblivious and flustered about romance; it must be a very important place to him to only have it shown just for her.

They reached the end of the paved road, and Renton advised her to take off her shoes as it would be just sandy beach from here on out. She felt the soft sand sift between her toes as the crashing waves drew closer to them. The whole scene felt like something out of a romance novel: a cold night on the beach, the only sound of the waves lapping on the shore, hand in hand with the one love of her life, with the beach also being his secret spot that no one else ever frequented.

"I never took you to be such a romantic soul, Rentoshka."

"Taking you to the secret part of the beach? I never knew that would count as such."

"Then, technically," Eureka teased, "that would make you a hopeless romantic."

Renton said nothing to her, but only led her besides a beach blanket.

"Now, lie down on your back."

Following his instructions, she laid down on the blanket being sure not to get sand over her new dress.

"You can take off the blindfold now."

Her grey eyes fluttered open like butterfly wings, and the most beautiful serene sight met her vision. An entire spring sky filled with bright glowing stars, each one more beauteous to the eyes than the last. For a moment it seemed she was looking down on some great city from atop a cloud in the night sky. It was truly an awesome sight, so wondrous and so infinite. Lying down as she did allowed the stars in the sky to consume her entire field of vision which made the sight all the more spectacular. What on earth could describe such beauty not manmade, not of human devising, but rather of nature and nature's God? She couldn't help but gasp in awe at such a beautiful sight.

"So," Renton asked as he smiled at her, "what do you think of it, Eurekasha?"

"It's amazing," she whispered. "Things like this do not usually exist back home."

"They do. You just have to know where to look."

He pointed upward, and told of the constellations he could spot in the sky.

"There is Aries, the ram sitting down on the horizon. Right above it is Perseus, the Greek hero who killed Medusa. Taurus the bull is to his left, and further left is Orion the hunter. See his belt there made up of three stars?"

He did this without the aid of a constellation map, nor a light of any kind. It was so easy for him to spot and understand. He must come here often to know all the constellations, she thought.

"If you look further up, you'll see Gemini, and Cancer right above it."

"I know the Big Dipper, at least."

"Right. The Big Dipper is part of Ursa Major, which is about there. See the two stars that make the end of the pot? Follow them up about five spaces. That's the North Star, the one star in the entire sky that never moves."

On and on he went, explaining the constellations and their accompanying stories as if he was a master of astrology. She was so immersed with the night sky and the voice of Renton deconstructing it piece by piece, it felt like listening to a fairytale before bedtime. It was just as well, as for so long, her life had been anything but a fairytale. To see a wondrous sight like this after all the pain she had endured was the balm needed to soothe her soul, and heal her wounds.

"Throughout the times when we were at war in Stalingrad," she whispered, "I only saw the harsh, tragic things that I never wanted to see. But, when I'm with you…I realize that…"

Renton turned his head slightly towards her, trying to anticipate her words.

"I realize that the world is beautiful," she said, happy tears in her eyes. "Everything you've shown me proves it. Your town, your family, your friends, your whole country…but you, most of all. Despite the war and all the horrors it's brought, I know life is worth living, because of things like this. And I want to go on living…with you, Renton."

Eureka grasped his hand tightly, her spirits lifted by this wondrous sight. Renton gave her hand an affectionate squeeze, as his own way of giving thanks for her steadfastness, remaining by his side when things seemed their darkest. He had her in his arms, so close and so warm. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he felt complete with her. She was his angel. She was his sun and moon that made his day and night. She was his other half. To lose her would be to lose everything he held with importance in this world and the next.

"Thank you for staying by my side through all of this, Eureka. I think would have gone crazy without you. My only hope is now we can have a normal life together."

"We will, Renton," she said softly. "You just have to set your mind to it…and…"

She blushed slightly as she wiped away a stray tear from her grey eyes.

"…and know that I'm always here for you, no matter what happens. Understand?

"Da…moya lyubov."

Eureka smiled and saw a way to ease his spirits and finally put this sad and horrific ordeal to bed.

"Rentoshka…" she spoke again, "aren't you forgetting something?"

"Hmm? What?"

"There is always something a boy gives a girl on every date."

"There is?" he inquired, clueless as to what she was talking about.

Eureka giggled and went straight to the point.

"Renton, potselui menya1."

They turned to each other, and gazed deeply and longingly into each other's eyes for what felt like centuries, searching for some truth in the windows to their souls. They searched for a harbinger of what may come their way in the future, or an oracle that could predict if they would stay like this for all eternity as reliably as one could predict the changing of the tides. They ran through pages of words not written in any book, but written in the heart. The writing was the same three simple words that spoke volumes in ways neither of them could begin to fathom.

They inched towards each other, like a deep undersea trench slowly closing up through a shifting of the earth's plates until they were barely an eyelash's length away from each other. With a gentle touch of the lips, an exchange of warmth, and the silent twinkle of the many bright stars above them, that was how this day became one to remember.

For both of them.

END OF PART TWO

1 Renton, kiss me.

A/N: And so ends the second volume in our historical fiction saga, and we now stand halfway in the series. I want to thank everyone who helped me get this far. Special thanks go to Shashandra7.0 for always helping me along with scenes when I felt stuck, and helping me stick to a relatively consistent posting schedule. If it hadn't been for you, I would have taken a lot longer to finish this. Special thanks also go to knownobody for providing me with near constant feedback and a great editor's eye. Hopefully I satisfied you, this time, my friend.

So what happens now? Well, as a breaker of hearts, the next part of this series will not come right away. In fact, I don't expect it to be ready for a long while. Grad school is about to start in a few weeks, and I need all the time I can spare to prepare for my entrance exam. When school starts, I'm going to be kept extremely busy, so I won't be posting anything during either of the semesters. I don't want to repeat what happened this past spring where I'm swamped with work, I can never get in any time to write, and I leave all my readers hanging for a month and a half. So the next stories will be posted only when they've been completed, so I'm not pressured to write out the next chapter on a weekly basis.

Thank you all so much for sticking by me to the end. I appreciate the support.

Until next time, my friends.