A/N:

Hola! Como estás? Yo estoy bien, y muy emocionado para compartir esta historia con ustedes. Okay, I'll stop now. (Even though I'm fluent. Fun fact. I might write fanfiction in Spanish one day. *le shrug*) ANYWAY, I wrote a crossover! Yay! Let me explain the timeline real quick, in case you care. Or even if you don't. So, Anastasia takes place in 1920 (approximately) and this takes place a year after in 1921. For the purposes of everyone not being super old, I moved the strike up to take place in 1920 as well, so I guess this is an AU. One more thing, these chapters are pretty short, so I will be posting two at a time. I think that's all the announcements, so please enjoy!

I stand on the deck of the boat, a warm breeze rustling through my hair. Dmitry stands beside me, holding my hand as we both look up at the Statue of Liberty with equal parts wonder and excitement. I feel like I did when we arrived in Paris a year ago, like my whole life is ahead of me. After what seems like an eternity the boat docks at Ellis Island, and we watch the first and second class passengers disembark. When our turn finally comes, I make my way down the gangplank, my feet wobbling as soon as I touch dry land. Luckily Dmitry is right behind me, he steadies me so I don't fall into the mud. "Thank you," I say, and he smiles at me before hurrying towards the immigration building. "Come on, Anya!" he shouts over his shoulder, and I laugh as I run to catch up to him. His excitement is infectious.

We only have two small bags between us, so we aren't required to leave them in the baggage room. We still have to wait in line for hours though, and endure examinations by doctors to make sure we don't have any contagious diseases and can work. When those are finally finished, we stand in another line for a few more hours only to be questioned by immigration officials. They're particularly suspicious of us since we're Russian, but eventually we convince them we're not Communists, only people looking for a new start in life. They give us pieces of paper with the words Landing Card printed on them, and explain that they are ferry tickets to the mainland. When we at last board the ferry, I look at Dmitry with a nervous smile on my face. He smiles back and squeezes my hand, as if to reassure me. Taking a deep breath, I look towards the land that is rushing closer and closer to us with every passing second. Our new life awaits.