The Aftermath

Chapter 25

Main station, Moscow, 2. April.1948

Finally home! Soviet stepped out of the train and could finally stretch. These train waggons became really claustropopic the last weeks of the long travel, espechially if you are on the very taller side of contrys.
And especially if many little inconveniences and incidents, just as destroyed train tracks and meeting numerous important people on the way to deal with numerous political problems (just to name a few) stretched out the trip far over the actual deadline. But now they managed to arrive at his main city at last.
In front of the station, he could already hear the noises of a huge croud; all of his people who awaited desperatly his return.
Despite being worn out from the long journy, Soviet couldn't let that affect him. He had to show his face and he looked forward to the happy, celebrating faces of his brave people, who gave their hard work, sons and determination to his defense. Their willingness to sacrifice made the victory even possible and despite having wished a bit more here and there, he was proud of them. To celebrate the moment, he had already thought out numerous victory parades trough the citys, honoring of war heros, speeces, honorary banquets and everything else you need after such a triumph. With this he would be very busy for the next weeks, despite having the entire Berlin-thing in the back of his head, the only spot of this flawless run of events. As far as he was informed, the western nationd didn't really complid or responded, besides basic formal letters to stay.
Soviet sighed, that entire thing he had to deal with somewhere in between the numerous planned events, but who said that this would be easy? The only somewhat good thing was, that the western forces did not try to get accsess to his zones with armed force, an another battle would close to impossible in his state, but so were the western forces. Soviet knew that himself and America was pokering on this fact and as long as it stayed this way, no tanks would roll.
The acing question now was: What would America do and risk to hold Berlin?

Poland appeard besides him, nervously blinking into the smoky air. The huge croud of people infront of the train station seemed to trouble him. "Don't worry, comrade Poland. They are only here for me., Soviet said to calm him. "On the other side of the station, there will be a car ready to take you to the Kremlin. We will meet there on the late evening I think."
"Understood, comrade Soviet.", Poland nodded, now all overly formal again, but Soviet could see a small spark of relief on him. "Did the others already arrive?"
"Most of them.", Soviet responded briefly. The infrastructure of transportation was really lacking in specific parts of him, but fixing it would take it's time. Expensive time...
"Now get on your way. You are surly tired and for the future meetings I need you all in your best shape.", he orderd, but Poland seemed glad to finally leave.
After he had dissapeared into the crowd with a bunch of state officials, Soviet rememberd that he forgot to ask him to deliver a greeting to his son Russia. But then an police officer came over and informed him that everything was ready for his departure. So he straightend his fresh uniform and gave the order to put everything in motion. As sooner he came home, the better.There was so much to do.
Bevore he stepped out to the expectant people outside, Soviet looked back to the waggons and coudn't help but smile. The secret package was already on their way. 
Another thing to look forward to at home...
Finally, he turned around and stepped out the station to get swept away into the loud cheerings of his crowd.

 Kremlin, Moscow, 3. April.1948

It was infact after midnight that the doors behind Soviet closed and he was finally home. The day took his toll on him, he was sweaty and even more tired, but to see his familiar streets and magnificant buildings, hear his language everywhere and looked up to his beautiful Kremlin made it all worth it. To listen to the rejoycing on the streets as his heavily guarded car drove past the countless onlookers was balm for his soul and let him forget all the hassle with the west for a while.
He really did it. The fachist was no more.He presisted against all odds. The war was a sucsess because of him and his people, more that America, England and whoever else were ready to admit.
And he was proud. But now he wanted to shower, to sleep and then finally hear some good news regarding Berlin. Or else he had to apply a bit of pressure...
But before that there was something more important to do. Soviet walked trough the eerily silent high halls, only a few lights were on and long shadows fell onto the floor. Everyone was sleeping already, he was sure. Except one of corse.
After making his way trough a labyrinth of hallways, Soviet arrived finally a door leading to one of the private saloons and stepped in, without knocking.
The room was also almost completly dark, with the exemple of two desk lamps besides an old armchair. A tall figure sitting in it looked up from his book with tired eyes, who lighed up immidietly after seeing him.
"Otets!", she shouted, threw the book aside and ran towards him. "Rossiya!" Soviet opend his arms and found himself in a deep, long hug. Just as he thought, his son had waited for his return, no matter how long it took. Not like his other children...
He pressed Russia close to his chest, picked him up with ease and swirld with him around a few times.
"Dad!", Russia squeaked giggeling. "I'm not that small anymore!"
"For me you will be always small.", Soviet answerd with a smile. It was not false. Despite his son towering far over his siblings, besides his father he was only just reaching to his chest.
"It's good to see you again. Could have been way sooner if the train hadn't so many issues. And the people wanted my attention." He placed Russia back on the ground and took a deep breath, as his ribcage was free to move again.
"Of corse, dad. We were all just getting a bit nervous here... The people finally want to celebrate and put this all behind, I can feel it."
"And celebrate we will! Have you already organized the things I have asked you?"
"Da." Russia pointed to a bunch of folders on the main table. "The big victory parade is organized and the puplic is informed. The german POW's will be brought in acordingly to their walk of shame and I made a few drafts for your speeches. Also the production of medals is up and running and soldiers deserving of them are currently looked in to. All the finnished stuff is over there in detail."
Soviet pulld his eyebrows up in positive surprise. "Drafts for speeches too? You were really dilligent, my son. I did not expect diffrerent from you." Russia was gleaming of pride over his fathers praises. "Your siblings can take an example from you." He smiled even further.