[Isn't Ben nice, for putting up a note for me?! He's kinda my Michael Moscovitz, he just doesn't realise it yet….Even so, he does think that PD FanFics are stupid, but hey, everybody has their faults! I mean, Michael didn't even want to go to the prom….

Ok, the time has finally come, and we have arrived at the FINAL CHAPTER. I know this is obviously, a very hard time for us all, but once you have managed to stop crying enough to read the story, I would very much appreciate it if you could review me one more time! Thanks! And I would like to thank each and every one of you for reviewing pats all reviewers on the head it makes me very very happy indeed!!!

Anyhow, this chapter is in the third person and Mia's POV, because it gives a clearer idea of what is actually going on, as well as letting you know what's going on with Michael as well, and his thoughts. I would do a Michael POV, but I would probably make him sound worryingly goy, so it is probably for the best to have it like this….. Also, for anyone who's interested, I have pins and needles in my right foot :o)]

Mia looked around the small white room with a petrified look on her face. What was going to happen to her? She had been locked in the office for almost tow hours now. Two hours of worrying about what would be done with her, and what's more, what would be done with Michael.

She rested her head on the shiny black table and wondered what the room was used for. When Grandmere had insisted that there be a Genovian embassy built in New York, she had spend a very long time specifying what rooms there should be. However, Mia had never heard her mention 'interrogation rooms.' Perhaps she had been at a dress fitting while that was being discussed.

While Mia was thinking this, little did she know that just two doors down, in a room almost identical to the one she was in, Michael was talking to a large foreign guy, by the name of Lars.

'She'll be ok though, wont she?' Michael asked anxiously as he paced up and down.

'The princess will be fine Mr Moscovitz, her family will be very pleased to have her back. You one the other hand…'

'…will be beheaded, and never see her again' Michael completed the sentence with a sigh.

'I was going to say that your fate will be decided by the Prince, and no doubt the Dowager Princess too.'

'Oh and that's better?!' he asked him self aloud. The Prince and dowager Princess (although it seemed pretty strange to call her that, Michael thought, because as far as he could see, Mia's Grandmere was anything but Princess-like. What sort of a princess has eyeliner tattooed on anyway?) had never really liked him. In fact, Mia's Grandmere had always pretty much hated Michael, mainly because he wasn't Royal, and because he played in a band and used to own a webzine called Crackhead. Apparently, future prince consorts shouldn't really be associated with anything with the name Crackhead, or indeed anything drug related. Which Michael had always thought was a bit off, after Prince Harry's drug related shenanigans. Then again, Harry wasn't a prince consort so he guessed it was probably ok….

'Maybe you should talk to the Princess?'

'I cant! I have been locked in this weird white room. How can I get out?'

'Ah yes, but you forget, I have the keys,' smiled Lars casually, as he jangled a loop of keys around his finger.

Three hours I had had me in that room. THREE!!!! They could do this can they? I mean come on, I'm a princess! They cant seriously lock me up. Then again, I did kind of run away from the country I will one day have to rule over, which is probably the reason they had me locked up… But still! I wasn't even sure whether the room I was being held captive in had decent ventilation. For all I knew, the oxygen levels could be running very low.

Just as I was finding it hard to breathe, I heard the clicking of the lock, and then the door swung open, to reveal Lars, and behind him, Michael.

'Lars!' I cried before running over to hug him. I hadn't seen him for nearly two months, and to be quite honest, I'd missed him. After all, the reason I had left Genovia in the first place hadn't been because of my bodyguard. It was my family. Lars had even helped me escape, he drove me to the airport and helped to get me on the plane without my being recognised.

I eventually broke away from my embrace with Lars and turned to Michael. He looked tired and worried. His hair was all messed up too, and looked like he had been running his fingers through it.

'I'm sorry Michael,' I said quietly, not really making eye contact. I felt bad enough already, I didn't want to have to look into those deep brown peat-bog eyes and feel any worse.

'Why are you sorry?' he asked lightly touching my arm. It sent shivers down my spine and I started to cry. How could I be leaving him? After all this time without him, and now I had found him again, and even got him to love me again. They couldn't make me go back now? Could they?

'For putting you through all of this. But I guess after they let you go you can go and make up again with Judith. I'm sure theres still enough time if you just wanted to…'

'Mia, how many times do I have to tell you? I love you, not Judith. I've never loved her and I never will. Not when I can have you. And probably not even if I couldn't. So I'm not going to go running back to Judith, no matter what happens. I promise,' he looked me straight in the eye, and I felt a solitary tear rolling slowly and sadly down my cheek. I continued to look at him as he wiped the tear away gently, his touch lingering slightly on my tingling skin.

'Oh Michael, what are we going to do,' I sniffed miserably, feeling my chin beginning to wobble slightly.

'We'll think of something. With Lars on our side, we can and will find a way around this,' he soothed, pulling me to his chest and stroking my hair softly. It could have just been me, but I think I heard Lars coughing after hearing what Michael said. I have to say, I wasn't too sure it would work, but anything is worth a try for love…right?

Of course I knew that we could probably escape, that wasn't what I was doubting, Lars would be able to get us out no problem, however, I couldn't keep hiding forever could I? I mean, eventually I would have to face up to who I was, and where I needed to be.

'Michael, wait,' I said softly, pulling away from him. He looked hurt and confused. 'I can't keep running from this forever. I've to face up to who I am. But I don't want to have to let you go either. I need to speak to my Dad and Grandmere,' I sighed heavily and fell back into the chair I had been sitting in before.

'The Prince and Dowager Princess will be here soon, Princess,' Lars informed us.

'Good. I want to speak to them as soon as possible,' I said, trying to sound assertive and bold. It didn't really work.

'I will escort Mr Moscovitz back to his room,' announced Lars, and with that he lead Michael out of the room, and I was left alone, once again. I had to work out what to say to dad and Grandmere, as at the time I didn't have a clue. I just wished Michael had been allowed to stay, to help me work it out. He's much smarter than me. He's even been to University, at Columbia no less. I barely managed to pass Freshman algebra. Michael would obviously have been a great help.

Two hours later, a white limo pulled up in front of the Genovian Embassy, and two figures climbed out into the heavy rain which was pouring down all over New York. But that was late November for you. The two made their way hurriedly into the building and quickly removed their coats, revealing a balding man in his mid 40's and an elderly woman in her early 70's.

'I told you that she should have been raised in Genovia,' the elder of the two grumbled. 'That reckless American painter has ruined her. If she had been brought up in Genovia she would have never met that retched boy, let alone ended up running half way across the world to be with him. Philippe, are you even listening to me?' she asked, glaring at the man who was in deep conversation with the lead of security.

'….and she's ok?' he was asking in a concerned voice.

'Your highness she is fine. I have spoken to her myself and she seems perfectly fine,' he replied in an official manor.

'Is he with her,' the woman asked quickly, spitting out the 'he' as though it was a fly which had flown into her mouth and she was spitting out in complete disgust. Not that, of course, Dowager Princesses spit.

'No your highness, Mr Moscovitz is in a separate room. Would you like me to let him go?'

The elderly woman opened her mouth, but the prince got in there first, 'No, I would like to speak to him if that's ok Lars.'

'Excellent your highness, but first, I think your daughter would like a word with you,' Lars said, bowing slightly before motioning for the two to follow him down a marble hall way and into a waiting elevator.

'Doors closing,' the elevator announced. 'Going up..'

I sat there, drumming my fingers on the table. Still waiting. The clock on the wall opposite clicked, telling the whole room another minute had passed. Another eventless minute. Everything was silent, apart from the ticking of the clock. Then I hear footsteps.

The door swung open, revealing my father, and Grandmere. Although I had been planning what to do, I still wasn't quite sure about what would happen when they first entered. Would they be happy to see me, would they not? What would Grandmere say? Luckily I wasn't kept waiting long before these questions were answered.

'MIA!' my father cried as he pulled me into his arms tightly. We held each other for a while, until Grandmere began tapping her foot on the cold hard floor, and we reluctantly pulled apart.

'Grandmere…' is started uncertainly, not knowing quite what to expect from her. Nothing new there.

'I think you had better leave us alone now Philippe,' she stated simply, looking from my father to the door.

'Very well, mother, I will go and speak to Michael. But when you are finished I would like to be informed, I would like to speak to my daughter.' With that he turned and left, and I was left alone. With Grandmere.

I felt 14 again.

'You have brought disgrace and shame upon the whole of the Genovian Royal family, and shame on Genovia as well. How could you do that to your own country?' I had been sat there for the past 20 minutes, listening to her rambling on about shame and honour and family and Genovia, too scared to say anything to her. Up until that point that is.

'Grandmere, how can you say that? You make it sound like I should give up everything that I want, just got the sake of a small spit of land between France and Spain. Genovia isn't even my country anyway. America is, and it always will be.'

'Amelia, how can you say that? Genovia is your home, you will one day inherit it from your father. Then Genovia will by your country. And what will you do then? Say you want to rule America instead?'

'NO Grandmere. All I'm saying is I need some time away. Away from you, away from my dad, away from the palace, away from Genovia. I just needed some time ok? This doesn't mean I'm not going to do whatever with Genovia once it's mine. It just means that I need some time away to do stuff I wont be able to do when it really is mine.' As I said this, I observed Grandmere, waiting for her reaction. She sighed, and suddenly she looked older. After years of Botox she had been able to partially beat her age, but it was starting to show now, and there was nothing she could do about it.

'This is just like what your father did. He went away to college, he met your mother, they had 'fun' just like you and that boy have been…'

'He's 22...'

'His age isn't important. The fact is your father did this sort of thing when he was your age, slightly older in fact, but look what happened there. He met your mother at college, and look what happened there. He ended up with an illegitimate heir to his throne.' My mouth fell open. Hello, this is not the kind of thing you expect your Grandmother to tell you when she sees you for the first time in several months since your went missing. Normal Grandparents would hug you and tell you how much they love you. Instead, Grandmere tells me that I was an accident and not a very good on at that. However, seeing my shocked facial expression, she realised what she had said, and quickly added, 'Not of course that we aren't all very happy he did have you, it's just that we do not want you making the same mistakes he made.'

'Grandmere,' I sighed, 'Me and Michael are not going to have a baby or do anything stupid like that. And even if that did happen, he would marry me. We love each other.'

'Amelia, you think you do now, but how do you really know?' She sounded tired. It seemed she may have had a conversation along these lines about oo, I'd say 19, 20 years ago?

'Grandmere, I know, I've always loved Michael, and I always will.'

'Yes, I am not doubting your devotion to the bo...to him, I am merely pointing out he may not feel the same way.'

'But I know he does Grandmere.'

'That's what your father thought, when he found out your mother was pregnant. But she never intended on marrying him.'

'He asked her?' I was shocked? I never knew this, I thought they had just decided not to do anything in that department. Well I guess I get that wrong.

'But of course. When she declined he returned to Genovia, tail between his legs and told us what had happened. I cant say we were pleased, on the contrary, what sort of message does that send out to the country? But there was nothing we could do. Which is why we think it would be best for you to come back to Genovia.'

'WHAT?'

'We just think it would be better if you left now, before anything serious happens between you and…erm…Michael. It's for the best.

'Who's 'we'?' They couldn't just take me away from Michael could they?

'Me and your father. Come on Amelia, the car is waiting.'

'But…' I began to protest but I was already being dragged out of the room and into the corridor, down the stairs out of the door, and away from Michael. As I reluctantly ducked my head to get into the waiting limo, I looked back up the lit windows in the large building behind me, knowing one must have been Michaels, and saying a silent farewell.

Michael looked up as the door to the room he was sat rather uncomfortably in opened, and a look of sheer horror crossed his face briefly as Prince Philippe or Genovia entered quickly. Michael leapt to his feet, realising that he was currently in the presence of royalty, and wanted to make a good impression, as he would like to see Mia again before he was punished in some sort of unpleasant way.

'Michael we must make this quick, before my mother does something stupid.'

Michael stood there flabbergasted for a moment, before making a noise which was a cross between a strangled splutter and a laugh, and sitting down a little too quickly.

'But before we go any further, I must ask you, Michael, otherwise there is no point in going on. What are your feelings for my daughter.'

Again Michael looked like e had just been slapped by a fish [he he he] before make any movement or saying anything.

'I…urm…I…er…we…erm…I love her,' he said finally, looking up to meet the Princes eyes for the first time since he entered the room.

'Love her enough to marry her?' he asked simply. This time Michael needed ot make no strange faces. The answer came naturally.

'Yes.'

'Well then if you have any desire to do that whatsoever you much some right away,' the prince commanded, and Michael sprung to his feet, ready for action.

They made their way quickly along a long white corridor, lined with doors. From the one second from the end loud shouts could be heard, and on hearing Mia's voice Michael turned suddenly, before Philippe grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the stairs.

They quickly descended the three flights of stairs and manoeuvred their way through the foyer, pausing briefly as the Prince said something to one of the door men, and then out into the cold early November New York air. A black limo was waiting by the door, and the prince climbed in quickly, motioning for Michael to follow suit.

Once inside the chauffeur turned around and asked where it was they wanted to be taken.

'No where yet, Hans. Just wait here,' the Prince instructed, before sitting back into the leather bound seat, and instructing Michael on what must be done.

Michael had just psyched himself up for a long wait when he hear people descending the front steps of the embassy and the next thing he knew the door was opening and the princess of Genovia was being thrust onto his lap.

'Michael?' I whispered. What the hell was he doing in the limo. And with my dad!? however, I was offered no explanation, instead he merely smiled broadly at me before leaning over and closing the door.

'To the airport,' my father instructed quickly and the limo began to move away from the Embassy and into the steady flow of 4am New York traffic [bearing in mind I have never been to New York, but I'm guessing its pretty busy whatever time. If I am wrong, forgive me :o)]

'What's going on?' I asked eventually, lifting my head off Michael's knee where it had been resting since I had been thrust into the car. He and my dad exchanged a 'look' before Michael turned back to find me now actually sat in a seat, as apposed to being draped across several.

'We're taking you back to Genovia,' he said softly, stroking my forehead with his thumb.

'But…what about Grandmere?'

My dad chuckled, 'Oh, I got one of the door men to distract her while we got you in here.'

'Oh,' I said simply, before leaning over and resting my head on Michael's shoulder.

The rest of the car journey was in almost perfect silence, my having gone to sit up front with Hans after a while, leaving me and Michael to ourselves.

'So what are we going to do when we get to Genovia then?' Michael asked eventually, still stroking my forehead in that oh so soothing way he knew I loved.

'Avoid Grandmere like the plague?' I offered, lifting my head to look at him.

'Ah I don't think she'll be that bad,' said, smiling slightly.

'Michael, she hates you!'

'Ah come on! She can't hate the new Prince consort that much.'

'WHAT?!' I cried.

'Well, of course, that is if you will have me,' he added quickly, looking down at his shoes and going slightly red.

'Of course I'll have you Michael,' I cried again, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him.

And so they drove on through New York, and on into the rising sun, their lives now joined, together spinning.