Work Text:
Communication ceased three weeks ago.
“Have you finished checking the snares?”
Matthew looked up from the logbook; Ivan was making his way through the tall grass of the field towards him.
“Yeah,” Matthew said, turning back to the book. He was trying to find a pattern or a warning. Had they known that the radio would fail? Had there been any suggestions to perform maintenance on it?
Ivan was behind him now; Matthew could smell the sour notes of his sweat. The summer was hotter than they’d expected.
“So?” Ivan asked. “Anything?”
Matthew shook his head. “Nothing this time. Do you want me to check back tonight? Did you spot anything?”
“No, I was just hoping.” Ivan sighed. “You know, rabbit stew would be nice! I like vegetarian fare, but variety is good.”
Matthew groaned. “I want chicken and pork and beef and moose and duck and… ugh. I am not cut out to be a vegetarian!”
Ivan laughed. “This is what happens when you spoil yourself,” he chided. He watched Matthew study the log for several moments before he stepped forward and flipped through the book himself.
“I just don’t think they’d do this on purpose,” Matthew said, abruptly changing the course of the conversation. He could see from the tension in Ivan’s shoulders that he wasn’t happy with him.
They stood for several minutes, the sound of their breathing and the wind through the leaves and grass loud in the silence of the new world. When Matthew looked up, Ivan was staring at him with patient eyes and a sad smile. You’re so naïve, his look said, but I won’t educate you just yet.
“I’ll take a look at the radio tomorrow,” Matthew said. “Al made it, so maybe…”
Ivan shook his head and walked away.
##
October 1st, 30xx
There is a saying that there are as many recipes for borsch as there are women in Ukraine. I think Ivan is attempting to cook each one.
October 2nd, 30xx
There is a saying in Russia: “The picky eater dies.”
October 3rd, 30xx
This isn’t even your journal! God, what a terrible pen colour. Did you bring that all the way from earth?
October 4th, 30xx
I don’t see you snooping in my journal, do I? )
Touché.
##
After Ivan picked up his plate, Matthew stretched out over the table. “I can’t believe we ate all those beets and fall lasted two months longer anyway… Aren’t you supposed to be super good at astrophysics or whatever? Like, based on the size of the planet, shouldn’t you have—”
“Our guides listed all this, and you didn’t remember it either, did you?” Ivan turned from the table and poured leftover water from the kettle into the sink.
Matthew sighed and examined his nails from his prone position. They were uneven and dirty, like they were when he was young. It was odd to remember that this was a return to the beginning for him; sweating and swearing as he built up a new land from nothing. At least there was no one to displace this time around.
“I want apple pie.”
Ivan laughed as he scrubbed the plates clean of gravy. “Do you ever stop thinking about your stomach? Meat and sweets and deep fried food—I thought you were different from America.”
“I am different,” Matthew snapped. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” Ivan said quietly.
##
The terraforming of the planet had been accomplished in fits and bursts and false starts. When the third shipment of animals survived for more than a year, there had been celebrations all over earth. This, everyone said, was a signal that they could move forward.
But humans were hesitant to start new lives on a planet so far from home, where so many things could go wrong. Years passed. The group of volunteers was never larger than thirty-five, and most countries were reluctant to send them. No one wanted to be held responsible.
The topic was brought up again and again at meetings between Nations, until finally Alfred stood up and argued that their bodies were tougher, could withstand harsher conditions and any type of psychological trauma moving to space could cause.
He finished his speech with an excited outburst: “We could be the first pioneers!”
For the first time in centuries, he sounded like himself again.
The project took off again. Groups were assembled and torn apart again. No one wanted to leave their country for the length of time it took, or their leaders refused, or they were from a climate that would undermine their chances of survival.
Finally, it was decided that a group of just two would go: a power from the east and a power from the west. This would have less impact on earth than a group of five, or ten, or fifteen.
Eastern Europe voted unanimously in favour of Ivan going. Embarrassed, he had said: “I missed out on the moon; I guess this will be my consolation prize.”
The opportunity to ship the two most belligerent nations on earth to a different planet was too good to pass up. The west voted in favour of Alfred.
##
The storage hanger of the ship was cold; Matthew’s breath escaped in steam between his lips. The drop to negative thirty-five Celsius had been rapid and unexpected.
Matthew pulled his scarf down and called out: “Have you found anything?”
When he received no answer, he decided to make sure Ivan hadn’t frozen to death or been buried under a tower of boxes. Around two corners, Matthew found him; he was crouched at a wooden trunk near the back of the hanger. Matthew approached quietly; when he was close enough, he looked over Ivan’s shoulders. Between his gloved hands, Matthew could just make out the shape of a nesting doll.
“I miss them,” Ivan admitted. When he moved his hands away from his face and them around the doll, Matthew saw it looked like Yekaterina. “But they were so quick to get rid of me. I wouldn’t be surprised if Eduard added the defects to the radio himself.”
Ivan held the doll close to his face again and closed his eyes. Matthew couldn’t think of what to say.
“Why are you here?” Ivan asked. “Why did you come? They voted for America.”
Matthew swallowed. “Because he asked,” he admitted. “He said he was scared.”
Ivan laughed until he choked.
##
Matthew shook so hard he couldn’t sleep. The solar powered heating had seemed like a good idea in theory, but they hadn’t considered the length or strength of the snow storms. He tucked his hands between his legs in an attempt to warm them; his shoulders were sore from tucking them under his armpits.
When the door opened with a creak, Matthew swore. He’d lose a lot of heat if he didn’t close it, but was leaving his cocoon worth it?
Matthew’s eyes shot open as the door clicked shut on its own. Shortly after, he heard the shuffling of feet across the wood floor. He exhaled in pain when what felt like several pounds of blankets was dropped on him.
“Move,” Ivan whispered. He batted Matthew away from the side of the bed. “It’s more efficient like this,” he said, slipping in and tucking the blankets behind his back.
“There’s so many blankets I can’t move,” Matthew complained.
When Ivan spoke, Matthew could hear his smile. “That’s how you know there’s enough!”
##
They had to remove some of the blankets in order to have sex, but then again, they didn’t exactly need them then.
##
Matthew celebrated Easter by giving into his cabin fever.
Ivan tackled him to the ground to prevent him from destroying anything important, and then he threw him outside without boots to ‘cool off’.
Matthew didn’t cry because he knew his eyelashes would freeze shut.
If Ivan heard him screaming, he didn’t mention it.
##
Ivan was leaning against a barrel with his shirt off when Matthew came back from his walk. Matthew smiled; the view was certainly one benefit to spring.
“Honey, I’m home!” he said. He held up the rabbits he’d found in his snares and Ivan’s face lit up with embarrassed pleasure.
Ivan batted his lashes; it only emphasized the contrast between his coy expression and his muscled body. “Welcome home, dear,” he said, pitching his voice. “Shall I prepare a bath for you?”
Matthew laughed, high on the warm spring air. It was July.
##
Ivan threw Matthew an apple.
Matthew caught it with the glee of a small child. “Wow! Where’d you get this? How?”
Ivan smiled and shrugged. “Remember the seed packets that were dropped? Some of the apple trees managed to grow quite well.”
Matthew’s face screwed up after the first bite became a sour bomb that exploded in his mouth. He wiped his tongue off while Ivan laughed.
“You jerk!” he yelled, and threw it at Ivan’s face. “I’m never trusting you again!”
Ivan kept laughing. “You shouldn’t have started.”
##
“Sometimes I worry about death,” Ivan admitted one summer night. They were sitting in the field in front of the cabin enjoying the cool breeze. Ivan was giving the constellations new names while Matthew debated their shapes. “I don’t fear it for myself, but rather I’m afraid it’ll mean that there isn’t a single Russian anywhere, and I won’t even know until it’s too late. How did they go? How did they suffer?”
“Why would you want to know how they suffered?”
“Because I’ve always suffered with them. It would be a shame to change that now, wouldn’t it?”
Matthew drew his knees up to his chest and leaned his chin on them.
“Do you worry?” Ivan asked. “That maybe they shipped you out here so you couldn’t complain while they drained your lakes dry?”
Matthew closed his eyes. He could see the smooth, chill surface of Lake Louise so clearly it hurt. “I try not to.”
##
Seasons passed. They made new months and learned to count the years in their new cycle. The rescue party they expected didn’t come. There was no new shipment of supplies. They had no answers for why, though they took guesses and placed bets during the long winter nights.
##
They had been swimming naked in their usual place and one thing had led to another. That was how it was now: easy and uncomplicated. Matthew floated on his back afterwards, and Ivan, sitting on a submerged rock, traced the pattern of water droplets on his skin.
“I’m glad it was you,” he said, and Matthew was almost startled out of his position. Ivan touched his forehead against Matthew’s and smiled.
Matthew reached back and tangled a hand in Ivan’s hair. Saying “me too” was as easy as breathing.
##
In bed a couple nights later, Ivan brushed his fingers through Matthew’s hair and said: “Sometimes I worry you were caught up in revenge against me.”
Matthew snaked a hand around Ivan’s waist and rubbed at the small of his back. His eyes were half lidded in lazy contentment. His voice was thick with the edge of sleep. “What? Like… they wanted you gone but couldn’t send you alone?”
Ivan swallowed. “Yeah.”
Matthew covered his mouth with his hand and yawned. “That’s stupid,” he said. “Al wouldn’t do that to me.”
Ivan continued to caress his hair until he fell asleep, but he didn’t answer.
##
The trees were scarlet and gold and the breeze was crisp and aromatic. It made Matthew feel both cheerful and nostalgic. Ivan was leaning on a barrel near the front door and whittling a bear from a piece of wood, and the relaxed set of his shoulders was a comfort to Matthew as he approached.
Ivan looked up when he heard Matthew coming, then turned back to his project.
“Matthew,” he said, when Matthew was about to pass him on the way into the house.
Matthew stopped and turned, and in response Ivan stood up and set the bear down on the barrel.
“I was thinking,” Ivan said. He turned the knife in his hands. “What do you think happens if we die here? Not a complete death, but a physical one.”
Matthew crossed one arm over his abdomen and stroked his cheek with the opposite hand as he thought it through. “I think if I lived here long enough, I’d probably wake up here.”
Ivan nodded and urged him on. “But if, like you are now, you were more connected to Canada…?”
“I guess… I’d wake up in Ottawa?” Matthew looked up and into Ivan’s face. “Why?”
Ivan shrugged. “Just a thought of mine. You miss it, don’t you?”
Matthew let his hands fall flat at his sides and shrugged. “Yeah, but I guess I won’t be seeing it for a while, huh?”
“Maybe,” Ivan said.
##
One evening, Ivan surprised him by presenting an apple pie for dessert. It used the last of their cinnamon, but Ivan said he didn’t mind, and heaped an extra scoop of homemade ice cream on Matthew’s plate.
It wasn’t a bad pie, but Matthew made faces at how sour the apples were for the entire piece.
“It’s good,” he assured Ivan when he asked. He was starting to forget what the real ones tasted like, anyway.
When they finished, Ivan stood up without clearing the plates from the table and stretched. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said, and pushed his chair in.
The ground was soft and wet from the rain they’d had the night before, and Matthew inhaled the sweet scent of it. At times like this, with the evening sun slanting through the brightly coloured leaves, it felt like he had travelled back in time on Earth.
He reached for Ivan’s hand without thinking about it. Ivan’s grip was tighter than usual.
They walked in companionable silence for several minutes until they stepped into a clearing Matthew recognized. He smiled and let go of Ivan’s hand.
“This is where we had our picnic, right? We should do that again next summer!” He kicked at the blanket of leaves and stuck his hands into his pockets. “It’s too bad we don’t have more free time for stuff like that.”
When Ivan didn’t answer, Matthew turned around.
“Sorry,” Ivan said. Matthew was about to ask ‘what for?’, but there was fire in his stomach and he couldn’t get the words out.
He looked down and saw Ivan’s hand, and the hilt of a knife, and his shirt slowly and gradually dying red. His fingers twitched around Ivan’s hand.
“But—”
Ivan tugged the knife out, and Matthew fell to his knees.
“Sorry.” Ivan smiled sadly. “I’m sending you home.”