Anya sighed deeply, giving in to the weariness that weighed down her eyelids. Even though she had spent most of the day resting, she felt she could sleep forever. She heard Tintin's bed creak, the sound feeling as close to her as if it were from her own bed. She decided he must be awake, as the boy was a very still sleeper, unlike herself; Anya was restless, even while sleep.

I wonder what he's thinking about.

Sleeping in the presence of another person was as unusual to her as sleeping upside down. She rolled onto her back, folding her hands over the covers. The night air had a pleasant chill to it.

I wonder what he thinks about me.

She ran through just about every encounter with him she could recall, hoping it would help ease her to sleep, yet it seemed to do the opposite. She recalled how much of a pest she was when they first met, how she acted wild and impulsive during their escape, how she had been caught in the kitchen earlier today faking a call. He must have wanted her to be milder, as a girl; perhaps not as straightforward.

Would he like me better if I were more of a lady?

She hadn't had many interactions with girls her own age. How could she know the right things to say, or what to do?

"Anya? Are you awake?" A soft voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"I'm awake."

"Listen, about what I said earlier...I'm really sorry. I must have sounded like an idiot."

"Tintin-"

"All I meant was, I hope we can be friends. Even if it's just for a little while."

The word sounded foreign in her ears, like something out of a story book. She felt a small fluttering sensation in her stomach, coming and disappearing in a second.

"I...I think I'd like that. And I-"

"Stop talking."

Anya rolled over, surprised. Tintin was sitting straight up in bed, his face concentrated, sending sharp tingles of alarm down her scalp.

"What is it?"

He slipped out of bed, moving to the door in one fluent movement. Anya scrambled after him, her dark hair flying wildly around her face. Tintin motioned for her to stay back as he opened the door. Anya heard it now: the rhythm of voices just outside. They didn't seem too happy, either. Anya lingered behind Tintin, the pale light of the full moon setting him aglow. The porch light on the house was open, and in the moonlight Anya could see Matt in the doorway, talking to a group of men standing stiffly on his driveway. Matt made no effort to stop them as the men paraded into his house. He looked defeated, even from so far away, and Anya felt a stab of pity for the man. Tintin almost tripped over her as he skirted back to his bed, gathering their few belongings.

"Grab your stuff, Anya. We have to leave, now."

Anya obeyed, feeling a familiar pulse of excitement; once again, they were on the move.

In mere seconds they left the little shack, as if they had never been there. Anya dashed after Tintin, fixing her gaze on the back of his ginger head. His shoulders moved with his feet, strong and smooth. As trees blocked out the moon around them, she realized they were going through the woods. Too exhilarated to feel tired, they ran, all concept of time and space dissolving in the darkness. After a while, Anya heard more than the sound of their feet striking the leafy ground; somewhere, an owl hooted in the night. Something wolfish cried out, sending goosebumps over her skin. The next thing she knew she was plummeting towards the ground.

"Are you alright?" Tintin quickly helped her to her feet, brushing debris from her shirt.

"Clumsy…" She mumbled, though the ground felt like it was on a slant.

"We're almost out of this forest, and we can stop. See over there? There are lights."

She nodded, too breathless to speak. Flickering lights could be seen off in the distance, between the trees.

"Here, lean on me. We have to keep moving."

He offered an arm to her, and she slowly surrendered her weight to him, not minding his tight grip around her waist or the way his damp sweater pressed against her cheek.

"Everything's going to be fine…."

/*/*/*

Haddock turned his passport over in his hand. At his feet, Snowy whined, pressing against his leg as if Haddock was an island and the airport a sea of monsters. Haddock smiled, bending over to ruffle Snowy's fur.

"It'll be alright, laddie. There's a good boy…"

He couldn't remember Snowy being this affectionate towards him before, but then again, he supposed he was the closest thing the little dog had to Tintin.

"Passport, sir."

Haddock handed his passport to the worker under the glass screen. The uniformed man glanced over the counter with a distasteful scowl.

"Your dog has to be on a leash, sir. Better yet, in a cage."

Haddock flustered. "Listen here, mister. This dog is probably the best behaved mutt in all of Belgium. I won't have you treating him like that."

"Even so, all mutts tend to get under someone's skin on an airplane. Occasionally, even before they make it past security…"

His snide comment went under Haddock's radar.

"Alright, I'll tie him up. Do you have a rope?"

"See if you can find a belt or something over in that box of discarded items. Here's your passport."

Haddock brought his hand to his cap in thanks, and headed over to said box. He found a pink scarf that would do the trick, and double-knotted it around Snowy's neck. Snowy growled, turning his head in offense.

"Come on, now, boy...just for a few hours...pink isn't really your color, is it?"

Haddock noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a bearded man with sunglasses was watching him. The man glanced at some sort of paper, and back at him again, almost as if…

Haddock looked directly at him. The man turned his head, tucking the paper away as he walked back towards the entrance. Haddock stood, watching as the man disappeared into the crowd.

"Huh…"

"Direct flight from Brussels to New York is now boarding."

"Well, let's go Snowy," Haddock said, and headed to catch his flight, trying to leave all thoughts of the mysterious man behind him.

/*/*/*

Tintin let out a silent breath of relief as his feet moved from woodland to the gravel road. He took a moment to regain his breath, his legs trembling. Anya pulled away from him, and he let her, watching as she raised her hands over her head, pacing slowly.

"Haven't...run like that...in so long…" she gasped. He exhaled in agreement. He struggled to think of a plan, yet the way he and Anya were thrown out into the night so soon after the frightful plane ride had rattled his mind too much. He brought a fist to his mouth, pressing it against his lips.

"Well?" Anya had stopped pacing and stood with her arms crossed over her chest. "What now?"

Tintin shook his head; "I wish I knew."

"Come on, Reporter. You always think of something. We are still headed to New York, aren't we?"

Tintin stared back into the woods; he felt too unsure of himself to meet Anya's gaze.

"Yes. We still are...I think…"

"We will need to catch the train to New York City. From there, we can get anywhere."

"How do you know…"

"I was born in New York," Anya said. "I know it's not much to go off of, but if we can find a way to get to the train station, we should be able to get where we need to go."

Tintin nodded, his head finally starting to get a grip on things.

"Alright...alright. We need...we need a car...Lord knows where we will find one at this time of day..."

"Hey!"

Some distance down the road, light flashed from an oncoming car. Anya ran towards it, Tintin taking after her with a yell.

"Anya, wait!"

She ran directly to the car, until the lights from the headlights blotted her out, leaving a slim, dark car's wheels screeched as it came to a brisk halt. Anya was close enough to press her sweaty palms against the hood of the car as she made her way to the drivers' window.

"Please sir, we need a ride! It's urgent!"

Tintin froze in front of the vehicle, the glare of the lights washing out his face. The man in the driver's seat poked his head out the window, squinting; he looked to be in his thirties, with dark hair and a square face and glasses.

"Hey there, son. You kids need help? What's happened?"

"We...uh…"

Anya cut in quickly, "See, sir, my mother just called and told us she's going into labor, and she wants us to be there as soon as possible."

Tintin felt his stomach twist at the easy lie. He met Anya's wild gaze for a brief moment, his blue eyes glowing from the glare of the headlights. She looked away, tightening her grip on the window.

"Your mother? I see. Where to?"

"The train station, please."

"Well, that's only a twenty minute drive from here. Hop in."

Tintin went to the other side of the car, slamming the door a little more forcefully than he intended. Anya was already inside, and though she tried to meet his gaze, he stared straight into the back of the passenger seat.

"Thank you so much for helping us out, sir."

Anya's words were truly grateful, but Tintin knew they were meaningless.

"So, where are you from?" The man drove quickly and efficiently, seeming excited for the two strangers in the backseat. Anya engaged in small-talk in her mixed accent, though Tintin noticed she leaned American. When they arrived at the train station, Anya thanked the man again, and he drove away. Dark clouds had gathered over the moon in the short time they were driving, threatening to strike at any moment. Anya turned to Tintin.

"We should buy tickets for the next train to New York City...I think I have enough money for both of us."

Tintin clenched his jaw, looking down at his feet. Anya paused for a moment, giving him a chance to respond, knowing he wouldn't, failing to meet his eyes. She pushed her hurt feelings aside, as she always did, and went to the ticket booth. The station was practically deserted, save for the two gentlemen waiting on the bench and the old lady with a red umbrella off to the side. Anya tapped the iron bars on the ticket booth, in an attempt to rouse the ticket seller behind. He sat up, haphazardly rubbing the sleep from his eyes and grabbing his glasses.

"Wh...what can I help you with, miss?"

"I need a ticket to New York City. Two, actually."

"Mmh...always the city. Nobody evers wants to visit Connecticut, or maybe the Sound..."

"Please sir, I am kind of in a hurry."

"Alright, alright...there's a train to New York City in an hour. Two tickets will cost...let's see…$8 dollars and 22 cents."

Anya pulled a few rumpled bills from her right pocket, and coins from her left. She counted them quickly out loud as she set them on the counter.

"Three...four-fifty...five…"

Her face fell as she realized her pockets were empty. The ticket seller's mustache quirked upwards disdainfully.

"Seems like you're a little short, miss."

"N-no...well…"

A hand came from behind her and slapped down onto the counter, coins clinking underneath its palm.

"Put your money away."

Anya stiffened, recognizing Tintin's blue sweater, rolled up past his elbows, his lean arms and neat hands. She tore her gaze away, and quickly stuffed her money back into the pockets of her oversized men's jeans.

"Here you are, sir. Two tickets to New York City."

"Thank you."

Anya moved out of the way as the gentleman handed Tintin the tickets. She opened her mouth to speak, her stomach feeling twisted, but Tintin was too fast. He took her by the arm and pulled her back outside. The dark night air was humid, and droplets of rain began to plop down upon the platform. He turned to face her once they were alone, his face uncharacteristically concentrated.

"Alright, I'm going to say this once, and I need you to listen to me, okay?"

"Tintin-"

"I've had enough of you shutting me out! I've had enough of...of you trying to fix everything, lying….If you really don't care, about me, or about what I'm trying to do, just tell me now."

Heat rushed to Anya's cheeks; she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. Tintin exhaled, pressing his fingers to his temples in defeat.

"Anya...I just need you to trust me. You don't have to be alone anymore."

He fixed his gaze upon her, waiting. The rain was falling steadily now, filling in the silence as it pattered down around them, catching in their hair and rolling down their faces. When Anya finally raised her face to meet his gaze, there were tears streaming from her eyes, joining the raindrops as they danced over her skin. Tintin felt his hurt and anger in his expression ebb away, to be replaced by surprise. He heard the rawness of pain in her voice as she took a shaky breath.

"I...I'm so sorry, Tintin..."

She swayed ever so slightly on her feet, and dropped to her knees. Tintin moved towards her, the space between them closing faster than a heartbeat. They were suddenly so close, his arms wrapped around her supportively as she cried into his shirt.

"It's okay…" he murmured into her dark hair, "Everything is going to be okay…"

/*/*/*

A/N: Well, things are moving pretty fast, but don't get too excited; I think we all know Anya and Tintin still have some things to work out in the upcoming chapter. Once again, thanks for the amazing reviews, this chapter was pure fan-power(18 days!)!