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Red Moon: Revolution Chapter 13

Sergei watched his breath above his, little puffs of white that lingered above his face before dissolving into nothingness. Rays of light filtered into the small bedroom from the world outside, a world that for the moment, didn't need to exist. He had everything he needed right here in the little apartment that was near the center of Berlin and was considered to be home.

"Home." He said to himself. It still held a bit of a strange tinge to it, he hadn't considered any place home for a very long time. He had been pulled away to answer a call to defend his country, a call that he had eagerly answered. From home, he saw the battlefields of World War 2. He was there in Poland, he cheered when he heard that Paris had fallen over the radio and he crept through the ruins of Russian cities such as Stalingrad. He didn't leave Stalingrad like so many other.

While the fate of hundreds of thousands had been decided in those cold winter months in the Russian city, his was still undecided. It was there that his life was remade. When he went in, on the back of a diesel truck that triumphantly rolled into the freshly bombed industrial districts, he was Franz Lehmann, a young loyal and willing soldier with a gift with a scoped Kar. He left as Sergei and no longer fully human.

His memory was still fresh. The wolf, larger than any he had ever seen or even heard of, walking into the building, the short, but brutal fight that ensued afterward. He had shot it so many times, so many times and yet it didn't die. He died instead, mauled and torn to ribbons. Another casualty, but fate didn't let him stay dead for long.

Werewolves, things of legend and fantasy were very real. Franz became one of them, not by choice. He lived among them and was considered one of them. They took him in, taught him to control his new abilities and he resented them for it.

Werewolves were long lived and so Franz, now Sergei to keep his German history a secret in a still bitter Soviet era, was forced to live on while his old life died away. He saw where those that surrendered in Stalingrad went. He lived near one of the Siberian camps for some time. He saw, heard... smelled the death that went on there. He was forced to watch the few friends that he had left from before die in those camps. He could do nothing.

Decades went by, wars came and were won or lost, a man was sent to the moon, the Soviet Union collapsed, a new millennium began. The world changed and so did Sergei. He was caught by The Inquisition, and forced to turn on those that he had lived with for so long. He became their pet for some time until their plans fell apart and he was free again. But for only a moment.

A new war began, a secret war between the werewolves against their ancient enemy, the Inquisition. Sergei, who had no interest in participating, was the first casualty.

"Hun." A lightly tanned arm, so small and delicate, but so reassuring, wrapped around Sergei's midsection that wasn't under the covers. His bare chest exposed to the cold air. "You're going to get a cold."

"I'm alright." He said and looked to his side at the women that laid next to him in his... their bed. He reached up and stroked the arm of the woman he loved and would do anything to protect.

She pulled herself close to the large man, she relished in his warmth that radiated off of his body. He was always so warm to the touch, even now in early spring when the snow was still clinging to the ground and the air nipped at her extremities whenever the wind blew. She knew that no matter how cold it was, she could just snuggle up close to him.

She drew circles on his chest, little loops that moved his modest chest hair around. "You want something to eat?" She asked him and he grunted an affirmative. He wasn't a man for many words, but it didn't take word to know what he was thinking and the grumble from his stomach helped as well. "I'll be right back with something." She grinned and pushed herself up. The thick wool blankets fell off of her naked form, revealing her back that had a single mole on her left shoulder, right in the middle of the shoulder blade.

"Erika." Sergei murmured and she turned to look at him. She was no longer the ashamed little girl who waited to go home to shower after sports. She loved the way her man's eye's devoured her whenever she was like this. "Love you." He said. It was a simple saying, but it held the weight of the world between them.

She gave a light smile. "Love you too." Erika slid off of the bed and grabbed her robe that she threw on and tied off at her waist. The slippers, warm and with an interior of deer fur that tickled the space between her toes came on and she was off to the kitchen where she began to prepare breakfast.

The coffee was set to a boil and the oven turned to a low temperature where two small bread rolls were tossed in on the top rack. The pan was greased with a square of margarine that quickly melted into a yellow pool of bubbling grease that began to crackle as two eggs were added, the clear yolk fading to a solid white.

Sergei laid in bed for a little longer. He could hear Erika moving around the kitchen. How she loved to cook and how she had smiled when he had showed her this new apartment. The old one was small and the kitchen there left much to be desired. It was more expensive, but with his contacts and his love for the woman that he had met at the hospital.

Erika was studying to be a doctor. She loved caring for the sick, the wounded, anyone really. If she could, she would take care of everyone. She was the one that changed his sheets, helped him up and they began to talk. Talking turned into long discussions and once Sergei was released, dating.

Now, two years later. Sergei rubbed at the small gold band that made itself at home on his right ring finger. Wedding bands were supposed to be worn on the left hand and he would have, if he still had a right hand.

He could still feel it some days. When he woke up in an old mindset or from a livid dream of an old life long gone. Now where there should have been an arm was nothing but air. It didn't stop there either. He was missing his left leg as well, amputated to save his life.

The war had taken a lot from Sergei, just as all wars seemed to. It was a gift from the Inquisition when he was under their thumb. A small device, by his heart, once activated, released less than a gram of silver right into his arteries. The effects were devastating as the poison quickly spread through his body.

He was left in terrible pain, writhing in agony as he arrived in Berlin, part of an agreement he had with the Alpha. He was to go home and stay there, to live the life that he had lost, but fate had a funny way of ensuring all players stayed in the game.

He was rushed to a hospital where a special staff, aware of Sergei's unique condition, operated on him for seventeen hours before they finally decided that the only way to save him was to amputate the most affected areas of his body, his left arm and right leg. It was the price to pay for the life that Sergei had now.

Not wanting to be a lazy dog, Sergei decided to go and help Erika. While Sergei was no cook, he burnt rice once, he enjoyed every moment he could have with Erika.

It took some effort, but Sergei sat upright in his bed and kicked his one good leg over the side of the bed. Next to the bed on the floor was his prosthetics. He bent over and picked up the leg that flopped at the joint. It wasn't revolutionary by any means, but after three months of physical therapy with them, he could walk.

Normally Sergei had Erika help him, but he didn't want to be too much of a burden on her, she already did so much for him.

Sergei seated his stump of a leg, which had been removed above the knee where suction held it in place and an additional strap that went around his bicep secured it. It wasn't one of the fancy prosthetics that had electronics, it was a basic, run of the mill fake leg.

Next came the arm which was put on in the same way. It was a little loose since it was difficult to make it snug with only one hand to work with, but it would work. He wouldn't be able to grab anything, but the fake arm got less stares than no arm at all. He hated the stares he got whenever he went out. There was a mixture of pity, disgust, sorrow everything. Most assumed he was a war veteran and technically he was, though no one outside of his circles would believe that he had fought in the second world war. He had a few veterans who had fought in the Middle East come up to him once and ask him about his limbs. He just told them that it was from a car wreck and they left it at that.

"Food will be ready in a bit, did you want... oh." Erika stepped into the room. She had thrown on a pair of shorts and a tank top. "You should have let me known you were getting up, I would have helped." She walked over and sat down on the bed next to Sergei, leaning up against him.

"I'm a full grown man." Sergei wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her shoulder. This felt right, this was what he had been missing all his life. "I can take care of myself."

She pouted at him. "It's why I'm here though, so you don't have to anymore."

Sergei smiled at that. It was absolutely true. He no longer had to take care of himself when he had her by his side. He could finally relax. There was no more worrying for him. He had the permission of the Alpha to live his life. They weren't going to call on him, they were capable and for once in so long, he felt like a normal human being. What good would a werewolf be without an arm and leg? They'll fight their war and win and while Sergei did a feel a little guilty that they were out fighting while he was here, he was glad as well. No more fighting.

"You're all tense." Erika said and snapped Sergei out of his haze. She always knew when his thoughts wandered away. There was always so much to think about and he often drifted away.

He gave her a squeeze. "Just thinking." He sighed and let go of her and grabbed onto the nightstand as support to help himself up. Erika grabbed onto his prosthetic and helped him up as well until he was able to stand on his own two feet without aid. "Thanks." He said and he leaned down to give her a peck on the forehead. "Where would I be without you?"

"Well, you would be cooking your own breakfast with one arm." She giggled and turned to go check on the food. Sergei followed behind her. While he didn't walk with a natural gait, instead with a slight limp and awkward drag, he could walk without the need of a cane and could go anywhere anyone else could. He was proud of that achievement. While it was nice to be taken care of, almost to the point of being babied by Erika, he was serious when he said that he was a full grown man, there were just times when he needed to prove to himself that he could still be independent.

The food was already on plates, eggs, sausage and small buttered rolls were set at the small round table where the two took their meals. Erika had a grin on her face and was humming to herself as she poured two cups of coffee and sat down at the table. Sergei joined her and took in a big whiff of the delicious food.

"Mmm. This smells amazing." He said and picked up the fork.

"You would know." She said and took a bit out of her roll. She spoke with her mouth full. That was another part of her that Sergei liked, she wasn't a princess. "I don't understand how you have such good smell. You remember the time when we were at the grocery store?" She waved the fork around, a slice of the sausage on it. "You knew that bottle of milk was bad even though it wasn't opened. Said that it smelled bad. I couldn't smell anything and the store clerk didn't believe you. Had to pay for the milk and open it and force him to smell it before he let you get another bottle." She laughed. It was one of her favorite stories because it had just made her day.

"I remember." Sergei said and picked at his food. He thought about telling her, telling the truth as to what he really was.

It was a hard choice not to tell her, but he was afraid that she would think that he was crazy. He could show her, but that could scare her off. He didn't want to risk anything to ruin this relationship and as far as he saw it, there was no reason to tell her. He had no problem acting completely human because he had never truly considered himself a werewolf to begin with.

A knock came at the door.

"Who could that be?" Erika got up to answer the door. "It's still early."

Sergei smelled who it was before she got to the door and he was up and halfway there when she opened it up.

"Hello." Came the familiar voice of The Alpha, who in public went by the name Peter. Sergei didn't know if it was his real name or not, but it worked. "Is your husband home?"

Erika looked back at him and raised her eyebrow. She didn't know "Peter," though he was there at the wedding which was a small one held at the local chapel. He had stayed back, just being there to show his respects.

Sergei nodded to her to let them in. "I'm right here." He said and walked up to the door as Erika opened it up fully. He leaned down to Erika. "Go ahead and finish up your breakfast, I'll be over in a little." He kissed her cheek and she went without another word.

"It's good to see you again." Peter said. He didn't look at the limbs, he had seen them plenty already and knew that Sergei disliked it when people stared.

"And you." Sergei replied. He looked past Peter at Brennan. "You brought friends. Hello Director Brennan."

"Hello, Sergei." She said, but stayed mostly in the back. She had been brought along and was mostly trying to get used to feeling of being outside of the bunker.

"Come in." Sergei stepped aside to make room. "It's been some time."

"Thank you. We won't be staying too long." The two entered the home that smelled strongly of them both. "We have lots of work to get back to."

Sergei closed the door behind them.