Author's Note: Clearly this story is totally OOC and AU. It is August 1944...um, thats all you really need to know for now I guess. Read (duh, if you are reading this you are gonna read!) and Review!

A girl was coming to live with my family. She was from some small European country and her family wanted her to be placed in America where she could be safe from the ongoing war. My father was from her country, Genovia, and offered to take her into our home for safekeeping.

I was given the job of picking her up at the port. My parents were in their office. My father is a psychologist (how embarrassing is that? I just wish he'd have a regular job like a regular parent), and my mother was his assistant. She wanted to be a psychologist as well but her father wouldn't let her go to college. It wasn't proper for a woman of her standing to attend college.

My father told me that the girl I was picking up's father was a government official in Genovia and wanted his sixteen year old daughter out of the country. I'm sure she's stuck up, being European and everything. But I would deal with it. She would be living with us, but probably would spend most of her time in Lilly's room. Probably moping about how terrible America is.

I was told she had long dark blonde hair and legs just as long. The girl was going to be sharing a room with my little sister who had short black hair and a round face. They sounded very opposite. It'd be entertaining to see how they would get along.

I was also told that she had very little luggage and no one else with her. That must have been kind of scary, going on a ship with hundreds of other kids coming to a country where you don't even know a single soul. I guess I can understand if she is kind of distant. I mean, what girl wouldn't be if she was accustomed to having everything and then pushed into a world where she would have to do without (like everyone else in the world)?

I had arrived to the docks early enough to dawdle around and to read the papers. My parents did not let my younger sister or I read the papers at home. They thought the psychological effects of the war would follow us through our entire lives. It's kind of funny though, this time next year I may very well be drafted and sent over to fight for something I'm not allowed to know about.

I glanced up and saw a beautiful girl with dark brown hair looking around very nervously. She was biting her lower lip and going on her tippy toes to look around. I noticed a really large man with her, handing her a piece of luggage. That couldn't be the girl I was looking for, but she was damn pretty. Couldn't hurt to talk to her.

I put down my paper and walked over to her. "You look lost."

She looked at me nervously, "This is New York City," she replied. "Please, leave me alone," she said in a regal voice.

"Well, I'm waiting for someone too," I replied. "Maybe you saw her on the ship?"

She looked me up and down, trying gauge if I looked dangerous or not. "Who?"

"Tall blonde. Grey eyes-"

"Named Mia?"
"No. Amelia Thermopolis."

She looked at her companion and half smiled. "I do not believe I will be needing your assistance any longer."

"Your H-"

"Lars," she hissed.

"Very well," he said, staring at me. "Will you keep her safe?" he asked me.

"I'm guessing you are Amelia Thermopolis?" I asked, finally catching up.

She nodded. "And you are?"

"Michael Moscovitz. You are staying with my family."

She nodded. "Oh yes. I remember your father. He visited with my family when I was young."

"No offense, but you are young."

She half smiled again.

"Do you ever really smile?" I asked, moving out of the way of a cart.

She looked hurt, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You always half smile."

"You met me three minutes ago. Who are you to assume if I smile or not?"

"Well-"

"And what exactly is there to smile about? Leaving my family? Leaving my home? My country possibly being taken over by the Nazi's? My parents being somewhere I can't go? Take a pick Mr. Moscovitz-"

"Don't call me Mr. Moscovitz. I'm Michael."

"Do no make any rash judgements on me."

"Same to you," I countered.

"Mia, if you are settled to go with Mr. Moscovitz then I must be on my way."

She turned to the man she called Lars. "Must you?"

He hugged her, "It will not be long. You have heard the reports P- Mia. The allies will overcome Hitler in no time."

She sighed heavily. "Yes. Will you keep in touch?"

He kissed the top of her head, "Of course I will."

"Are you going home?" she asked softly.

"Yes. You know I must go defend Genovia. You will be safe here in New York with the Mossovitz family."

"It's Moscovitz," I corrected.

They looked at me, seemingly surprised that I was still there.

"Well, they will take care of you."

She looked worriedly at me. "Very well then. Bye Lars."

"Bye M-Mia. Enjoy your time here."

She smiled wholeheartedly. "Yes. And keep yourself safe. I love you Lars."

I could see the man holding back tears. "And you too, Miss."

He quickly handed me her bag and rushed into the crowd.

"You two are close?" I asked.

She turned away from the crowd and looked at me. "I've known him everyday of my life. He's always been around. More than my parents at times," she said looking at the ground.

"We better get out of here," I said grabbing her wrist.

"Why?" she stammered.

"Because hanging around the pier isn't exactly my idea of a fun Saturday afternoon. There are pick pockets looking for all the money the immigrants bring over."

She looked disgusted, "What about your law enforcement?"

I laughed, "They have murderers and rapists to go after, forget about the pick pockets."
"M-Murderers?"

I had read that there had been very little reported murders in Genovia. That their leader, the Crowned Prince Jacque Phillippe had practically erased the word from the Genovian dictionary.

"Don't worry, not around where I live."

We started walking toward the trolley that rode by my apartment.

"What is this?" she asked.

"A trolley," I replied, swinging onto the contraption.

"And everyone rides it?" she asked, looking at the other passengers.

"Yes. I take it to school every day."

"School..." she said softly, like the idea was foreign. "Do you attend public school?"

"No. A private school. They just made it co-educational."

"Will I attend the same school?" she asked quickly.

I shrugged, "Probably."

She looked out the window and watched as the New York City tourist stops passed by. "You have a lovely city."

I pulled the rope to ask the driver for a stop, "Well, wait to pass judgment until you meet my younger sister."

"You have a sister?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes. Why do you look so shocked?"

"I thought boys who had sisters knew how to act around girls."

I looked at her and pulled her off the trolley. "And I don't?"

"No. You act presumptious and...well, I forget you are American."

I laughed, "For someone coming to my family for help you are awfully rude."

She fixed her posture, "I am very thankful. You live here?" she asked, looking at the high rise.

"Yes. What's wrong with it?"

"Well...it's...so dreary. In the book I read about the United States they said that most people lived in houses outside of the city-"

"They say that is the wave of the future. But for now we live in Manhattan. The best place on Earth. The war would never hit us here. No one would ever consider trying to attack New York," I started going on about my city. Can you tell I'm a little proud of it? "They say the tallest buildings in the world will be built here....that is, after the war."

She nodded. "Are you going to join?"

"What, the war?"

"Yes."

"When I turn eighteen I suppose...I will leave school and join the Navy."

"Oh," she said simply, looking up at my building again. "I'll say this much, once the war is over your family should consider moving out of the city."

"I'm sure you've seen worse," I replied, opening our front door and motioning for her to go ahead of me.

She entered graciously. "Thank you. I can't say I have. Not all European countries are war torn now."

I nodded and started walking up to our apartment. "Don't you have lifts?" she asked. "Even ships have lifts."

"Yes, but they only go to the top floors. We live on the fourth floor."

She looked terrified. "We have to walk up?"

"Yes," I said harshly. "You can manage I'm sure. You just lived on a ship for a month and a half avoiding bombs. I'm sure you can handle a four floor walk up."

She nodded.

"Besides, it'll give you time to prepare for Lilly."