Two Months Prior
There were several reasons why his heart was racing – for one thing, Dimitri was not supposed to be here. Standing in this room, with its large fireplace and chandelier lamps and plush carpets and high-up drapes. Kitchen boys didn't stand in rooms like these. He especially wasn't supposed to be in a royal's bedroom, with its large bed and silk sheets and drawers full of clothes no man was supposed to see. For another reason, he was looking at her, the lovely Anastasia, as she stood in her ballgown and looked him square in the eye. Dimitri knew he would've caught the worst beating of his life if someone, anyone, saw him here.
"Which once?" Anastasia asked, holding up two necklaces.
But Dimitri was willing to risk that all, because she wanted him here. "I like the pearl one." He said. "It goes nicely with your skin." He said. Her skin was soft and cream-colored. Her hands had never cracked or bled from work or rough play.
"My skin?" Anastasia snorted.
"I just mean like the pearls are off-white, and so is your skin, and the dress is already pink like your cheeks so maybe that was the – nevermind." He huffed, crossing his arms.
Anastasia laughed at him, but still clipped the pearls around her neck. She spun around. "How do I look?" she asked.
"Beautiful," he breathed. He wanted to add more to the sentence, but there was no way to do so. He knew his place, he had always known his place, and he would never be able to be closer to her than the doorway of her room, as she got ready to socialize with more appropriate people.
…
July 16th, 1918
There was a sickly feeling in Dimitri's stomach as he went to bed that night. He thought he knew what is was – sometimes he felt this way knowing that she would go off and mingle, potentially allowing her to meet suitors. Sometimes he felt mad at the universe for relegating him to this fate and sticking him with a love he could never act on. He could be happy as a kitchen boy, he could be happing loving Anastasia. But he couldn't be happy with both at the same time.
But no, that sickly feeling was intuition, the realization of which came when he heard a round of sharp shots ring out in the night.
…
July 17th, 1918
Dimitri ran his hand across his eyes to push off the tears and kept his head low. After being awoken by the gunfire, he couldn't fall asleep again. Quickly the sun rose, as if it had no respect for the immense loss that had just been suffered. When the first rays of sunshine came across the horizon, he had already gathered up the few things he had into a knapsack and was prepared to go anywhere, anywhere that wasn't here.
Besides, the palace had no need for the servants anymore.
He hiked down the side of the castle to avoid any potential early-risers. He wasn't sure who committed these murders, and he wasn't sure how he'd be viewed as both a poor man or a castle worker, but he wasn't going to take any chances.
Dimitri wrapped his scarf around his mouth and ducked his head to the side – he paused. Out of the corner of his eye there was a splotch of red, too uncharacteristic of winter to be anything but the remainder of the shots from the morning. Dimitri knew he should keep walking; get out of there as quickly as possible. But yet, he turned and watched tepidly towards the valley.
There was more red – and worse.
"Fuck." Dimitri swore, slipping down the valley as he headed towards the bodies. He knew exactly who they were; there was no room for hopeful denial now. Maybe she hadn't been shot, maybe it was something else. Maybe they missed. There she lay, strawberry blonde hair wrapped around her neck, limbs blue-tinted from the cold.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Dimitri said, fumbling to find a pulse on her neck, pushing her hair back. There was blood splattered on her clothes, but he didn't see a source on her. Nothing. She was so, so cold.
"Ana…" he mumbled, running his fingers slowly down her neck, pressing in hard to detect any pulse possible. There, like the flutter of a hummingbird, like a miracle beyond belief, there was the tepid pulse that definitively indicated that Anastasia Romanov had somehow lived.
"Oh, my God!" Dimitri declared, before pulling himself back. The last thing he could afford was to be discovered out here. He shook out of his coat and laid it over her. "Ana, please. Ana, can you hear me?"
She did not respond, but he noticed now how her eyelids were fluttering.
Dimitri shuffled over to the other people laying there and checked for pulses. No, no, no. Dimitri settled back on his feet. There was no time to bury them. Not if he was gonna get Anastasia out of here. He muttered a prayer and tossed snow on each of them. It was far less than they deserved, but it was the best he could do.
There was a groan behind him and Dimitri scooted back over to Ana.
"Who are you?" Anastasia asked.
Dimitri furrowed his brow. He'd been employed at the castle since he was a child – they'd known each other nearly ten years! She must've hit her head very hard.
"Where do you hurt?" Dimitri asked.
"My head…" she moaned, grabbing her forehead.
Dimitri picked her head up gingerly and checked the back of her head. "You're not bleeding. I think you're okay to move."
"Where-" she went to roll to her hip, but Dimitri knew if there was anything she shouldn't see it was the bodies behind her.
"No, we've got to go. Do you trust me?"
"No." Ana snapped.
"Will you come with me anyway?" Dimitri said, holding her head so that she wouldn't look away from him.
Her tone softened a bit. "I suppose."
"Good, here, quickly." Dimitri said, pulling her up. His coat slid from her lap. Her dress, though blood stained, was still fine silk. He'd have to get her out of that quickly if they had any hope of blending in, but that was a problem for a later time. Right now, he just had to get her out of the castle.
"Where are we going? What's going on? Why was I in the snow?" Anastasia fired off at him.
"I'll explain later," he said. He just needed to buy time.
"What's your name?" she asked, grabbing his hand.
He squeezed her hand. "I'm Dimitri."
"Dimitri." She said, sharply nodding her head. "What's my name?"
Dimitri stopped in his tracks, dragging Anastasia back. She didn't even know her own name. How much did she remember? This may have bought him the time he needed. "An-Anya." He said quickly. It was best if she knew as little as possible, for the ease of getting her out of here. "Your name is Anya."
…
The two eventually made their way into town by the time mid-morning came. People were up and bustling, and news of the Tsar's death was just beginning to leak out. Anya was too overwhelmed by the city sights to pay much attention. She remembered cities, she knew what one was, she just didn't remember the ins and outs of this city.
Though, to be fair, as a royal it's not like she was ever allowed in town anyway.
"I just know I've been here before." Anya said, waving her finger.
"Where?" Dimitri said, distracted.
"Here!"
"Okay, Anya." Dimitri grabbed her waist and pulled her into an alley. "I'm gonna get us some stuff, you stay here."
"Why do I have to stay here? You're just buying stuff at a market!"
"Not exactly?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do you have money?" Dimitri asked, raising his eyebrows.
Anya checked his coat pockets and shook out her skirts. "No."
Dimitri held out his arms. "Then how do we get stuff?"
"You're gonna steal it?"
"Look, if we're going to get out of here, then not everything about our journey can be legal, per se." Dimitri ran his hand through his hair.
"Why are we leaving?"
Dimitri shifted between his feet. "It's not safe for you to be here. Someone tried to hurt you and – and they hit your head and left you out in the snow."
"Who?"
How was she taking this so well? It wasn't the full truth, but it wasn't a lie. "I don't know."
"Where are we going?"
"Where do you want to go?"
"I want to go to the market." She said curtly, peeling off before Dimitri could get another word in.
She flitted from stand to stand, picking up items and even bartering, as if they could afford to buy anything, no matter how cheap the price. Dimitri made sure to pass by her as often as possible, but he knew as well as anyone that Anya could take care of herself.
'This is fresh from the palace-'
'Very inexpensive, worth far more than I'm asking-'
'This is real fur!-'
Vendors all called out to her, but she lured everyone's attention and allowed Dimitri to grab a few things while no one was looking. After he stayed as long as reasonable and took what he could, Dimitri slipped out of the packed market and back into the alley. He noticed Anya watching him walk out, and within a few minutes she was back in the alley as well.
"What'd ya get?" she asked smiling. This was exciting to her. She had never lived a life like this before, and she didn't even know the life she had before this. It was charming, but also sad.
"I got us some bread, dried meats, clothes for you to change into."
"I have clothes!"
"You can't be wearing that around, I promise you." Dimitri said. There was a covered doorway in the which indented into the building. "Would you go change in there?" he jutted towards it with his chin.
Anya grabbed the clothes from his arms. "What is this, a fashion show?"
"Similar." Dimitri retorted, but she had already scuttled down the alley.
He surveyed the passers by and looked at both ends of the alley to ensure no one disturbed her, but she changed quickly and no one came by.
"Okay, let's-"
"Dimitri!" she interrupted, confusion in her voice.
"What's wrong?"
"Does this mean something to you?" she asked, pulling a necklace that she had tucked under her blouse.
"It just says 'Together in Paris'" Dimitri said.
"I know, I can read." Anya rolled her eyes. "But why do I have it?"
"I'm-I'm not really sure." Dimitri said, half-lying.
"Well, we have to go." She said firmly.
"To Paris?"
"You asked me where I want to go. That's where I pick."
"That's expensive, Anya."
"Then we'll save up money!"
Dimitri looked into her eyes. He knew what she'd been though, and he knew that if any of her relatives survived, they'd be in Paris. It's where she should go; she should be back in her normal life. He would just have to appreciate whatever time he had with her before then.
"Fine. We'll go to Paris."
Anya smiled brightly and stuffed everything she was holding into his bag. Dimitri sighed. Even without remembering she was a royal, she still sure acted like one.
…
However, Dimitri was insistent that they get out of the city first. She didn't press him too much on this, thankfully, but he knew the odds of someone recognizing her or spreading rumors went down the further removed they were, and he wanted to take as few chances as possible.
"How are we going to take a train?" she had asked. "We still don't have any money."
"We have something better than money!"
"Better?"
"Well, worse. But still good." Dimitri held up fake train tickets and identification.
"Where did you get those?"
"I made them!" he said proudly.
"So you're a thief and a forger?"
"Con man is usually easier to say." Dimitri said, giving her a half smile.
"Remind me why I trusted you again?" Anya said, but took the ticket regardless.
"I thought you didn't trust me." Dimitri yanked the ticket back. "Not so fast, I still have to fill them out." He fumbled for a pen in his pocket and scribbled in dates and destination.
Anya pressed her cheek against the side of his arm. "If you can write in Petrograd, why not Paris?"
"None of these trains go to Paris," Dimitri said quickly. "And keep your voice down."
Anya then whispered, though even her whispers were loud. "When do we get to Paris?"
"I'll explain once we have a car, c'mon." Dimitri grabbed her hand to keep her close and was amazed at how much of the world had to change just to allow him to do this. A younger world would never allow him to get this close, much less hold her hand so casually.
They picked a car towards the back of the train, in hopes of minimizing traffic from passers-by.
"Lemme see your bag." Anya said, almost as quickly as they sat down.
"Hey!" Dimitri objected, but she had already stuck her hands in there and rifled around. "What are you looking for?"
"You're not the only one who figured out how to steal." She proudly held up a little jewelry box.
"We're broke, have little food and no changes of clothes, and you stole a jewelry box?" Dimitri said flatly.
"I recognized it. I don't know from where, but I knew it."
It certainly looked expensive. How someone got it out of the palace within 24 hours of the tsar's death was a mystery to Dimitri, but he knew as well as anyone that people were vultures.
Anya leaned up against him and examined the box more closely. Dimitri wondered if it was okay to wrap his arm around her, since she seemed so comfortable with touching him. He wondered if she thought about it at all, or if she was just this naturally at ease. He wiggled the arm she was leaning agree free and put it on the back on the seat, not touching her but getting close.
Anya gasped, and Dimitri almost yanked his arm back. She looked a finger around the necklace she was still wearing and tugged it out from her blouse. "I remember.." she said, inserting the necklace into the box and turning it a few times. The box popped open, and music began to play.
"How did you-?"
"This was mine." Anya said definitively. "I-I" she scrunched her eyes shut. "I remember a woman – she gave it to me. I don't…I don't remember her name, but she had curly, gray hair. Maybe she was my grandmother?"
"Maybe." Dimitri said quietly.
"I hate this!" Anya wailed, clenching her fists. "I don't remember anything important! I don't know who I am, or why I was in the snow, or who you are!"
"We were friends, when you were younger." Dimitri said. At least he didn't have to lie about that.
"Will you tell me the truth?" Anya asked, turning towards him.
Probably not. "Yes."
"Why are people coming after me?"
"Your…your family fell in with some people. Some people who weren't really liked." He didn't want to lie to her, but how could he tell the poor girl all of this, so cavalierly? After she had hurt her head and been yanked from her home? All she really needed was a story, and he would give her the vaguest one possible. "Popular opinion turned against them. Some people really, really disliked them."
"Is my family okay?"
Dimitri was quiet.
"Dimitri…" Anya said, tears forming. "Where is my family?"
Dimitri reached forward, hand brushing against her skin as he picked up the necklace. "Hopefully you have some relatives in Paris."
…
How was he supposed to do this? Anya had stepped out to go walk around the train a bit, leaving Dimitri alone with his thoughts. Dimitri knew that this couldn't last forever – in time he would have to tell Anya of her past, or something would finally trigger that flood of memories. He knew he would lose her, because he wasn't meant to have her.
He tried to temper the news as much as possible, that they had been shot, but were buried and didn't know pain. He didn't know if the last part was true, but honesty wasn't always beneficial. What would that bit of truth change? And she had cried, oh how she had cried. Not that he could possibly blame her.
She lost the capacity to ask questions and buried her face into his chest and cried. He didn't question the propriety of touching her then, and wrapped his arms around the poor girl and let her have her moment. He wished he could fix this, someone. He didn't want to see her in pain because…because he loved her. God, how he loved her.
"We're going to get to Paris quickly, right?" Anya said, her voice gentle and almost scared. She closed the door behind her.
"Yes." Dimitri promised, although all he wanted was to stall them in Petrograd and enjoy the time he was allowed to have with her.
"And anyone…anyone who's looking for me won't be able to find me there, right?"
"Right." Dimitri promised. "It's highly unlikely they'd even be able to get out of Russia."
Anya nodded a few times, walking slowly over to Dimitri. She sat down on the bench and he went to move his legs off the bench and clear room for her, but she laid down on top of him and buried her face into his neck. "Thank you." She whispered, very softly.
Dimitri pushed her hair back and noticed that she had closed her eyes and relaxed. He chuckled a little. "Good night, Anya."
"Good night," she murmured.
Dimitri felt tense. He had never, in a million years, expected this moment to happen. She had fallen asleep, her head resting on his chest, her arms wrapped around him, hair falling over his arm. She was relaxed and comfortable and cuddled up against him. He didn't want to cross any boundaries. Could he rest his hand on the niche of her waist? Was it okay to push her hair out of her eyes? If he moved would that wake her?
As she slept, undisturbed and seemingly comfortable, he began to relax as well. With the gentle swaying of the train car, he fell asleep in time too.
…
They eventually arrived in Petrograd, where people bustled about.
"I don't know this place." Anya shook her head.
"I do!" Dimitri said proudly, looping his arm around her waist. "Stay close." He said. Yes, she would be safer, but mostly he just wanted her as close as she could be for as long as she could be.
"Where are we going?" Anya asked. "I want bread." She broke from his grasp to lunge for his bag.
"Anya!-" he said, grabbing her a bit roughly and tugging her back to the side. He sighed and cupped her cheeks, tilting her head up to look at him. "We don't have enough. We have food for one, maybe two more meals. Until we get a job or steal some more, we can't risk it. We ate this morning."
Anya had never gone without a meal before, she had never not had any whim fulfilled. And though she did not remember this, she also didn't remember hunger. She still nodded. "Okay." She said, grabbing Dimitri's hand. "So, where are we going?"
"There's a port very close by. There's a lot of boarding houses there, and they're always looking for workers."
"How do you know that?"
"I grew up here." Dimitri said. "My brother worked in factories, and I worked as a servant in one of the houses. When things changed I was sent to look for work in the palace."
"Is your brother still here?" Anya asked.
Dimitri was quiet for a moment. "He was crushed by one of the machines." he said quietly.
"I'm so sorry," Anya said, with not only sincerity by newfound empathy. She added, "Your parents?"
"Parents, siblings, any relatives really – different causes of course, but-"
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Anya said quickly.
"Thank you." Dimitri breathed. "I'm hoping the house I used to work in is still open." He changed conversation topics. "The woman who ran it was very kind."
…
The swinging wooden sign read 'дом пирса' and Dimitri beamed. "This is it!" he exclaimed, tugging Anya along.
"This is where you worked?"
The house was charming in its own way but was in need of serious repair. It was a dingy off-white and the shutters were missing slats. Everything smelled very strongly of fish. Dimitri knocked at the door.
"Hello?" A woman, with graying hair and round glasses answered the door.
"Marta?" Dimitri asked, smiling a little.
The woman took off her glasses and cleaned them with her apron. "Do I know you? You look familiar but I'm afraid-"
"Oh, I wouldn't expect you to recognize me! It's me, Dimitri!"
"Dimitri!" she exclaimed, wrapping him up in a hug. "I knew I'd know that nose anywhere." She tapped his nose with her index finger! "Come in, come in both of you! Oh, what a lovely surprise!"
"Marta, I'm afraid I have a bit of a favor to ask-" Dimitri said, taking off his hat.
"Oh?"
"Do you have any work available? Maybe a room?"
"Oh my sweet child, of course!" Marta exclaimed. "I was so sad when you went off east, I never thought in a million years I'd see you again! I only have one room available right now, and it's not very nice, but I need help with cooking and cleaning and – oh! Where are my manners? What's your name, miss?" Marta turned to face Anastasia.
"I'm Anya!" she said, smiling and shaking the woman's hand.
"And you two-" Marta didn't finish her question, but her eyes darted back and forth.
"We're married!" Anya exclaimed happily, grabbing Dimitri's bicep and pressing herself to his side. "Newlyweds, but we didn't quite have money for rings, so you'll have to excuse that!" Anya smiled up at Dimitri, asking him to play along.
A demand he would happily aqueisqeue to. "Exactly." He said, cupping her cheek with his free hand.
"Oh, how sweet!" Marta said. "Here, let me show me to your room."
…
"So, my darling wife…" Dimitri teased as the two settled into the room and unpacked the few things they had.
"Well, what was I supposed to say? She certainly wouldn't let us share the room if we were unmarried. And she knows you already, it's not like we could say I was your sister."
Marta had shown them upstairs. The room was small, with one bed shoved into the corner, a dresser, and a few hooks for coats. There was one window that let in what sunlight was left in the day, and a shabby curtain to cover it. It was clean, and it was clear that Marta did care about her boarding house, even if she didn't have to money to make it a truly comfortable place to stay.
"No, no I agree. There was nothing else to say." Dimitri said, a teasing twang still in his voice.
"Are you trying to imply something?" Anya said, hands on hips.
"What is there to imply?"
"That I like you, or something stupid like that?"
"Anya, perish the thought. You know I have cooties."
"Because I don't!"
"I'm sure."
"In fact, I find you quite annoying!" Anya crossed her arms.
Dimitri smiled at her and cupped her cheeks gently again. Her face was so soft and seemed to fit perfectly in his hands. "My own wife finds me annoying. What a cruel joke the fates have paid on me." He smiled at her eye roll, but mostly at the pinkish blush that crept up into her cheeks.
…
"We're ready to work!" Anya said, skipping down the stairs. She had no memory of work, Dimitri was sure, so this was an exciting new world to her.
Marta laughed. "I'm glad to hear it, but not today. Here." She put a few coins in Anya's hand. "It's not much, but it'll get you a good meal."
"Oh you don't have to-"
"Please, please. It's a wedding gift! I'm sure you two had little in the way of a honeymoon. I only wish I could do more."
"Oh, thank you!" Anya hugged Marta, and the woman waved them off.
"Well, sweetie, why don't we?" Dimitri took Anya's hand – for the show of it all, of course.
"Sure, darling!" Anya reached for his arm. Dimitri tried to flex his arm subtly, so that she would think he was stronger than he was. Once she wrapped her hands around his bicep, he realized it might be difficult to hold it for the entirety of their walk to town but looks like he'd have to try.
"Do you know where we're going?" she asked.
"Almost never." Dimitri said with refreshing honesty. "But we'll find some food that looks good, and maybe walk around a bit. Explore the city. It's been almost a decade since I left."
"Sounds great!" Anya said chipperly. "We should only spend half, though."
"Why?"
"So we can save it. Get to Paris sooner!"
…
Eventually they got some rolls and beef and walked down by the harbor. As the fishermen had all left, it stank significantly less, which was romantic in its own way, Dimitri supposed.
"I was so hungry!" Anya said, now very satisfied.
"Do you want the rest of my roll?" Dimitri offered. "I'm already full." He lied.
"Yeah!" Anya said, taking it happily. "These are delicious."
They walked down the pier with the setting sun and dangled their feet off the end.
"I can't remember the last time I was around water." Anya said, a bit sadly. "I feel like I don't remember anything at all, even though I know what bread is, and can name my colors. I feel like a blank person who has all the information a normal person would, but no past."
Dimitri felt a pit form in his stomach. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what that's like."
Anya shrugged. "I hope I'll remember eventually."
"I'm sure you will!" Dimitri said, before hit by another wave of realization that her remembering meant losing her forever.
Anya looked over at him, taking his hand. Softly, she said, "I wish I remembered you."
"You will. And what matters most is that I'm here now." Dimitri said, leaning towards her.
"I can't thank you enough for helping me. I remember hazy figures…and cold…and then I woke up and there was the noise of you shuffling and the cold hardness of the snow but you got me out of there. And now we're here, and we have lodging and safety and food. In a few weeks, we'll-"
She went quiet and looked up at Dimitri, reaching her hand out to touch his face. He was sure it was scratchy and stubbly, but Anya kept her hand there. He leaned towards her, becoming increasingly aware of how their legs were pressed together and she was leaning against the left arm he had placed behind her. He knew what was happening, he wanted it, but he couldn't believe it. The girl he was never supposed to love, never allowed to, wanted to kiss him. Far be it from him to deny her anything, but especially not this.
"Oi, looka that!" a group of young men heckled, walking by the piers. "Just kiss her!"
Anya jerked back from Dimitri, and the moment disappeared.
"People are starting to drink." She muttered, standing up.
"It's Russia, Anya. People are always drinking.
She shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself. "We should go home. It's late."
Dimitri nodded and offered his arm (flexing again, of course). "Alright. Let's go.
…
It's just like the train, you slept with her on the train, this is like the train seat but bigger. Dimitri assured himself. But this wasn't the train, and Anya had stripped down to her slip and let down her hair and he certainly wasn't going to sleep in a full suit and it wasn't a train seat, it was a bed. Dimitri felt his heart speed up and took a deep breath to steady himself. Just like the train, just like when she announced their pseudo-marriage, Anya didn't seem bothered by their increasing proximity. She was comfortable, as if dashing across the country with someone she didn't remember was something normal that she had done before.
If nothing else, it was a testament to how she was able to be at ease around him. That was something; that was good.
She flopped into bed and curled up with the (only) pillow, closing her eyes. Dimitri undressed slowly, wondering exactly how he was supposed to conduct himself. She liked him, he loved her. They had to share a bed tonight, and for the immediate future. Was he supposed to kiss her now? Should he leave his suit coat on.
He started with the easy layers – of course he shouldn't wear shoes to bed, or his overcoat. He took off his suit jacket. Pants. Socks. No, it was cold in here. Socks back on. That was good, right?
Anya hadn't even opened her eyes at all. She didn't care. She was probably already asleep. He rolled into bed, yanking back some of the pillow.
"No." she said, yanking the pillow back and letting his head smack against the mattress. "Get your own."
"There's only one!" Dimitri objected.
"Steal one, con man."
Dimitri groaned but accepted his fate. But just as he did so, Anya pushed the pillow at his and laid her face on his chest, flopping her arm over him.
Dimitri laughed a little, pulling the pillow under his head and gingerly placing a hand on Anya's back.
He had always figured he deserved what he'd gotten – sure, his life had been kind of shitty, but he wasn't that great of a person. He lied, he cheated, he stole – for fun and profit. He never worked that hard, he missed church fairly regularly, and he'd drank a fair share of his dinners. But it seemed that he must've done something, at some point, so very right because now he had everything he had ever wanted; everything he had dreamed of for so long.
…
They were up the next morning quite early – Anya up before him, already dressed and downstairs. He couldn't have missed her by more than ten minutes though, as there was a little pool of drool where she had slept on his chest. Dimitri dressed quickly and headed downstairs.
"Oh good, you're both up. It's quite early, so only the baker will be up with you." Marta said happily, pulling more money out of a ceramic container. "Go, pay him for the week. Please. And pick up the bread. You'll need four hands to carry it."
"Alright!" Anya said chipperly, taking the money.
"And I won't notice if a roll or two go missing." Marta winked at them and Anya giggled.
They were out the door into the cold air and Anya wrapped Dimitri's arm around herself before he even had a chance to wonder if it was okay.
They walked away from the water and towards an open square. Marta was right – really only the baker must be awake. There was no movement, no people, not a noise in the city. Sure, the sun wasn't up yet, but didn't anyone else rise early?
Dimitri looked down at Anya, who was humming a tune he couldn't place and fingering the necklace she wore – he was sure she'd never take it off now. She walked with a bit of a skip.
"Anya." Dimitri breathed, stopping in the middle of the square.
The air was cold but very still, and not another soul was afoot. Dimitri turned to face her, with her big blue eyes looking up at him. "Yes?" she asked softly.
Dimitri smiled, just a little, before muttering "Oh, God" and capturing her in a kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and just pressed her up against himself. She was so warm and wonderful and he loved her, he loved her, he loved her.
But still, in the back of his mind, he knew he had to bring her back to Paris.