And Quite a View
When Anastasia woke the morning after her night on the town, she almost didn't remember why she was smiling. She'd been in a foul mood when she'd gone to the Neva to drown her sorrows, and she'd nearly burst a blood vessel when she'd run into Dima. Couldn't a single thing go right that day?
Still, their evening together had been unexpectedly pleasant. She'd almost forgotten her frustrations by the end of it. She'd been surprised by how much she and Dima had in common. Hearing about his early life had made him seem more human and forced her to wonder why she'd ever hated him.
Besides, he was kind of cute when he was drunk.
Anastasia pushed that thought away along with her blush. He would probably be back to his normal, irritable self the next time she saw him, anyway. She did feel a little bad about ditching him the way she had…Still, she hadn't had much alternative. She couldn't let anyone see where home was for "Anya." It would be too hard to explain, and Dima had already been asking too many questions.
Still, it was hard to keep the smile off her face as she joined her grandmother to meet with parliament. It got easier as the meeting proceeded, and soon it was a scowl she was fighting to hide. After all Count Popov's hot air, he didn't even have an heir to present, at least not today. Soon, he insisted.
Anastasia might have been able to respect a rival who could look her in the eyes and explain what he thought he could give the Russian people that she couldn't. But, this coward was probably just a wastrel, passed out in some back alley in a drunken stupor, only half aware how Vlad was using him to consolidate power he wasn't well-respected enough to gain in his own name. She only barely held herself back from saying as much.
She was sure, by the skeptical looks she saw flashing around the room, that she didn't have to. It was obvious.
It was another restless evening. Anastasia didn't usually leave the palace two nights in a row. Her clandestine trips were rare, maybe once or twice a month. But, she was under a quickly increasing amount of stress, and she would hardly be able to continue her adventures once she became empress of all Russia. She was enjoying the stress-relief while she could, she told herself as she entered the Neva. That was all. It certainly had nothing to do with Dima, who would probably not even be there.
She did, however, see a familiar flash of brown hair at the bar. As she approached, he turned his head just enough for her to see the intense frown marring his face. Then, he looked up at her…and smiled. Anastasia's heart stopped, then restarted twice as fast as she finished crossing the room and sat beside him at the bar.
"Anya! I'm glad you're okay. I worried after you disappeared last night."
She smiled painfully.
"I'm sorry I ran off like that. I'm not used to showing strange men where I live. Especially when I'm drunk."
Dima's expression changed, the warmth disappearing as if blown away by a cold wind.
"I was only trying to keep you safe," he said curtly.
Anastasia shook her head, biting back a groan. She'd only just found a side of him she liked!
"No, I know! I only meant…ugh. I actually wanted to thank you. For the thought."
Dima blinked repeatedly. He seemed surprised, but a bit of the warmth was back in his eyes, and the harsh line of his mouth softened.
"Oh. Well, that's okay, then."
"You know, the conventional response would be 'you're welcome,'" Anastasia teased.
"I can't do anything right with you, can I?" Dima asked. But, he was definitely smiling now.
"Oh, I don't know about that," she said. "You might just need a little practice."
"In that case, how about I buy you a drink?"
Anastasia gave him a coy look.
"Is this just your way of controlling how much I drink tonight?"
Dima laughed.
"Maybe. Does it affect your answer?"
"Not even a little bit."
In the end, neither drank much that night. They were too busy talking, and neither wanted a repeat of the night before. It was still fairly early when Dima suggested another walk – sans the vodka picnic, this time.
"That sounds lovely," Anastasia said, surprised to find she meant it. "But, maybe one of us should leave first and wait for the other to catch up. I'm pretty sure Sergei's got a pot going on when we're going to…you know."
Her blush made the implication pretty obvious, and Dima just about choked on the last of his drink.
"I know," she said preemptively. "It's just, after what happened with Emil and Inga, he thinks everybody who argues is going to…"
"Right. Well, in that case, I'll leave first. Wouldn't want to risk you disappearing on me again."
Dima smiled, and his words didn't seem to bite, but Anastasia blushed anyway.
"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" she asked.
"Not anytime soon," he agreed. Then, he winked and was gone.
Anastasia waited a few minutes, pretending not to see the nosy glances that only intensified when she finally got up to leave. When she joined Dima outside, she took a long, deep breath, letting the cool night air wash over her.
"So," Dima asked, "What's your favorite place in the city?"
"You saw it last night."
"You mean the bridge?"
Anastasia nodded.
"My Nanna and I…We always wanted to go to Paris, to see the bridges there. We never got to, but the bridge is the first place I went when I got here, before I found her. It's always made me feel sort of…home. Is that silly?"
"Not silly at all," Dima assured.
"What's yours?"
Dima suddenly smiled, the widest grin she'd seen from him yet. It was almost enough to make her worry when he said, "Come on! I'll show you."
She let him lead her through the city until they stood beneath the darkened cornice of a cathedral's hidden back wall. There was a sort of scaffolding there, for maintenance, and Dima offered a hand to help her up before him.
"You can see everything in the city from up there," he said.
It was the first time she'd seen him so excited about anything.
Eyeing the scaffolding skeptically, Anastasia said, "You just want me climbing so you can see up my skirt."
His face turned red as he spluttered out objections, and she couldn't help but laugh. Turning back to the cathedral, she began to climb. She'd walked across Russia, she reminded herself. She'd jumped off a moving train! She'd hardly kill herself climbing up the scaffolding on an old church.
Behind her, so quietly she wasn't sure he'd meant for her to hear, Dima muttered, "You'll be the death of me, Anya."
"That's the plan!" she called down to him with a smirk.
He shook his head, laughing, and followed her up.
Standing on the roof of the cathedral, Anastasia oohed and ahhed at the sights while Dima pointed out his favorites and answered her questions. Then, they fell into silence once more. With an awkward cough, he was the first to break it.
"So, uh, just so I know…About how much of what you told me last night do you remember?"
Anastasia snorted.
"I remember it all. Like I said, I wasn't that drunk…I remember yours too. Maybe we're not so different, after all."
"Maybe not," Dima said slowly. "So, are you ever going to tell me why you decided to jump off a train?"
"Maybe I had a death wish," she replied facetiously. She could hardly admit that a Bolshevik officer had been hunting her down because he suspected her to be a member of the royal family. After all, she was only Anya tonight. That was the whole point of these outings.
Dima chuckled, accepting her evasion gracefully.
"Must have. At least that's one thing we don't have in common."
"Don't we?" Anastasia asked, raising an eyebrow and nodding her chin at the steep drop below them.
"Touché."
Deciding it was her turn to continue the conversation, she asked, "What brings you to the Neva?"
Dima shrugged, sitting on the edge of the roof.
"Just…blowing off steam, I guess. It all gets too much for me every once in a while."
Anastasia hesitated, then joined him on the ledge. Somehow, she was confident she wouldn't fall beside him.
"From what I heard last night, I thought you had life pretty well figured out."
"As much as anybody does," Dima snorted. "I mean, my stepfather's great, like I told you. But, sometimes…"
"Sometimes?" Anastasia nudged gently.
Dima sighed.
"Sometimes I wish he wasn't…It just means I have somebody to disappoint."
Suddenly, Anastasia found herself blinking back tears.
"Hey, are you okay?" Dima asked. His hand touched hers, then jumped away, but he kept his eyes on hers.
Anastasia choked on a laugh but managed to keep herself from crying.
"Yeah, sorry, I just…I think I found something else we have in common."
"You Nanna?" Dima asked softly.
Anastasia nodded.
"She's so wonderful. She's everything I dreamed she'd be when I was alone. But, the last time she'd seen me before I found her here, I was a child. Showing up on her doorstep, an adult, after all those years and struggles…She's never asked me to be anything but who I am. But, sometimes I still feel like I'm playing a part in front of her."
Dima's eyes were clouded, and he looked away from her, letting her words settle in the space between them, before saying, "For what it's worth, Anya…You never have to play a part with me."
Anastasia was grateful he couldn't see her bittersweet smile. Quickly, she responded, "Except pretending we don't hate each other."
Dima laughed at the forced joke, and it sounded genuine. After a moment, he looked back at her, and she took the opportunity to add, "And, for what it's worth, Dima…I can't imagine anyone being disappointed in you."
She saw an echo of her smile in his, and he said a simple, "Thanks."
Expectations made for a good topic, Anastasia reflected. She could explain how her Nanna would have conniptions if she brought home a young man she'd met in a bar, how that was the real reason he'd never be allowed to walk her home, how she really lived close enough to the bridge to make the trip from there without incident…
But, somehow, she couldn't bring herself to break the comfortable silence. There would be time for excuses later. Right now, all she wanted was to sit with Dima as they watched the city lights blink into and out of existence, reflecting on the paths that had made them who they were and led them to each other.