Notes/Warnings: This is an exploration of what-ifs and maybes, rather than full blown romance (sorry foolish_m0rtal – fluff next time?). There is some reference to Arkady's emotional trauma and nightmares. Also, un-beta'd.

He lies in darkness, bundled in the sheets and blankets like a bear in its winter den. Like a bear, he knows that at some point he would have to emerge to face the blazing sun and the cold spring air or starve. But that day is not today.

"Mr Balagan?"

He burrows his head deeper into the pillow.

"Mr Balagan?" The tone is tentative, Alcina's accent turning his name into a refrain from a melancholy ballad.

He squeezes his eyes tightly closed, wishing like a child that he could drive her away with the power of his mind. Of course, had he that power, he would have more important wishes to make.

"I am sorry, Danni, Sam." Alcina's voice is more firm, no longer directed at him. "I think you need to give him more time. Come back on Saturday."

There are sounds of wordless protest.

"He will be here, do not worry," Alcina says soothingly. "The Huxley has granted Mr Balagan an open-ended stay since he was almost..." her voice falters "disappeared."

There is a humourless laugh from Danni. "You mean he's a permanent guest? Now, when he's too messed up to enjoy it? Irony, your name is Huxley."

The bear in the bedroom agrees.

"Are you ready, Mr Balagan?"

She doesn't wait for his reply before pulling open the drapes around his sleeping chamber. The weak evening light that filters in doesn't hurt his eyes, but he makes a show of squinting none the less.

Alcina works her way around the room: wiping down the sink and bath, replacing the towels, shaking out and folding the robe that he had dropped on the floor before dropping into bed. She chatters the whole time. Arkady used to pretend to ignore her, but now he rolls onto his back and follows her with his eyes. It is easier, he tells himself, to let her think he gives a damn about hotel gossip and the lives of her multitudinous offspring. Fortunately, she doesn't appear to expect him to contribute to the discussion.

Alcina's circuit of the room ends at the bed. She brings him fresh water, removes the used soup bowl, and changes out the pillow that he is not resting on. She picks up the bed clothes he has tossed off in the night, expounding on some complex conflict between Hugo, Barbara, and a paranoid guest with an over-inflated sense of self (who would bother to stalk an actuary?). Blankets folded and deposited at the foot of the bed, she straightens up and pauses her monologue.

He stares fixedly at his toes for a moment, but gives in quickly. When he raises his head, she meets his eyes with a steady, firm gaze.

"You're all set for the night," she says. "I will see you tomorrow."

It sounds like an order, but he knows better. He thinks for a moment of the full bottle of vodka at the bar, the pills stock-piled and hidden behind his socks. Alcina might not know the specifics, but she knows the intent. And so she waits.

Will she see him tomorrow? He breathes deeply, once, twice. He nods.

The blaze is out of control. He can barely see through the smoke but can make out two figures, both dark-haired. The smaller one has her arms around the woman with close cropped curls. Flames surround them, biting at their feet. Arkady can feel himself screaming, but nothing can be heard above the roaring fire. He starts to run towards the trapped women, but something catches his wrist. He turns to find Sebastian Wilkes, grinning and holding the end of the rope that is biting into Arkady's flesh.

"Ah, ah, ah..." the man smiles, his eyes full of flames. "Remember our agreement."

Arkady pulls away, knowing that he will drag the other man into the flames with him if that's what it takes to save Rosemary and Pippa.

"Mr Balagan." Wilkes' voice sounds concerned and he is pulling hard on the rope. Good. The little worm can feel fear. He should.

The flames are closer, but somehow the women are further away.

"Mr Balagan." The villain's voice is higher, more urgent. He is pushing on Arkady's shoulders.

"Mr Balagan, please." The flames begin to break up, black fog pushing in. Rosemary and Pippa are running now, but in the wrong direction.

Arkady turns and grabs at Wilkes. "Where are they going?" he demands. The black fog is everywhere. Rosemary and Pippa are gone. The flames are gone. Even Wilkes has been consumed.

"Mr Balagan, please. You're hurting me."

Arkady opens his eyes.

Arkady is perched on the bedroom chair. Alcina moves around the bed, efficiently stripping the linens. With a practiced hand, she bundles the sheets and uses the mattress pad to create a carry-sack. She is working in silence, disapproval written in the set of her shoulders.

This is the third day of her wordless inquisition, a campaign she began when he refused to discuss the nightmare that she had woken him from. He can see traces of the bruises he caused marking her copper skin. The sight nauseates him, is a greater torture than any KGB tactic.

"Rosemary." The word comes out in a croak. His voice is rough from lack of use or perhaps from screaming in his sleep. He is not sure if he makes sound in reality when he can't in his dream.

Alcina puts down the pillow she has been casing and turns to him.

"It is Rosemary and Pippa. They are burning." He can't meet her eyes. He doesn't want to see her pity. "And that man, the one who took me, he is there too. He is killing them both."

Alcina doesn't say anything for a long time. Finally, Arkady risks meeting her eyes. He sees some pity, some sadness, and many questions.

"You used to dream of Rosemary," she says. "I remember that. Why do you dream of Pippa as well? Why do you dream of that Wilkes monster?"

Alcina's eyes are sharp now. She will accept nothing from him but the truth. Arkady trembles.

"Sammy is haunting the lobby," Alcina announces. She has brought his laundry in with the clean linens and is putting boxer shorts and pajamas in their drawers.

"Is is hoping for employment?" Arkady asks flippantly, busying himself with soap and razor. His beard stubble has been itching uncontrollably since an off-hand comment from Alcina planted the notion. "I'm not certain the hotel has positions for engineering students, even ones capable of fitting eight people into a living space intended for three."

"Stop being foolish, Mr Balagan," she scolds "He is waiting for you to be ready for visitors. So is Danni. And Pippa."

Arkady's razor slides sideways, red blooms through white foam.

"Young Samuel misses our matches. He can hardly afford to play decent chess otherwise."

Alcina snorts but does not look up from changing the bed sheets.

"What nonsense. He misses you. They all do," she straightens, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "One of these days, you will have to let them in."

Pippa is throwing a spectacular tantrum. Alcina's second son used to have fits like this, with yelling and tears, pointed fingers and cruel words. Pippa has not resorted to holding her breath yet, but Marc outgrew that technique by the time he was six and, while the tiny woman pacing the suite might look young, Pippa is no child.

Alcina has been sitting quietly at the bar, listening and waiting in case she needs to intervene. That time is not yet here, although Pippa has said many unfair and vicious things to Mr Balagan. In truth, he has been less than kind as well, calling her selfish when all she wants is justice for her sister's killer, demeaning Pippa's work and commitment to her cause. They are both speaking from their hurt, not their hearts.

Alcina recognizes their pain, the pain of losing someone you love without reservation to an enemy you can't begin to fight. She knows that misery well, has lived with it every day for twelve years. She knows it makes you say and do foolish, foolish things and that if you are not careful, it can isolate you from everyone who loves you.

As she watches Pippa and Mr Balagan shout, gesture, weep, Alcina holds tight to the other truth that she knows. Family will save them, the way Alcina's children saved her. Their family might have been built by chance and choice, rather than by blood, but it will keep them tied to the world all the same.

"Have you forgotten everything I have taught you?"

Danni and Alcina ignore the question, as they have every one of Mr Balagan's dramatic cries. The chess game continues, pieces clacking as they are dropped to the table. Sammy is trying hard to hide his happiness, but it leaks out in his smile when he thinks no one can see.

"He looks well enough," Danni says, following Alcina's gaze. "For a man wearing pajamas at four in the afternoon."

Alcina smiles. "At least he has shaved."

The younger woman winces. "Not pretty?" she asks.

Alcina shakes her head. "A grown man should be able to grow a proper beard, not..." she can't find the word.

"Scruff?"

"No, just bits of beard, here and there," Alcina pats her cheeks and neck, "like a boy."

Danni stares for a moment, then laughs.

"Zophia said you wanted to speak with me," Alcina says as she parks her cleaning cart beside the bar. It is late, almost the end of her shift, and she is hoping that Danni has called her down for a chat, not to clean up after a drunk customer.

"Yep," Danni says, efficiently juggling two liquor bottles and a glass. A few quick shakes and there is a bright green cocktail in front of Alcina. "Appletini."

Alcina raises an eyebrow. Danni only brings out martinis when she needs a particularly difficult favour. The glass sits untouched on the bar between them as seconds tick by. Alcina has waited out six stubborn children, and Danni is not blessed with patience.

"Just drink the damn martini," Danni bursts out. "I'll call Zophia to come get your cart."

While the young woman chats on the radio, Alcina hops up onto a bar stool. The drink plays on her tongue, tart and sharp with alcohol. She allows herself a moment to savour the indulgence.

"I need your help, Alcina." Danni is back.

"I can tell." Alcina toasts her with her glass.

"I have a friend who's in a bit of trouble, needs someone to clear up a misunderstanding about some missing inventory. Preferably before the police are involved."

Alcina tips her head in question. "And you think I could help in what way?"

"I was hoping that you would talk to Arkady for me." Danni looks down. "See if he might take the case?"

Alcina takes a sip, thinks for a moment. "Why don't you ask Mr Balagan yourself? It wouldn't be the first time you've taken him a puzzle."

Danni huffs a laugh. "I won't get over the threshold unless you vouch for me."

"Vouch?" Alcina asks, curious about this mysterious power she holds.

"Yeah. Everyone knows that you're Arkady's gatekeeper. No one can get inside that door unless you're with them." Danni pauses. She looks at Alcina intently. "You didn't know that you're the only one he trusts?" she asks. "You really didn't know?"

The radio on her housekeeping cart crackles. She hears Hugo's voice, questioning and irritable, but the words don't register as she finishes dusting room 406. She checks her work quickly, then steps back into the hallway. The radio squawks again and in the static she hears her name.

"Alcina Albeniz to the pool level, ASAP!" Hugo's voice is filled with urgency.

Alcina feels a shudder of fear run through her. The last time Hugo had called her name on the radio, one of the maids had cut her arm so badly that there had been twenty seven stitches. And the time before that... best not to think on it.

She rolls her cart into the housekeeping closet, forcing herself not to run for the elevator, the stairs. It would not do for a guest to see Huxley staff in a panic. The elevator seems to take an hour, but finally she is at the door to the pool. Hugo's new assistant, Gio, holds the door open for her. His face is serious but not panicked. Good. Alcina takes a deep breath as she steps inside.

Hugo is waiting by the shower alcove. Perhaps it needs cleaning, a guest slipped or was... She turns the corner and sees him, curled into a tight ball in the corner of the shower. Without thought, she is on her knees.

"Mr Balagan!" Her hands flutter in the air above him and she feels foolish, uncertain. Wanting answers, she turns to Hugo. "What has happened?"

"He came down for a swim. Called the front desk to announce it to the world." Hugo rolls his eyes. "Next thing I know, Gio spots him on the cameras. I can't get him to talk, let alone move."

Alcina turns back to the trembling man in the corner. Her hands settle, one stroking soft blond hair, the other gripping a white knuckled hand. "I see," she says. "You wanted to be brave." The fingers beneath hers clench. "And you were very brave, until you saw all the empty space."

"Never getting rid of him now, are we?" Hugo's voice is unusually soft, the sting of his complaint balanced by sympathy. "Arkady Balagan, the permanent guest."

"I have already told Danni, her friend must speak to the not-so-vegan sous chef. Then the truffles will be found."

Alcina stares at him for a moment, then realizes. "Oh, that was last week's mystery. This is a new one. Sam and Danni have found a puzzle that will pay." She smiles encouragingly.

Mr Balagan snorts and rolls to face away. "Why should I concern myself with puzzles that pay? I have no need of money, now that I am a 'permanent guest' of the Huxley asylum."

So that is what troubles him, she thinks. It is enjoyable to flaunt your eccentricity, it is another matter to be trapped by the same trick of the mind. She looks down at the figure in the bed. He seems smaller, curled like that. He is less Mr Balagan and more a young man in need of comfort.

Alcina sits. The soft mattress sinks and he rolls with it, his back coming to rest against her hip.

"I am still afraid sometimes," she says. "I have crossed many borders and lived safely for many years, but I still fear for my children. The men who killed my husband may be in prison or dead for all I know, but I still wake in the night."

His eyes are closed, but she can tell that he is listening from the tension in his back.

"You will always have fear. It is part of life, especially when you care for other people. But you are smart." She feels him shift and smiles. "I know, you are a genius," she teases gently. "So you will find a way to conquer your fear, and you will destroy the demon who torments you."

She reaches out and lays a hand on his shoulder.

"Mist..." the formal name feels wrong. "Arkady. You will survive this. You will."

The slap of his feet against the marble is a pleasant discomfort. It has been too long. He sweeps past the gawking crowd and all but vaults onto his bar stool. And he waits.

The shock on Danni's face is the most satisfying sight yet.

"Arkady!"

She all but flies around the bar and flings her arms around his neck. As he spins from the force of her hug, he spots Barbara. The manager's gaze could be called fond, before she puts on a disapproving mask. Danni realizes at that moment that Huxley staff do not hug patrons, and she pulls away.

"Arkady, you're in my bar!"

He refrains from commenting on her inane statement. Instead, he puts on his most pathetic expression.

"I was driven from my room by starvation!"

His melodrama makes Danni smile as she returns to her station. "And you can't get anyone to deliver room service anymore?" she asks, placing a glass in front of him. "Have you been tormenting Chef again?"

"I would never!" Arkady declares as Danni pours his vodka. At her raised eyebrow he admits, "Well, yes, I would. But that is not what has happened. It is far more dire."

Danni gives him a confused look before she turns to open the refrigerator. Ah, there they are...

He all but pounces when she places the plate in front of him.

"These!" he declares between bites. "I have been deprived of my pickles. I have asked and asked and no one would bring me pickles. 'They are not on the room service menu, Mr Balagan.' Nonsense."

Danni is laughing now. "Who was that supposed to be?" she asks.

"Barbara, of course." Arkady drinks his vodka and gleefully crunches the final pickle.

"Of course." Danni is clearly humouring him.

"You must help me sneak a jar or ten past the mismanager," he orders.

She smiles as she refills his plate. "I would, but it's not Barbara who has been denying you pickles."

He stares. "You? How could you commit such an act of torture?"

"It wasn't me," she claims. "It was Alcina."

Arkady drops the pickle he is holding. Alcina? He can't countenance it.

"Yeah," Danni continues, oblivious to his bone-deep shock. "She said that we had to find the proper motivation to get you out of your room. Looks like she was right."

When he smiles, Sam's face lights up. When Danni smiles, Sam's face is radiant. Alcina closes the door behind her quietly, her eyes on the young people on the couch. They are sitting in front of a chess board, but the game seems to be far from their minds.

Alcina looks around and finds Arkady leaning against the wall behind the bar. He smiles hello and lifts his glass in question. She nods and he begins to prepare a drink for her.

"They are playing a game almost as dangerous as chess," he says as he slides her glass across the bar.

She sips the tequila. It is a delicious anejo that Arkady stocks for her, and it tastes especially good after a day like today. "But unlike chess," she points out, "there does not have to be a loser at this game."

Arkady rolls his eyes. "In young love, all is blossoms and joy until all is tears and ashes. Then everyone loses."

"You old cynic. You are jealous of their open hearts," Alcina says with a smile. "I envy them myself."

Arkady scoffs and toasts her with his glass. "My heart may be bruised and battered, but your heart is ever young, my Alcina."

The penthouse is crammed with people. Any other day of the year it would be unacceptable, but this is a special day. Arkady moves through the crowd, accepting thanks and warning people away from the chess boards lining the sideboard.

A sudden hush makes him turn but it is a false alarm. Danni grimaces apologetically as she ushers in two young women. He recognizes Gabriela and Eliza and waves. They return the greeting and move to greet their brothers and sisters. Danni pushes her way to his side.

"Nice turnout," she observes. "I'm pretty sure they hired someone off the street to man the front desk so the entire staff could be here."

Arkady laughs. It could be true – Barbara is here, Hugo, the entire housekeeping department and most of the other service staff. The other guests included close friends and all the Albeniz children and grandchildren living within fifty miles. From the turnout, it appears that he only met some of the family at the dinner he hosted last month.

"I never imagined this is what you had in mind," Danni continues. "You know, when you asked me about her birthday. I thought you were going to get her a nice bracelet, or maybe a spa day. But this... this is something else."

He smiles and is about to respond when the door opens once more. It is Sam, holding up his phone. The room quiets as he walks over to Arkady.

"She's in the elevator," he announces.

There is silence now. It is suddenly broken by the buzz and click of the lock mechanism. The door is pushed wide and Alcina calls out, "Mr Balagan? Arkady? Sammy called..."

She steps into the room and stops, frozen, as they all cheer for her. Someone begins to sing the American birthday song and she covers blushing cheeks with trembling hands.

Arkady fills with pride at how flustered and happy she looks. Her gaze darts around the room, finally meeting his. He feels his breath catch even as he smiles.

Alcina is leaning against his shoulder as they sit on the chaise. She sips her tequila and stares out at the city. Arkady shooed away the last of the guests half an hour past, entrusting Sam and Danni with the younger Albeniz children for the night.

"Thank you for tonight," she says apropos of nothing.

"You're welcome," he says. "We Russians love an excuse to host a party."

"Of course," she agrees, smiling up at him. "That is what life should be: a home full of friends and laughter and love."

"A hotel is not a home," he says. "I have lived in hotels or dormitories for most of my life, I know this to be true."

Her smile fades. "You roamed the world all those years, always visiting, never staying. Did you never have a home to return to?"

"No, never. I had wanted to make one with Rosemary, but that hope is gone, so..."

"Instead you choose to be our permanent guest," Alcina finishes his thought for him.

He nods. Standing, he gestures towards the bar. Alcina hands him her glass.

"Have you ever wondered what you will do when you can leave the hotel?" she asks, staring out the window.

Arkady carefully fills their glasses and returns to his seat.

"I have not," he admits. "I do not hold much hope for ever leaving this place again."

"And does that upset you still?"

He sips his drink, considering.

"Not so much as it used to," he admits. "If I can never leave, I could still be content with my life."

"I wonder if that is because you have made a life for yourself here," she says. "You don't need to leave when you have your chess, your work, friends, family, all right here."

She is still looking out at the city's lights. Arkady realizes that he doesn't want to share her attention. He plucks her glass from her hands and places it on the table. Her fingers are a mix of chill and warmth when he wraps them in his.

She glances down at their entangled hands, then looks up with a smile and says "You don't need to leave. You are already home."