#Valery Legasov/Ulana Khomyuk

[pedroam-bang]

Chernobyl (2019)

[daincrediblegg]

“There was nothing sane about Chernobyl. What happened there, what happened after. Even the good we did, all of it. All of it… Madness.” - Valery Legasov, 1:23:45

[live-long-and-time-warp]

“The team hypothesizes that at the time of the accident, frogs in the area that happened to be darker suddenly had an advantage in the new extremes of this environment, meaning they were more likely to survive and reproduce. After three and a half decades and more than 10 generations of frogs, dark skin is now the norm in the exclusion zone.”

[elenatria]

First pic: sweet desperate Boris, Tarakanov, Valery's cigarettes and the vodka he refuses to drink. That pic and the sixth one are the only ones, I think, we haven't seen before.

Source: Kinorium1, Kinorium2

[corn-fanfiction]

Barker (Valery Legasov x Reader) pt 2

I'm going crazy. She krem on my lin till I uhhhhh. Bits taken straight from the script luv u HBO I don't own your content 🫶 I love Khomyuk and Valery and Boris. I'm sorry I'm like this forreal I just wanna jump old man bones.

Fic under cut.

The hallway inside the Kremlin was long, too long, long enough to be a bad joke, and carved like white chocolate. You sat with Valery on that couch outside of the committee meeting room. You were both exhausted, but you carried your concern more physically. While Valery was collapsed into the couch, your back was straight and your eyes bounced from face to face.

"How did you sleep?"

Your head snapped to Valery, who looked as though he was trying to make casual conversation.

"Not well, but I knew I wouldn't. You?"

Valery sighed and shook his head.

"Not a wink."

"And no further word?"

Valery simply shook his head again. Your leg began to bounce on its own until Valery's hand found your knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. It was the shock, not the comfort, which halted you. Valery seemed to either not consider it impropriety or he didn't care.

You two stared at each other until Boris made himself known. He nodded to you then looked to Valery.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Boris waited a beat, looking between you and Valery with shifty eyes. He cleared his throat.

"Khomyuk was arrested last night."

You shot up from your seat to stand but Valery spoke first.

"What? Why?"

"I don't know," came Boris' raspy voice. Valery was silent for a moment, and all you could think about was where Khomyuk might be, whether they had her in a typical prison, or someplace temporary, or someplace much worse. If they had hurt her. If-

Valery spoke your questions.

"Was it-?"

"Of course it was," Boris said. "I'm working on it."

You almost never spoke to Shcherbina out of turn- he was a very intimidating man after all- but you couldn't help yourself.

"Comrade Shcherbina-"

"I said I'm working on it." He looked between you and Valery. "What more do you want from me?"

Ideally, you wanted him to barge in there and demand answers from the Director of the KGB, or better yet, to let you do so. But you knew he wouldn't, so for the moment you let the bubbling fury go.

"Fix your tie," Boris snapped at Valery, who sat up and did as he was instructed. The secretary came from the meeting room and told them to come inside. It wasn't until Valery stood that you pulled from your thoughts and followed.

"Wait- let me take her seat." You grabbed the sleeve of Valery's jacket. He turned.

"It's not my decision," he said, rather forlorn looking. You looked past him at Boris.

"Boris-"

Boris turned to you sharply, and you thought he would chastise you for using his name, but he didn't.

"Stay put," he said. "You'll only cause more trouble if you go in."

With that, the two men walked inside and the door closed behind them. Dejected, you walked back to the small couch and sat. Khomyuk in the hands of the KGB. If they hadn't made her disappear yet, then it was only a matter of time before they did. Khomyuk was stubborn, same as you, but stubborness cannot delay a bullet to the brain.

You thought back to the day you met Ulana Khomyuk in earnest. Others were a shoe-in for assistant positions at the Institute, but not you. You fought for success. Good marks had never come easy to you. You would conflict tirelessly with those who doubted you but would soothe the offense with charm. But charm, like stubbornness...

You waited beyond a place of anxiety- a sort of half world between full awareness of the gravity of the situation, that any one of you could be next if you weren't careful, and a strange reassurance that if the KGB was at your heels, then perhaps there was truth to the work you, and all the other men and women, were doing. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, because would it at all matter if they were all dead?

Well, they would certainly all die, and sooner than any of them ever thought, but to be silenced was different. And now, all you could think about was confronting the silencer.

It felt like an eternity before the door finally opened again. Unfamiliar faces file out of the room, then Valery and Boris, and a man who strode past you had captured Valery's attention. You knew what this meant, and while you saw Valery gathering himself to confront this man, you realized something. Valery was known. Valery was constantly putting himself at risk, pushing and pushing until it was no longer safe, then retreating. If Valery pushed in this moment, you would be afraid of the consequences.

So, you addressed the man yourself.

"Excuse me?"

Behind you, Boris harshly whispered your name, and Valery held your arm. You ignored him. The elderly man turned.

"Yes? Do I know you?"

You cleared your throat, wet your lips, and tried to gather your courage. He was an unassuming man, but that meant nothing here.

"Chairman Charkov, my name is (y/n) and I am assisting Professors Legasov and Khomyuk and Deputy Chairman Shcherbina in the Chernobyl efforts."

He waited a beat for you could continue, but your words got caught in your throat.

"Yes?"

"I-"

What was happening to you? You were so we'll spoken and headstrong until this exact moment, looking in the eyes of arguably one of the most powerful men in the Soviet Union, and an image of Khomyuk's dead body floated before your eyes. If you did this wrong, would it ruin everything?

Before you felt like you'd fall apart completely, Valery brushes past you a bit.

"One of our associates was arrested last night. I mean no disrespect, but we were hoping you could tell us why."

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you're talking about."

"She was arrested by the KGB. You are the first Deputy Chairman of the KGB."

Valery's voice was tinged with irony and it scared you. Perhaps it would not be for the best if Valery handled this confrontation?

"I am. Which is why I don't have to bother with arresting people anymore."

Charkov gave you all a small, humble smile and turned to leave. Valery stepped forward again.

"But you are bothering with having us followed."

Now it was you who grabbed at Valery's arm and you said his name quietly, the was Boris had said yours. He was going too far, and only last night he was worried about you asking on Gorbachev's personality. Charkov turned to face Valery in a stark silence. Boris approached from behind you two.

"Professor, I think the Deputy Chairman is busy," Boris began. Charkov interrupted him.

"No, it's perfectly understandable. Professor, I know you've heard the stories about us. Even when I hear them, I am shocked. But we are not what people think we are. Yes, you're being followed. People are following those people. And those people," he gestured behind him. "They're following me. The KGB is a circle of accountability. Nothing more."

You watched as Valery shifted in his stance.

"You know the work we're doing here. You really don't trust us?"

"Of course we do. But you know the old Russian proverb: trust, but verify. And the Americans think Reagan made that up. Can you believe it?"

He turned to leave again. He truly was going to leave without addressing Khomyuk, go back to wherever he sits between meetings, and do whatever he does to innocent civilians. Your blood boiled.

"I need her," Valery said as a last ditch effort. Charkov turned back.

"And you will be accountable for her?"

"Yes."

Charkov shrugged as though it was nothing. "Then it's done."

Valery stuttered. "Her name is-"

"I know who she is. Good day."

Finally, Charkov leaves. Valery looked at you in shock, then you both looked back at Boris. You're all presenting the same degree of disbelief. Valery waited for Boris to criticize him, but he shook his head.

"No, that went surprisingly well. You both came off as naïve idiots, and naïve idiots are not a threat."

Boris took leave to follow after someone of equal power to him, to ask them questions about materials or finances. Now that it was only you and Valery, you allowed the mask to slip. You held your face in your hands.

"You did well," Valery preemptively assured you.

"I froze."

"Against a man like that? It was practically a survival instinct," Valery said quieter, then placed a polite hand on your lower back as you walked from the hallway and exited the building.

Valery had gotten a phone call of where to find Khomyuk: Moscow, near the hospital he'd asked her to visit. He'd have to take one of the helicopters if he was going to get there in a decent enough time. He wanted to go alone, thought it was for the best if you didn't follow him. The memory of you describing yourself as a dog, a kicked dog, that follows people around, haunted him. If he could get to Moscow without involving you, he would.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy your company, quite the opposite. In fact, an ulterior motive for leaving you behind was that he didn't want to be seen with you more than necessary around the KGB. It didn't help that you both accosted the first deputy chairman in an open hallway in the Kremlin. He already put himself and Ulana at risk by insisting on her release. To indicate anything farther than comradery, such as friendship or something else, invited scrutiny and weakness.

Unfortunately for him, you'd bent the ear of a young officer that seemed keen on you and found out that a helicopter bound for Moscow was soon to depart with one traveler. When Valery exited his suite, you were waiting outside in the hall.

You startled him, that was certain, judging by the way he jumped at the sight of you. You smiled.

"You tried to leave before I found out?"

He sighed. "(Y/n...)"

"I feel so useless in that stupid hallway," you half joked. "And without you and Khomyuk, I'm useless here, still. Boris means well but he has nothing for me to do. And-" you hesitated. "I want to see her, Valery."

Your use of his name gave him pause, but that wouldn't sway him so easy.

"I'm not sure that-"

"Not sure. You're the smartest person within one hundred kilometers and you're not sure of two things within the past twenty-four hours, and they both have to do with me."

He looked at you like you were one of the one-hundred page packets of reports that come out of those Kremlin meetings. Like you were an unsolvable problem- or a problem it was up to him to solve.

That's when you realized why he was trying to leave you behind. You decided to do him the courtesy of not speaking this realization. However, almost as if you didn't need to, he seemed to understand.

"Alright. But...try to keep quiet, and keep your head down."

"Like you?"

Coming from anyone else, and going to anyone else, it might've seemed a cruel remark. But he smiled to show he understood your recognition of how he survives in these politics, just as if he were to crack a joke about dogs to you.

But he wouldn't. He would never.

You tried to talk to Valery on the helicopter ride to Moscow but he shut you down every time, and you knew it was for the best. Even if you asked him about the Chernobyl efforts, he was tight lipped. It was evening when you landed, and vaguely uniformed officers walked you through a jail, something that looked to be a transition location. That in particular bothered you, because where would Khomyuk have ended up if Valery hadn't intervened?

The officers walked you both to a cell and let you in. There Khomyuk sat, dressed it a nurse's garb, and she looked at you and Valery with a genuine, wide-eyed relief. While Valery stood composed behind you, you decided to take advantage of him as a guard and you collapsed onto Khomyuk with an embrace. She held you back and stroked your hair.

"I was so worried," you said. Khomyuk shushed you.

"Don't you dare lose sleep over me," she said. You'd never viewed Khomyuk as a motherly figure- you'd almost consider it a discredit. You didn't need a mother. What you needed was a mentor, and that's precisely what Khomyuk gave you.

You pulled away, half in shame, as Valery came further into the room and sat beside Khomyuk. You couldn't sit for the excitement. The room itself seemed to be peeling, collapsing inward. Perhaps that was how you were forced to look at everything anymore.

"Are you alright?" Valery asked.

"They didn't hurt me," assured Khomyuk. "They let a pregnant woman into a room with a... Oh, it doesn't matter. They were stupid, I was stupid."

You could only imagine. Khomyuk, like Valery, like you, was often too smart for her own good. Where Valery often played a long game, if Khomyuk saw an opportunity to fix something, she was damn well going to take it. It was impressive. It was terrifying.

"Dyatlov won't talk to me," she continued. "Akimov, yes, Toptunov, yes, but..." She looked over at you sadly. "Akimov...his face was gone."

You watched as Valery mistook her words.

"You want to stop?"

Khomyuk sighed. "Is that a choice I even have?"

There was a silence. You took a seat next to Khomyuk on the cell bed and she put a hand on your knee. Valery set his head against the wall.

"Do you think the fuel will actually melt through the concrete pad?"

"I don't know. A 40% chance maybe."

Valery chuckled weakly. "I said 50."

You smiled then, looking at him past Khomyuk. He was so charming when he was relaxed like this, and he almost never was.

"If anyone was curious," you spoke up, clearing your throat. "The numbers mean the same thing. 'Maybe'."

Valery's voice grew softer. "Maybe the reactor core will melt through to the groundwater. Maybe the miners who I've told to dig under the reactor will save millions of lives. Maybe I'm killing them for nothing."

He looked at Khomyuk, at you. "I don't want to do this anymore. I want to stop. But I can't. I don't think you have a choice any more than I do."

It made you wonder: how much of a choice would you have, if you asked? How far removed were you from the core of decisions, from the center of importance that you could actually walk away? Did it matter?

"I think, despite the stupidity, the lies, even this...you are compelled. We all are. The problem has been assigned and you will stop at nothing until you find an answer. Because, that is who you are."

It was turning too personal, too intimate between them. Part of it embarrassed you, as though you were intruding on something, and another part confused you, though you couldn't say why.

Khomyuk laughed. "A lunatic, then."

"No," you muttered. "If that were true, we'd all deserve to be here."

"No," Valery agreed. "A scientist."

Outside in the hall, Khomyuk told you and Valery about how the reactor core exploded after the engineers had pressed AZ-5, how Akimov and Toptunov both agreed, and how she believed them. She said she'd interview them again if they were still awake. Valery said they weren't.

Khomyuk was called to be processed from the jail. Sitting on the bench, under the bright lights and staring at sickening green paint, you began to feel a bit dizzy. Sleep continued to elude you.

"Does it ever feel," you began with your head between your knees. "That you're simply bandaging something?"

"It's all I ever think about," came Valery's gruff voice. You sighed at the floor.

"I've always found that funny, you know. People say that you should find a cure, not a bandage for a problem. But... without bandages, wounds bleed out before they can be sewn shut. Nobody knows what to do yet everyone doubts. You doubt."

You straighten to look at him. You can see the bags of your eyes in the reflection of his large glasses. "I doubt because we are gambling."

"Gambling is chance, this is calculated risk. You can muse and wonder if what you're doing is right by all those people, I can't tell you not to. But...day in and day out, you, Ulana, Boris, Tarakanov, you all push and push, you do everything you can and you don't even blink. Those miners know the risks they put themselves at. The boys we draft, the volunteers we send- bandages. And the patient can still die. The world can still end."

You stared at him and took his hand that rested between the two of you on the bench.

"Don't doubt. There's no time, and there's no purpose. It won't save you from the doubt of others, and I think that's the problem."

Valery closed his eyes and sighed. "Is that my problem?"

You squeezed his hand and his eyes opened. You were being quiet, as he asked, and no one was around to see. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the trance inducing nature of the room, but you felt uninhibited. You hand came up and brushed a piece of hair from his forehead. He only watched you, like it was some tragedy that could not be prevented.

"It's a lesser one to have."

[lifewithaview]

Stellan Skarsgård and Jared Harris in Chernobyl (2019) Please Remain Calm

Ep2

With untold millions at risk, Ulana makes a desperate attempt to reach Valery and warn him about the threat of a second explosion.

*After Ulana Khomyuk identifies the isotope that triggered the alarm as Iodine 131, a byproduct of nuclear reactor fuel, her coworker suggests "Ignalina". Ignalina refers to a nuclear power plant in Lithuania operating 2 RBMK-1500 reactors similar to Chernobyl's RBMK-1000 reactors. The decommissioned Ignalina power plant doubles for Chernobyl in this series.

[xenonaddict]

OMG ITS ALL MY OCs AS THE IRL PEOPLE THEY LOOK MOST ALIKE 😱 (plus the main three from the actual show itself) also I know about the whole Danny Masterson incident, he just happens to look like a skinny Alexei

[dank-hp--memes]

I'm just going to appreciate Ulana and Valery for a bit...

I love Jared Harris and Emily Watson so much. And I love the way they portray Ulana and Valery. I've loved Jared Harris for forever... but now I've watched like all his work I can... but I ship Ulana and Valery so much I dont ship valoris as much. But the portrayal of them does kind of give me two over protective dad vibes 😂

[sad-lad-posts]

A Ghost from the Past (Valana AU)

[letsriottogether]

Silence, pt.2

As the insomnia is spreading and I’m not sure how the new week at work will go, I’m also adding a second chapter to Silence. Huge thanks goes to @sad-lad-posts, who has volunteered to beta my works. I appreciate all the comments and feedbacks, so please do not hesitate to let a note below. _______________________________________

Minsk, Belarussia The past several days felt like a dream, no, more like a nightmare, something surrealistic that she was observing from distance, even though she was one of the main characters in the whole mess.

She cannot really remember the way back from Chernobyl trial, she can still see the empty space where Valery was just a moment ago, she can hear Boris’ footsteps and suddenly she was in a car, looking out of the window with watery eyes at the deserted land surrounding them.

Entering her apartment once again brought strange gust of normalness. As if nothing of the past 12 or something months existed. Same old walls, her things lying all around, smell of stale air, kind of the same after you return from a vacation. Except for the fact that she changed, she was looking at everything with different eyes, perceiving with her soul transformed into something else that was yet to be discovered. Something  that she needed to learn how to control and to live with.

She drops her small suitcase on the ground in the hallway, not even taking her shoes off, she steps inside the small apartment, mindfully and slowly. Her gaze runs from one thing to another, looking around, making sure that this is really her apartment, she’s back, even checking the calendar that it’s not 1986 anymore.

She stops at a bookshelf full of books, brochures, textbooks, her fingers absently running over the different covers, until they stop over one that’s particularly scuffed, a sign of endless times it has been taken out, held in her hands and read. Her guilty pleasure. 

She takes that one out, holding her breath, browsing until she finds the right page and gasps in surprise.

Late fall 1986 Ulana laid sprawled on her sofa, glasses on, lazily going through Dimitir’s notes he had asked her to check. Her focus was still mainly on Chernobyl investigation, but every now and then when she got to Minsk to check on her apartment, get a new set of clothes, she would, of course, visit the institute and meet with Dimitri. He had his own sort of research and valued her opinion, and she was happy to share. 

Suddenly a squeak escapes her lips as she jerks her right foot closer to her body, her eyebrows flying high to her hairline in surprise both from the attack on the soft skin of her foot and the sound that echoed through the otherwise silent apartment.

She flashed a death glare towards Valery, who was sitting at the other end of the sofa, whose eyes were, with a deep interest, focused on her feet resting in his lap. Well, she wanted to flash him a death glare, but the corners of her mouth gave her way, and she couldn’t help but smile. He turned his head to meet her gaze, a full smile on his lips, looking proud at the results of his experiment.

“Reflex rating 10 out of 10,” he says in fake serious voice, mimicking lab workers at work.

“You are bored, aren’t you, comrade Legasov,” she chastases him, putting Dimitir’s notebook down, her hand smoothing the fluffy fabric of blanket covering her body.

“No no, finnish your job, I have an experiment of my own to finnish as well, you see, this is only the warm up,” he says, adjusting his glasses, the grin never fading from his face. Ulana groans, rolls her head back against the pillow and chuckles, as she rubs her tired eyes.

“Why do I feel that this experiment of yours will pretty much ruin my attempts to edit the notes?” she raises her eyebrows and puts her foot back into his lap. “Why don’t you read something, I’ve got plenty of books here,” she says, gesturing with her head to the bookshelf behind them.

He thinks for a moment and then stands up, his shadow moving with him around the walls of the living room that is lit with standing lamps, creating warm orange light. She pouts as soon as her feet slide down to the cushions of the sofa, missing his warmth and skilled hands, giving her a nice massage just before the vicious attack. 

Her attention turns back to the notes, lost in thought she is just vaguely aware of Valery moving around, examining her belongings. He mumbles several names of the textbooks he had back home as well, chuckling about the fact she kept almost the same pieces he did. And then his eyes fell down to a small brochure, or notebook. The curiosity rises within him. He looks over his shoulder at her, still deep in thought, that lovely wrinkle of hers going down her forehead between her brows. He smiles, and as quietly as possible, takes out the file, careful not to lose any sheet, as the conditions says it has been read many times.

He opens it and to his surprise it’s not a diary (would she even keep one?), but a handwritten copies of various poems, some of which he recognizes from the school days, some completely new to him. He reads through them, sometimes the whole piece, sometimes he turns pages within a moment, lost in thought when one catches his eye.

Small railway station

There are places, where the children still wave at passing trains We always feel a bit of sorrow Waiting at small railway stations As no one is there, nowhere to go

Suddenly our soul is of white edelflower Suddenly there’s too much human in us

He stares at the words, the letters, consuming him to his surprise. He never was a poetry person, nor a book person after all (except for textbooks and encyclopedias of course), and suddenly he could picture the children of Pripyat, standing at the railway station-no- at the railway bridge, happily awaiting the train to go somewhere, anywhere. How many of them are still alive? How many of them will live to adulthood?

He feels her eyes on him and makes himself lift his attention from the small book. He finds her resting against the sofa’s armrest, her head slightly tilted, resting on her hands, a soft smile on her lips, glasses gone.

“Which one?” she whispers after a moment, hesitant to break the sacred silence of the intimate atmosphere that suddenly embraced the room.

“The railway station,” he says and before he can continue, she chuckles and closes her eyes. Of course it’s that one.

She turns her body, pushes the blanket away and stands up, slowly walking to him, until her body is pressed against him, her warmth spreading through him, as she lays her chin on his shoulder.

“This is my favourite one as well,” her hand goes up to the poem, fingertips gently caressing the words, and then does the same to the skin of his hand. He takes a deep breath, looks down at her, and as much as her face shows how tired she must be, there’s that small, happy smile, with her eyes still fixed on her book. 

And in that very moment, it’s just the two of them, like any normal couple, with no exploding reactor cores, no radioactive particles, no mysteries to solve.

Present: Every now and then he would suddenly appear with that notebook in his hands, usually when they would lie in her bed or sofa after sex, and read her out loud. With Vienna and the trial, his visits stopped and she was usually the one to travel. With the tension among them, he never read her that poem again and she avoided it.

Now, to her surprise, a single dried rose was resting as a bookmark to their poem.

Next day, Belarusian Institute for nuclear energy: Echo of her steps resonated through the empty corridor with dozens of closed door, leading to various labs and offices. She remembers how the rhythm of her shoes against the tiled floor used to sooth her, knowing exactly where her feet are taking her, how her day is going to go.

And now? The building was the same, but people different. Already as she was passing through reception at the entrance, they stopped her right at the tourniquets, taking her  aside to check her card, the old lady in thick glasses calling someone over the phone, whispering urgently. 

“Is there any problem? I’m the chief nuclear…,” she tried to explain, as the door of the small office shut right to her face. Before Ulana could even get angry, they opened again, the old lady in brown suit with polite smile holding her card. Silent, not a single word of explanation, but the glare in her eyes said everything. She’s not welcomed here.

She knew that this was only the beginning, and mentally slapped herself for not expecting it sooner, being almost angry with herself for being unprepared. As she neared elevator, she could see a noisy group of her colleagues, not really her friends, but somewhat people she knew. They were chatting happily, waiting for the elevator door to open. Yuriy, a tall man in his forties notices her first, and nods his head to greet her. Suddenly the conversation dies out, as the others turn around to look at her, all curious and much to her surprise, scared. Is this how the animals at ZOO feel?

Bitter laugh escapes her lips as she turns on her heels and heads for the stairs. So much for going back to normal life.

Note: The poem is in original called „Malá nádraží“, written by Jan Skácel, a Czech poet. I’d like to believe as former Czechoslovakia used to be a part of SSSR, this poem might have actually been translated and available in rest of the Soviet Union.

[pedroam-bang]

Chernobyl (2019)

[daincrediblegg]

"And this, at last, is the gift of Chernobyl. Where I once would fear the cost of truth, now I only ask: what is the cost of lies?” - Valery Legasov, Vichnaya Pamyat

[live-long-and-time-warp]

But I’m very happy to say that the latest installment of my Chernobyl sleeve was fully completed over two sessions with the great @elywick in the fall! (There’s been more added since, but I’ve fallen way behind in posting on Instagram so tumblr is just catching up).

This whole sleeve is a tribute to Chernobyl and its liquidators. It was inspired by the last scene of the HBO show “Chernobyl”.

This chest/shoulder portion introduced two additional flowers: an iris and a zinnia. In the Victorian language of flowers, an iris is a symbol for myriad traits, including faith, hope, trust, valor, and wisdom, all things that Valery Legasov and Boris Shcherbina had (even if the hope and faith were drained from them over time).

Zinnias represent thoughts of absent friends. Of course, many lost friends in the Chernobyl accident and liquidation; but the one I’m thinking of is, of course, that of Valery Legasov and Boris Shcherbina.

For me, the zinnias evoke a specific moment in the final scene of the show “Chernobyl”: when Legasov is being driven away and the car passes by Shcherbina, “his brother” as the script says. They weren’t able to speak, but according to the script, their shared look communicated one thing: “It happened. We mattered. And now it’s over.”

While Legasov and Shcherbina weren’t actually at that trial, I think this scene demonstrates the sudden pain and loss that Legasov’s friends and family felt when he died by suicide in 1988.

This past Saturday, we took that shared look one step further. Stay tuned…

[omgitshelenm16]

I thought I’d make these cause why not

[corn-fanfiction]

Barker (Valery Legasov x Reader) pt 1

You know what? Fuck you *throws yearning and unspoken feelings at you along with graphite from an exposed reactor core*

There's something really weird abt writing a (albiet fictionalized) real historical figure bc I find the actor hot buuuuuut who cares we ball anyway. Fic under cut.

It began with you, Boris, and Valery sitting anxiously in Boris' suite. The three of you sat at perfect opposites around the two phones on the center table, watching, waiting. At first, Boris tried to lighten the mood with some quips as he was known to do, and Legasov would humor them with small smiles, but you had eyes only for the phones. You were practically chewing through cigarettes; you never smoked before you came to Pripyat. You personally thought that it was unbecoming of a scientist, and found it ironic to inhale one dangerous chemical whilst studying another. But then, you were all likely in for a worse fate than lung cancer.

After hours, Boris stalked downstairs to the bar to soothe his soul with vodka, leaving you and the professor. You bounced your leg, wiped your eyes, smoked, took your glasses off only to put them back on, and flipped through packets of notes and findings. All the while, Valery watched you try to distract yourself with a half-broken heart. Everything about Chernobyl was tragic, and it was nearly impossible to pit one tragedy against the other. Valery would never forget the look on Boris' face when he told him about their new life expectancy. It was so childlike in its unfiltered shock that it caused him physical pain. But you- you hardly flinched. Khomyuk had commented once that you were hardheaded and that's why no one could prevent you from following her into the fray, so it made sense to her that you would accept your fate. But you were younger than them, being an assistant studying under Khomyuk at the Institute. Older than some of the men working the reactor that fateful night, but still too young for what little life you'd have left.

But then, at what age is the tragedy of it all cut?

Hours after those hours later, after Boris had returned and retired to bed, Valery still waited by the phones, smoking, almost standing guard. He looked an absolute wreck and couldn't remember the last time he'd looked in a mirror. And you looked about the same. You'd fallen asleep on the other couch, and it must have been a good sleep because you didn't move once. Your hair and clothes were messed from the ultimate position you took to stay comfortable. Valery had thought at many different intervals to wake you but could not bring himself to do so.

There was something about you that fascinated him. Perhaps it was the academic in him, but you were an enigma in many ways. Deeply likeable and charming whilst keeping your true self guarded impenetrably. No one knew anything about your life except Khomyuk, and she barely knew anything worth telling. It wasn't until he saw you completely vulnerable on the couch that Valery considered himself to see you in earnest. A brave soul, like them, too young for it all, like everyone else, rushing in headfirst even though no one asked you to; only you and Khomyuk had that in common. Maybe that's why you seemed so different. Even Khomyuk was serving out of a sense of scientific duty. Maybe you were too; either way, it bothered Valery.

He took a final drag off his dying cigarette and stubbed it out, then looked at the clock on the wall above you. Three thirty-six in the morning. He removed his glasses and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. You all weren't going to hear from Khomyuk tonight. He'd known it hours ago, but he didn't want to leave until you did. But since he was the only one awake anymore, he decided to call it off.

Valery stood and went to where you lay on the couch. He laid a gentle hand on your shoulder to wake you, and in an instant you sat up. Even half awake, you tried to be active and alert. When you found your glasses on the coffee table you put them on and looked up at Valery.

"Khomyuk?" Was all you asked. He shook his head.

"We're not going to hear anything tonight, Comrade. I suggest you get some sleep before the committee meeting tomorrow."

You groaned and lay your head back down.

"I was sleeping."

Valery crosses to shrug on his suit jacket.

"I meant in a bed."

Except you didn't want to go back to your room because you hated being alone. Maybe that's one of the reasons you chased Khomyuk to this desolate place. You wanted to help, of course, but what was worse was sitting at the Institute without her. Unbearable. You sat up again and stretched.

"It's too quiet here."

You stand and put on your own coat. You wipe your face of any wayward drool as Valery opens the suite door for you and you both exit.

"The entire city is deserted," he said as if you didn't know. It was his nature to respond with the truth of things even if it was obvious. It saved him from the awkward dance of clever turn of phrase and hidden meanings.

"I can't sleep in quiet."

You, Boris, Valery, and Khomyuk all stayed on the same floor of the hotel, albiet at random rooms since the hotel was relatively full when you'd come to stay, and even now that Pripyat was empty as he'd said, no one bothered changing rooms.

"I don't think I could go back to sleep anyway," you continued and Valery eyed you with interest. This was the most you'd ever spoken unprompted.

"We have to be at the Kremlin at ten."

"I just need some fresh air."

Valery stopped you both in the hallway. Even at this very late hour, he was paranoid about prying eyes and keen ears.

"I'm not sure it's the best of ideas to go stalking around outside right now."

"Just around the fountain."

"By yourself? And if you encounter agents?"

"I'll invite them to walk with me."

"Be serious."

"I am." And you were. Your face hardened at his buried accusation that you were being flippant. "I can't just lie down and stare at the ceiling. At least I can exert some of the anxiety. I appreciate your concern, but I don't believe I'll be arrested for taking the night air."

But even that was a lie because you knew, as you all knew, that any of you were a hair's breadth away from intense scrutiny under the watchful eye of the KGB. While yes, you doubted arrest, to be accosted was not out of the question.

"Then do you mind if I accompany you?" He asked. He was tired, he wanted to go to sleep, but more than that he did not want you to go out there alone. It suited level headed people to be paranoid in times like these, and he'd happily double or triple that paranoia if it kept his friends safe.

You nodded mutely and changed directions for the stairs. Once outside, you lit another cigarette and offered it to Valery, who accepted. Some of the stray dogs trotted beside the two of you. They were some of the saddest parts of it all, after the unspeakable human suffering. Alone, abandoned, left to fend for themselves. Even then, months later, it was becoming painfully apparent that they were starving, dirty and mangey. Still, you offered them some comfort where you could, such as during this walk, when you bent down occasionally to scratch them behind their ears.

It was a cloudy and starless night but the streetlamps remained as they always had, offering an illuminated glow every few meters. At some point, you glanced over at Valery. You'd made notice early on how he carried himself. He always looked at the ground, always took a submissive tone in conversation, except when it came to Boris. With Boris, he challenged. You weren't sure why, but you still hardly knew them despite the long hours and close quarters.

He looked especially tired, more than usual. You hadn't considered that he took as much a toll from Khomyuk's silence as you did. There had formed a strange sort of comradery between the four of you, teetering on friendship but never truly stepping over that line. At least not around one another.

But you were as impressed with Valery as you were Boris and Khomyuk. He was called to this as Boris was, but he also faced it head on as you all did. A quiet, diminutive man, one who naturally avoided conflict, he still managed to fight for the things he knew he needed to, even if he was powerless to do so.

And when you weren't looking, Valery was glancing at you, thinking all the things he'd thought when you were asleep, only now he was considering why you didn't want to go to sleep. Surely passing the time would end in finding Khomyuk sooner, wouldn't it?

"How are you feeling? About tomorrow?" He asked after a long period of silence. You ran a hand through your hair and Valery watched.

"Useless. I hate waiting outside in that hallway."

You were referring to the Kremlin and how you weren't allowed at committee meetings. It had been a struggle enough to get Khomyuk in that room that nobody much bothered with you. You understood, you didn't take personal offense, but you still hated being in that hallway.

"I doubt it will take long. Not that I know much going in."

"What is he like?"

Valery quirks up an eyebrow at you question. "Who?"

"The Secretary General. I've heard him speak on television and the radio, but what is he like in the room?"

Again, Valery took in the surrounding area.

"I'm not sure-"

"You're right. Sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

You shook the idea from you head and pet another stray as it came up beside you.

"Can I ask you a question, Comrade?" Valery asked rather suddenly, his hoarse voice catching in the cold air. You let your silence speak an affirmative. "What brought you here? Besides knowing Khomyuk. None of the public even knew about the accident until recently and none of them know the true severity. Khomyuk knew almost immediately and that's why she came. Why did you follow?"

You slowed and Valery matched your pace. You took a drag from the half forgotten cigarette. For a brief moment, you acknowledge that your lips and his have shared purchase on the thin paper and you suddenly blush. Thankfully, for the cold, it was unnoticeable.

"I've always been like these dogs. Ever since I was little. I find someone and I follow them around. Even if someone is mean and kicks, I'll still follow until I find someone nicer. Khomyuk was nicer. I felt I had to come with her. She has another assistant and he's more than capable of keeping the department going." You take another smoke. "I didn't want to be there without her."

He watched you as you gave your confession. You compared yourself to a dog and he was having a difficult time moving past that. It brought to mind Laika from decades before. He thought suddenly about a different time and reality altogether where he was in a position to give you a nickname, and he thought Laika would be suitable. He quickly shook that thought away.

"Noble," he said finally, though he didn't fully believe it. You laughed.

"Hardly. Stupid, truly. I'll run into anything if it means..." You stopped yourself because, for the first time, you were about to divulge a part of yourself to one of your colleagues here. Not even Khomyuk knew of your deepest insecurities. "Dogs run after their owners."

Valery wanted so badly to force the dog metaphor away with reassurances, but he didn't, because he didn't know how. He wanted to place a comforting hand on you but he didn't know how you would react. He wanted to say and do a great many things, but he couldn't, so he settled for continuing the walk with you in darkness.

[kajaishere]

They were looking at each other, their heads lazily lying on the wall behind them. They understood each other. As two scientists, they understood.

Ulana blinked a few times, looking at Valery.

Their eyes met.

They were looking into each other's deep eyes, Valery feeling a tingling sensation in his stomach. He couldn't keep a straight face anymore and as unnoticeably as it happened his lips curved into a small smile. It lasted only for a part of a second, but for what it was worth, it was a smile...

Okay, I probably need a therapist, but I really see a small smile forming on his face. Am I right or am I just way too in love with them?