A/N: Hi guys, back again! Next three chapters are up. Thanks so much for your patience and support!

"Godammit." Anya cursed under her breath, violently pacing the hallway of the lavatory in the back of their train car. She was so mad at Dimitri she was actually sweating, and if whoever was taking forever on the toilet didn't emerge soon she was going to kick down the door.

After her second trip around the entire train, she'd successfully pushed all thoughts of Dimitri out of her mind and had regained some semblance of calm. She could feel her anger begin to ratchet down during the fourth revolution - that is, until she'd stumbled into one of the other passenger cars. A man seated in the front row had glanced up at her, his muddy brown eyes so similar to Dimitri's that they flooded her mind with images of his smug face and set her off again.

"Hey! If you fell in you should say something!" She started banging on the door with the side of her fist, hard enough to bruise the flesh. Anya got a small amount of relief from her pent-up frustration in the form of pain, but it still wasn't enough. Not nearly as satisfying as giving Dimitri a black eye would be.

The door swung open and Anya nearly fell into the hefty woman who filled up the narrow doorway.

Clearly outraged, the older woman planted her hands on ample hips concealed by lush fur coat and huffed, "I beg your pardon!" She pursed her thin lips as she looked down her nose at Anya, a difficult task as Anya was at least three inches taller.

Anya grunted in frustration when the woman made no effort to step aside, evidently waiting for an apology that Anya had no intention of supplying. She was not in the mood for this. Besides, she'd seen this upper crust society type breeze into the orphanage with the false hope of family often enough. They'd glance over Anya and her comrades, then turn up their noses in disgust at the children's wretchedness before they turned away, leaving disappointment in their wake.

"You can beg all you want as long as you get out of my way," Anya snapped, already straining to push past the woman's bulk to get into lavatory. The woman grudgingly let her by before Anya slammed the door on her and turned the lock.

She stopped and closed her eyes, her hand still clutching the handle, and exhaled in relief.

Finally.

It had been a long time now since she had been able to completely shut out the world. The chaos on the other side of the door had become louder than her own thoughts, so much so that the silence that enveloped her now felt like an oasis.

Slowly, she turned and relaxed against the door, allowing the train to gently rock her body to the rhythm of its grinding gears. She took a deep breath, instantly regretting it when the tang of dried urine in the air settled on the back of her tongue and made her cough.

Trouble had followed her like a shadow as a child at the orphanage. Anya, who'd never felt like she belonged, spent most of her time making mischief to combat the feelings of isolation. This made her very popular with the other children and an enemy of the order-craving Comrade Phlegmenkoff.

Whenever the old woman was on a rampage, Anya would make her way to her secret place and hide there until things blew over. It was only a crawlspace beneath the stairs, but her imagination made it a palatial cavern - dark and warm and the one place she could be completely alone. It had been her favorite location, as it was only there that she could gather enough hope to fortify her against whatever hell came next.

Right now, the toilet was as close to that as Anya was going to get.

She reached up and roughly massaged her scalp, trying squeeze some rationality back into her brain.

Dimitri was proving to be a serious problem. She still didn't trust him at all, but that was beside the point. If she didn't figure out some way to handle him, she was most likely going to end up being hauled off to jail somewhere for murder. Although she'd known some questionable people, Anya hadn't encountered his type before - mouthy, overconfident, and just pompous enough to infuriate her with the slightest gesture. Not knowing what to expect from him rattled her self-assurance. She knew virtually nothing about him, but he was inexplicably aware of her all buttons - even when to press them and just how hard to do so.

And though the thought nearly made her queasy, she knew she couldn't get to Paris without him. There was no going back to St. Petersburg, not now. The realization burned through her anger.

She noticed her heartbeat had normalized enough for rational behavior, so she took one more calming breath before she stepped outside.

After strolling down the hallway into the next car, she eventually arrived at the scene of her earlier crime.

The dining car had just finished serving the evening meal. Busboys scurried from one table to the next, filling the air with the clinking of dirty dishes. A few gentlemen in suits were crowding the small bar set apart from the dining booths, sipping from snifters as they chatted and blew lazy clouds of cigar smoke. Anya wished like hell she could afford to buy herself a drink. Since that was out of the question, she figured she'd just sit at the bar and be satisfied with inhaling the boozy fumes.

A man in a coat the same color as his glass of wine grinned at her as she plopped down next to him on the only available stool. Even though she could feel his eyes on her, she kept her own on the array of liquor bottles lined up along the wall.

He must have sensed her disinterest, as he stood a few moments later and disappeared from her side. Anya noticed he'd left a full glass on the bar and looked over to make sure he was gone for good, just in time to meet Dimitri's surprised expression. He was seated on the other side of the now-empty stool, looking as unhappy to see her as she was to see him.

"Shit," Anya hissed, moving to stand.

"My sentiments exactly. But please, Your Highness, don't leave on my account," Dimitri sneered.

"Why wouldn't I? I'm avoiding you," Anya spat, crossing her arms over her chest. "How did you end up here anyway? You a drunk as well as a bastard?"

He turned back to the bar, a smile flirting with his lips as he took his half-full glass into his hands and ran his thumbs through the condensation. "A drunk, no. A bastard...maybe. In any case, you drove me to drink."

Same here, Anya thought, even as she glowered at him.

Dimitri looked up at her again, apparently noticing that she was still half-standing, one thigh lingering on the stool.

"That position looks uncomfortable," he said with a smirk.

Anya groaned and stood up in earnest, ready to walk out.

"Hey - hold on," Dimitri said, reaching over and catching her coat sleeve to keep her from walking off. "Look, just sit down. We need to talk anyway."

He let go of her and Anya obliged him, if only from being weary of their constant back and forth. She sank down on the empty stool between them. "I really don't have anything else to say to you - "

"Well, I do," Dimitri cut in. "So feel free to just sit there and listen."

Anya propped her chin in her hand and didn't answer. She started chewing on her lip and drumming her fingers on the bar, looking everywhere but at him.

He took a deep breath, then said, "We still have a long way to go to get to France, and we're never gonna make it if we go on like this. I'll end up strangling you or you'll try to stab me in my sleep, or something."

When he paused for a long moment, Anya wondered if he was waiting for some kind of reaction. Surely he didn't expect her to laugh - the stabbing part was pretty accurate, considering how he made her feel most of the time. His waiting was confirmed as the moment stretched on, so she took advantage of having the upper hand for the time being and continued to ignore him.

There was a hint of amusement in his voice when he finally went on. "Anyway...I'm proposing a truce."

Anya grunted and swiveled in the seat to cut her eyes at him. "Please...that means you'd have to keep your mouth shut, and honestly, I don't think you have it in you."

Dimitri only winked at her. "I could say the same for you, Princess."

There it was again, the same hot flush of anger that flooded her body during their last conversation. This time, Anya closed her eyes, leaned back and grasped desperately for thoughts of anything that made her happy - puppies, rain, the scent of peppermint. When she finally opened her eyes again, she was calm again. And exhausted.

Resigned, she sat up and focused again on Dimitri, who was staring at her like she'd grown a second head. She was done fighting with him for today. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner somewhere and go to sleep.

"Ok, Dimitri," she said, not bothering to stifle her yawn. "What exactly is involved in this so-called truce?"

Dimitri raised an eyebrow."That's it? Really? I don't need battle plans to get you to agree?"

Anya crossed her legs with an evil smile. "Don't press your luck."

"Right." Dimitri sat back, stroking his chin and looking thoughtful. "I think we should keep it simple. Like school children. Nothing more binding than a schoolyard truce, right?"

Anya shrugged. "Fine."

"Well," Dimitri continued with an impish gleam in his eye, "speaking of children, I was thinking somewhere along the lines of you being seen and not heard..."

Anya threw him a dirty look. "I think you'd better try that again."

"Okay, fine," he conceded with a laugh. He tapped a finger on his pursed lips, considering. "How about this, then: 'if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all'?"

So Anya hadn't imagined it - Dimitri was definitely teasing her. Though that knowledge made her want to push him off his stool, it was becoming difficult not to find their current exchange a bit amusing. Anya cleared her throat to keep a straight face and took the bait he was offering. "Okay. I can live with that if you can."

"Works for me." Dimitri stuck out his hand and flashed a smile at her that was equal parts sweet and devilish. Anya was apalled at the momentary fluttering she felt in the pit of her stomach before she chased away the feeling with a scowl. She would bet money that grin alone had gotten him many things from many women over the years.

Anya didn't plan on giving Dimitri anything but a hard time. He was still an asshole.

"Well?" he prompted when she didn't respond, eyes shining with mirth, as if he, too, was in danger of laughing out loud. "An agreement of this magnitude certainly warrants a handshake."

Biting back a smile, Anya reached out and placed her hand in his.

She'd removed her gloves for the first time since they met only a few hours ago. The instant her naked skin made initial contact with the warmth of Dimitri's she gasped, and all the humor of the situation evaporated.

Out of nowhere she felt blanketed with heat, similar to the sensation that swept over her when she was angry with him. But this was somehow entirely different. It was thicker, heavy enough to drop her lids to half mast; it was more centralized, emanating from the core of her body and radiating outward in lucious, frightening waves. Every inch of her skin felt prickly and hot and that strange pressure in her chest returned in full force, making her feel like she was drowning.

His palm was surprisingly smooth and much softer than she'd expected. She'd always thought her hands were too big for a girl's, but his made hers feel tiny and perfectly feminine. When she looked down, she saw his entire hand had enveloped hers, his slender fingers nearly reaching her wrist. They were long and tapered, like a master musician's, and Anya suddenly wondered with startling enthusiasm what it would feel like to have hands like that gliding over her heated skin, disappearing into places no one had ever seen -

Without thinking, she snatched her hand back and slapped it onto her forehead, a troublesome reaction to extreme stress she'd developed as a child. The headache that ensued quickly smothered that horrible thought.

"Hey."

Still wincing, Anya glanced up at Dimitri. His smile had also disappeared. He looked as tense and disturbed as she felt.

He said rather gravely, "In the spirit of our truce, I think you should have this." He slid his drink down the bar into Anya's hands.

"What is this, anyway?" Anya asked as she nervously cleared her throat, leaning down to sniff at the dark liquid.

"Bourbon," Dimitri said. "You look like you need that more than I do."

And oh, she did, but even as Anya tossed that entire drink down her throat like she'd die without it and felt its fire put out her own internal flames, she was not about to allow Dimitri the last word. That just wasn't her style.

She slammed the glass down on the counter and licked her burning lips before gracefully sliding off the bar stool.

"Thanks for that," she said brightly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to catch up on my beauty sleep."

She began to saunter past him before she stopped and turned again, quick enough to catch Dimitri with his mouth open, no doubt in the process of arming himself with a smart remark at her expense.

"I almost forgot," she laughed, watching Dimitri's eyebrows dip low over his eyes in confusion.

"Remember how my ass was the subject of our earlier conversation?" she asked with all the sweetness of vinegar. "I'll make sure I sleep with that end up so you'll remember to kiss it."