DIMITRI

DIMITRI

Alias: max
Other Characters?: aladdin, hades
Movie: anastasia
Group: hero

Here I Go: "Get back in the kitchens, Dimitri! How many times do I need to tell you not to wander around? This is NOT your palace. And you can forget about eating tonight!"

The eight year old fought back -rather vainly- as his arm was yanked and the door to the kitchens slammed behind him. The cook looked like he was only a few seconds away from smacking Dimitri across the face with his wooden spoon. It wouldn't be the first time. It wouldn't be the worst he's done either. As soon as it was released Dimitri pulled his arm back and held it protectively in front of him. He brushed his hair away from his eyes and glared up. Obviously, he'd need to reiterate that statement quite a few more times before it clicked. The cook slammed his fist against the counter top, muttering something about worthless servants. Ha. Like he was so much higher on the food chain. He shoved Dimitri in the direction of his work space -the work he was supposed to have finished hours ago- and he caught himself with a grunt.

"Yes, sir."

He didn't know how yet, but he was going to make it so that he never had to say those words again.

--

Dimitri honestly didn't remember much. He was alone, and it was dark. That's how he woke up every morning, but the room was too lavish to have been even one he was placed in, and the pain he was feeling definitely wasn't from rolling into a wall (kind of a regular occurrence). He propped himself up as his eyes adjusted to the light. The little gold box was only a foot in front of him. He was reaching out to grab it before he even knew what it was. Then it all came back, and he shoved the box in his pocket and got to his feet as fast as his body would allow. Dimitri pried open the wall and ran through and when he stepped outside the palace it was like he'd reached another world. Everything was going to be different for the Grand Duchess Anastasia and her grandmother. Everything was going to be different for the family and their friends, and everyone in the palace. Everything was going to be different for him too.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? He didn't have anywhere to go...

"Hey, Kid!"

He turned around and looked up at the well dressed man. Sometimes, fate works in funny ways.

--

"I told ya we could do it!" he snapped his fingers and grinned. Vladimir may not have been jumping for joy at being proven wrong, but Dimitri knew that smile was for a little more than the rubles in their pockets.

They made a good team, him and Vlad. No, actually; they made a great one. The later had connections, and even as a young man, Dimitri had the street smarts to take them to the top. He hadn't wanted to stay in St. Petersberg... It was a shame more than half the people in the country had the same exact opinion. Luckily, they could use that to their advantage.

--

"Are you Dimitri?"

The woman sounded old, strained, hopeless. He knew that tone too well.

"That depends on who wants to know..."

He turned around to face her, eyebrow quirked and trademark grin on his face.

"I need an exit visa."

His face fell slightly, not in disappointment, but contemplation. That was.. a new one. He and Vlad had forged a lot of good things over the years, but he'd never tried a visa.

"I have money."

Well, like the old saying goes, there's a first time for everything.

"Well then I just so happen to be your guy."

--

"Next!"

Dimitri silently pleaded to whatever god might listen to a guy trying to scam the fucking Empress to please let it be someone of moderate skill this time.

No such luck.

"This is actually painful to watch," he muttered to Vlad, a small snort escaping him as he leaned his head on his elbows, obviously disinterested. This had been their most fantastic idea yet, and it was at a standstill because they had to find an accomplice

Oh. Was it over? Finally.

"Uh.. yeah.. Thanks for trying. Lovely costume. We'll find you if you make it. Otherwise don't come back."

Vlad shot him a look when the woman walked out.

"What? I think I could put on a better impression of the girl."

And that was saying something.

--

"And you think I DO wanna be stuck here? Look, I don't like you just as much as you don't like me."

Anya was just managing to get under every one of his last nerves. He didn't do dogs and didn't do trains and her certainly didn't do women with this much sass. If she wasn't such a good Anastasia and his only metaphorical ticket to Paris, he'd have left her back when he realized what a pain she was. Now everything that could have gone wrong was going wrong, and so he didn't have much a choice anymore.

"Make the best of it!" Vlad could hear him mocking as he stormed off down the road.

--

It just had to be her. Out of all the red-headed soft-spoken actresses in Russia, they just had to find the real Anastasia. It was terrible. There was no other way to describe it. He'd started figuring it out a long time ago - maybe he'd always known - but hearing her tell the story was like getting hit in the face. He'd lied. He'd told everyone that he didn't know what happened during the attack. He didn't know how they'd escaped. He'd almost believed it himself. That was the thing about cons and lies. You could be anyone your heart desired. Only two other people would ever be able to tell the true tale. Had he mentioned, it was terrible.

He went and sat by Vlad on the steps. That man was nervous for all the wrong reasons.

"Trust me; you've got nothing to worry about."

--

"Hey, hey Anya!"

He ran and grabbed her hand, turning her around to face him and the retreating docks. He almost laughed, almost. She still didn't look amused.

"I just remembered something... We're alive."

He tilted her chin up and stole a quick kiss.

"So thanks."