The Last Romanov (Under Editing)

Religious Sanctuary

Kominski didn't seem surprised. Nor did he even really seem that worried. He just seemed exhausted.

"So I'd feared," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nadezhda-"

"I'm fine," she said stubbornly. The expression on her face hadn't changed, though.

Kominski frowned. "Nadezhda, you just woke up screaming and crying. Obviously, you're not fine."

"I'm fine," she insisted. She rolled over to her other side so they couldn't see her face. "Really. I-I'm fine. Just... go back to bed."

Kominski gave Sasha a look. He got the feeling that he wanted him to do something about her. God knew what he thought he could do. Women were some of the most stubborn creatures God had decided to put on his green earth. Especially that one. If she didn't want help, asking her more and more if she wanted help wasn't going to make her want it. And she sure as hell wasn't going to let them help her.

If they were going to get her to want help, they were going to need somebody subtle. And Sasha was about as subtle as a tank with the shittiest-yet-operational engine the mind could imagine.

And so, he shrugged. What the hell do you want me to do?

"Sasha, I've got a doctor upstairs who's agreed to take a look at that knee," Kominski said. "You up for a quick trip up the stairs."

He had a feeling he knew where this was going. He got up and walked out with Kominski.

"Let me guess: there isn't a doctor," Sasha said once they were halfway up the stairs and the door was shut behind them.

"Of course not," Kominski said. "You really think there's a doctor in this city who isn't right under Anastasia's thumb?"

Sasha sighed and leaned against the wall, ignoring the ache in his knee. "You want me to try and convince Nadezhda that she needs help, don't you?"

"I never fought in any wars," Kominski said. "I was, however, an army chaplain. I remember seeing all the kids with come in to Sabbath services with that blank stare. Of course, though, she isn't going to believe me: she might, though, believe someone who actually was a soldier."

"I love how you think she listens to people," Sasha said.

"She does, is the thing," Kominski said. "Just... not when it has to do with her own health. She's trying to act like this is the good days, back when she and her husband could run around like chickens with their heads cut off. But, she isn't exactly young, anymore."

Sasha rubbed the back of his neck and looked to the side. "Let's be honest: she wasn't exactly young when the first revolution happened, either."

"I know," Kominski said. "Now, can you imagine how she's feeling, now, watching all these kids your age get killed like her husband? And having everyone think that she can get them all up on top, again?"

Sasha looked down at the door to the basement. "No, actually: I can't." He looked up at him. "I still don't see what you want me to do."

Kominski sighed. "Come on, Sasha: I have something to show you."

He didn't like where this was headed, but he still followed Kominski up the rest of the stairs, ending up in the chapel.

"Tell me, Sasha: do you believe in God?"

He frowned, confused. Where the hell had that come from?

"Why do you ask?" Sasha asked.

"Don't worry: I won't be offended by your response," Kominski said. Not at all answering his question.

Sasha looked up at the altar of the church and sighed. "I don't know, anymore. I suppose that some people would call the fact that I'm alive divine providence. I find it hard to believe that some giant man up in the sky would keep me alive for as long as he had and kill everybody I know."