(Name) helplessly stared at the orphan while he innocently smiled at his new friend. The eight year old girl returned the gesture, it was the only way they understood each other—through smiles. According to the others, he was brought to this orphanage by a kind traveler who journeyed from Spain and found the young boy in rags, wandering in the dirt roads. It just so happens that this home for the homeless children was in Normandy, France, was where he was destined to go that December evening.

Mrs. Kirkland, one of the nurses, the peered through the door frame,

"Come on, dears. Dinner is ready."

The pair stood from the table and followed their golden-haired caretaker. Sock-clad feet padded softly on the wooden planks of the warm building.

"What's your favorite food, Antonio?" queried the child to her friend who was quite shorter than she was.

"Que?" the Spaniard raised his eyebrows not understanding "Uhm…" (Name) placed her finger to her chin as she creased her face in thought.

"What is," Then she shrugged her shoulders as if in question as she slowly gestured her query, "your," she pointed towards the male, "favorite" she gave a thumbs up then gestured the scooping of food into her mouth, "food?"

The brunette paused a while, registering her hand signs. His green spheres lit up as he grinned, "Ah! Favorito?"

The (h/c) eagerly nodded catching the word.

"Tomate!"

His friend only smiled not completely understanding.

The sudden jolt of the train, shook the slumbering girl awake. Her hazed mind collected the memory she had, retinas adjusting on the grey room of the train's cabin. Rubbing sleep of her (e/c) eyes, she blinked, sitting up from the small bed attached above the seats of the well heated cabin. She stretched her limbs, and rolled her neck to get rid of the kinks. Descending from the bed she opened the mini comfort room in her room, freshening up before checking on her attendant on the other room.

The older brunette was wide awake a faint trace of stressed bags lining his apprehensive forest green eyes. (Name) frowned; he had been worried about her well-being and her father's wrath ever since the first night they had taken a train to France. He glanced at her with a small smile,

"We're almost to Paris, Miss (Name)."

Happily, she sighs, feeling excitement wildly tumbling in her stomach. She peered at her wrist watch hidden under her thick (f/c) coat, 12:36 am.

"Well, at least catch a few minutes of sleep." She chided the man. He shook his head, light brown tresses brushing his shoulder before he stood up to gather his paraphernalia.

"Look, Antonio," the (h/c) eight year old pointed towards one of the apple trees,"Tree."

As if the boy had just uncovered the world's most wanted treasure, he nodded in awe, "Tree." He repeated, his 'r' rolling. (Name) smiled encouragingly continuing to stroll with him through the gardens of the orphanage, occasionally pointing, teaching him a new word. The faint smell of sweet apples mingling with the warm spring air wafted their nostrils causing both children to feel welcomed by nature whilst the sunlight bathed their skin.

Once again, her index extended towards the sea blue heavens, "Sky."

The brunette scrunched his nose, his verdant irises adjusting to the bright morning sky, "Thsky."

(Name) laughed, his missing front tooth affected his accents in a humorous and adorable way for her. Antonio's eye brows raised in question at her light chortle, before smiling fondly. At least she wasn't ridiculing him like the other street kids he encountered three months ago. When his friend's laugh had simmered down into giggles, they remained standing, with small smiles, craning their small necks into the sky.

(Name) impatiently tapped her boots against the tiles, drumming her fingers on her lap. Glancing towards the large clock for the 8th time, they had one hour left for the train destined for Normandy. She tugged her scarf over her cold nose. She would rise every once in a while then walk over the windows to peer through the glass just in case, the train came earlier. Toris had finally dozed off, his head hanging from his shoulders, quietly snoring being overpowered by the noisy station. And as restless as the girl was getting, she had to do the most dreadful thing at the moment—wait.

"I'm open, I'm open!" a white haired boy waved his arms towards the French child. It was a year after Antonio was brought to the orphanage. The children were having a splendid time playing soccer and their guardian, Mr. Jones, decided that it wouldn't hurt the children if he just went in the building for a minute to prepare himself burger.

The soccer ball flew over to Gilbert, and he pumped his shoulder to receive the ball then scanned the grassy yard with an expert eye. A (h/c) girl raised her arms across his left side, signaling her availability. Just before a long haired, Hungarian was about to steal the ball, the ruby eyed male powerfully kicked the ball towards (Name). However, it went higher over the girl's head and some of her (h/c) locks flew upwards at the force of wind it brought.

Dismayed, the children had to pause playing to retrieve the ball which rolled over the adobe fence. Gilbert's head jerked forward as a whack fell onto his the back of his head and Elizabeta scolded the egotistical male for being careless. Confident that cars rarely pass by the orphanage, (Name) darted towards the road, where the ball lay. Picking up the ball in her small palms, she happily waved towards her friends, "I've got the ball!"

However, Gilbert and Elizabeta halted their bickering, ruby and green eyes widening at her and the children mirrored them."(Name)! Voiture! Voiture!" Francis began to yell with his arms flapping like a flightless bird

What? Creasing her eyebrows quizzically, she opened her mouth to ask what he just meant until the frantic honking and screeching pierced her ear drums. Turning towards the source, her (e/c) pupils dilated in fear. The bumpers of the pickup seemed large enough to cease a young, innocent, and parentless child's life. Her heart began to pump vigorously and she knew those were the last pumps it would pulse. It was so sudden; she could not even move her legs as they were locked joint to joint.

Brown blurred her vision and a familiar smell flowed to her nostrils before she fell into a painful thud. The ball had been knocked out of her grasp, but no one cared. The only thing that mattered when (Name) agonizingly sat up was the unconscious Spaniard lying still on the dirt road.

A grin broke through (Name)'s red cheeks, and urgently she shook her companion awake.

"Finish your nap on the train, let's go!" she squealed, jubilant that she would be seeing her favorite emerald eyes in a few hours. Eyes still heavy, Toris stumbled after the bouncing mistress into the awaited train.

Perching on a comfortable seat, she hurriedly patted the space beside her, her black gloves padding against the cushion. Toris gave an exhausted smile before seating himself.

"(Name)? (Name), please open the door."

Tanned knuckles rapped the bathroom door where a nine year old orphan had locked herself in. At that time, his missing tooth had a new replacement, completing his pearly grin. Chestnut eye brows met and a rosy bottom lip stuck itself out at the lack of response. Antonio knocked again, "(Name)?"

Silence.

He pressed his ear against the surface, leaning away from his crutch. Faint sniffles were heard and the Spaniard's frown deepened,

"(Name) please come out and tell me what is bad, I mean, wrong."

"Go away!"

The words ripped at his chest. Those were the same words cruel men, women, and children alike spat at him two years ago. In a flash, he remembered the disgusted sneers and floggings he received when he asked if they could spare food. He recalled the way they'd slam a door and bolt them when he would pass by in his sore bare feet. On better days though, they'd be nice enough to fling leftover food onto the filthy ground for him to eat like the swine or when someone would actually approach him with bread. The best blessing he received in the past was when on a rainy day, he sat, shivering on the empty road near the boundary of France. Then a present from heaven had been generously gifted to him when an old pickup truck halted and warm arms had carried him inside.

Still, those two words were an ugly memory.

"Please, don't say that." Antonio whispered his bright eyes downcast, gripping his chest tightly.

There was a thoughtful pause and the silence drove the dagger deep into his heart. Slowly, the boy adjusted his poise onto the wooden crutch he had earned from saving his dear friend, who right now asked him to leave. The edges of his eyes began to feel hot; he wanted to cry whilst he limped from the door. He hasn't cried for over two years now, ever since the day he had been brought here. He wanted to mourn that his friend didn't want him around anymore and that she told him to 'go away.'

Click.

"No, -hic- w-wait," a small voice sniffled. Head tilting up, Antonio turned around to see a trembling mess of (Name). She rubbed her stained sleeve across her twitching nose, "I'm sorry, -hic-I didn't m-mean to -hic- it's just…I m-mean…"

The next words had been incoherent by her hiccups and feeling misunderstood, she wailed. Antonio limped to her, concern swimming over his verdant hues, "What's wrong (Name)? Why are you not talking to me?" he asked, recalling the events the week after the accident.

"Y-you shouldn't of…-hic- you shouldn't of had…look at you!" she nearly screamed gesturing to his right leg. Pain flashed across his saddened face—so she was disgusted by him. His rosy lips tugged south and so did his gaze.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" she shakily inhaled before looking straight into his emerald orbs with her red, glassy ones.

"You can't play sports anymore. You can't race. You can't run away from Ms. Kirkland when Gil sets you and Francis up! It will be harder to pick tomatoes, and…and," her lips trembled and she clenched her fists, "You can't play in the field anymore, just like you always dreamed of!"

Antonio looked down at her with surprise at her outburst.

"And it's all my fault…you should have just left me alone, no one wants me anyway…" she sniffed quietly, burying her wet face into her hands.

The boy reminisced about her actions that week. How she would look away when he'd try to fire up a conversation. How she would not sit with him during lunch. How she'd not even say good night. And the poor boy had thought that she was disgusted with his disabled form. That he can't walk without a crutch again.

A small smile flitted across his lips and he raised a hand to her head, affectionately ruffling it. (Name) pulled away from her hands to look at him in disbelief, though he was in a crutch, he was the same height as (Name).

"Silly chica, it was worth it."

Marvelled, the ten year old said no more.

The sweet memory was still alive in the (h/c) girl's mind and it never failed to make her smile or cry. "Miss (Name)? Uhh…Miss (Name)?"

Suddenly shaken of her thoughts, her mind desperately attempted to connect with reality. She was turned towards the glass window of the train, the snow delicately floating from the dark velvet sky onto the white frosting-like ground. The warm lights had illuminated a December glow over the bustling folks, tracks, and station, the Bayeux Station—Normandy,France. Something flared within her? Was it excitement? Relief? Joy? Or a mixture of the three? (Name) didn't know and she didn't care, all she cared was that when she saw her brunette companion smiling at her, he had assured that it was not a dream.

"We're here in Normandy, Miss (Name)."