Hello fanfiction readers! I am proud to present my latest story in the Tintin fandom, from my OC's POV. Enjoy!

Brussels wasn't how I'd imagined it at all.

It was true that it somehow reminded me of my old home in New York, but something was missing.

To put it simply, it just seemed to be lacking, well, as cliché as it sounded, excitement.

I was still unsure as to whether I should have left or not, but every time I doubted my decision, I reminded myself of what had happened in the States and what I had become there.

And I did keep reminding myself, again and again. In fact, I had to remind myself this morning, which unfortunately leads me to be late for work. On my first day.

After a frantic attempt to make myself at least halfway presentable, I sprint out the door and am halfway down the street before I notice that my shoes don't match.

Nevertheless, I keep running and find myself almost coming in contact with an oncoming car.

"Watch where you're going, girl!" The driver snaps.

"What? You couldn't see me?" I holler back, scrambling to pick up the papers I dropped. The driver responds in enraged French that I am unable to catch due to other cars honking at me.

Firecrackers and a half! The things that being raised in New York can do to you!

"Look out!"

I find myself colliding head-on with a ginger-haired boy in a trench coat.

Oh no, not again…

My papers once again leap from my arms and flutter to the ground like snowflakes.

"Oh, I'm so sorry sir! I'm so clumsy and I wasn't looking where I was going…" I say while frantically trying to retrieve the dispersed papers.

"Don't give it a thought, miss." The boy says kindly as he bends down next to me to pick up a paper. Only then do I realize what enchanting blue eyes he has…

Danger, Katrina. Danger! Don't go down that road! You know what happened last time!"

The boy continues to pick up papers I've missed and carefully hands them back to me.

"Are you a reporter?" He asks, eying me trying to stuff the papers back into their files.

"Sort of. I'm a new journalist for Le Petit Vingtième. Still getting settled in and all that."

"I see," he says with a genuine smile that temporarily blinds me. "I'm a journalist myself there, but I don't get to the office as much as I should. So now, they're giving me someone to mentor who isn't as experienced to try to get some new recruits when I'm not around. You must be one of them."

"I suppose so," I reply, not sure how else to respond.

Wait a minute…

"I'm sorry, sir. But I didn't get your name…"

"Oh! Of course."

He extends his hand to me.

"I'm Tintin. Ace Reporter."

I blink in surprise.

I feel so pathetic right now.

"Nice to meet you, TintinAceReporter." I purposely mess up his name. "I'm Katrina Fleming. Amateur Reporter."

Tintin smiles and checks his watch.

"Oh, crumbs… I'm sorry Miss Fleming, but I'm afraid that I'm late for an appointment. Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Maybe," I reply noncommittally.

"Until then," he says with a nod and takes off in the opposite direction.

Strange. As far as I'm concerned, the office is the other way.

But maybe he wasn't even headed there in the first place.

Then again it is only my first day of work…

Oh, firecrackers!

I take off running for what I hope is the right direction of the office.

A few minutes later, I find myself in a room that isn't very different from where I used to work in New York. If anything, the room is definitely smaller, but it still radiates the atmosphere of a newspaper office that I love so much.

I walk up to the secretary, who is looking at her work so intently that you would think that it had the cure for polio written on it or something.

I have to clear my throat three times before she finally acknowledges me.

"Name, please?" The lady inquires, still not looking up.

Typical secretaries…

"Katrina Fleming," I say for what feels like the hundredth time today.

She finally makes eye contact with me.

"Oh. So you're the new American. Please make your way to the editor's office on the top floor. Ms. Boudreaux has been expecting you."

I mutter a 'thank you' before racing for the elevator and making my way up to the highest level.

I somehow find the office and the next thing I know, I'm sitting in front of the editor in chief's desk.

A tall, bony woman with copper colored hair and thin framed glasses looks at me in a way that makes me feel like a speck of dust.

"What are your qualifications?" Ms. Boudreaux asks.

"I was a reporter for the New York Times for about a year before I came here to Brussels on personal reasons. I can type forty-five words per minute."

"All right then. We might have some use for you after all."

I can feel relief splashing over my face until I hear her next comment.

"However, you still seem to be a bit too inexperienced. In that case, you will be provided with a mentor who will guide you on your first few assignments before you go out on your own. That way we will also be able to see just what you can do."

So Tintin was right. Maybe I can trust him after all.

Much to my surprise, that is exactly who walks up to the desk with a white fox terrier at his heels.

"I'm so sorry I'm late…"

His voice trails off at the sight of me.

"Just the person who I wanted to see," Ms. Boudreaux smiles.

She then turns back to me.

"Miss Fleming, this is Tintin. He's one of our best reporters and he is going to show how things are done here."

I shake his hand yet again as Tintin replies.

"Yes, we've met."

"Have you now? Excellent! Tintin, will you show the girl to her desk?" Ms. Boudreaux has already turned back to her work.

What an odd woman. She clearly is preoccupied with something.

"Right this way, Miss Fleming."

Tintin leads me through a labyrinth of hallways as I continue to take in the building.

It'll do…for now.

Okay, so an introductory chapter and all that, but I will update soon with chapter two! Thank you for taking the time to read this and please review with your thoughts!