Author's Note: There is something in here that may look like a mistake, but it's not one at all. All will be explained in due time.

Oh, and RACHEL: I have had this written since September. So I have the ability to post when the mood strikes me. And HGill: Kenny isn't in this story silly.

Read. Review. Be Merry.

Go Pats.

Fifteen days til spring training for the Sox.

MIA:

Lilly and I poked our heads out the door and saw Randa standing by the front door. She had a heavy coat on and a suitcase next to her.

"Randa!" I said rushing to her. "How are-"

"He's dead," she said calmly. Way too calmly. "I'm moving to Carmel, California to…to start over. I'm going to live with my aunt and uncle out there. They are going to raise the baby as their own."

"Randa….I…" I was trying desperately to take this all in. It was impossible. He couldn't be dead. Michael would have said something. Maybe he didn't know yet… "Miranda, why are you giving-"

"Look, I just wanted to say goodbye. I'm starting all over out there but…I just wanted to say goodbye and to wish you and Michael…."she drifted off looking at her feet, then focused her attention fully on me. "Why do you get this life? I'm supposed to!"

"I..I…What?"
"You just come right along and get Michael to marry you. You are getting the life I was supposed to have with Kevin! I've been with him so much longer!"

I glanced nervously at Lilly, who looked sincerely surprised by the outburst.

"I'm sorry-"

"It's just not fair! I'm the one that's older! I'm the one that's supposed to have the life! He and I are supposed to go live in Greenwich in Connecticut. He is going to be a lawyer!"

I noted that she was talking in the present tense. She clearly hadn't gotten near accepting his death. "Randa…I…."

"Why couldn't Michael have died instead?" she screamed.

I nearly fell backwards in surprise, but Lilly caught me.

Mrs. Moscovitz emerged from the den, "What on...comealong now, let's get you back downstairs to your mother shall we?" she said, holding back her own tears. She'd known Kevin almost as long as she'd known her own son.

I watched from my bedroom window as Miranda was hugged by Mrs. Moscovitz. She was being given words of wisdom from my mother in law. Something I wouldn't mind that much.

I was expected to deal with Michael's absence on my own. Sure, she helped with my pregnancy, but Dr. Moscovitz has made it abundantly clear that we are to be on our own once Michael returns. Which is fine since that's what Michael wants anyways. For us to be on our own. But then he also doesn't know that we will have a baby at the same time.

MICHAEL:

"Anything?" I asked Hannah two weeks after she sent Mia's letter for me.

She shook her head. "But we are moving you to a room instead of this hallway. In fact, I believe you are sharing a room with your rescuer."

My eyes widened, "My what?"

"The man who carried you off the ship," she replied. "He was almost off the ship and he saw you lying unconscious. He went back for you."

I hadn't known the whole story, nor had I wanted to know the whole story. "You guys know who it was? An American?"

"No. A Genovian."

"A what?"

"I know, hardly anyone has heard of that country. It's really small, between Italy and France. It's nothing really. They don't even have a standing army-"

"I know all that…I just didn't think they'd…"

"Some volunteer help with you American troops. Especially on the ships with new recruits. This guy was working in the engine room, where you were."

I tried to remember all the faces I saw, but they were all a blur. "What's his name? So I can thank him properly."

She looked back at her folder, "Arthur Jacques. He's only eighteen, like us."

"You are only eighteen?" I asked, surprised. She started pushing me toward my new room.

"Yes. Surprised much?"

"I just…you seem so much older."

"What, you have a thing for older women?" she teased as she turned a corner into my room.

I shook my head, "Hardly. Mia is only sixteen. Seventeen in May... Shit, her birthday is tomorrow!"

"I'm sure she'll understand under the circumstances. Private Jacques?"

A blonde man turned around and stared at me. "Moscovitz I presume?"

I nodded and stared at him. He had an eye patch on his left eye. And very visible marks on his face. "Hero," I replied with a smirk.

He smiled, "I wouldn't say that," he said with an accent that reminded me of my wife. The airy way she spoke when she first arrived in New York.

"You boys should be behaving yourselves in here. The night nurse will be in in a few minutes to change the bandages on your eye Arthur," she said, helping me get into my bed.

"Thanks, Hannah," he said with a sense of longing that only another man would notice.

After she left, "I hear you are from Genovia?"

He sat on the edge of my bed. "Yes. It's-"

"On the Cote d'Azur. Population approximately 50,000. Smaller than New York City even. You have a monarchy. The family was chosen by an old Italian king back in the old days," I recited, copying Mia's speech about her home. Back when she first came over she always spoke so longingly of it. By the time I left though...well, she hadn't.

He looked surprised and completely taken back. "How'd you know-"

I smirked, "I read about your princess. Amelia is it?"

He looked terror stricken, "Amelia…yes, that's her name. A great many boys have her picture hanging on their walls. I read that she left the country, right?"

"From what I know, yes."

"When I left there was a family portrait released. Copies of her photograph was spread around. From what I understand many men would want to court her."

"Oh?"

"You see, her brother escaped and joined the services," he started, "And rumor is that their grandmother had not approved of this. So Princess Amelia is the sole heir to the throne. And therefore, a popular debutante."

Heh. He had no idea that his fair princess was taken. "You have a thing for her?" I teased.

"Me?" he asked, nearly choking on air, "No. I never quite got into that whole royalty thing you see. I am from Genovia, yes…but I lived the majority of my life in Italy."

"Oh…right."

"Moscovitz….that's an interesting name. Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," I replied, staring at my ring.

"Well then, where are you from?"

"New York City," I replied.

His eyes widened, "Moscovitz…hmmm, well, I'm sure we are to be friends now that we are roommates."

"Maybe," I said, thinking about Kevin. That wound was still way too fresh. I'd almost be replacing him with this new guy.

"Got a girl?" he asked, going back onto his bed.

"Yeah. A wife actually," I emphasized by showing my ring.

"How'd she get you to do that?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You wanted to get married?"

"To her? Yes. Before I met her I didn't, but she changed my mind."

"Just like a woman."

"No, see…Just knowing her changed my mind. I fell head over heels for her. It wasn't…forget it."

"No, what?" he asked. "I know we only just met but in times like these you got nothing to do but talk."

"At first I didn't like her. But we kind of were forced to be together a lot since she was living with my family, see…she's from Europe see…uh, France….um….well…" I stammered. I'm a horrible liar. But I didn't want him to figure out that Mia, or Amelia, was my wife. Not many Genovians can get to America easily. He'd figure it out.

"You just took advantage of the situation?" he asked with a chuckle. "I've heard great things about those French girls."

"No. I didn't want to fall in love with her….knowing I'd be here in just a few months. But it was too hard not to. She's not the type of girl that you see in America. She's funny when she's not trying to be. She started out being this stiff nervous girl…but she opened up for me."

He raised an eyebrow, "Opened up? You got some from her before-"

"Man, seriously, this is my wife. I'm not about to talk about her like…I don't even know you…"

"Sorry. So what's she like? Her name…hair…c'mon, I don't have much going for me here," he said, pointing at his patch. "I won't be attracting my choice of ladies. Let me live vicariously."

I looked at the side of his face that was not disfigured and realized he would have been good looking if this hadn't happened. He'd have no problem finding dates for Saturday nights. "Well, she has dark hair. Grey eyes. Tall….much taller than most girls I've known."

He laughed, "That sounds like my kid sister…uh, she's like fifteen and a head taller than I am. What part of Europe is she from?"

"France," I lied. "She comes from France."

"Oh right. Right. Sorry, I forget some things."

"No problem," I replied, feeling at ease.

He laughed. "I used to have a girl, back home…but you know how it is. No point in typing someone down if you know you won't be with them."

I was about to ask how he knew he wouldn't be with this girl when the night nurse, Betty, came in. "Okay boys. Time to sleep. You can talk in the morning."

The next morning Arthur was already gone when I woke up. "He's just going for new bandages," Hannah promised me.

"Oh. Any mail?" I asked hopefully.

"No. None at all," she replied.

"When will you have time to write to her for me?"

She sighed, "Lunchtime."

"Okay."

She, surprisingly, touched my cheek, "Your wounds are healing quite nicely."

"Right," I said, wiggling my non existent fingers.

"Stop feeling badly for yourself. Now I'll be back at lunch time to talk. Buh Bye," she said, wiggling her fingers at me. I could swear she was flirting…but she wouldn't…would she?

"That nurse Hannah is pretty cute," Arthur said later on that afternoon, after I finished dictating my letter.

"Not my type," I replied, biting my lip.

"Anything lacking a penis is my type," he admitted. "I definitely need a woman right now."

I smirked. I knew that the navy wouldn't need my services anymore considering I managed to slice off my fingers. And I'd be walking with a limp for the rest of my life, if what Hannah tells me is true. I was going to go home. To my Mia.

"I just want Mia," I replied with a distant smile, remembering our last night together. How she felt sleeping in my arms.

"Who? Her name is Mia?" he asked hastily.

"Yeah, why?"

"Oh…it's just an odd name. Not many girls are named that."

I stared at him. He couldn't see me staring since he was patched up. His profile was familiar, but I couldn't place it. "Well, her real name is Amelia."

He turned towards me, "Like the princess?"

I realized my mistake right away, "Yeah, I guess it was a popular name that year."

"I guess. Well, I think Hannah has the hots for you."

I shrugged, "Who cares? I don't like her like that. She knows I'm happily taken. We are friends."

"You haven't had a single thought like that about her?"

I shook my head, "Nope."

"No smoking the sausage fora nurse that wants you?"

"Smoking the…." I said fading out, realizing what he meant. "God, no. Even if I wanted to I couldn't."

He looked satisfied. "I wouldn't mind slumming it with her. A wartime affair?"

I shook my head. "I'll wait for my wife back home, thanks."