Date: Wed, 9 Nov 2011 18:01:29 -0800 From: B.E. Kelley <hailcaesar2011@hotmail.com> Subject: A Connecticut Yankee in the Tsar's Court, Chapter 1 This story is a work of FICTION. The events described are my own invention. Any similarities to actual events or persons are strictly coincidental. The author retains the copyright, and any other rights, to this original story. You may not publish it or any part of it without my explicit authorization. This story contains depictions of consensual sexual acts between teenage males. It is intended for mature audiences only. If you find this type of material offensive or if you are under the legal age to read said material; please proceed no further. This story is a sequel to a story I wrote called "Every Cloud has a Silver Lining, you can find it posted in the high school section. If you haven't read it, you might not like this story, or understand it. For all those of you who enjoyed Silver Lining and asked what happens next, this story is for you. I hope you enjoy it, as always, comments are welcome: hailcaesar2011@hotmail.com A Connecticut Yankee in the Tsar's Court, Chapter 1 I woke up before Jamie and, as usual, I couldn't resist the urge to lie next to him and stare at his beautiful face. You can't imagine how many times I've given thanks to God, over the last few years, for the blond angel at my side. I was 14 when I met Jamie, at possibly the worst time of my life. I'd been feuding with my brother, Nathan, for years and found out, one summer day, that it was all because I was adopted. I'm a hemophiliac, and simply put, my blood doesn't clot. When I get a cut or a nosebleed, well, it just keeps on bleeding. As a result of my condition, my parents were very protective of me, so when Nathan learned that I was adopted, he stopped seeing me as his little brother. Instead, he viewed me as a usurper who stole mommy and daddy's affection. The years of anger and resentment came to a head that summer. Nathan and I had been fighting over the TV in the living room and that escalated into a wrestling match, which further escalated into a minor fist fight. When it was over, Nathan was left nursing a bloody lip and mom was fussing over me, looking for injuries that might be exacerbated by my hemophilia. It had been too much for Nathan and in a moment of anger, he let the family secret out of the bag. I was a mixed bag of emotions. Anger, sadness and confusion seemed to short circuit my brain and in that moment of weakness, I accidently ran away from home. I know it sounds stupid, how do you accidently run away from home? Well my mind was functioning on autopilot and the way things fell into place, it just sort of happened. That's when I met Adam, he's Jamie's older brother. Adam took me home with him, his parents fed me and gave me a place to stay for the night and the next morning I met Jamie. Jamie was beautiful, irreverent and openly gay. In the midst of my crisis I met this wonderful person who had a profound impact on my life. I shared my first sexual experience with Jamie and I learned that he wasn't just a pretty face, but also a kind, caring and compassionate soul. It was Jamie who helped me find the strength to go home and work everything out with my parents, he just made everything seem so easy. I was scared to death to go home. Before all was said and done, the police had instituted a full on manhunt for me. I even saw myself on the nightly news, with viewers being asked to call in if they'd seen me. Because of my medical condition, everyone was afraid that I was bleeding to death somewhere out in the woods and they panicked. When I got home, there were reporters and neighbors all over our lawn and I just wanted to slink away and hide. Things got better after that. My parents didn't punish me too hard for running away; they seemed to understand it was all a big mistake. My relationship with my brother improved and I have to say that without him, Jamie and I might not be together now. When I left Jamie's house I promised him we would see each other again, but that was easier said than done. Jamie lived about 40 miles from me, and at 14, it's not like we could just get in the car and drive on over. That's where Nathan came into the picture. He'd been deeply affected by my disappearance, and ever since then, he's gone out of his way to be the kind of big brother he was when we were little boys. He was only too happy to drive me to Hartford to see Jamie, anytime I wanted. Jamie also gave me the strength to confront another personal demon. I'd always known I was gay; I like to say I was confused but looking back, deep in my heart, I always knew what I was. The only problem was I didn't know how to tell my family. Jamie was out to his family and they accepted him without question. Once he became a fixture in my life, his courage rubbed off and one morning, during a sleepover, we sat at the kitchen table and I told my parents I was gay, while he held my hand. Jamie and I are both 17 now and I think you'd be hard pressed to find a couple closer than the two of us. Over the years, Jamie's gone from cute boy to handsome teenager. His hair is light blond, his eyes are as blue as the azure sea, his smile brightens up any room he walks into and his body is lean and toned from the miles he runs up and down the soccer field. I'm more in love with him now then the day I met him. Even after 3 years, I still get an electric tingle running through my body when he touches me. That's why I'm glad he's here now. I need to talk to my parents about something and as he's part of the family, I want him by my side. "What are you staring at," said Jamie, with a smile, as he opened his eyes. "I was staring at you of course," I smiled back, "and you know what?" "What?" asked Jamie. "You are ugly in the morning," I laughed. "Oh that's it, you're dead," Jamie laughed maniacally as he tickled me. Jamie tickled me without mercy, it took him about 5 minutes to find my tickle spots the first time we met. When he finally let up, he rolled on top of me and kissed me good morning. "I love you, Nicky," said Jamie as he lay on top of me and we stared into each other's eyes. "I love you too," I answered. I reached up and massaged the back of his neck then pulled him down so that I could plant my lips against his. His lips parted as if inviting my tongue into his mouth. Our soft pink muscles gently wrestled for dominance while Jamie reached down and stroked my stiffening cock. I didn't want to stop, but there were more important things that needed to be addressed today, not to mention, I didn't want my parents to hear us. Reluctantly, I pulled Jamie's hand away. "Hey, I was petting that," Jamie whined. "I know, but we have to get up," I replied. "Do we have to?" Jamie asked, as he started to kiss my neck. I enjoyed the gentle feeling of his lips on my neck for a moment and almost gave in, but resolved that we had to get up. "Come on stud, let's go downstairs," I said, as I gave him a playful slap on the butt. We dressed quickly, in shorts and t-shirts, and then headed downstairs to join my family for breakfast. Nathan's home from college for the summer and we discovered him sitting at the table with my dad, while mom was making waffles. "Good morning, sweetheart. Good morning, Jamie," said mom, as we took our seats. "Well I'm going to shower and get going," said Nathan, "I have to be at Amanda's in an hour." "Nate and Amanda sitting in a tree..." Jamie teased. "Hey, I can't help it if the ladies love me," Nathan smirked. "Oh brother," said Jamie and I, in unison. "Hey Nathan, would you mind hanging out for a minute," I asked, "I wanted to talk with everyone about something." "Well, you already came out, you guys aren't getting sex change operations are you?" Nathan laughed. A few short years ago I would have taken that as an insult but now I know he's just giving me a hard time. "Hell no," I scoffed, "I wouldn't change a thing about Jamie, he's got the biggest..." "Nicky!" Mom exclaimed. "...heart of anyone I know," I finished. "Oh, heart," said Mom, with a sigh of relief. "What did you think I was going to say, dick?" I asked with a smirk. Nathan laughed and I'm not sure who blushed deeper, my mom or Jamie. "Behave yourself, Nicky," said Mom, "Jamie's a good boy and you're embarrassing him." "Yeah, I'm a good boy," said Jamie, with a sly grin. "I'll leave that topic for another day," I shot back. "You said you had something you wanted to talk to us about, son," said Dad, bringing me back to my topic. "Right, well, I uh, think it's time that I find my birth parents," I stated nervously. This was a sensitive subject and I wanted the whole family there for the discussion, because I wanted to hear what each of them had to say. Since learning of my adoption, my parents had always encouraged me not to think ill of the parents who dropped me off at a Greenwich fire station, but they hadn't said a whole lot more on the topic. "Nicky, you know we've been down this road before," said Mom, "there just wasn't any evidence for us to follow up on." Shortly after I'd learned of my adoption, and a couple of months after I'd run away, I started to have a lot of questions and we'd looked for my birth parents. There really was no trail to follow. All that we knew for sure was that I'd been dropped off at a fire station by an older gentleman when I was 3 days old. There were no records , and no details to run down, so the trail simply went cold and I accepted that I'd never know where I came from. Lately, part of me thinks there must be something more we can do. It's 2011 for God's sake, so you can't just disappear in this day and age. "Why the sudden interest in your birth parents again?" asked Dad, "I thought you'd put that behind you?" "I thought so too, but lately it's been rattling around in the back of my mind a lot," I began. "You guys know how much I love history, it's what I want to study in college, and I feel like I'm always going to wonder about this until I get some kind of closure." "Are you sure that's the only reason?" asked Mom. I knew what she was getting at. "Mom, I love you and Dad more than anything, nothing's going to change that," I explained. "I just want to know who I am." "You're Nicholas Sutherland, what more do you need to know?" Mom replied. This happens sometimes. I get the impression that when I talk about my birth parents; my mom thinks it's some kind of expression of how I feel about her and Dad. Nothing could be further from the truth. I don't care if I am adopted, my mom and dad are my mom and dad and nothing as insignificant as being blood relatives will change that. For me, this is about history. Not long ago, my teacher said something about `not knowing what happened before you were born, is to forever be a child. I'm not sure which historian he was quoting, but it struck a chord with me and I've been yearning to find my roots ever since. "Can someone help me out here?" I asked. "I think I understand how you feel, son," said Dad, as he took Mom's hand to comfort her. "More importantly," said Nathan, "why do I need to be here for this conversation?" "Because dork," I said with a roll of the eyes, "we're a family and I want to know what all of you think, this isn't just about me, it affects all of us. That's why I wanted Jamie here too." "I think you should look for them," said Jamie, "If it was me, I'd want to know." "Sorry Mrs. S," said Jamie, when he met my mom's gaze. "It's ok sweetheart," smiled Mom, as she reached out to pat his hand. Yeah and Nathan used to think I was the favorite. For whatever reason, Jamie can do no wrong in the eyes of my mother and he eats it up. Oh well, I guess it's better than being in a situation where your partner hates his mother-in-law, right? "I have to say, I'd want to know if I were in your shoes," Nathan agreed. "Mom, you shouldn't give him a hard time about it, I think we'd all be curious if we were Nicky." "Well, if that's what you really want," Mom began, "then of course we'll do whatever we can." "I used to work with a guy who was an FBI agent back when I was with the US Attorney's Office," said Dad, "He just retired, maybe he could look into this for us?" "Wow, really? That would be great!" I exclaimed. Having a professional, like a former FBI agent, looking into this could really turn things around. Sure we'd come up short when we'd gone down this path before, but what does any of us know about running an investigation? My dad's a law professor, my mom's a pianist, Nathan and I were just kids, we're lucky we even found the fire station I'd been dropped at when we tried this before. We talked for a few more minutes and then Nathan announced that he had to get going or he'd be late. The rest of us sat around and ate our waffles, then Jamie and I went out in the backyard to kick the soccer ball around. He was very supportive of my desire to track down my birth parents, as I knew he would be. It sucks that he lives in Hartford and we don't get to see each other every day, but I'm glad for weekends like this. Just having Jamie with me made me feel more confident, because I know he'll support me in anything I do. "Ok, this is getting boring. Want to go swimming?" I asked, after an hour of passing the soccer ball back and forth. Jamie quickly agreed and we walked over to the pool house. It's nothing fancy, just a small changing room and a place to store drinks and snacks. Occasionally, Jamie and I use it for some of our, um, extracurricular activities. I got the feeling that's where things might end up today, as I watched Jamie strip off his clothes. When he was just in his underwear, I couldn't resist any more. "You are so hot," I said, as I pulled Jamie against me and kissed his lips. He kissed me back passionately. This wasn't like the gentle, romantic kissing we'd engaged in this morning, this was more primal. I'd taken my shirt off and now Jamie was pulling my shorts down, while we kissed and I massaged his firm butt through his black boxerbriefs. Jamie pushed me back against the wall and started moving down my body. He nibbled and sucked on my neck, traced his tongue between my pectorals then swirled it around my nipples until they grew hard. He nibbled and sucked on the tender nibs, then continued his descent, licking a trail down the center of my abs until he was on his knees, facing my package. He grabbed the waistband of my underwear with his teeth then looked up at me and gave me a playful growl as he tugged on them. "Good boy," I giggled, then hooked my thumbs in my undies and helped him take them down. My six inch boy cock was hard as stone as it slapped against my belly. Jamie stroked it slowly, as he leaned under it and ran his tongue over my balls. I shivered at his touch; it was ever so subtle and felt good on the sensitive region. He licked up the shaft of my cock then put his mouth over the head. He looked up at me again and flashed me his devilish smile, before he started to bob up and down. I couldn't let him do it too long, if he kept it up I'd cum in his mouth and I wanted this to last a little longer. I pushed Jamie off of me then dropped to my knees and kissed him while I guided him down to the floor. I didn't waste time sucking on his nipples or licking his taut belly, I went straight for the prize. I attacked Jamie's cock, licking and nibbling on the head through his boxerbriefs while I reached up and grabbed his waistband. As soon as I had his underwear down far enough, I swallowed his cock and sucked it up and down. I moved my head up and down on his pole, rubbing the shaft with my tongue as I went. "Oh God, Nicky, that feels so good," Jamie moaned. I continued to suck his cock, egged on by his soft sexy moans. The more I sucked, the more he squirmed and writhed on the ground. I love the affect I have on him. Soon, he began to spread his legs further apart. "Mmm, fuck me Nicky," he moaned. I smiled around his throbbing pole, we usually take turns fucking each other and I'd forgotten that it was my turn to take his tight little butt. I pulled off of his cock and kissed down his thighs, then lifted his legs and kissed the rim of his hole. I love to tease Jamie's pucker, so I nibbled around the rim, flicked my tongue against it and probed it gently. "Come on, Nicky. Fuck me, please?" Jamie whined. I started to rim him hard and fast, while plunging my tongue into his opening. Jamie started to buck his hips as I ate him out and I knew he was ready. I nestled myself between his legs and rubbed the head of my cock against his hole. I pushed slowly, but firmly, and was rewarded with a deep guttural moan as it popped inside. I continued pushing in, inch by inch my cock slide into Jamie's inviting orifice. When I was balls deep in him, I wrapped my arms around him, pressing his cock between our sweat slick bellies. I fucked Jamie, slowly at first. I could feel his hard cock throbbing between us, as I began to work his ass. His every moan seemed to encourage me and I began to screw him harder and faster. In no time at all, I felt Jamie unleashing his load between our bellies. When he came, his butt tightened around my cock and I filled him with my seed. I collapsed against him and he put his arms around me. He kissed my neck then took my face in his hands and brought our lips together. "That was awesome," Jamie smiled. "I aim to please," I smiled back. We did eventually make it to the pool, but had to cut our swim short. It was Sunday and Jamie had to head back to Hartford. We dried off and changed back into our normal clothes, and then I helped him gather up all of his things. For someone who only spends a night or two at a time, Jamie never fails to spread his things all over the house. Finally, I walked him to his car, shared one last goodbye kiss and watched him drive down the street until he was just a dot on the horizon. I know I'll probably see him again in a few days, but as Shakespeare says, "parting is such sweet sorrow." I still had homework to do, so I went up to my room and decided to crack the books. I love history and I'm planning to major in it in college, I was reminded how much I love it when I opened my calculus book. God, I hate math. Math has never made sense to me, it might as well be Greek. I don't know if I'll ever be happier then I expect to be the day I take my last math test. I wasn't working long when my dad came in, shut the door and sat down. "What are you working on?" asked Dad. "Calculus," I replied. "Ah, well since I know that's not exactly your favorite subject, why don't you take a break," said Dad. "You don't have to tell me twice," I replied, as I tossed my book aside. "What's up?" "Well, while you and Jamie were out in the pool, I called Cliff Webber," Dad explained. I must have had one of those blank, duh, expressions on my face, because dad answered my next question before I could voice it. "He's the retired FBI agent I was telling you about this morning," said Dad. "Oh, cool, what did he have to say?" I asked, excitedly. "He said that it sounds like an interesting case, so he's going to come over tomorrow after school and get some more information from us," said Dad. "That's awesome. Thanks, Dad. I'm so glad you called him," I said. "Now look, Nicky," dad admonished, "I don't want you to get your hopes up. You know we've been down this road before and you know it might lead to a dead end, but , you know I love you and if this is what you really want, then I'll do whatever we can to find your birth parents. I just need you to do me a favor." "Sure, of course. Anything, just name it," I gushed. "Just be gentle when talking about this around your mom," said Dad. "You know she's not thrilled about this and I want you to be sensitive to her feelings." "Yeah, I know she's not real happy, that was pretty clear this morning," I agreed, "but I don't understand why." "Well, son, it's simple," Dad explained. "You're her baby and the fact that you want to find your biological parents is just one more reminder that you're growing up and pulling away from us." "But Dad, it's not like that," I whined. "I don't want a new Mom and Dad, I just want to know who they are." "I know, and I understand, and deep down your mom understands that too," said Dad. "I'm just asking you to be sensitive to her feelings when the subject comes up. Can you do that?" "Sure, I can do that," I agreed, "but Dad, this really is just about learning who I am and where I come from. I love you and Mom, and even Nathan, so I've never wished for another family." "I love you too, son, that's why I'm happy to help you with this," said Dad. We talked for a few more minutes. Dad didn't have any afternoon lectures tomorrow and I didn't have swimming practice in the afternoons, so he had arranged for Mr. Webber to come over at 3:30 tomorrow, before Mom would be home. I was so excited, I had trouble sleeping that night; my mind kept turning over the possibilities in my head. It's a game that I'm sure every orphan plays, envisioning who their real parents are and what they're like. At school that day, I was pretty much useless. Every time I had a spare second to think, my mind would wonder. I know Dad warned me not to get my hopes up, but I couldn't help it. Most people grow up sitting on their grandfather's knee, listening to him tell stories from his life and passing on the family traditions. Sure, my grandfather had done that for me, but the problem was that he was my adopted grandfather and the things I learned from him were adopted traditions. The blood that flows through my veins is a link to someone and all I want to know is who they are. With that in mind, I practically ran to my car when the final bell of the day rang. I sped most of the way home and swerved into the driveway just as Dad was parking his car. The stern look on his face was enough to tell me I shouldn't be driving so recklessly. Who knew you could fishtail a Volvo? We didn't have time for a lecture though, Mr. Webber was very prompt and was knocking on the door before I could even change out of my school uniform. Cliff Webber was a big man, at least 6'3" and probably a good 220 pounds. He had a square jaw, broad shoulders and a mane of silver hair that he kept cut short. He was the kind of guy that you looked at and instantly knew he was a cop. He had a firm grip and when he shook my hand I almost expected my arm to be ripped out of the socket. Mr. Webber and my dad, made small talk for a few moments and then it was down to business. Dad explained that there really wasn't a lot of information to start with. I had been adopted through social services in New Haven County. My parents had been prescreened and were on a list, waiting to adopt a baby. The week before they brought me home, an older gentleman, in his late 50's to mid 60's, left me in a car seat at a fire station in Greenwich. The man was walking away when a fireman opened the door and found me. The fireman didn't get enough of a look at the older man to give much of a description and he didn't pursue him. In Connecticut, you're allowed to drop a baby at a police or fire station, no questions asked. It's a state law that was drafted to keep young mothers, who were hiding their pregnancy from their families, from just tossing the baby in a dumpster, or worse. That's also something that made my case unique. Who was this old guy and what the hell was he doing with me? I was wrapped in an ordinary baby blanket, with a note tucked into it which simply read: "This is Nicholas. He is three days old. Please find him a loving family." Right away, Mr. Webber wanted to see the note. The only problem was that even my dad had never seen it, he'd only heard about it. Somehow it had gotten lost between the fire station and social services. The only reason I ended up with the name Nicholas was because they had to call me something and the firemen had already taken to calling me Nicky, when social services arrived to collect me. That was the name on my case file and though my parents had the option to change it when they adopted me, they liked the story about the note and the name grew on them. "Nicky, I'm sure your dad already told you this, but I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you," said Mr. Webber. "I'll talk to the fire department and social services in Greenwich, but this has been over 17 years now, it's highly unlikely for them to remember much," he explained. "But, you'll at least try, won't you?" I asked, with pleading eyes. "Of course I'll try," said Mr. Webber, "a long-shot doesn't mean no shot. It's possible we might find that note and that could be an important piece of evidence. I honestly won't know much until I talk to the fireman who saw the old man that dropped you off." "I have grandkids your age, I know how kids get," said Mr. Webber, in a gentle manner. "I don't want you to get too excited, just to have your feelings hurt if we don't find anything." "I understand Mr. Webber," I explained. "I've talked to my dad about that and I know this may not work out. I just want to know that we've done everything there is to do before we give up." "That I promise you," said Mr. Webber. "I will conduct a detailed investigation and I'll give you an update, let's say, every other Friday, unless something breaks, and then I'll call you immediately. Does that work for you?" "That's great, Cliff," said Dad. "I really appreciate you helping us out like this, what are we looking at in terms of fees?" "Ah don't worry about that," said Mr. Webber. "This is what I do and it will keep me from getting under the wife's feet at home. Send the kid over to wash my car once in a while and we'll call it even." My dad and I both thanked Mr. Webber profusely. As big and imposing as he was when I first met him, by the time he left I started to see him as a big teddy bear. He also had an air about him that bred confidence. I knew he was the man for the job; he made me feel like if he couldn't find someone, then there was no one to be found. The fact that he wasn't charging us for his services also said something. I don't know if it was the sad expression on my face when he warned me that he might not find anything or the opportunity to use his investigative skills and escape the boredom of retirement , that got him to take the case, I was just happy this old bloodhound was on the trail. I called Jamie as soon as Mr. Webber left, but I had to wait for him to call me back. He was still at soccer practice when I'd called and I spent a good twenty minutes pacing around my room, waiting for him to call. When he did call back, I picked up the phone on the first ring and told him everything that had happened. "Why didn't you ever tell me about the note?" Jamie asked. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Duh, the note that was found with you," said Jamie. "You never told me that story before." "Oh, I don't know. It didn't say much, I never really thought it was worth mentioning," I admitted. "But that's such a cute story, Nicky," said Jamie. "You think so?" I asked. "Of course I do," said Jamie. "Think about it! You're birth parents had to have cared about you, and that note is the proof." "How are you getting that from a simple note?" I asked. "They took the time to name you, didn't they?" said Jamie. "Why would they have bothered to name you and ask that you be put in a good home if they didn't love you?" "Hmm, you might be on to something. I've never considered that before," I admitted. "See, they didn't just ditch you," said Jamie. "You were someone's Little Nicky, something must have happened that forced them to give you up." Jamie was making a lot of sense and what he was saying was making me get a little choked up. I wanted to change the subject and did something I always do when I don't want to talk about my feelings; I turned it into a joke. "Yeah, I guess it could have been worse," I admitted. "At least the note didn't say this is Morti, or Keith, horrible names." "Very funny, but you know I'm on to something," said Jamie. Maybe he was on to something. It's definitely food for thought. We talked a little longer, then both of us had homework to do. Throughout the rest of the week, I kept coming back to what Jamie had said. "Something must have happened that forced them to give you up." I was more curious now then I had been before. True to his word, Mr. Webber called that Friday to give us an update. He had visited the fire station and discovered that the fireman who found me on the doorstep, had retired a few years ago. He was able to track him down and discuss the case with him. The fireman remembered me and the old man, but he couldn't provide any new information. I was a little deflated, but Mr. Webber said that it was too soon to give up, he had other ideas he wanted to pursue. The weeks started to pile up quickly. I continued to get the bi-weekly calls from Mr. Webber, but they were never very encouraging. Before long, two months had passed and I was quickly losing hope that we'd ever find out who my parents were. I was sitting with some friends at lunch one afternoon, pondering my situation, when my cell phone started to ring. I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Jamie, which immediately cheered me up. "Hey sweetheart, what's up?" I asked. "Hi, Nicky. What are you doing after school?" Jamie asked, abruptly. "Uh, not much. Some people are talking about going out for coffee and studying for our English test," I replied. "Don't go! Meet me at your house as soon as class lets out," said Jamie. "What's going on?" I asked, curiously. "Don't you want to see me?" Jamie asked, with mock hurt in his voice. "Of course I do, but you don't usually come out during the week," I reminded him. "Well something happened in class today and I want to talk to you about it while it's all fresh in my mind," Jamie admitted. "Is everything ok?" I asked. "Yeah, yeah everything's fine. It's nothing to worry about, I just want to see you," Jamie explained. "Ok, I'll be home at 3:30," I replied. "Cool, see you then," said Jamie. "I love you." I told him I loved him too and then we hung up. That was a weird conversation. Normally, Jamie's parents don't let him visit during the week, unless we have special plans. He also sounded kind of excited on the phone and I was curious to know what was so important that he wanted to meet right after classes. When the final bell rang, I rushed out to my car and headed home. When I got there, Jamie was waiting for me on the front step. He was wearing a tee shirt and a pair of soccer shorts. I forgot that he has gym last period and that it's part of his soccer practice. In contrast I was wearing a tie and my school blazer, ah the pains of a private education. Jamie walked towards the car and was standing by the door when I started to step out. "Nope, back in the car. We've got to go somewhere," Jamie instructed. "Can't I change out of my uniform first?" I asked. "If there was time for that, do you think I'd still be dressed like this?" Jamie replied. He ran around to the passenger side and slipped into the seat next to me. I was kind of glad he didn't have time to change, his long legs look so good in those shorts. Jamie gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, then told me to back out of the driveway. He was definitely in a hurry and I've learned that when he gets like this, the quickest way to get an explanation is to go along with it. "Where am I driving?" I asked, as we reached the corner stop sign. "Head over to your dad's office," Jamie instructed. "What do you want to see my dad for?" I asked. "I don't, we just need to go over to the university," said Jamie. "Can you tell me what all this is about now?" I asked, as I started driving towards the campus. "Okay, so in my history class today we were talking about the Russian Revolution and how the communists took over the country," Jamie began. "My teacher was talking about the king..." said Jamie. "You mean the tsar?" I interrupted. "Yeah, him, now shut up and let me finish," said Jamie. "Ok, ok sorry," I apologized. "Go on." "Anyway, we were talking about the tsar and how he was overthrown. Mr. Brooks started talking about how the tsar's son had hemophilia and that his condition brought them into contact with this Rasputin guy and how everything sort of went downhill from there," said Jamie. "The hemophilia thing got my attention, because of you," Jamie continued, "so I started asking questions about it. Mr. Brooks says that it's a common medical condition in the European royal families, because they're all related to some English queen or something and have all these interconnected family ties." "Yeah, I've heard that before," I admitted. "So what do you think?" asked Jamie. "About what?" I asked, somewhat confused. "About being related to the Russian royal family?" Jamie asked. "Honey, lots of people have hemophilia. Do you know what the odds of me being related to someone like that are?" I replied. "I think they might be better than you think," said Jamie. "Mr. Brooks says that the Russian Royal family was large, and that a bunch of them made it out of the country when the commies took over. He says there are dozens of descendents all over the world, including right here in the US." "But still, the chances..." I started. "AND, there is a geneticist at Yale who worked with the Russian government to perform DNA tests that confirmed some bones they found were the remains of the tsar and his family," said Jamie. "Is that why we're going there?" I asked. "I looked the guy up and he has a class at 4:30. If you hurry, we'll be able to talk to him before it starts," said Jamie. "Jamie, I don't want to waste this guys time," I began. "We're almost there, what's the harm in going and talking to this professor?" Jamie asked. "And what am I supposed to tell him, that I have hemophilia so I think I might be the long lost tsar?" I replied sarcastically. "No, smartass. We'll tell him the truth, that you're looking for your birth parents, the trail has gone cold. You can explain that even though it's a long shot, you want to find out if you have any connection to this Romanov Family, because of the rarity of hemophilia and the fact that so many of their descendents settled here," Jamie shot back. "Ok, I admit it sounds more reasonable when you put it like that," I replied, "but what if this guy takes one look at us and just laughs it off?" "Well then he would be an asshole," said Jamie. "I don't know anyone who would laugh at you for doing everything you can to try and track down your family." "Ok, we'll go and see this professor," I said, as I pulled into a parking space, "but let me do the talking, alright?" "Sure, no problem," Jamie smiled. We locked the car then walked over to the science building. We were looking for Professor John Prescott and found his office just as he was locking his door. "Excuse me, sir, are you Dr. Prescott?" I asked. "I am," he replied, as he looked us over curiously. "Are you two students?" "Not exactly, but I was wondering if we might have a few moments of your time? I know you have a class, but I promise we'll be brief," I stated. He looked at his watch, then unlocked his door. "Have a seat," said Dr. Prescott. We sat across from the professor and I started to get cold feet. Jamie had been so convincing in the car, but now, sitting in front of this Ivy League professor, I felt silly. "So, what can I do for you boys?" asked Dr. Prescott. "Well, I, uh," I stuttered. "My friend here was adopted and lately he's been searching for his biological parents," said Jamie. "He hasn't had any luck and it was my idea to bring him here to see if you might be able to help him." So much for letting me do the talking. "What is it that you think I can do for you?" asked Dr. Prescott. "I've been studying the Russian Revolution in school, I know that their royal family is scattered all over the place. I think it's possible that Nicky might be related to them," Jamie continued. "What led you to this conclusion?" asked Dr. Prescott. "I'm a hemophiliac," I stuttered, "Jamie thinks there might be a connection because of that." "Hmmm," said Dr. Prescott, "it is a rare condition, but that doesn't mean it doesn't run in hundreds of families, affecting thousands of people." "See, Jamie, I told you this was a waste of time. Let's just go," I said. "Hold on," said Dr. Prescott. "Just because the odds are long, doesn't mean it isn't possible." "Well, then what do you suggest I do?" I asked. "I assume you boys are here because of my work using DNA to identify the remains of Nicholas II and his family?" asked Dr. Prescott. "Right," said Jamie. "After learning about the Romanov's in school, I read an article about the discovery of their bodies and how you were involved. The article said you were a Yale professor and after that, I just checked the university website, found your class schedule and I brought Nicky here." "I see, you obviously put some thought into this," said Dr. Prescott. "This is very important to Nicky and he's not having much luck," said Jamie. "Is there anything you can do?" "The Mishkin Institute in St. Petersburg, Russia, is a DNA laboratory that keeps samples of the Romanov's DNA on file," said Dr. Prescott. "As you can imagine, with such a large number of descendents spread around the world, there is a lot of interest in comparing samples." "So what does that mean for me?" I asked. "If you would like," offered Dr. Prescott, "I can take a sample from you and send it off for comparison." "Really, you'd do that?" I asked excitedly. "It wouldn't be a problem, I do a lot of work with them," said Dr. Prescott. "How do you take the sample? Do you need to draw blood, I don't have any clotting factor with me, I could come back tomorrow," I rambled. Dr. Prescott reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a pair of surgical gloves, a couple of sticks, like q-tips with the ends removed, in plastic vials. "Lean forward and say ahhh," said Dr. Prescott. I did as instructed and he began to scrap the inside of my cheek with one of the sticks he'd pulled from his desk. "What's that you're doing?" asked Jamie. "Cheek cells are among the simplest to harvest," said Dr. Prescott, "I'm scrapping cells from the interior of the cheek. They'll provide all the DNA needed for a proper comparison." "That's it?" I asked, incredulously. "Yes, it's quite simple," said Dr. Prescott. "So what happens now?" I asked. "Now, I'll send the sample off to Russia and they'll make the comparison and send me the results," replied Dr. Prescott. I thanked the professor for his help and gave him my number, so that he could call me as soon as the results came in. When we left his office, I felt more upbeat then I had when we'd arrived. "You seem to be in a better mood," Jamie observed. "Yeah, you know, even if it is just a waste of time, at least we did something and tried something new," I answered, "Thanks for bringing me here, Jamie." "It was my pleasure," Jamie smiled as he grabbed my hand. We didn't speak for the rest of the drive, we just held hands. I was deep in thought about the possible outcome of my DNA test. How cool would it be to find out I was related to royalty? When we got back to my house, Jamie started to get out of the car, but I held him back. "What is it?" Jamie asked. "For now, let's just keep this between us," I stated. "Okay, but why?" asked Jamie. "It was a great idea, but still kinda far-fetched. I'd rather wait until we know something before we tell anyone," I replied. "Yeah, that's true enough, I won't say anything," Jamie agreed. We walked into the house through the side door and entered the kitchen, where my mom was making dinner. "Hello, boys. Is Jamie staying for dinner?" she asked. "Sure, that would be great," Jamie replied. "Do I have time to take a shower? I'm kinda gross." "Dinner will be in an hour," said Mom. "Come on, Jamie, I'll get you a towel and you can use the shower in my room," I offered. When we got upstairs, I locked my bedroom door, put my arms around Jamie and kissed him. "What's that all about?" Jamie asked, when we stopped to catch our breath. "Just my way of saying thanks for being so clever and researching this DNA stuff," I admitted, while I reached down and groped his package. "Well can I shower first?" Jamie giggled. "Nope," I replied, "you look so good in those shorts." "Yeah, but I stink and I'm all gross," said Jamie. "Don't care," I replied, as I pushed him down on my bed. I climbed on top of my lover and wrapped my arms around him while I brought my lips down to his. We kissed passionately; our tongue's fighting for dominance. I reached down and rubbed Jamie's package through the silky nylon of his shorts as he grew hard. We stopped kissing long enough for Jamie to take off his tee shirt, and then I attacked his pert nipples. I licked them, I bit them gently, I sucked them and teased them with my tongue. When Jamie started to moan, I moved lower, licking and tracing the cuts of his muscular abdomen. I moved lower and grabbed Jamie's shorts, so I could pull them off. I stripped him down to his black soccer socks and white jock strap. "This is cute," I teased, as I snapped the strap against Jamie's butt. "Well you know how it is, I don't like to be flopping around when I run," Jamie smirked. I wrapped my mouth around the head of Jamie's cock and sucked it through the tight pouch of his jock strap. I played with Jamie's cock like that until I felt it throb in my mouth, then I peeled off the restrictive garment. I licked his pole up and down and then wiggled my tongue against the small opening that leaked precum. Jamie was moaning so hard at this point that he pulled my pillow over his face to stifle the noise. It didn't take long for Jamie to begin bucking his hips and soon he was filling with my mouth with his savory juices. I cleaned him off with my tongue and held him in my mouth until he grew soft. After a moment's rest, Jamie sat up then leaned down to kiss me. He started to take off my tie and unbutton my shirt. I hated to stop him, but I knew dinner was almost ready and Jamie still needed that shower. "Sorry gorgeous," I apologized as I stood up, "but I can't take you down to dinner like that. You stink." "You didn't mind a minute ago," Jamie giggled. "I don't mind now," I laughed, "but it's a little cold out and I doubt my parents will want to eat with the windows open." Jamie grumbled for a moment and then sniffed his armpit. "Yeah, that's pretty gross," he admitted. "I'll be right back." Jamie headed off to the shower and I changed out of my school uniform. When he came back, he was dressed in the jeans and polo shirt he'd worn to school that day. He could have been wearing a garbage bag for all I cared, he made everything look good. We had a nice dinner with my parents and traded knowing smiles as we talked about our day. After we ate, I kissed Jamie good bye, then headed off to do my homework. I had trouble concentrating when I sat down to study. I kept running the day's events over in my mind and found it slightly annoying that Jamie knew more about the Russian Revolution then I did. It's not that I consider myself smarter than him, far from it; it's just that history is my thing, like science is his. Jamie will be a great doctor one day because he loves biology, just like I hope to be a great professor and share my love of the past. More than anything, I felt that if I might be related to these Romanov's, I should at least know what happened to them. We'd studied the Russian Revolution in my history class but only as it related to the rise of communism, because my teacher was eager to get to World War II and the Cold War. I pulled my history book out of my bag and flipped to the chapter on Russia. This was the beginning of a great deal of study on my part. The story of Nicholas II and his wife, Alexandra, was epic, like something out of a movie, and the more I learned, the more fascinated I became. While waiting for the results of my DNA test to come back, I read books, watched movies and documentaries; I got my hands on anything I could find about my potential ancestors. Nicholas Alexandrovich Romanov, became Tsarevich, or crown prince, at the age of 14, when his father, Alexander III, ascended to the throne. His father became emperor when his grandfather, Alexander II, was assassinated by revolutionaries seeking constitutional reforms. On a Sunday afternoon in March of 1881, Alexander II's carriage was struck by a bomb while crossing the Pevchesky Bridge. One of the Tsar's Cossack guards was killed and several people on the street were hurt, but the Tsar, traveling in an armored carriage, a gift from Napoleon III, emerged unharmed. The Tsar's remaining guards urged him to leave the area immediately, but he demanded to see the carnage for himself and in doing so, signed his own death warrant. A second bomber was waiting in the crowd and threw an incendiary device at the Tsar's feet. When the smoke from the second explosion cleared, the streets were awash in blood, bits of clothing, brass buttons from uniforms and smoldering blobs of human flesh. The Tsar lie propped up against his carriage, his legs torn away, his stomach mutilated and his face cut to ribbons. He was taken to the Winter Palace, where he died, surrounded by family, in his study, the very room in which he had signed an edict freeing Russia's Serf's some 20 years before. The Tsar's assassination set Russia back years. The day before he was killed, Alexander had drafted plans for an elected parliament, or Duma, and prepared to put Russia on a path to a constitutional monarchy. Instead, Russia remained on the path of oppression as his successor, Alexander III, destroyed the plans and persecuted the revolutionaries. While his father ruled Russia, Nicholas traveled the world as part of his education. After a brief affair with a ballet dancer, he became engaged to a German princess, Alix of Hesse, who would convert to Russian Orthodoxy and rule by his side as Empress Alexandra. Her German ancestry would be an issue throughout their marriage. Before he could marry, however, Nicholas life met with another tragedy. His father died of kidney failure; he'd only been 49 years old. At age 26, with little political experience or imperial training, Nicholas II became Emperor and Autocrat of All the Russia's. Little changed, at first, as the new emperor simply continued the policies of his father, but before long things began to unravel. War with Japan was inevitable, with Russia expanding in the far-east and Japan having its own designs on China and the Asian mainland. In 1904, the Russo-Japanese War broke out, with Japan attacking the Russian fleet at Port Arthur, much like the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor decades later. The war was a disaster for Russia. Nicholas sent the vaunted Baltic Fleet around the world to engage the Japanese, only to be utterly destroyed. Things weren't much better on land. Orders were issued to the army from St. Petersburg, which then had to travel 6,000 miles to the front and often arrived too late to be of any use. The same problem was encountered by the movement of troops and supplies, with only one rail line leading into Port Arthur, logistics were a nightmare. By 1905 the Russian's were in peace talks with the Japanese. With Russia's defeat at the hands of a non-western power, the prestige and power of the government was greatly weakened. By early 1905, all hell had broken loose, the country was in revolt, demonstrators were shot in front of the Winter Palace, the Tsar's uncle was killed by a bomb in Moscow, the Black Sea Fleet mutinied and a general strike began that crippled the country. The 1905 Revolution was eventually put down and the Tsar conceded to the will of the demonstrators by creating a parliament and promising reforms. The relationship between the Tsar and the Duma would remain antagonistic throughout the remainder of Nicholas' reign. Despite the creation of the Duma, Russia remained an autocracy and problems for the Imperial Family were further complicated by the matter of succession. Nicholas and Alexandra had four daughters before she finally gave birth to a son, in 1904. The Tsarevich, Alexi, was born with hemophilia, at a time when the disease was untreatable and often lead to an untimely death. With the Russian state sitting on such a fragile political foundation, the heir's condition became a closely guarded secret. There were even members of the Imperial Household Staff who were unaware of the exact nature of Alexi's illness. Enter into the picture Grigori Rasputin. At first, Nicholas and Alexandra turned to Russian doctors to treat their son's illness, but their treatments routinely failed and the Empress began to seek help from mystics and so called holy men. In 1912 Alexi sustained an injury while vacationing with the family at a hunting lodge. The bleeding couldn't be stopped and the boy was in agony. As the bleeding grew steadily worse, it was assumed that the young prince would not survive and the last rites were administered. Rasputin was an illiterate peasant, from the backwoods of Siberia, who began treating the Tsarevich in 1905. It was believed that he was successful, where doctors had failed, because he was able to heal through prayer. Whenever the Tsarevich would encounter an injury resulting in internal or external bleeding, Rasputin would be brought to the palace and the boy would get better. In 1912, as Alexi lay dying, the Empress once again turned to Rasputin to save her son's life. From his home in Siberia, Rasputin sent a cable which read: "God has seen your tears and heard your prayers. Do not grieve. The Little One will not die. Do not allow the doctors to bother him too much." The Empress ordered the doctors out of her son's room and the next day, the hemorrhaging stopped. Many believe that prayer had nothing to do with Rasputin's abilities to heal the sick boy and that what he was actually doing was performing hypnosis. There have been studies that show hypnosis lowers stress levels and diminishes the symptoms of hemophilia. Still others believed that Rasputin used leeches to treat the boy, although that would have only made things worse. Regardless of what anyone else thought, the Empress saw Rasputin as a kind of guardian angel, sent to protect her son, and as such he began to have enormous influence on the Empress and her husband. World War I broke out with Russia still facing massive internal dysfunction. The Tsar took command of the military himself and moved to the frontline, leaving Alexandra, in St. Petersburg, to run the government. The Empress turned to her trusted Rasputin and sought his advice on matters of state, which only succeeded in further discrediting the monarchy. Rumors flew throughout the capital claiming that Alexandra was having an affair with Rasputin and the nobility beseeched Nicholas to get rid of the holy man. The Empress believed that their son would not survive without the healing hands of Rasputin and as the Tsar trusted her in all things, the pleas for Rasputin's dismissal fell on deaf ears. The people turned their anger and discontent against the German born Empress, while the aristocracy turned its eyes on Rasputin. Tales of Rasputin and his drunken debauchery were legendary. He was known to preach attaining divine grace through committing sin and was accused of everything from accepting bribes to raping a nun. Unfortunately, many of these accusations were true. Many aristocrats believed that he'd cast a spell over the Emperor and Empress and he was using his powers to control the Imperial Family and dominate the government. On December 16, 1916, Prince Felix Yusupov, lured Rasputin to his home. The Prince, Grand Duke Dimitri Pavlovich and fellow conspirator, Vladimir Purishkevich, lead Rasputin into the wine cellar, where they served him cakes and wine laced with enough poison to kill 5 men. Rasputin ate the food and drank the wine but didn't die, he seemed unaffected by the poison. Yusupov became nervous, fearing that Rasputin might not die until morning and the conspirators would be unable to ditch the body. The Prince pulled out a concealed pistol and shot him in the back. The conspirators got ready to leave the palace, when Yusupov realized he'd gone out into the cold Russian night without a hat and went back to get one. While fetching his hat, he checked on the body. Rasputin's eyes shot open and he tried to strangle Yusupov. At that moment, the other conspirators returned and shot Rasputin three more times. Rasputin still wouldn't die and struggled to get to his feet. They beat him into submission, then bound the body and wrapped it in a rug before dumping it into the icy Neva River. After being poisoned, shot, and beaten, Rasputin finally drowned. Prior to his death, Rasputin had confided a prophecy to the Empress that if he were to be killed by the Russian people, then her family would have nothing to fear, but, if he were killed by relatives of the Tsar, then none of them would survive beyond two years. When the Empress learned of his death at the hands of Yusupov and the Tsar's cousin, Grand Duke Dimitri, she was quoted as saying, "They've killed us all." The Russian war effort was collapsing, regiment after regiment mutinied; riots and violence broke out in the capital. Fearing the outbreak of a civil war, Nicholas II abdicated the throne on March 2, 1917. Initially he'd stepped aside in favor of his son, but when he was advised that the boy would not survive long, separated from his parents who would be sent into exile, Nicholas drew up new documents passing the crown to his brother. Grand Duke Michael refused to accept the throne until such time as the people had the chance to vote on the continuance of the monarchy and with that, three centuries of Romanov rule came to an end. Nicholas had hoped that he and his family would be able to go into exile in the United Kingdom. The British government had initially offered him asylum but this was overruled by King George V, the Tsar's first cousin, who feared that the presence of the Romanov's might cause an uprising. The provisional government evacuated the Imperial Family to the Urals in order to protect them from the rising tide of revolution. In October of 1917, the Bolsheviks seized power from the provisional government and the Tsar and his family, were transferred to their custody. In 1918 the Romanov's were transferred to the town of Yekaterinburg, and imprisoned in the Ipatiev House. On the night of July 17, 1918, the Tsar and his family were woken at 2:00am and taken to the basement. They were told anti-Bolshevik forces were nearing the town and the house might be fired upon, that they had been brought here for their protection. Moments later, guards entered the room and a Bolshevik officer, Yakov Yurovsky, announced: "You have been condemned to death by the Ural Soviet Workers Deputies." One witness accounted that the Tsar's last words were: "You know not what you do," echoing Jesus words on the cross. The guards opened fire and the Tsar was the first to die, shot multiple times in the chest. The Tsar's daughter's survived the first barrage of gunfire, they had sewn jewels into their clothing and the precious gems had protected them from the bullets. They were then stabbed repeatedly with bayonets before finally being shot in the head. It took over 15 minutes for the Imperial Family, Alexi's Doctor and three trusted servants, to die. Nicholas II, Emperor and Autocrat of all the Russia's, Empress Alexandra, Tsarevich Alexi, Grand Duchesses, Maria, Tatiana, Olga and Anastasia, were dumped into a shallow grave and the events of that night were shrouded in mystery. In 1979 the bodies of the Tsar, his wife, three daughters and four others killed with them, were found under a dirt road, by an amateur archaeologist. For years there had been rumors and speculation that Alexi and Anastasia had survived the night of July 17. One woman, Anna Anderson, even claimed, until her death, that she was the Grand Duchess. In 1998, the bodies were excavated and DNA testing confirmed they were the remains of the Imperial Family. In 2007, the remains of a boy and young woman were found near the excavation site and DNA testing put an end to any hope that Alexi and his sister had survived. I couldn't help but feel a connection to Alexi Romanov, whether I was related to him or not, we shared the blood disease. I know the fear and pain this disease can cause, but I also know how easy it is to treat with modern medicine. I often think what it must have been like for the young prince, being born with what was at the time, a death sentence, seeing your country unravel and watching your family struggle, in large part to protect you. I find the story of the Romanov's to be like a Greek Tragedy. Fall turned into winter and Mr. Webber still hadn't found anything that gave me any hope of finding my birth parents. He continued to call every other Friday and give me updates, but they were more like apologies. I've gotten to know Mr. Webber a bit, as I've been washing his car and doing some chores for him, and I think he likes me enough that he feels bad that he's always giving me bad news. I haven't heard from Dr. Prescott either and it's been almost a month.