About three hours into Germany, just as it's starting to get dark outside, Steve turns to Tony and says, "There's one thing I don't understand about all this."

"Just one?" Tony asks, stretching and shifting in his seat. It's been hours since the last stop, and they've been reviewing the history of the royal family over and over again ever since they got settled back into their seats. Still, if Steve only has one question, Tony guesses he's doing his job pretty well. They'll be ready for Fury in no time. "What is it?"

"Well," Steve starts slowly. "It's just, I don't remember much about that first year or so I was in the orphanage, but I'm pretty sure that was about the time the Tsar and his family were killed, right?"

"Yeah," Tony agrees, not sure where this is going. His lessons haven't included anything more recent than the start of the Revolution, because there doesn't seem to be a point. He's sure Fury's agent isn't going to be asking about those things. Besides, Tony only knows about the things that happened after that terrible night from reading newspapers whenever he could get his hands on them. He wasn't there for it personally like he had been for the years before that, so he's not sure his second-hand knowledge will really be much help. "And? That's just more proof you could be the Tsarevich." Not that Tony believes that, but it'll help if Steve does.

"Okay," Steve says, pursing his lips thoughtfully, "but what even happened to the royal family? We weren't allowed to talk about it at the orphanage, especially after the Red government took over."

"Ah," Tony says. There's nothing he wants to talk about less, nothing he wants to think about less, but he supposes it's a natural question and there's no way he can refuse to answer the question without making Steve suspicious about Tony's personal involvement in the situation. "Well, it's like this: you know how we talked about the Tsar being away fighting the Great War? While he was gone, the Tsarina was pretty much in charge and General Fury was there to watch her and protect her and the family and stuff, so that's how that guy was involved in the whole thing. Then in, uh, it was February 1917, and it was Women's Day, so the Tsarina had this ball, to show support for all the peasants, you know? Because of all the unrest and riots and stuff. Stupid, if you ask me, but that's what she did. But then, during the ball, rioters stormed the Winter Palace. Most people got out alive, but a few got killed." All these things Tony knows for sure, because he was at that ball that night, the night his parents were killed by rioters. It hurts to say it all so calmly, like he doesn't even care about any of it, except in the abstract, but he manages.

"So then what happened?" Steve prompts. He looks a little bit upset about the whole thing, the general loss of human life, Tony guesses, because he's a decent guy, despite his prissy nature. Still, he wasn't there, doesn't understand what it's like to be told his parents are dead and that his whole world is gone. He doesn't know what it's like to lose his parents, be torn away from his lover, and have to hide in the cold streets for days and days before finally realizing everything he's ever loved is gone.

Tony swallows and looks away. "Um," he clears his throat. "They, uh, they say the general tried to get the Tsarevich out. I don't know what happened with that, or why Fury didn't try to get the whole family out; maybe he thought one person would be easier to hide or something. I don't know. All I know is that the Provisional Government took the royal family to the Alexander Palace 'for their own protection.' Then the Tsar abdicated the throne on behalf of himself and the Tsarevich, and they brought him home to keep with his the rest of his family, or what they said was the rest of the family. I remember hearing rumors that the Tsarevich wasn't with them, but those were just rumors. People were also saying the Tsarina had been having an affair with that monk Schmidt, you know, the creepy one who enchanted the Tsarevich and helped him become less sickly- we talked about him, too, remember?- but I seriously doubt that was true, either. Then in October, the Bolsheviks took over. They moved the family a couple of times, I think, but then in June the next year, they put out official word that the whole family had been killed, including the Tsarevich."

Tony remembers that moment like it was yesterday. He'd been on the streets for over a year by that point and a skilled enough pickpocket to get by, even in those days of the Civil War, when everyone was scared and hungry. He'd been on the street in the early morning, on the lookout for his next target, when he'd seen the headlines. He'd bought the paper fair and square with his hard earned money and his hands shook the entire time he fumbled with the thing, trying to get it open. He found a street corner after that, a quiet place to sit and read the article from top to bottom. And that was the day he realized he would never see the Tsarevich again. Even throughout the entire cold, hard year before, he still always had a glimmer of hope that things might get back to normal eventually, but that, that was the day Tony gave up hope.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, touching his arm. It's really too dark now for Steve to be able to see his face, for which Tony is grateful, but he shakes himself, anyway, reminding himself that all of that happened years ago and doesn't matter now. Right now all that matters is the ten million rubles, and to get those, Tony has to first get through Steve's education, which means sucking it up and answering his questions.

"Fine," Tony says, pulling himself together. "Just thinking."

After a minute, Steve asks, "You really believe in the monarchy, don't you?"

"What makes you say that?" Tony asks, nonplussed.

"Anyone can see this whole thing upsets you," Steve tells him.

"I'm not upset," Tony insists. "And even if I am a tsarist, so what?"

Steve hesitates a moment, then says, "It's just, I've heard that the Tsar wasn't a very good leader."

"You heard that from Communist propaganda, though, didn't you? Don't deny it, I've seen what you like to read."

"That doesn't mean it's not true," Steve insists. "Just because the state says it doesn't mean it's automatically a lie. And if the Tsar was a bad leader, maybe it's not such a bad thing that he's not the Tsar anymore."

"That doesn't mean he deserved to die," Tony says angrily. "What, so we should just go and shoot everyone who might be a bad leader? Because that's what Communists do, Steve, they kill people."

"That's not what I said," Steve says, and Tony can tell he's mad, too, because he can see the flush of his cheeks, even in the dark. "I just think maybe you shouldn't be so blind about how the government is trying to help people. It might not be perfect, but that doesn't mean it's evil, either."

"They killed your family," Tony snaps. And mine, he adds silently.

That brings Steve up short, at least. "Tony," he says, slowly, like he doesn't like what he's about to say. "I don't think they did. I don't think I'm the Tsarevich."

"What?" Tony asks, surprised. "What are you talking about? I thought we decided you were! Are you backing out? Because, Steve, man, I think it might be too late for that. We're already half of the way there." If Steve is backing out, Tony's sure he'll convince him to reconsider somehow, but he's not going to be happy about it.

"Of course I'm not backing out," Steve assures him and Tony sighs a breath of relief. "I'm just saying, it's pretty unlikely. You said yourself that no one even knows if the Tsarevich is alive. What would the odds be of him being alive and also him being me?"

"Look," Tony tells him. "There's only one way to find out for sure, and that's to go see General Fury."

"I guess," Steve says. It's completely dark now, so Tony can't see his face, but he sounds uncertain, maybe a little lost. "I just don't know how to feel about it, about maybe finally knowing what happened to me. I've never had a past before."

"Well, it's not that great," Tony tells him bitterly. "Trust me."

"Did your parents die in the Revolution?" Steve asks suddenly.

"What?" Tony asks, alert again instantly. He can feels his heart, which had just calmed down from Steve's last little revelation, start to speed up again. He's not sure how long he can handle all the anxiety this guy is giving him. Who knew trying to con ten million rubles out of the Tsar's right-hand man would cause so much stress? Also, who knew Tony was so transparent? "Why would you say that?"

"You hate the Communists," Steve says reasonably. He doesn't sound suspicious or upset, but Tony stays wary, just in case. "And me asking about the Revolution upset you, I know it did. Plus, you talk all the time about being on the streets, so I know you're an orphan, too. So either you're a tsarist to the point of obsession and an orphan by coincidence, or your family died in the Revolution, too."

Those are all true things, and denying any of them is going to look suspicious. Still, he can't tell Steve the truth without it looking even more suspicious. So he decides to make something up. "My parents worked in the Winter Palace," he lies. "As servants to the Tsar."

"Wow," Steve says, clearly impressed despite his Communist leanings. "I guess that explains how you know so much about them."

Tony shrugs. "I picked a few things up, here and there. But, still, that was a lifetime ago. I don't even think about it, really." Somehow, that last lie feels like the biggest.

"Do you miss them?" Steve asks softly.

"Sometimes," Tony admits. "But mostly I feel like I never knew them. They were never really around, when I was young." That, at least, is the honest to God truth. They were always away, somewhere or other, and Tony was left in the care of nannies or tutors. He loved them, but in a distant, awed way. When he thinks about them now, he's not sure he even knows how to describe them, apart from little things like the perfume his mother wore and the horse his father preferred.

"I'm sorry," Steve says, and Tony decides right then and there that there's been quite enough emotion for one night.

"Me too," he says and changes the subject. "It's getting pretty late. We'll be at the German port in the morning, so we should try to get some sleep."

"Okay," Steve agrees. "Goodnight, Tony."

"Goodnight, Steve," Tony replies.

And that's the end of it. Or it should be, except that it takes Tony ages and ages to get comfortable. This isn't the worst place he's ever slept, but it's been a while since he's had to sleep sitting up. These seats weren't made for sprawling across, though, and unless he wants to lie on the floor, sitting is his only option. Steve seems equally uncomfortable. Eventually, after almost an hour of both of them not sleeping, they manage to come to an unspoken agreement to prop themselves up against one another for support. It's still not exactly comfortable, what with Steve's elbow digging into Tony's side, but they both at least manage to catch some sleep.

When Tony wakes up, the first thing he realizes is that he's wrapped like a limpet around Steve, who's still snoring. Tony scowls and untangles himself. It's not attraction, he tells himself viciously, if it happens while he's asleep. It's just been a while since Tony's touched anyone, that's all. It's nothing personal, nothing at all. He does not have feelings for Steve, unless he counts feelings of annoyance, because those he has in spades.

The second thing Tony notices is that they're nearly at the port. The seagulls in the sky are squawking so loudly that Tony's sure that's what woke him. Either that, or the bumpy road under them. The combination of the two is irritating and Tony's not sure how Steve is even still asleep.

"Wake up, Princess," Tony says and elbows him in the side.

Steve jerks away, and blinks angrily over at Tony. "What did you do that for?" he asks, rubbing his side.

"We're here," Tony says innocently. "We'll have to get off in a few minutes, see if we can catch a boat or something."

"Hmm," Steve says, obviously still annoyed and also sleepy. It's a good look on him, Tony thinks, then curses himself mentally for even thinking it.

"Get your stuff together," Tony tells him and reaches for his own bag. Except, it's not on the seat where he left it. His heart stops and he stands quickly, balancing himself on the seats and checking all the spaces in their little section where his bag may have fallen. It's not anywhere he can see, and he's just about to panic, because that bag's his lifeline, seriously, when he hears someone clear their throat.

"You dropped this," a woman's voice says, and Tony looks up, expecting to see the grandmother or granddaughter that have been riding with them all this way, or maybe one of the young ladies they picked up in the middle of Poland. Instead, it's the person Tony had assumed was a teenage boy, still all bundled up. And she's holding his bag.

"Thanks," Tony says, straightening up and taking it from her.

She nods seriously and heads back up to her spot a few aisles ahead of them. Tony waits until her back is turned, then does a check to make sure everything's in his bag that's supposed to be. It's all there, down to the extra pair of wool socks he's been carrying. His ledger book looks a little rumpled, though, like it's been flipped through and read.

"Huh," Tony says and reaches to pull it out, but just then the bus comes to a stop. He'll check it later, he decides, and packs everything back into the bag.

"Okay," he says to Steve, who's standing, too. "Let's go see if we can find us a boat."

This is it, he thinks. One more leg of their journey and then they'll be in Paris. Then Tony can get rid of Steve once and for all. He'll be glad, he tells himself, when they part ways, and he'll be even more glad to have the money. Just one more day and then he'll never have to see Steve again.

He just wishes the thought made him as happy as he knows it should.