For Anatoly

When Lex had left that morning to go up to the compound for a shower and to grab some lunch, he hadn't even thought about picking up his room in Helen's hut. Sure, with Lex's obsessive streak it was tidier then most, but he wasn't so neurotic that he couldn't leave stuff out and return to put it away later. His fencing gear was stacked in the corner, ready to be cleaned and put away after his morning sparring session with Helen and a lesson with Robin as an afternoon project once he returned.

During the lesson with Robin, Lex had been hit with a wave of sentimentality of trying to teach Anatoly the basic forms once day after the Russian had asked. So a few other items had been taken out that morning and had been left to be put in their rightful place when he returned. On the small dresser, the drawing by Lucifer was spread out and on top of it was a lonely chess pieces next to two stacked wedding rings and a pair of masks, one purple and one red. The top drawer was open to reveal books about chess and of Russian poetry, next to a red t-shirt. One book of Russian poetry was laying next to the drawing, obviously well read and not only from a time spent in bed with the chicken pox. In fact, all of the items had the air about them of being often touched and looked at, well loved while being well taken care of.

They sat waiting, to be put away...or to be found.