A beautiful blonde, blue eyed woman poked the scowling man beside her with a sly smile, her other hand curled into the crook of another man's elbow as he watched his companions with amusement. The other people in the airport, both staff and passenger alike, assumed that the trio were siblings, what with the similar colouring of their faces and eyes, even if the brothers were sporting a slightly darker looking blonde than the sister. For all that the eldest brother was scowling at his sister, it was clear that the three siblings were very fond of each other. The brothers kept the girl between them at all times despite the rolling of her eyes they got in response and she seemed to tease them mercilessly with the only retaliation being a poke to the side or a tug on her long ponytail.

Their passports stated that they were Victor, Ivan and Anastasia Krum, while their flight tickets said they were travelling to London, England to get a connecting flight to Dublin Airport in Ireland. Though the girl looked French, and the boys German, they all spoke in Bulgarian, but anyone with an ear for languages would've realised that it was not their first language.

"I don't like this, Little Doll," the eldest, Victor grumbled with his scowl still set on his face, "We should have gone by boat or from another State or both."

"Of course, you don't like it, Victor," Anastasia replied with a cheeky grin. "You look ten years younger than you should, to the point that the old folks think you're a dashing young man who's looking out for his siblings. And who are you calling 'little'? I'll have you know that I'm currently at a perfectly average height for a woman!"

The young man currently being called Ivan turned his head away to hide his snigger and Victor narrowed his eyes at his brother. He'd always been good at playing pretend but his younger brother really did seem to be calm and relaxed, completely trusting that all their Little Doll had done would work without a hitch. Victor wished he had the same confidence as his brother but he knew he probably wouldn't relax until they were in the air and even then, it would only be a small bit. Anastasia touched his shoulder and didn't speak until he looked at her;

"Victor, no one is looking for you. I saw to that," she said earnestly, "even the man in the mask believes you are dead and as he's a human lie-detector, that's saying something. We won't be stopped from boarding this plane, I can guarantee you that. Once we're in England, we can just fade into the woodwork, if you like."

Victor shook his head, after all the work their Little Doll had put in, he would follow through with her plan despite his paranoia. He really didn't have any reason to believe that it wouldn't work; he was just anxious. She patted his arm and said the two things that always made him calm down since he'd first escaped with her.

"We'll be fine. Trust me."

And how could he not when she sounded so confident. All the same he kept a scowl on his face because he didn't like sitting in a crowd like this, waiting for his escape from yet another country to occur. If one were to ask Ivan, however, Victor's scowl looked more like a sulk at that moment.

"Is everything alright there, hun?"

The three siblings looked up to see an elderly American couple peering at them in concern, the kind looking woman being the one who'd spoken. Anastasia gave them a bright smile.

"Oh, we are well," she said with only a hint of Bulgarian in her voice, though her phrasing was foreign. "My brother just doesn't like flying."

The woman chuckle while the man winced in sympathy at Victor's darkened scowl. The woman kept up the conversation as they sat down; "Ah, that's understandable. My Horatio here is the same. If there wasn't an ocean between us and Spain, he'd insist we drive there."

That's how the trio of pretend Bulgarians spent their time right up until they boarded their flight; Victor scowling at nothing, Ivan trying not to laugh and Anastasia making conversation with the American couple sitting across from them. Victor had never been so pleased to get on a plane in his life. He sat in between their Doll in the window seat and his brother in the aisle seat, strapped himself in and instantly tried to fall asleep. His brother wasn't far behind him, being the one who actually was uncomfortable with flying. This left Anastasia to gaze out the window and think uninterrupted.

Her thoughts inevitably went back to her conversation with the Little Daredevil. He'd been silent after she'd asked her last question and looked to be very troubled that he couldn't think of an answer straight away. She'd told him to go home and let her deal with the crime fighting for a night. It took a good bit of convincing, a lot actually, but he had eventually given in and left for his apartment while she started scouting the city for wrong doings. It was familiar in a weird way, running to help people in the dark of the night, fighting to do the right thing rather than the lawful thing. It was like being in a forgotten dream.

She didn't remember her life, previous to the prison for a long time. Flashes of memory both good and bad were all she had to cling to when the question of who she was cropped up. In a twisted way, she was grateful for the lack of memories in hindsight. She was able to build herself up anew from her experiences and her abilities. It made her think and think quickly in a way she hadn't, before she had found herself in the Russian attempt at imitating hell.

She was also fairly certain that if she'd had her memories, she wouldn't have given the Ranskahov brothers a chance. There was also little doubt she wouldn't have survived the prison itself either. She would've been too pure, too righteous to do what she needed to survive. As it was, Vladimir still thought she was too good to be called anything but a little doll, even if he'd momentarily doubted it when she'd brought Anatoly back to him that night.

She was fully aware of the irony in the brother's affectionate nicknames for her. She had a good chuckle about it with for a long time after they escaped. In Russian, there were many different ways to say the term 'dolly', with a variety of different meanings to go with those terms. In the beginning, when she had first been thrown to the brother's mercy in the hope that they would break her in a way the guards hadn't thought of yet, they had called her 'dolly' in a way that meant 'babe' or 'poppet'. This slowly changed to 'childlike' at her naivety of the prison worked. Then it changed to 'puppet' when the prison guards tried to use her against them in various ways, only to turn to 'fool proof' when those attempts didn't work. The final change to her nickname, which had become affectionate over the course of their shared time in the cell, was when Anatoly had come back to their cell, on the verge of death due to an infection in one of his wounds. She had healed him, using nothing more than force of will, instinct and the hazy memories that flitted through her mind like leaves on the wind. To this day, she still can't decide if her lack of memories was something the guards wanted to keep or if she or her magic had been protecting her subconsciously.

After that, 'doll' was in reference to the traditional handmade doll that was used to ward against evil and sickness in children. She couldn't really see the relevance as the brothers were not children and she clearly couldn't ward against evil if she ended up in a place like that hellhole they called a prison. But at the time, she couldn't remember her true name and had been just a number up until the brothers had started calling her doll. It was the first nice thing that she could remember being called, with nice being a relative term, and that fact didn't change when she finally remembered the name she had been given at birth. She liked her name, Iris Lyra Potter; it had a history to it. Iris for the Evans flower tradition and Lyra as a nod to her Black, star named ancestry. But her nickname had meaning and she had to admit, she was rather fond of how appropriate the nickname became.

She turned her gaze to the two brothers who were sleeping restlessly beside her and sent a little of her magic out to them to help them sleep peacefully. She then went back to her thoughts, wondering what she would do after they made it to Ireland. She had promised to stay with them for a time, help them get settled in and such, but the three of them knew it wouldn't be a permanent thing. Their less than honourable profession was not the only reason she didn't follow the brothers to the States. They had tried living together after they escaped but it had been an uncomfortable affair that Iris was not in a hurry to repeat despite what the brothers may desire. So while they had been setting up their criminal empire, she had been travelling the world. She had gotten a taste for the travelling lifestyle now, maybe she would continue from where she left off. Or maybe she would go back to Hell's Kitchen for a time; after she got the brothers settled in. It's not like she spent very long seeing the sights, having only a week to fake two tortured and believable deaths. The little Daredevil seemed like he could be good fun, after all. Once she loosened him up a bit.

From my convienience, unfortunately, I used Google Translate for the Russian; though I may have mentioned that in the first chapter. For those of you who are curious, do the same and type in 'Doll' and 'Dolly' and check the translations that come up below the large box with the direct Russian translation in it. If some people have any questions do let me know and I'll try and get back to you about it.

To the Guest that asked if she could meet Stick, unfortunately, it won't be in this story and, while I like the idea I probably won't write anything for it for a little while yet. I may do a few oneshots off this purly because some of you have given me some good ideas, like meeting Stick and Matt finding out about the Russians being alive, which is an idea from the wonderful Tsume Yuki.

Still, this is the end of this road folks. Hope you enjoyed the ride!

Happy Christmas! I hope it is festive, merry and bright for all of you.