The sky is still dark and the streets are still quiet as they make their way to the train station the next morning. They cross the city quickly, careful to keep from drawing attention.

The station is crowded when they arrive- a stark contrast to the streets they have just left- and Jemma struggles to keep up as Hunter leads them through the mobs. She stumbles as a tall man pushes past her. As she looks back at the man, her eyes lock onto his as they stare back at her.

"Who was that?" she asks no one in particular once he looks away.

"That was Count Ipolitov," Hunter whispers helping her off the ground. "An aristocrat and an intellectual…" he muses, "a dead man on both counts now."

Jemma turns back again but the man is gone now so she follows as Hunter leads them through the crowded station to the ticket window and then outside to the platform.

The platform is quieter than the main room despite being just as crowded. People stand all around, their bags sitting at their feet, as they wait for the call to board. Jemma looks at the people around her-their clothes elaborate but threadbare, their faces all downcast- a young boy is the only one who meets her eyes. The people around her seem to almost embody the ache she feels deep inside her heart.

Jemma is pulled from her revery as someone grabs hold of her hand and she looks down to find Count Ipolitov kneeling in front of her.

"May God bless you," he says quietly before quickly placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand and once again leaving.

Jemma looks between Fitz and Hunter, her blank expression matching theirs, as they are all stunned into silence. As they stand there staring, the train in front of them lets out a loud whistle and the conductor calls out to let them know they will soon be able to board.

Jemma slowly takes in the scene around her. Soon all of it- all of Russia- will be just a memory. Her life is about to change forever.

As the train's whistle lets out another loud cry, Jemma can hear someone begin to sing.

"How can I desert you, how to tell you why

Coachman hold the horses

Stay, I pray you

Let me have a moment, let me say goodbye

To bridge and river, forest and waterfall, orchard, sea, and sky

Harsh and sweet and bitter to leave it all

I'll bless my homeland til I die. "

At first, the melody is foreign to her but as it goes on, Jemma finds herself humming along as the first voice sings.

"How to break the tie

We have shed our tears and shared our sorrows

Though the stars remain and tears will never die

I'll bless my homeland til I die."

As more people join in the song, Jemma finally remembers how she knows the tune- it is one she learned from one of the newer nurses at the hospital who had moved from the disintegrated capital just before Jemma had set out on her own. She had hummed the simple tune to herself often as she cared for the younger children but she rarely sang the words. But as their fellow travelers continue to sing, they reach a part that Jemma knows and she begins to sing along.

"Never to return, finally breaking free

You are all I know; you have raised me

How to turn away, how to close the door

How to go where I have never gone before?"

Hunter and Fitz look over at Jemma, studying her as she sings. Jemma pays them little attention, looking around the station at everything she is about to leave behind instead.

The sorrowful melody is cut off with another loud whistle from the train and a shout of "last call to board for the train to Paris" from the uniformed man next to it.

"We'd better go," Hunter whispers, his eyes never breaking away from the many men in soldiers uniforms that surround them.

Jemma looks around as they board the train. Somehow, there seem to be even more people in the small cabin than there had been on the platform. Jemma begins to make her way into the crowded space but stops when she feels a hand rest gently against her back.

"Over here," Fitz explains- his voice barely audible above the commotion of the other passengers- when she turns to see he is pointing down a narrow, door-lined hallway.

"We have a private compartment?" Jemma asks following Fitz inside one of the small rooms off the hallway.

'Hunter thought it would be best considering…" Fitz trails off.

"And I was right," Hunter exclaims from behind them. "The incident in the station has me a little worried," he is whispering now as he turns to close the compartment door behind them. "We need to get across the Russian border without any more problems. And besides," he huffs as he throws his bag onto the rack above one of the room's benches. "I paid for first class room but I had to fight for them to let us in here as it was," he finishes.

"Why are you surprised?" Fitz huffs falling to the bench opposite Hunter. "There is no more first class in Russia; everyone is equal now."

"You're going to hate Paris," Hunter quips. "There are no greater snobs than the French."

"Speaking of Paris," Fitz says ignoring the joke. "Getting there is only part of the battle. You'll still have to convince the people there that you are the Grand Duchess."

"Your first challenge will be to convince the Dowager Empress' sole confidant, the Countess Barbara Morse," Hunter adds, his smile widening despite the seriousness of the conversation. "No one has access to Her Majesty without her."

"She sounds like a dragon," Fitz laughs.

"Oh quite the opposite," Hunter replies. "Bobbi was beautiful, spirited, married- everything I look for in a woman. She gave me a watch studded with diamonds."

"Did you love her?" Jemma asks eagerly.

"Oh, that's all women care about," Fitz gripes.

"Madly, darling," Hunter sighs.

"That's so sweet."

"But… I loved the watch more," Hunter adds with a soft chuckle.

"Men are terrible," Jemma groans, slumping back into the bench.

"I hope Bobbi's happy to see me," Hunter muses looking out the window at the quickly passing scenery.

The compartment falls silent after Hunter speaks, the only sounds coming from the churning wheels beneath their feet as they grind against the tracks.

Jemma recalls the princess' complicated family tree, picturing it in her mind, and attempts to fill in all of the blanks from memory. Oh what a mess, she thinks as she struggles to remember the names of all of the princess' cousins. I can't even study without getting so nervous that my hands shake. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, sighing when she opens them to find her hands still shaking.

She looks up to see that Hunter has already fallen asleep and Fitz is staring out the window, his shoulders tense and his foot shaking. She studies him a moment longer but is pulled from her observation as the train lurches to a sudden halt.

"What was that?" Hunter huffs as he pushes himself off the floor.

"We stopped moving," Jemma whispers, her voice shaking.

"Something's wrong," Fitz muses, his eyes locked on something beyond the window, just a moment before a knock sounds from the other side of the compartment door.

Fitz's eyes flick to Jemma before locking onto Hunter's. He watches as Hunter slowly takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders before stepping toward the door.

"Papers," is all the soldier on the other side says igniting fear deep inside Fitz.

"What's the problem?" Hunter asks trying to block the soldier's view inside the cabin.

"We're looking for someone who is illegally leaving the country."

"Didn't have the right papers, huh?" Hunter jokes, his body still tense.

"He had the right papers. He had the wrong name- Count Ipolitov," the soldier huffs.

Hunter can hear a small gasp from behind him followed by the sound of Fitz trying to hush Jemma.

"Your papers…?" the soldier repeats gruffly.

"We will need a few moments," Hunter sputters. "We have put them away."

The soldier looks intently between the three of them before speaking again. "Make it quick, comrade. I will return shortly." He clomps off without waiting for a reply and Hunter rushes to close the door behind him.

"Our papers are right here, Hunter," Fitz says holding up their passports.

"I know," Hunter replies, his glare adding a silent I'm not stupid. "I just wanted to give us time to-"

He is interrupted as a shot sounds from outside the train.

Jemma shrieks at the sound and turns to hide her face in the cushion behind her.

"I'll go see what happened," Hunter says, reaching blindly for the door handle behind him.

"We know what happened," Fitz whispers harshly.

"And calm her down," Hunter directs motioning toward Jemma. "Any tears will betray us."

The door clangs shut as Hunter exits quickly and Fitz turns back to Jemma. "Shh," he soothes unconvincingly, "everything is going to be alright."

Jemma does not respond, curled against the back of the bench letting the cushion muffle her sobs and gasps for air.

Fitz slowly moves to sit beside her and takes a slow breath before resting his hand softly on hers. "We'll be safe soon," he whispers as he rubs calming circles across the back of her hand with his thumb.

"That's what the soldiers said when they were pointing their guns at us," Jemma asserts, her face still hidden against the bench.

"What soldiers?" he asks quietly. "No one is pointing their guns at you," he adds as Jemma finally turns to face him.

"They said they were taking us somewhere safe," she says, her body is facing him but her eyes are locked on something much farther away. "Puka's little heart was pounding against my chest as I held him tight. 'They're decent men,' I told him. 'They won't harm us.'"

"What are you talking about?" Fitz asks, tightening his grip on her hand. "You're taking this too far."

"If I am really her-" Jemma cries before Fitz covers her mouth with his hand to silence her.

"Shh," he says more harshly this time. "You have to be more careful than that," he adds, his voice softening as her eyes finally meet his and he can see the fear they hold. "We're almost out of Russia," he whispers, returning his hand to its former place on top of hers. "Once we're across the border, we'll be safe."

Jemma slowly closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before looking back at Fitz.

"Better?" he asks nervously and she gently nods her head in reply before they both settle back into the cushions.

"Who do you think I am, Fitz?" Jemma asks quietly after a moment.

"I don't know," he says shaking his head and avoiding her gaze.

"You put these ideas in my head," Jemma sighs, "and I'm beginning to think they might be true."

At this moment, the door flies open and Hunter bursts into the compartment. "What color are our passports?" he cries as he closes the door behind him.

"White…" Fitz replies, pulling them from his pocket.

"They're taking people with white passports off the train and shooting them!" Hunter exclaims causing Jemma and Fitz to freeze. "When I make a mistake, it's a big one," he jokes dryly.

"We have to get off this train," Fitz instructs.

"Well we can't go that way," Hunter says pointing to the door behind him.

"The window it is, then," Fitz sighs before looking at Jemma.

"Let's go," she says.

Fitz carefully pushes the window open as Hunter and Jemma pull their luggage from the racks.

As Fitz moves to help Jemma climb out, they feel the train engines come back to life.

"Guess we'd better move quickly," Fitz laughs as he gives Jemma a hand up. Jemma jumps out and Hunter follows as the train begins to move. Fitz quickly throws their bags out before pulling himself out behind them.

He lands squarely on his shoulder, the thick snow doing little to cushion his fall and he simply lays on the ground- the cold quickly seeping into his bones- before he pushes himself to his feet. As he attempts to brush the snow from his clothes, he looks around for Jemma and Hunter who he finds to be doing the same a little ways down the tracks.

"Well, what now?" Fitz asks, glaring at Hunter.

"We walk," Jemma replies instead, shrugging her shoulders before leaning down to pick up one of their bags.

A/N: The song that is sung in this chapter is taken straight from the broadway-bound musical because I fell in love with it and I needed to have it in this fic. If you want to hear it, you can listen to it here: watch?v=tOu90ZhHNaA