This one seems a little odd to me, generally because the movie is happier than this particular subject and doesn't touch upon it. (of course) I just pretty much went off of what I would most likely do in Anya's shoes, which is much of the same in this story. At first, you know, I'd be all "Yeah bro let's go to Paris!" followed shortly after the point of no return with "GOD DAMN IT WHAT WERE YOU THINKING THIS IS DANGEROUS"

Something along those lines...

Only one more after this one!

Brown

It was true that she did not think of any of the possible outcomes of this journey before she flagged down Dmitri and Vlad before they receded back into the labyrinth of the palace. All she had wanted to do was to go to Paris, and since that was her ultimate goal that was the only thing she focused on, no matter the costs. But as she pulled her brown coat over her to serve as a blanket, her mind screamed at her for her stupid ignorance. These were simply just two men, as off of the streets as she was, that out of the blue offered to escort her to Paris, free of cost.

If the click-clacks of the train weren't so steady, she would've been much more anxious about this than she ended up being. Without the tick tock of the tracks her sudden fear could've led her to make a bigger mistake than the one she already made two days ago at the Winter Palace. She could be impulsive sometimes, but she never imagined herself to be so blind as to almost immediately accept the invitations of two (possibly insane) men to accompany them to Paris. The warnings that had blared in her head when they started rattling off about how much she resembled a missing grand duchess now returned with even greater force, questioning not only the mentality of the two men but also their ulterior motives.

There was no way in both heaven and hell that they would willingly risk their necks to the Soviets to escort her out of the country all the way to France for little to no cost. People were not that courteous or kind. An escort to the train station? Plausible. Buying her a ticket and getting her traveling papers? Stretching it. Accompanying her all the way to the western side of the continent with no fees or favors on her part, not even a small compensation of money or labor? Things like that did not happen. Or rather, they did happen, but only with sorry, sorry consequences.

What was she thinking?

She had let them take advantage of the one thing she would sacrifice anything and everything to have. Granted that yes, she had little to sacrifice so it wasn't that great of a loss on her part, but she knew that what she did have to sacrifice were things too great to give away just to find out her identity. And she wasn't thinking of such a thing. Why? For all she knew she was going to be trafficked away. Cursing herself for her total lack of foresight, she creaked her eyes open to just slits.

Dmitri was sitting there across from her, busying himself with their papers. Vlad sat next to him in her direct line of sight, every now and then tickling Pooka's belly. Suddenly he stood up, and Anya squeezed her eyes shut.

"I just need a short walk. I'll be back." Vlad grunted as he stretched.

"If she wakes up I'm forcing the conductor to find you." Dmitri said flatly. Vlad chuckled. Anya tried to soften her eyes so it wasn't so obvious that she was keeping them shut and listening intently to their conversation.

"Come now, a little alone time isn't poisonous you know,"

Anya stiffened underneath her coat.

"She likes you. You like her. She hates me, I hate her. It's really a big difference, Vlad," Dmitri said as Vlad shuffled to the door.

"Don't smirk like that! I know what you're thinking!" he hissed as the big man opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Anya heard Vlad laugh to himself as he lumbered down the hallway. Dmitri settled coarsely back into the seat with a sigh of indignity.

She forced her mind and limbs to relax, forcing herself to forget what she had just heard. She was probably reading too much into the conversation; something had probably happened earlier between them that Vlad was smirking about. But a desperate part of her mind just could not help but delve deep into paranoia as far too many ulterior motives swam about in the deep waters of her fear.

Something jumped onto her coat, prancing from her thighs to her hips up to finally rest in the crook between her back and the seat. Startled, she jolted violently, initially assuming that it was not her perky little dog that had decided to clamber all over her. Pooka barked in surprise at the spasm and she opened her eyes, mouth agape as she panted a little too heavily.

"Whoa, remind me to never wake you up, ever." Dmitri stated with raised eyebrows. She glanced up at him, narrowing her eyes to a fierce glare.

"Yes. Please don't wake me up, ever." she seethed coldly before she shifted her body so she was lying on her stomach, paying Pooka no heed as the puppy struggled to paw his way until he wasn't somewhat crushed between her and the seat. Dmitri breathed a low, drawn out 'okay' and turned back to the traveling papers as Anya propped her arms and chin up on her bag so she was gazing out at the countryside running swiftly past them, the snow glittering handsomely in the light of the fading afternoon. Pooka walked in circles on the small of her back before settling down. Tingles from her spine crawled up into her head and raked their hair-thin nails against her brain even though she knew it was only Pooka that was touching her in any way possible.

She struggled to come to terms with what she had been thinking about and why she was so eagerly grasping this concept as fact when she had no proof. Vlad she was almost sure would do nothing against her—there was not much he could do except crush her, anyways. She and Vlad were stark opposites of each other—he had a fine round frame with warm, jolly pudge to compliment it. Her body was almost terrifyingly skinny, bony, even. The only thing that made this unnoticeable was her turnip sack of a dress that was so baggy she practically drowned in it. Looking at her legs though showed more than enough; her black stockings which would stretch tight across a normal woman's legs sat loose around her ankles and knees, proving that she was more bone than meat. Vlad would probably not have her by that fear of harming her, and she was relieved immensely by this aspect.

But Dmitri was a different story. He was just a few years older than her if she was guessing correctly, lean and strong, and unbearably cocky, foxy in attitude and sleazy in his bargains. It's true that he had yet to sufficiently beat her in a match of forked tongues, but when it came to what she was fearing she had little to no chance against him should he ever want to take advantage of her.

Anya shivered at the thought, and uncomfortably shifted her blue eyes to stare at him. Her imagination could all too easily see how effortless it would be for him. Taller than her, with moderate strength in both arms and legs that would overpower her scrawny frame. And she suspected that he'd use his sly tongue every step of the way too, so she wouldn't know what was happening until it was too late to change anything (not that she could really change anything in her current state.)

"I'll bite. What are you staring at?" Dmitri said somewhat accusingly from over the top of his passport. Anya tore her eyes away and stared grimly at the ice accumulating at the bottom of the window in frosty flowers. She was quiet for a long time, prompting Dmitri to ask again. Before he could she interrupted his drawn breath, studying the frost so intensely that he swore that they would melt from her gaze.

"What do you want me for?" She asked, no hint of childish banter or fire in her voice. Just a serious, accusatory glow from an angry candle deep inside her. Dmitri blinked at the sudden and unexpected change of pace and heart.

"What...?"

"No, that's not—," she murmured to herself, "What do you want from me?"

"I...what? As in...,"

She flicked her head to him sharply, eyes shining more than they should've. The immense tidal wave of courage it was costing her to ask such things showed through, and Dmitri felt the weight of that wave as he realized just what kind predicament he had now found himself in.

"You expect me to really believe that you're going to take me all the way to Paris at no cost; no money, no food, no paybacks, no...god help me, no satisfaction, no debts whatsoever?" She spat disdainfully, hugging her brown coat about her, shielding her from revealing any sort of weakness to him and to herself.

"Uh...yes." Dmitri responded, in all seriousness, sounding as if it should've been obvious even though he was fully aware that it was not, "Yes, I do."

"Do you think I'm stupid?" She growled, "Just a poor little orphan girl off the streets, she doesn't know anything."

"Listen, Anya," Dmitri said, putting the travel papers away for more effect on her and molding his voice to be as smooth and sincere as possible, "We're not out to trick you, we're just solving one of the greatest mysteries of the modern world."

"But what's in it for you? Fame? You don't seem like the type to like fame at all." She barked. To be honest, Dmitri flinched inwardly at that one. No, he certainly wasn't one for fame, but he fully accepted that going down in history books as the man who revealed Anastasia to the world (whether it to be truth or con) as a side effect of the whole ordeal. He wasn't entirely opposed to it. But he'd rather not be recognized in the streets, true. He liked being alone. Keeping his smooth tone, he slowly worked his way around his words, weaving them to keep the fabric opaque in front her eyes, but weaving them in such a way that she could at least see through it to know that he wasn't trying to trick her (at least not in that way) whatsoever.

"Does there have to be something for me? Can't it be that we're just friendly strangers helping you to find your possible family?"

"No," Anya contradicted, an alien, weak softness accidentally breaking through her voice, "That doesn't happen. You want something else from me, and don't lie."

"I don't," Dmitri replied, his voice calm, "Not like that,"

"How can I trust you?" she asked, curling her brown coat around her tighter.

"You can't," He finalized softly, picking up her fake passport. Anya stared at him as he pretended to read. Part of her wanted to continue asking questions—not the interrogating kind, but the kind that would satisfy her fear until it was either snuffed out or within the ranges of at least feeling protected, but as she gazed at him every question that she had in her mind faded instantly from her memory.

He had answered as honestly as he could. Sure, he denied that he wanted anything to do with her intimately, but he had answered as honestly as he possibly could—she couldn't trust him really. She tucked her knees close to her chest, though not out of insecurity. Looking at him in wonder and in all honesty a bit of surprise, she smiled inwardly to herself as she readjusted and laid back down. Of course she wouldn't give up the prospect of constantly bantering with him for anything, but his response, as honest as he could possibly make it, comforted her in some way. Closing her eyes once again, she put most of her mind at ease. She still didn't like him, not in the slightest. But she at least knew that he didn't lie all the time.

Dmitri watched her from just over the top of the pamphlet as she settled back down into slumber. Did he want to sleep with her? Hell no. But he was pleased. He had found a way to weasel through to her soft side and win at least some emotion over. As long as he could dangle something in front of her face as a possible means to keep her with them at all costs, things were better for him.

She had played right into his hands.