If You Don't (Fyodor X OC)

I do in fact, Care.

"𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢𝚛 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔" -𝙵𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝙾'𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛

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"Well aren't you going to help her?" The brown haired boy eyed the Russian with dismay.

The Russian, however, couldn't manage to do much else but watch in abject horror. He thought he could trust the woman at his feet. He thought she belonged here with him and Ivan and their small little cat that they rescued from a tree.

Fyodor watched as Klaus pried Anastasia's limp body off the floor, struggling to get her over his shoulder for easier transport. There was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to rush to her aid; yet it seemed to him that he had done that a few to many times. No. He would no longer cherish her. Instead he would tolerate her from a distance - the way he ought to.

Klaus clenched his teeth with burning anger towards the seemingly emotionless Fyodor. The one that just walked away as he trudged Ana to her room, desperately trying to get her comfortable and hoping beyond hope that this time, her ability wouldn't nearly kill her.

He placed his sister on her bed and prepared the tools for her, setting them up the same way she had done for Ivan. He watched her meticulously, and he was glad he did. For hours he would sit by her side, running the damp cloth across her feverish forehead. He'd watch her toss and turn with discomfort. It wasn't until she had fallen into what seemed to be a calm sleep that Klaus left to go check on Ivan. He knew she'd want that.

He shuffled down the hall with exhaustion weighing on his feet. He knocked on the wooden door, and it creaked open on its own accord.

Klaus was surprised to find that someone had tidied up the room. All the books were back in place, the lights were replaced, and you would've never guessed anything had happened here.

"Anastasia?" Ivan croaked. He was facing the wall, unable to see anything but a rough shadow against the dark walls.

"Sorry to disappoint," Niklaus sighed but took a few steps around the bed, allowing himself to be illuminated by the small antique lamp on the nightstand.

Ivan pursed his lips and shook his head. He slowly but confidently readjusted himself so that he was sitting up on his bed, and he pointed towards the empty chair in the room. The one that Ana refused to leave.

"What on earth happened?" Ivan blinked a few times, still trying to pull at the strings of his awakening, hoping one would reveal his memories.

"You died." Klaus said bluntly. He wasn't blaming Ivan for the situation, but he was certainly bitter about the predicament. He was mad at Fyodor especially.

Ivan chuckled weakly. "If I died, then this must be an odd dream"

Klaus sighed as he leaned back in the chair. He propped his arms up behind his head and crossed one leg over the other. "Nah. My idiot of a sister saved you"

Ivan's forced smile quickly vanished. "What do you mean? Please do not use such foul language when talking about her," his voice cracked as he finished his sentence. He rubbed his throat and reached for his glass off water on the night stand.

"She used her ability to bring you back to life. I'm sorry for the language, but I think you'd agree with me. She was dumb to do that, because if her own ability doesn't kill her, that Russian asshole out there will," Klaus spat out, turning his head to the side. He was doing everything he could to hide from the impending death that awaited Ana, and talking about it made that very difficult.