Alyosha stepped out of the train in Siberia just in time to be hit in the face by a harsh gust of the iciest icy wind of his entire life. He adjusted his scarf around his mouth and nose and went on his way among the very much deserted streets of the countryside, stopping anyone he did find along the way to ask for directions to the address he held tightly in his hand. His heart thundered in his chest the nearer he got to his destination—euphoric giddiness and dreadful uncertainty fighting to seize his heart.

Finally, he made it. Alyosha compared the address scribbled in his handwriting against the one of the house in front of him for what felt like a thousand times before deciding that this was it. Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, Alyosha crossed the dirt pathway from the gate to the front door of the old, but well taken care of house. With another deep breather, Alyosha knocked on the door and waited. And waited. And each second killed him as he debated what he would do if it did not open and what would he do if it did open.

It opened. A small girl, no older than nine, was the one to greet Alyosha. She kept the door half closed, open just wide enough so that she could look up at him with deep blue eyes. Blond curls fell on her small shoulders and her expression was one of rehearsed seriousness—who was this strange man and what did he want?

Alyosha stared dumbly at the child for a whole minute. His mind was reeling—had he gotten the wrong house? Because if he hadn't...

"Excuse me, child," he found his voice and his smile, "are your parents home?"

She stared at him for a moment longer before closing the door on his face. Before Alyosha could think of knocking again, though, he heard the little voice calling a, "Papa, someone's at the door for you," and a man's voice answering.

The man's voice nearly brought Alyosha to his knees and it effectively brought hot tears to his eyes.

The door opened violently and the man to emerge from the house was a fearsome thing to behold. Tall, strong in build, with an angry glare ready to impose and fight—and win—anyone and anything.

In that raging, almost bestial man, Alyosha recognized his treasured, beloved older brother. And as the man's expression turned to one of surprise, all animosity dissolving, Alyosha knew he had recognized him too.

"Alyosha," he breathed out, as if he himself could not believe it. Alyosha, tears running freely down his face, smiled, and that seemingly spurred the other man to life. "Alyoshka!"

Dmitri leaped forward, engulfing his little brother in a hug so tight the smaller man could barely breathe, but neither of them had the mind to care. Alyosha embraced his brother just as tightly, summoning all the strength his arms could possibly lend him to try, in some way, to match the hold of his army-veteran brother. He could hear Dmitri crying, and that made him cry even more. He felt they could have stayed that way forever─letting go did not even cross his mind─had someone else not arrived at the front door.

"Mitya? Darling, what is..." Dmitri did not let go of him, did not even move, but Alyosha did raise his head towards the, too, very familiar voice. The woman gave up whatever words she had planned on saying next. A hand flew to cover her mouth, muffling a choked sob and, a moment later, she had joined their embrace, Alyosha now positively sandwiched between the couple.

"Alyosha!" she laughed happily, squeezing him like a teddy-bear before letting go. "Alyoshenka, my little prince!" Gruchenka stepped away from the hug to instead place her hands on his arm in an almost motherly way—her eyes, too, shining with tears. Then her expression morphed to one of alertness as something seemed to dawn on her. "Do come inside! These Siberian winters are not to be taken lightly, especially to those not used to them." Gruchenka brought a hand to his cheek. "Dear, you're freezing! Mitya, bring him inside this instant! I'll take your luggage, Alyosha dear."

Mitya did abide by her orders, but he did not undo the embrace completely—he still kept one arm around Alyosha's shoulders, the other stretched in front of them, holding Alyosha's arm. In such an arrangement, he more dragged his brother inside than led him, but Alyosha did not, in any shape or form, mind. Dmitri's gaze was distant and unfocused as he faced forward, looking at nowhere in particular, and Alyosha kept his eyes glued to his face, a soft grin never leaving his lips. His brother. He had found his brother. He was alive, he was alright.

The next few minutes found Alyosha sitting down on a couch next to a flaring fireplace, all snuggled up in a pile of blankets and with a steaming cup of hot chocolate cradled in his hands—both Mitya and Gruchenka were very adamant on spoiling their adored Alyosha and would not take "no" for an answer. Mitya, sat sprawled on an armchair next to the couch, had finally disentangled himself from his little brother to let him warm himself up with dry clothes and the blankets Gruchenka had brought him. She sat on the arm of Dmitri's chair, head resting on her husband's shoulder.

They made an odd couple, so different from what Alyosha remembered them, and yet completely and entirely the exact same. Dmitri's appearance followed the prediction he had made to Alyosha before being sent away almost to a T: his hair had, indeed, grayed itself out. He had grown a beard and, true to his word, he had leaked one of his eyes out, and it now remained closed at all times. Gruchenka had bleached her hair blond, giving up the beautiful auburn color in favor of blending in, and tiny wrinkles and the marks of age began to show itself in her face, exuberant and beautiful as Alyosha remembered. Their Russian was now laced with an American accent, but Dmitri was still as much as a Russian as any Russian man could hope to be. The sorrow of having had his children born in another country was made up by the joy of being able to raise them in their beloved Motherland.

Dmitri's children. What a wonderful surprise.

Two beautiful children, the eight-year-old girl, Natalya, who he had met earlier—that kept on eyeing him curiously from where she sat by the fire on a pile of pillows playing with a pair of rag dolls—and a two-year-old boy, little Vanka—standing by the couch, small hand gripping the blanket around Alyosha, holding all of his uncle's loving attention captive with whatever baby talk he was regaling them with. She had her Father's hair and eyes while he had inherited his Mother's face, and his hair showed the beginnings of the auburn color she had so tried to hide.

"In summary, we did exactly what I said we would," Dmitri laughed. "Got married, stayed however long we needed in America, had the two single most beautiful children in the entirety of this Earth, then came back to Russia, to live in the most isolated cranny we could find, to work the land, live quietly and discreetly, so on, so on..."

Alyosha smiled that timid smile that made Mitya ache at how he had not changed a bit. "I do not remember the two beautiful children being part of the plan," he joked lightly and delighted himself in his brother's booming laughter.

"Well, it was a welcome surprise, was it not?"

At this point, little Vanka had made his way up the couch and onto his uncle's lap. Alyosha wrapped his arms around the toddler and placed a kiss on his hair. His smile was positively bright as he answered, "A most welcome one."

Dmitri shook his head. A pregnant silence followed before he broke it again.

"What do you think Ivan will say when he finds out I named my kid after him?" Mitya voiced it as a joke, but Alyosha could see that it meant much more to him than he let on.

"He will be honored. He will love Nat and Vanka as much as he loves you," the youngest Karamazov answered promptly.

Gruchenka bumped her head with her husband's in a gentle gesture that seemed more meaningful than a simple caress—maybe she had spent the last two years telling Dmitri the exact same thing, maybe even longer. Dmitri let out a huff, something between a satisfied chuckle and a choked sob and did not question Alyosha's words.

"How is he?" Mitya followed up, worry shadowing his expression.

Alyosha sighed. "Better. He still goes down with fevers from time to time, but they are never as violent as the one you remember him having. And they let up fairly quickly too. He and Katierina... They are married."

Alyosha had been a little bit afraid of Dmitri and Gruchenka's reaction to these news—afraid of what sort of terribly awkward situation they would create. But, instead, the couple in front of him merely laughed. Ten years were, as Alyosha had hoped, way too long to hold on to any resentment or disagreement.

"About time they stopped dancing around it too," Gruchenka rolled her eyes, expressing a whole lot of expected impatience, but not any of the malice he had feared.

Dmitri laughed in agreement, seeming genuinely happy for their brother, which promptly put a damp towel on Alyosha's worries. "So he went and did it? Ha! Good for them, they go well together." He raised an eyebrow in mischief. "Any nephew of ours I should know about?"

"A niece, little Eva. She's five." Alyosha tilted his head downwards. "When Katya and Vanya got married, they were very excited about having children, but soon found out that was not what God had intended for them. At least not biologically. Eva's Father got drunk frequently and ignored her existence most of the time."

Mitya more or less snarled. "Sounds familiar."

Well, maybe some resentments did last longer than ten years.

Alyosha shrunk his shoulders. "Yes. After getting in multiple verbal fights with the man, failing to convince the police to do anything for Eva and breaking the man's nose, Ivan asked the man to just let him take Eva home. He accepted immediately. He and Katya have been raising her as their own since then. That was four months ago."

Dmitri grinned, flapping his hands around wildly. Alyosha could see pride and admiration shining in his eye. "See? That's our Ivan! Our brother's got a heart of gold! I would expect no less from the man who saved my life. And Katya as well; this little princess, God bless her, could not be in better hands."

Gruchenka laughed. "Did he seriously break the man's nose? Ivan? That I would have liked to see."

Alyosha sighed. "He almost got into real trouble for it." The memories of all of Mitya's misadventures had flashed before Alyosha's eyes when Ivan had arrived at his house with a broken finger and bloodstains on his coat. What a dreadful shock it had been. "But Eva is safe now." He turned to Nat with a friendly smile. "I am sure she would love to befriend a young lady as lovely as you."

Nat shrunk within herself, but she did smile back. She answered with a tiny voice, "I would love to befriend her too, if she is my cousin." Then, her expression fell. "But we cannot leave Siberia. Some evil men are after papa."

A pregnant silence befell the adults in the room. Mytia huffed, breaking the tension. He got up from his chair and scooping his daughter in his arms, getting a surprised squeal and a laugh out of her.

"Oh, but I'm sure we can find a way for you and Eva to meet, you're cousins, after all! And little Ivan has to meet big Ivan, that is not up for debate, of course." He placed a kiss on Nat's forehead as the little girl nestled herself against his chest. "But I think, for now, it's bedtime for you both."

Nat nodded. When Mytia put her down, she walked up to the couch to take Vanka's little hand in hers and take him to their bedroom. Before she did so, however, she surprised Alyosha by climbing onto the couch and wrapping her small arms around his neck in a tight hug.

"Goodnight, uncle Alyosha." She pulled back to look him in the eyes. "Will you still be here tomorrow?"

Alyosha smiled warmly at his niece. "I will, we shall have plenty of time to play together."

Her answer was an adorable toothy grin, complete with a little gap left behind by a baby tooth.

With the two children gone, Alyosha's smile fell as he focused on his eldest brother. "You have no plans of coming back, then?"

Dmitri ran a hand through his hair with a nervous sigh. "It's just not safe, I think. If they catch me, everything you, Vanya and Katya did for me would have been in vain." His eyes darkened. "And I am not rotting in jail for the sins of that bastard." Alyosha flinched at his brother's language—he could understand Mytia's anger, but it still did not sit well with him to speak thusly of someone who had already passed (and in such a lonely way, no less). Mytia dropped back on his chair, resting his head on his wife's shoulder. "Especially not now, when I have so much to live for out here."

Gruchenka placed a kiss on her husband's temple. She addressed Alyosha. "But you are always welcome, whenever you feel like visiting, Ivan and Katya too."

Alyosha smiled back at her. "I will, I promise."

Mytia got back up from the chair. "Well, I think it's time we let you rest, the journey here must have been exhausting enough. Plus, you did promise Nat you would play with her tomorrow and you better be fully rested for that. She might look like a calm little angel but she is my child, after all," he laughed, that boisterous laughter Alyosha had sorely missed. He had heard stories of the little troublemaker his brother had been as a child, though it was difficult to imagine Nat being the same. He would have to take Mytia's word for it.

"I'll show you to your room, dear." Gruchenka held his shoulders affectionately as she led him towards the hallway Nat and Vanka had disappeared into earlier. "Will you lock the doors while I'm at it, darling?" she called back to Mytia.

"I'm on it," he called back from somewhere further into the house. Alyosha could hear the sound of locks being clasped shut.

"Has anyone ever tried to break in?" Alyosha asked.

Gruchenka shook her head. "Never, but Mytia can never be too careful. Especially after Nat's birth." Her smile turned into a teasing giggle. "Your brother is a bit of a mother hen, would you believe that?"

Alyosha smiled. His brother, a father. What a delightful turn of events.

"You can stay in this room. Mytia uses it as a office, but he's not working right now, so it won't be any problem. There are extra blankets in the wardrobe if you get cold."

She stopped talking. Gruchenka held him by the shoulders at arm's length, staring right into his eyes. Then, her own filled with tears, and she pulled him into a tight hug.

"Oh, how we missed you, Alyoshenka! How we missed our home, how we missed feeling normal. We've been hiding for so long, even after all these years, it feels like we are hiding. But now that you are here, it feels like our lives can finally go back to how they were. It's like I can finally breathe for the first time in a long time. I am sure Mytia feels the same. He loves you deeply, you and Ivan both."

Alyosha returned her embrace, his own eyes misty as well. "God is in control of everything and He has already blessed you in so many ways. Have hope," he encouraged warmly.

Gruchenka let him go, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "That He has. Like always, you know exactly what to say, it's almost unnerving," she laughed and he smiled. "Goodnight, dear."

"Goodnight."

He pushed the door open and went inside his room for the night. It was rather small, but Alyosha felt a wave of warmth wash over him as he took it in. The drawings hanging on the wall that he assumed were Nat's, the carved animal toys strewn about over a blanket on the floor. It was supposed to be Dmitri's office, but it felt more like the children's play room. The notion was utterly sweet—that it was both and that his children enjoyed being around him so much that they would want to play in the same room he spent most of his time in.

Exhaustion from the travel finally settled in. Alyosha lied down on the bed to catch a breather, a content smile on his lips. They were alright.