The Last Romanov (Under Editing)

Revolutionary

Sasha watched the massacre from his window in the hospital. He couldn't move: he couldn't even seem to breathe. He could see everything from that spot in his hospital room, could hear some of it; he could even smell what was happening, the sickly sweet scent of gunpowder as it rose in the air, death hanging heavy in the air.

It was happening, again. Even though he was far away from what was happening, it all just reminded him of that awful day back in Novosibirsk, when his grandpa took him into the city for the first time. When that riot happened and he nearly died. Grandpa had actually died, and he didn't find out until a few days later, when he woke up from his coma. The stampede of humans that ran from a squad of imperial soldiers as they shot at them had crushed so, so many bones in Sasha's fourteen-year-old body, and had caused so much damage to his organs that the doctors couldn't stop telling him how lucky he was to still be alive. Of course, they told him that after they told him that his grandfather – the only family he'd had left in the world – had died in the mad dash away from the square. And if it hadn't been for the help of some good Samaritan, there would be no doubt that he would've died right along with him.

It didn't make him feel any better: none of the reassurances and condolences people offered him after the worst day of his life made him feel any damned better about being so alone in the world so damned early in his life-

"Sasha?"

He looked up at the nurse. Damn, did she looked scared. Terrified. Ready to wet herself.

And frankly, she needed to be scared: what was happening out in that square was the kind of stuff nightmares were made of.

"Sasha, are you alright?" the nurse asked. "You... you don't look too good."

Sasha didn't respond. Instead, he went and grabbed his coat, shrugged it on, and slung the gun by the wall over his shoulder. Oh, hell, did his side hurt! He still wasn't all that healed up from Nadya shooting him.

"What are you doing?" the nurse asked, panicked as Sasha pulled on his shoes. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Take a guess," Sasha said, standing back up. "I'm going out there."

The nurse got really, really pale. "Y-you aren't serious, are you?"

"As serious as I could possibly be," Sasha said. "Don't be trying to stop me, either: don't feel much like fighting with you, right now."

He opened the door and walked out of the room, trying to pretend that he couldn't feel that stabbing pain in his side where he got shot: the second he acknowledged that he was hurting, he was going to lose his resolve, and believe it or not, he did actually have a small amount of pride left in him.

"Kozlov, you can't go out there," the nurse said quickly, following him out of the room. "Do you have any idea how much trouble I'm going to get into if you get hurt out there? I'll lose my job, if I'm lucky."

Sasha froze in his spot. She was right: Anastasia would probably have this girl's head if anything happened to him. Sure, he didn't have that much of a conscience, those days, but he still had enough of a heart to not let something like that happen to their girl. If he was going to keep this kid from getting killed over him, he had to make it look like he hadn't given her much of a choice in this matter.

And so, he did the only logical thing in that situation: he took the rifle from his shoulder and aimed it right at the girl.

The girl froze. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. "W-what are you doing-"

"Where are the keys to my room?" Sasha demanded, forcing his hands to keep from shaking. "And don't play dumb: I know that you people lock my room at night."

The nurse didn't hesitate. She grabbed a key ring from her belt and threw it at him.

He caught it easily.

"What are you going to do?" The nurse asked.

"Get in the room," Sasha responded, growling. "Get into that damned room, or I'll blow you away!"

The nurse didn't move for a few moments. She just stared at him, a look of betrayal that cut him pretty deeply. It hurt to know the sort of fear this was putting into that poor girl, but he knew that this was the best way to keep her from feeling the damned Czarina's wrath. She wouldn't punish her for this, would she? Surely, she would be able to see that this was all his fault.

Finally, the nurse followed his instructions. Thank heavens: he didn't know what he would've done if she hadn't.

And the second she was in the room, Sasha shut the door on her and locked it.

"Kozlov, let me out!" The nurse called out, banging on the door. "Please!"

"This is for your own good, I promise."

With that, Sasha took off down the hallway, heading for the stairs. Now, the trick would just be not getting caught on his way out.

***

Nadya bent over the second she got into the alleyway, trying to catch her breath. She couldn't seem to stop shaking, and it wasn't just because she'd run for blocks. Everything she'd just witnessed, all the people she'd watched get hurt and die... it was awful. She just... she just didn't get how...

She couldn't hold it in, anymore. She threw up.

She stared at the stones in front of her for a few seconds. It looked... wrong. Shouldn't there be at least some chunks in her vomit? Even if she didn't exactly have anything in her stomach?

After a few seconds, she sank to the ground, wrapping her arms around her legs. She'd been feverish for a couple of weeks, but... she hadn't thought things had gotten to this point. She hadn't really had anything but a bite of stale bread and some bowls of soup that was little more than flavored water, and she'd still managed to throw up. She'd love nothing more than to attribute it to what she'd just witnessed, but she knew better. She'd seen too much in her life to freak out at violence, anymore.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. What was she going to do?

"Nadya, what are you doing?"

She looked up. Standing there was Nikola, her little brother. The poor kid: he looked like he'd been running around all day, which was probably exactly what he'd been doing. He was, after all, in charge of keeping Nadezhda safe. And everything that had happened that day had put her in so, so much danger.

"I don't think I can do this, anymore," she finally croaked. "I can't even keep food down, anymore."

Nikola cursed, looking around. "We've got to get out of here. You know what they're going to do to us if they find us wandering around?"

"Nothing worse than what's already happening to me," Nadya said. Even then, she could feel the world spinning beneath her feet. "Nikola, I'm dying: I-I don't think I have very long, now."

"Shut up," Nikola said. Nadya might have punched him for that in the past, and their mother would've washed his mouth out with soap and probably a good licking, but times had changed: Nadya hardly had the strength to walk, anymore, and their mother wasn't exactly there. "You're going to be fine. And you know why?"

Black curtains began to descend over her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but it didn't work.

"Because I'm not going to let you-"

That was the last thing she remembered before she passed out.