Running late was supposed to be an impossibility when the person you were late for was still in the apartment with you. Yet Tony had a bad habit of letting Anya sleep longer than she should, and while they were rehearsing, that meant that she was continually keeping him waiting to leave for the studio to continue polishing the pas de deux they would be performing in a matter of days. Take this morning, for example. She was only just stepping out of the shower, preparing to begin stretching out for the day, when he was already dressed and apparently finishing his breakfast. But at least he understood better than anyone how cranky she got if her routine was interrupted or rushed. "Tony?" she called from the bathroom. "Why do you not go on ahead" You wanted to speak to Monsieur Hoffman, did you not?"

Tony finished rinsing his plate in the sink and set it in the dishwasher to be run with the rest of the dirty dishes when they got home from rehearsal later. He and Anya had quickly and easily fallen into a regular routine, and everyone around them had noticed how happy the pair was now that they were back together. They were making plans to move to Rhy'Din and take Mataya up on her offer after the gala, and both of them seemed excited at the prospect. But first things first.

They had both made a committment to the gala, and that had to come first. They'd been working hard the last few weeks on perfecting the pas de deux, but dancing with Anya was such a joy, it hardly seemed like work. "Anya, you will be late for your own funeral!" Tony called from the kitchen in a teasing tone. He'd never really understood that figure of speech. It seemed most people would happy to be late for such an event. He frowned a little at the mention of Hoffman, who had been after them both to sign on for a season. Just one season, he'd promised, though Tony and Anya had other plans.

She laughed indignantly, appearing from the bathroom wrapped up in a single towel to pin him with a teasingly accusing gaze. "I would not be late if you did not make a habit of turning my alarm clock off," she pointed out with amusement, poking at his stomach as she made to slip past, in search of something to line her own stomach for the morning's work ahead of them. "You are the reason, lyubimaya, and you know it."

He grinned in amusement as she poked at his stomach and he slid his arms around her waist to catch her as she tried to sneak by, dropping several kisses against her bare shoulder. "I could make you later, if you want." And then he'd be late, too, but that was beside the point. It was not like Anthony De Luca to be late for anything. He had a reputation for being perfectly punctual, and Anya would know it was an idle threat. He was not above spoiling her, however, and letting her sleep as long as she wanted.

She squeaked with laughter as he drew her back against himself, leaning close for a moment to enjoy the embrace before deliberately untangling his arms from about her waist. "We cannot afford to lose another day like that," she reminded him with a husky chuckle. "Tempting, though it might be." She turned about, drawing him down into a warm kiss. They had settled back into each other's lives with barely a bump, almost as though they had never been apart. Anyone would be forgiven for thinking they were practically married, the way they behaved with one another. "Now go," Anya told him, patting his chest as she lowered back to her heels. "I will not be long, and if you are very quick with Hoffman, you will be waiting for me still."

He smiled into her kiss, getting that warm fuzzy feeling he always got when they were alone together like this. If anyone saw them together, they might think they were like a couple of lovesick teenagers, but Tony didn't care. He had his Anya back and that was all that mattered. Now, if he could just patch things up with Elena, his world would be perfect, but he was working on that, too, with encouragement from Anya. He brushed his nose affectionately against hers before letting her go, at last. "All right, but don't be too long. You know how he hates to be kept waiting." He gave her another brief kiss before breaking away to snag his jacket and keys and head toward the door.

She smiled, nipping into that last kiss before letting him go. "I won't be," she promised with a smile, pausing to watch him walk away before turning to rummage for cereal to start her day with. Once she'd eaten, she wouldn't be long at all, he knew that. But this teasing was just a new part of their shared routine she was definitely getting used to.

He pulled the door open and blew a kiss at her from across the room. "Lyublyu tebya!" he called to her in nearly perfect Russian before heading out the door. He threw his coat on over his shoulders and whistled to himself as he started down the stairs to the street. He was in a good mood and it was all because of Anya. After a moment, the sound of his whistling faded as he made the short walk from the apartment he was sharing with Anya to the studio where they spent most of the day perfecting the dance.

She laughed at his declaration of love in her own language, delighted that he remembered the words, that his pronunciation was almost as perfect as it could be. What a wonderful way to begin her day. Of course, it was just the beginning of the day, and if she didn't get a move on, the good mood would give way to the bad purely due to lateness. Within half an hour, though, she had eaten, washed up, dressed, and packed her bag for the rehearsal, catching up her own keys from the bowl by the door as she shrugged into her own coat. With her bag hooked over her shoulder, she stepped out, locking the door behind her, and let her long legs take her down the stairs on auto-pilot, out into the chilly wind of New York's winter. Shivering, Anya tugged her coat closed, tucking her hands away in her pockets, and set herself on the familiar course toward the dance studios she and Tony had spent every day in since coming back together only two weeks before, smiling to herself with the anticipation of another day spent hard at work ahead of her.

Love is blind, so they say, and in Tony's case, it made him blind to danger. He didn't notice the car that had parked a few doors down from his apartment, that had been watching him and Anya as they went about their daily business, day after day, night after night. There were lots of cars in New York, and he thought nothing of it, assuming it was someone who lived or worked in the neighborhood. It never occurred to him that anyone would dare hurt him or his Anya; it never occurred to him that Elena's troubles would trickle down to him. He'd certainly been warned to be careful, but he really didn't think anything would come of it. He felt secure in the knowledge that this was his neighborhood, where everyone knew him, but it wasn't Tony they were after. Not yet. As Anya started off toward the studio, two men fell into step behind her, following at a short distance.

As for Anya" She didn't think anything of it herself. Tony had told her a little of what was happening with his sister, but not the full extent of the danger, not wanting to upset or frighten her, not when they were still enjoying each other's company in the first flush of affection again. So she didn't notice that she had company as she walked along, making her solitary way from the apartment building and into the no-mans-land of busy streets between there and the studio where Tony waited.

The car that had been parked not far from Tony's apartment pulled out onto the street and started toward Anya as the pair of men hastened their steps to catch up to her and flank her on either side. "Keep calm and you won't get hurt," the one on her right warned as both of them took hold of an arm and steered her toward the street and the awaiting car.

The jostling of people on either side of her wasn't a surprise - this was New York, after all. No, it was the quiet voice that spoke into her ear as her arms were taken hold of that suddenly shocked her. Anya wasn't used to anyone touching her without some kind of warning, and the grip was just tight enough to suggest that if she struggled, she would get hurt. Green eyes widened as she looked up at the two men on either side of her, shocked and frightened. "What ....what is going on?" she asked, unable to prevent herself from being steered about, her reluctant feet taking her toward the car whether she wanted it or not. "Who are you?"

Forced down onto a seat, Anya shuddered once again at the sight of the needle jabbed into her hand, panic rising as her arm was caught and held away. Given no choice but to look up at the man who gripped her chin, she presented a pathetic sight, bleeding, shaking, crying. Not at all the sort of person to give them any kind of real trouble. "Please let me go," she begged through her sobs. "Please, I won't tell anyone anything. I don't know anything, please!"

The leader of the trio frowned down at her, as if he was almost having a conflict of conscience, but instead of telling her everything would be all right and she could be on her way, he clenched his jaw, a hardened look in his eyes. "I warned you, Anya. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It's your choice. I would suggest you don't try anything stupid, if you want to get out of this alive." There was only so much he could do to protect her if she was going to piss the big guy off. "This isn't about you." One of the other two - the man who'd been driving - handed him a damp rag, and he went about very carefully extracting the needle from her hand, before pressing the damp cloth to the wound. "What do you know about your boyfriend's sister, Elena?" he asked, as he wrapped the cloth around her hand.

Sniffling in an attempt to claw back a little of her dignity, Anya forced herself to calm down under those hard eyes, seeing no give in the expression that frowned down at her. "If it is not about me, then why -" Her question was cut off by a yelp as the needle was pulled from her hand, her eyes turning to watch the big man warily as the seeming leader bled and washed the little wound for her. It was such a strange contradiction - one wanted to break her legs, another one wanted to look after her, and the third just wanted information. "Elena?" she repeated in confusion. "She ....she's in some kind of trouble, with ....with police and mafia, I think. She's testifying against someone, I don't know who." Perhaps Tony would be angry with her for answering the question that had been put to her, but Anya was afraid. And too smart not to tell the truth.

Once the hand was tended as well as it could be in such a remote setting as this, he stepped back and held out a hand to the big man who handed over her bag. "Do you know where she is?" he asked, as he opened her bag and started rifling through it, as if he was looking for something.

"Let me make her talk," the bigger man broke in, but the other, apparently the leader, waved him off.

Drawing her wounded hand to her chest protectively, Anya seemed to shrink as the bigger man stepped up, terrified that the answer to his request would change if they didn't get what they wanted from her. "I ....nyet," she shook her head, correcting herself back into English. "No, I ....She's staying with her sister, with Mataya. I don't know where, some city called Rhy'Din, but I don't know where that is!"

"She's lying," said the big man, clearly anxious to do some violence to someone. It didn't really matter who.

The group's leader turned and narrowed his eyes at the other. "I'll decide who's lying and who's telling the truth. Got it' You go watch the door and make sure there aren't any cops around." The bigger man glared back, but made no argument, sulking off, leaving Anya alone with one who had yet to say a word and the other who seemed to be doing all the talking. He turned back to Anya, about to ask another question when her phone went off.

Her wide eyes followed the big man as he stalked away, her panic receding a little when he was no longer in sight. No longer close enough to fulfill his threat to break her legs. As her gaze returned to the other two, she heard her ringtone, and she knew instinctively who that was. Without thinking, she lunged toward her bag, reaching to try and get to her phone before either of them did.

The bag was snatched away from her grasp, but without the big guy there to give her the smack down, she was left unhurt for now. The silent one watched her carefully, however, one hand in his jacket pocket, as if with one wrong move, he might be tempted to shoot her. It would be easy enough to accomplish without being caught. The handsome-looking leader fished around in her purse for a moment, before finding her phone. He recognized the name of the caller, waving a hand to the other man to keep Anya quiet before answering. The silent man sneered and pulled a handgun from his pocket and held it against the side of Anya's head. He'd never understood why the big guy was always trying to rough people up, when a gun against someone's head produced the same results with much less effort.

She was already opening her mouth to call out as the leader answered her phone, forestalled from making any sound at all as the unfamiliar but petrifying sensation of cold metal pressed against her hair. Instead, the sound was swallowed into something almost like "meep", her hands pressing to her mouth as she froze in place, closing her eyes in terror. Tony ....Tony, please, don't do anything stupid.

The muffled sound of Tony's voice could be heard on the other end of the phone, but it was hard to tell what he was saying, other than for her name. Since she was late for practice, it could be safely assumed he was calling to check on her and that he was worried. "Tony, I have someone here you care about." He paused while the voice on the other end replied.

Lowering her hands from her mouth, Anya tasted blood, realizing that the little wound caused by that needle was bleeding once again. She dared a glance down, finding a trickle of blood working its way into the cuff of her coat, and pressed her thumb to the vein in her wrist, looking up as one of her captors spoke. Acutely aware of the gun pressed to her head, she didn't dare speak, hoping all the while that this was somehow all a mix up and she'd be allowed to go very soon.

"Shut up and listen," the man demanded, keeping an eye on Anya while he talked into the phone. "I'm gonna keep it simple here, so you don't get confused. Tell your sister to back off, retract her statement. She testifies and the first one who's going to get it is your pretty little ballerina here. Is that clear enough for you?" The sound of Tony's voice on the other end got exponentially louder, but was still too garbled to understand. "And just in case you don't believe me..." He pressed the phone against Anya's cheek. "Say hello to your boyfriend."

Tears and sound exploded from Anya's lips the moment she was given permission to speak, sobbing into her phone. "Tony' Tony, i-it's Anya. There's a gun and I'm scared and they want to break my legs -"

"Anya! Where are you? Did they hurt you? I'm gonna get you-"

The voice was cut off as the man pulled the phone away from Anya's ear and pressed it back to his own. "That's enough. Give your sister the message. She retracts her statement or else we start with Anya. And that's just for starters. You're next on the list. My associate is anxious to break someone's legs. How well do you think you'll dance crippled?" He paused briefly to let Tony spew venom into the phone before cutting him off again. "We know where to find you. This is your only warning. I'll call you back in an hour to tell you where to find Miss Komarova." He didn't want for a reply, but simply hung up.

"Anastasia," she snapped, taking umbrage at the familiar use of the diminuitive of her name. Only a privilieged few got to call her that, and this thug wasn't one of them. But the outburst earned her a shove with the gun, silencing her from anything further as instructions were handed out to Tony. She didn't know what was happening, or truly why it was happening. She just wanted it to be over.

Grateful for the reassurance, as well as the relief that she wasn't going to be left with strangers - however professional they were - Anya sagged a little against Tony, beginning to shake as the shock took hold. She was safe now, as safe as she was going to get in New York, anyway. But suddenly she wanted to be far away from New York, far away from mafia and mobsters and the trouble Elena De Luca had dunked her entire family in. She just wanted to be with Tony, somewhere the worst of all this would never find them.

Tony slid an arm around her waist as she sagged against him, ready to pick her up and carry her if he had to. She weighed next to nothing, but somehow he knew she'd rather maintain her dignity and walk on her own. He wasn't quite sure why they wanted to do blood work, but figured it was just a safety precaution, not yet knowing the full extent of her injuries. For now, he was feeling a mixture of relief and worry; the anger would come later. He wasn't blaming Elena; he knew Elena would take enough of the blame upon herself when she found out. "We'll go away somewhere, Anya," he assured her quietly as he led her slowly toward the ambulance, as if he could read her thoughts or was just feeling the same. The hell with the gala. Someone else could fill in. "We'll go somewhere no one will find us."

"Tonight," she whispered to him as he eased her up into the back of the ambulance, holding on like a child to her mother until he was sat beside her again, wrapped warm in his arms. "Make our apologies to Monsieur Hoffman, break your contract, anything to be away from here." It was a measure of just how frightened she was, how traumatic the entire ordeal had been, that Anya even suggested not performing in the gala after giving their word. Suddenly a single performance meant absolutely nothing, even if it was to have been danced with Tony. There would be other dances, elsewhere. All she could see here was pain and death.

Once she was settled in the ambulance, he took a seat beside her, reaching for the uninjured hand and taking it gently between his own. He frowned thoughtfully when she suggested they leave that night. It didn't matter much to him if they missed the gala or not. Though he'd been looking forward to dancing with her again, officially showing the world that Anthony and Anastasia were a couple again, there would be other dances, especially if Tony took Mataya up on her offer to run the ballet studio. They'd be free to do whatever they wanted and not have to answer to anyone but themselves. Now it looked like all that was going to come about sooner, rather than later. There would be no farewell performance at the gala, but it really didn't matter. All that mattered was Anya's safety.

He held her hand very gently between his own as he considered the consequences of just up and leaving. If Monsieur Hoffman knew the circumstances of their situation, he couldn't imagine the man insisting they stay for the gala, which was only a couple of days away. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly, needing to know she understood that once they left, they might not be able to come back. At least, not until the trial was over and it was deemed safe.

She lifted haunted eyes to him. All her life, no matter where she went or what she did, she had always had the safety of a home that was unviolated. That home no longer existed here - the men who had taken her had done so from outside that home, and who knew how long they had been planning to snatch her, or even Tony' "I am sure," she promised in a shaken voice. "I don't want to go home, Tony. They know where we live, they know our neighborhood. What if they are waiting for us?" It was an irrational fear, she knew; the whole point of this morning's little interlude with Nicoletti's thugs had been to get a message passed on, a warning implicit in that message. But she couldn't help shuddering at the thought of those horrible men in their apartment, hurting her. Hurting Tony.

There was that frown again, more worried for her than for himself. If they killed either of them, the cops would be on the Nicolettis like white on rice. Wouldn't they' Tony couldn't say for sure. There was only one thing that was important to him and that was Anya's safety and well-being, and he'd do anything to ensure that, even if it meant putting his own life at risk. There was very little more to consider. It was a no-brainer. They'd been planning on leaving anyway. It was just going to happen a little sooner than planned. "All right," he agreed, reaching a decision. "I have to make a few calls." He could easily do that from the hospital. He assumed the police would have some questions. That would take time.

Anya nodded, deeply grateful that Tony didn't even question her sudden need to be out of New York, to be away from everyone and everything that even hinted at threatening them. She knew she would have to give a statement to police; indeed, there would be an officer present at the hospital, ready to escort her to the station once her blood results came back. She frowned then, reminded of just why she needed to go to the hospital in the first place, running trembling fingers over the bandage on her hand. "Tony, I ....when he hit me, I fell and ..." She looked up at her lover helplessly. "I fell on a needle."

"What"!" Tony exclaimed, eyes wide, clearly not expecting this bit of news. He knew they'd hurt her, but he didn't know exactly what had happened, and he hadn't wanted to upset her by asking. "Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, his anger quickly followed by terror. What if the needle had been tainted" She could be infected with any number of things, all of them bad. His mind raced with worry, and he wondered if taking her to Rhy'Din was the best plan, but then....hadn't 'Taya said something about healers or something" Would Anya be in better hands here on Earth or on Rhy'Din" His face went pale, but he tried to remain calm for her sake.

He drew her close to hold her against his chest, his arms going around her, trying to keep his voice as calm and reassuring as possible, despite his own fears and worries. "It's okay. The doctors will know what to do. It'll be all right, Anya. I promise." He winced, knowing he had no right to promise anything. He hadn't been able to keep her safe, and he had no way of knowing if everything really would turn out all right. He blamed himself. He'd never thought in a million years that they'd hurt Anya. If he had, he might not have ever gone looking for her in the first place. He felt the sting of tears, the heavy weight of guilt against his heart, but he kept those thoughts to himself. It was too late for blame; it was time for action. "We'll see what the doctors say, and we'll go away tonight. Some place safe. I promise, baby. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you again," he told her quietly as he held her close.

Slowly, she was beginning to calm down. The immediacy of shock was ebbing away with the constant comfort of Tony's closeness, and even the sway of the ambulance was comforting to her. She was surrounded by people who would take care of her, who didn't want to let anything further happen to her. "Thank you," she whispered against Tony's neck, holding onto him with a grip that was becoming a little more normal as her terror abated. "So long as I'm with you, somewhere safe, I do not care where we go. Just do not leave me behind, lyubimaya."

"Never, Anya," he promised her quietly, pulling away so he could look at her face and she could see the honesty and determination in his eyes. "I'm never going to leave you. We're going to be together. We're going to be safe. Sei la mia vita." You are my life. He kissed her ever so gently on the lips, needing her to understand that he meant what he said. He had lost her once; he wasn't going to lose her ever again.

"Ty moya zhizn'," she echoed back to him, the same sentiment in the language she had been born to, whispering the words against his lips. No matter what happened from here on in, she was never going to let him go again, refusing to accept that if she had never stepped back into his life, she would not have undergone the ordeal of the morning. Any amount of pain was worth it, if she could have Tony. She just had to hope that she had not done irreparable damage to his sister with her heedlessly truthful confession when faced with painful torture.

No matter what happened, Tony was determined to make sure no one was ever going to hurt his Anya again. One way or another, he was going to make sure of that. No one was going to hurt the people he loved and get away with it. No one. Not anymore. Not again. He wasn't yet sure what he was going to go about it, but at the very least, he was going to take Anya to Rhy'Din and make sure she was safe.

But for now, they had to stay where they were, surrounded by police for the time being. Even at the hospital, where Anya's knees and hand were cleaned and redressed by a bustling nurse with a relentlessly cheerful attitude, there was a cop on hand. He was as much there to protect them as he was there to escort them to the station, waiting patiently with the couple as they waited for the results of the blood tests that would tell them whether or not something more serious would come out of this unexpectedly violent day. Anxious to be told she was all clear, Anya fidgeted constantly, unable to eat, only reluctantly drinking the tea she was given to rehydrate her after her ordeal. The only time she allowed Tony to be away from her was when he had his calls to make, grateful that he was given the nurses' phone to use, always in sight.

There was a rattle of metal curtain rings against the overhead pole, and the doctor stepped in, clearing his throat awkwardly when he saw the intimate embrace. Realizing that the pair were unlikely to slip apart just because he had arrived, he perched himself on the edge of the gurney. "Miss Komarova, we've had your test results back," he told her calmly. "And I am pleased to say that you show no sign of infection from your exposure this morning. However, I would recommend that you return for repeat blood work in six weeks, three months, and six months, just to be certain that there is no continuing risk of your developing HIV."

In that quiet moment, Tony could almost forget the terror of what had just happened, what Elena's carelessness had brought down on them, on Anya, the love of Tony's life. For just a moment, nothing else existed, nothing else was important. It was just Tony and Anya, as if it had always been that way. Until the rattle of the metal curtain and a man's voice brought them back to the present and the gravity and reality of the situation. Tony gave Anya's hand a tender reassuring squeeze as the doctor conveyed the news of her bloodwork, preparing himself for the worst. He didn't know what he'd do if anything happened to her. Now that she had returned to him, he couldn't imagine life without her.

"Return?" Tony echoed, furrowing his brows worriedly. "Does it have to be here" We have to....We have a trip planned. Can't she have the blood work done anywhere?"

The doctor chuckled, holding his hands up in the face of that rather forceful concern. It wasn't so much that Tony was hostile; more that the strength of his feeling for the young woman still set on his knee made any question to do with her health something of a minefield to answer. "No, they're just checks," the doctor assured them both, turning his eyes to Anya again. "You can have them done in any hospital. Just don't forget. Sometimes it can take a while for blood infections to show themselves." Anya nodded, intensely relieved to discover that she was quite so unlucky as she had thought she might have been. "Thank you, doctor," she smiled, her fingers absently stroking at the short hair on Tony's nape. "And I may go, now?" The doctor nodded, rising to his feet. "I've authorized your discharge sheet. You are free to go."

Free to go. Tony scowled, despite the doctor's reassurance. That meant nothing. If it hadn't been for the mess Elena had gotten them all into, Anya wouldn't be in this situation to begin with, but he knew no one would feel worse about it than his sister. What was done was done; there was no undoing it and blaming her would only make matters worse. Despite what the doctor said, they'd never really be free until all this was over with, and the way the court system worked, that could take years. All of these thoughts were kept to himself, as he didn't want to upset Anya further, but from the look on his face, even the good news that Anya had been given a clean bill of health did very little to appease him. He had a feeling it wasn't over yet. They still have to talk to the police and find their way safely to Rhy'Din. Then and only then, would Tony relax. And God help anyone who got in his way.

"Thanks, Doctor," Tony echoed Anya's thanks, though he wasn't feeling very grateful. He felt like he wanted heads to make a few heads roll.

Anya's eyes flickered to Tony's face, uncertain whether to be worried or offended that he didn't actually seem all that pleased with the fact that she wasn't now harboring something that could kill both of them. As the doctor left the cubicle, she rose to her feet, bending to collect her bag from under the gurney. "They took my phone," she remembered belatedly. "I do not know what they did with it, but I assume I will not get it back." She paused, stroking her thumb against Tony's cheek. "We will go to the police station," she told him. "You will go with someone to the apartment, while I give them my statement, and I won't even step outside the precinct until you come back for me. Yes?"

The hard look on his face softened as Anya drew him back from his dark thoughts with a touch and a few simple words, taking charge of the situation, it seemed, as he stewed in his anger and frustration. He tried to hang onto that anger a little while longer, afraid if he let himself feel anything else, he'd break down and be of no use to either of them, but he just couldn't stay angry, not when he was with her. "Yes," he replied, anxious to leave his beloved New York, even as though he was angry they were being forced into leaving before the gala, before they were ready. "I'll pack a few bags. We can be gone before dark."

She smiled as he seemed to surface from his darker thoughts. "And Rosita and I can catch up while you make your sister's ears bleed with the bad temper that you're refusing to admit I can even see," she added, leaning down to take his hand. "Come, lyubimaya. It will not be long now. Will it?" This last was mentioned to the cop standing by, who grinned a little shamefacedly at being caught eavesdropping but answered in the affirmative.

"I want them to get these bastards, Anya, for what they did to you," he said, teeth clenched, now that she admitted to recognizing his anger. He glanced to the policeman briefly, dark eyes flashing with anger as he moved to his feet, but when he turned back to Anya, the anger had faded, and his expression had softened. He leaned close to brush a kiss against her cheek, reassuring her that he was not angry with her. She was right. It was more than likely Mataya who'd bear the brunt of his anger. His sister knew him well enough to know he'd be fuming and would need to vent that anger somehow. "They're going to pay for this, Anya. One way or another."

"In the proper way, at the proper time," she told him quietly, pausing in the hallway to face him. Green eyes met blue, solemn with a hint of fear as she gripped his hands. "Please, Tony. Do not do anything foolish. I would be nothing without you, and if you go after these men, you will be gone. Don't you understand" This was a warning. The next time, they will kill someone, and that someone may well be you, especially if you go looking for them." Her hands rose, curling to his cheeks, her sweet expression crumpling to show him the very real fear she held of losing him. "Please, lyubimaya. Don't go."

He paused in the hallway, ignoring those around them, his attention completely focused on Anya, the center of his world, the object of his affection, the one person he lived for and would gladly die for. But not today. No one was going to die today. He turned to her and saw the very real fear in her eyes, the same fear he was feeling himself but didn't want to admit. She feared losing him as much as he feared losing her. "No one is going to be killed, Anya," he reassured her quietly, reaching for her hands and taking them between his own, his blue-eyed gaze softening as he looked into hers. "We're going somewhere safe where no one will find us. I promise."

She held his gaze for a long time, reading his eyes, needing to know more than ever that this promise was one he would stick to. They'd both made promises to one another that had been broken before, but none so important as this one. "Good," she said finally, drawing her fingers between his as she stepped close, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he echoed, softening further and taking her gently into his arms, even as the policeman looked on, patiently waiting, at least for now. He pressed a kiss against her forehead, loving, caring, protective. No one was ever going to hurt her again, if he had anything to say about it. No one. "It's going to be all right, Anya." It has to be. He refused to believe she'd come back into his life just to lose her again. They were going to have their happily ever after. The world owed them that.

"Ti amo, cara mia," he whispered as he held her close, his voice conveying all that his heart was feeling, all the love and adoration, all the sweet affection.

She sighed, relieved and contented with him. The fright of the morning had almost completely ebbed away now, leaving an understanding of the danger as well as why he hadn't told her the details. If she'd known more, she would have found herself hurt more badly than she was at this moment. "And we will just have to make your sister's theater's first ballet Romeo & Juliet," she murmured with a smile. A thought occurred to her; there was someone else who needed to know what was going on. "Do you think the police will allow me to call my Papa from the station, or is that too long-distance?"

He continued to hold her close as though he was unwilling to ever let her go, to ever let her out of his sight again. His voice, when it came, was slightly muffled by her hair, and sounding strained with worry, despite his reassurances. He wouldn't relax until they were safely in Rhy'Din and away from the horror that had tainted his beloved city. "I have my phone, Anya. You should call your Papa before we go." He wondered briefly what the man would say, if he would blame Tony or be glad she was with him.

The cop cleared his throat, pointedly not looking at them despite clearly wanting to have them on their way. Anya felt herself smirk a little at the discreet hurry-up, straightening from her embrace with Tony. "Papa knows where we are going," she assured him, taking his hand to walk along with the policeman once again, out into the frozen parking lot. "I can call him here, or there. It does not truly matter. I just ....He will want to know."

"He should know," Tony agreed, letting go of her hand so he could wrap a protective arm around her shoulder, only partly to keep her warm. He felt bad taking her away from home, away from the gala, away from everything she loved, but he'd been offered the opportunity of a lifetime, and she had agreed to go with him even before it had become a necessity. "We'll dance Romeo and Juliet again," he promised, taking her suggestion to heart. It seemed fitting that their last pas de deux on Earth and their first in Rhy'Din be the one they were most famous for - the one they'd been dancing when they'd first fallen in love.

Dancing was what they always did, had always done. Even when there was no music, no stage, no lights, no shoes, no audience ....Tony and Anya were still dancing. When she closed her eyes at night, she saw his flawless lines; when she daydreamed, she felt his hands secure at her waist, holding her safe in lifts and leaps. When they reached the police station and he left her to collect their belongings, she still felt him dancing near her. It was a grande pas. This was her dance; when they reached Rhy'Din, he would dance for his sister, and they would come together a deux to complete the movement as day turned into night. It didn't matter that no one else saw the movement or heard the music. They shared a heartbeat that urged them on, and always would.

((And so the plot thickens ever further. How dare they hurt Anya?! Bad, bad boys. :grin: Many thanks to Tony's player for being him and the heavies! Awesome!))