A/N: Thank you to my reviewers:

To aragonsgirll thank you. I red your story and probably as you guessed from my reviews I loved it. Oh and to luvgarrett I do too! At least Hedlund that is.

Chapter Two:

Amy stood leaning against the counter looking at Bobby. Shortly after they caught their breath he had passed out. Evidently he was a little more drunk then even he guessed. His mountain boots were on the floor beside him with a quilt over him.

A phone rang. Amy looked up from her cup of coffee. It wasn't her ring tone. She looked over at Bobby's discarded coat. She rifled threw the pockets until she found the flip phone. Bobby groaned as the ring got louder.

"Pick it up." She looked at him and shrugged complying.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is George Richards," Amy remained quiet. "Robert Mercer's parole officer," It didn't shock Amy all that much, most people in down town Brooklyn had a parole officer.

"Oh, right sorry I forgot your name."

"Right well…yours would be…?"

"Oh, Amelia Mar…cough Mercer, Amelia Mercer."

"Oh really? How are you related to Robert?"

"I am his niece."

"Really? Well I have his record in front of me and it says here in my notes that he has two nieces, Daniella and Amelia, both of who are under sixteen and both live in Detroit." 'Smart Ass,' Amy couldn't help but think.

"I am sorta illigit, ya know how it is." She laughed. The officer faltered a laugh then cleared his throat.

"Well, is Robert there?"

"Uh, sorry, no he is in the shower, but I am sure I can answer any questions you may have." Bobby was looking at her obviously trying to figure out who she was and where he was.

"Hmm, fine. Has Robert been drinking lately?"

"No sir." She didn't hesitate.

"Has he been in any fights?" 'Does the other guy have to fight back to make it a fight?'

"No sir."

"How is his new apartment?"

"Very nice, I help him clean and cook."

"He is keeping up with the rent,"

"Oh yeah in fact he just dropped of the next three months rent last night."

"Well, that will have to do for now. Thank you."

"Well it was my pl…" He hung up. "Fuck you too." She hung up. Recognition dawned on Bobby's face.

"I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship." He smiled she smiled back.

"So, where you from?" Bobby asked looking up from the breakfast Amy had bought him in the diner across from her building.

"South side L.A." He raised his eyebrows.

"You're a long way from home."

"Don't have one so wouldn't know." He stared at her.

"Everyone has a home, happy or not." She tilted her head.

"My dad was killed by his loan sharks enforcer with a golf club before I was born, my mum left the E.R. on the night she had me to get a fix, she forgot until about a week later, but by then I was in the system." She took a breath. "From there I was passed from house to house until I was twelve when I figured fuck this and ran. I have to have run away about seventy five times. In half way houses I was referred to by social workers as 'the runner' so I can't say I have a home." Bobby raised his eyebrows.

"Huh," He looked at his toast; his brow furrowed and looked back at her. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen, why?"

"Because you aren't out of the system until you are eighteen, believe me I know, I tried, so how did you manage it?"

She smiled. "When I was fifteen I ran and found my self here. I wandered into a garage and there I meet Marcus, he is my legal guardian." Bobby laughed.

"Most guardians aren't keen on their minor charges working in a ruff bar, so why is this guy an exception?" Bobby couldn't figure why he cared but he wanted to know about this girl who saved him and then lied for him.

"Marcus isn't big on the law. He owns a chop shop on seventh and oak. He gets my government care check, I give him fifteen percent and he keeps his mouth shut. It is a win-win relationship." Bobby laughed. His mom would have skinned a bear alive to save Amy from emotional damage, hell she battled the system for four boys. But Amy defiantly looked better for the wear. She looked like a fighter…just like Bobby.