**Four Years Later – Moscow, 1953**
The Kremlin is quieter than it’s been in decades—no more late-night executions, no more whispered paranoia. Just Sergei sitting behind his father's old desk (though he still scowls at the title of *General Secretary* like it personally offended him).
Nikolai lumbers into the office with Eliot clinging to his back like a tiny, giggling barnacle. The boy waves enthusiastically as he spots Sergei. **"Papa! Up!"**
John leans against the doorframe nearby (still somehow managing to look effortlessly handsome in a suit), raising an eyebrow at Nikolai: **"You spoil that kid."**
Nikolai just rumbles and nudges Eliot closer toward Sergei's desk—because apparently even former Soviet leaders are now glorified jungle gyms for toddlers.
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Sergei sighs but lifts Eliot onto one arm without looking up from paperwork… only for little hands to immediately smack down on documents labeled ***TOP SECRET.***
Eliot grins toothily: **”Dada read?”**
