Disclaimer: What I do own is a missing Anastasia VHS. That's about it. (Also, the horizontal ruler option refuses to save in this document. Does anyone know why? - I'm a little frustrated.) Anyway, enjoy!

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They were spinning. They stopped. She said something without paying much attention because she realized he was watching her lips move.

Dimitri was leaning forward and she began to understand what that crackle of electricity in her muscles was that she'd been feeling. In fact as she had spun in his arms she'd felt a sort of blossoming of happiness in her chest, and it occurred to her that she was actually…enjoying herself.

Anya couldn't think of the last time she could claim something so simple as that.

Her thoughts seemed to hang still for a moment behind her lids, which had closed of their own accord.

"You're doing fine."

The voice was both louder and farther away than the moment called for. It caused her eyes to flutter back open in confusion, to find a Dimitri who was not in fact leaning in. He wasn't even looking at her.

And he was patting her hand…as soon as the action registered it almost felt patronizing. She looked on in some shock at his retreating form. Walking away?

His head was the last part of him to fall from her view down the stairs, and she turned back to the empty space before her, foolishness flooding in immediately. The lingering feeling on her hand was just as quickly unwelcome. The only thing left to happen was what always happened when her vulnerability led her here…it filled with fire. Any self-consciousness under Vlad's pitying gaze was incinerated in the flame. It wasn't exactly rational, but it was protection.

Though it was directed at herself, it probably wouldn't stay that way for long. The slow-motion feelings of the last moments ceased. She was not staying by Vlad and the awkward factor, so she spun on her heel towards her only other option and followed reluctantly down the stairs. She would just keep walking by the cabin too and avoid him.

No. She wasn't going to be timid. Anya didn't technically make up her mind on the subject though, because she was already there, standing in the doorway.

"So that's that?" Her tone was sharp. Good.

Dimitri whirled, uncertain for a beat as he took in her profile against the light of the sunset. "What-?"

Maybe she'd let him do the talking. She remained silent.

His face stayed kind of frozen, "Anya, I—"

She forgot her plan. "What the hell was that?" Exasperation was bubbling out of her. Yep, blame was definitely directing away from her now. She was surprised that her feet had led her to this. Maybe she should stop herself. Maybe he was never planning to kiss her in the first place.

"Anya…" he repeated.

"I mean, one moment we're dancing and I felt that way, and—"

"Anya."

"then you let me close my eyes, I mean why would you be looking at me like that if you weren't…?" She'd been known to have much more coherent tirades.

"Anya!"

She wasn't really looking at him at this point. It was easier not to. "And next you give me this little pat like…You've got to be kidd—" She was losing it.

She broke off suddenly when her irrational rant was obstructed by other lips. Anya spluttered in shock. She hadn't been paying much attention. Dimitri immediately retreated as if he had anticipated the reaction. Not that he hadn't, in fact, now he was expecting a slap. Perhaps even more yelling.

"I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." He looked down self-consciously, "I didn't know what—"

Anya stepped forward, and his eyes snapped up to hers, wincing. Slap? Everything seemed to slow back down. She met his gaze for a moment before grabbing his lapel and roughly planting her lips back onto his. Dimitri's confused tension melted reluctantly, as if fighting reality. He pulled her closer as her fingers snaked up his neck and into his hair.

With bodies suddenly entangled, they weren't going to make it to the bunk. They stumbled over the suitcases into his makeshift bed.

...

Anya later felt him plunge back onto the mattress, fully clothed now, then wrap an arm around her waist before drifting off . She stirred comfortably, stubbornly, because she didn't feel like following his example.

She had merely rolled over, annoyed at his mention of Vlad.

But upon re-awakening not much later to find his breath rifling her hair, she finally conceded. She really should extricate herself, and before their friend made his way back to the ship cabin. They were lucky he hadn't already.

Anya slowly ducked under Dimitri's arm and pulled herself away, wrapping the green sheet around her. She made a face as she went, trying to right herself against the ship's rocking movement, and expected him to wake. But when he didn't Anya gave a proud little "hmph", sighing internally in relief.

It was better this way because she didn't particularly feel like talking about what they'd done….she wasn't sure when, or if, she ever would. Anya shook her head. She wasn't going to even think about it now. Things would just have to go back to normal. She had a family to go find…maybe.

Anya leaned down, picking up the blue dress and other discarded clothes here and there as she made her way to the bottom bunk, then hurriedly dawned the pajamas Dimitri had also bought for her. She felt as if Vlad would pop in at any moment, as if she were expecting him to come in and bust them. But when the minutes grew longer and he still hadn't returned she began to suspect he was avoiding the room on purpose. Maybe he knew.

Anya started to fold her clothes and pack them away. She carefully pressed out creases of blue fabric, looking down at the dress thoughtfully, images rising before her eyes. In truth, the amount of passion he'd had surprised her. It was almost as if…Another shake of her head, dislodging the nagging voices within. Don't.

Anya stashed the dress away under the rest of her clothes and evened out the disturbed suitcases, sliding them forward beside Dimitri's mattress. She returned the green sheet back over his sleeping body, looking down on him. She had a feeling that he'd fall in line, however she decided to take this. Suddenly a little barking furball collided with her ankles and she checked to see that it hadn't woken the other occupant of their room. She rolled her eyes as Dimitri emitted a snore to rival the yapping.

...

It was a trait of his that Vlad remarked upon half an hour later, as he dozed fitfully near Anya. When he'd finally made an appearance, she'd heard the door creak slightly, almost as if Vlad was peering in cautiously. He strode in confidently though, seemingly oblivious. Anya studied his face. Even when it gave nothing away, it occurred to her that he'd sent Pooka in as an advance scout. She hid a snicker.

"Just look at him," Vlad's voice continued, almost bitter, "he can sleep through anything…"

They turned to examine the mass of bed sheets in question as it rose and fell in contentment. Anya returned to brushing her hair of its evidence, and smiled knowingly.

She knew a few things that could help it along though.

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Author's Note: As far as I'm concerned (and Anya does give that little smirk in the film - ha!) this could explain beyond the obvious why they're so comfortable being touchy-feely after the subsequent nightmare, plus it adds another dimension to everything that comes after ("From the beginning you lied to me? And I not only believed you, I actually—ughhh!").

Okay, I'll stop babbling :) Thanks for reading…and perhaps reviewing?