Hello all. Thank you for your reviews, without spoiling the plot, I will say that you all have concerns that I would have as well pertaining to Castle's behavior. I hope you continue to enjoy this story as it develops. Again, thanks to Bella Paige for providing quick feedback!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, other than this computer, some Castle DVDs and Mia.


"Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly.

All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these sunken eyes and learn to see.

All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free."

Blackbird-The Beatles (as well as Across the Universe)

Mia made her way through the New York City Streets, picking up her pace as she dodged in and out of the alleyways of lower Manhattan. She knew the roads to take, and the ones to avoid. Despite initiatives to clean up this part of New York, there were still some pretty shady areas of Alphabet City and she often found sticking to Avenue A kept her away from the attention of inquiring adults. Not that there were many of them, especially on these streets.

You gotta love New York, she thought. It was the only city in the world where adults could encounter a 13 year old girl, alone, cold, hungry, dirty, clearly not in school and still do nothing. As far as she was concerned they could keep on looking the other way.

She loved Alphabet city. She especially loved the immigrants; they understood what it meant to live on the fringes, to be second class citizens despite their hard work. Most of all, they threw her food from time to time.

Her favorite was Raza, a middle-aged woman from Bosnia who always offered bread, caressing Mia's cheek and gazing upon her sadly. They had an unspoken agreement, you scratch our backs and we'll scratch yours. Every morning Mia would sweep the front of their small store, and in the winter she would shovel snow. In return they gave her delicious breads.

Grabbing the goods Raza provided, she advanced to Avenue B, made a sharp left down the alleyway just south and over to Avenue C, where she headed home. Home for Mia was an abandoned building that she shared with three other girls. It was small and dark, but it was their squat and at least that was understood. She entered the building, hands filled with brown bread and sweet bread.

"Emanuella?" She called for her shadow, "Emanuella, baby bird, I've got bread crumbs for you!" She called sweetly.

The young girl made her way down stairs, around what used to be a kitchen and through the broken-out window that served as a bypass for the giant hole in the floor between rooms. "Is it true? Did Sara die?" The young girl asked, tears welling in her eyes.

"Yeah, little bird. She did." She pulled Emanuella close, stroking her hair as she offered a piece of sweet bread. The younger girl's sadness was strong, but her hunger was stronger and she took the bread willingly.

"I heard newsman Louie talking about it this morning, but I didn't want to believe it was true." Newsman Louie was a homeless man with one leg. He was rough around the edges, but harmless. He was also a gossip.

"They got her, and that's why we have to be really careful. Do you understand?"

Mia took personal responsibility for Emanuella. Afterall, nobody else was going to do so. She was like a little sister, just 10 years old.

Emanuella's parents had been immigrants. They'd come over with nothing but their dreams and a desire to work hard. They'd instilled that value into their young daughter before they died. They hadn't lived too far from Alphabet city.

When Emmanuella was at school there was an explosion. The neighbors were meth-heads and the lab went up in flames, taking both apartments and everyone in them in one large blast. She hadn't even gone into the foster system, running away with her older sister before they had a chance to separate.

As far as she knew, Emanuella's sister was an addict, living somewhere in the city and prostituting herself for drugs. Indeed, the young girl was all alone. Her only family was Mia. Both girls startled when a flash of red hair stormed into their squat.

"I saw him! I saw him strangle her! I saw it happen and I think he saw me too!" Amber burst through the doors with panic on her face. Without asking the older girl grabbed a piece of brown bread and began to eat nervously.

"We can't stay here. I swear, he saw me. That son of a bitch killed her!" Amber was a tall, fair-skinned redhead. She was only 15, but had a full figure, looked much older than her age and used it to her advantage. Both she and Sara had worked at a local strip club, under the table of course.

Mia had been offered a job by the same people. "All you have to do is take your clothes off. They're not allowed to touch. If the cops come you get the hell out and they never heard of you." Amber had explained when she and Sara came home from their first day, a nice wad of cash in their hands.

Still, Mia declined. "I'd rather starve," she deadpanned.

Mia acknowledged that she could make a killing if she'd taken the job. Regardless of being just 13, she had a nice figure. Her tall, slender form and long light-brown hair contrasted with her striking blue eyes. Mia couldn't help that by the time she hit puberty, she was turning heads.

Still, she couldn't imagine working in such a place and didn't want to send the wrong message to Emmanuella. She wanted the younger girl to know that there were other options than a road that often led young and vulnerable girls into exploitation or prostitution.

Mia watched with a sense of trepidation as Amber shoved what little belongings she had into an old burlap sack. "I'm disappearing." She stated, throwing her jacket over her shoulder before heading back out. "And if I were you," she said, as she turned back once more, "I wouldn't want to be here when he comes looking."

Mia nodded in understanding. Damnit to hell! She thought to herself, why did they have to be so stupid? She questioned yet again. Truth be told, Mia's decision to not strip caused a bit of a divide. Amber and Sara who had "work," resented Mia and Emmanuella, who were content with just getting by, with scrounging. The younger girls were seen as some sort of burden, although Mia never asked for money. It was a conflict that she never truly understood, but to think about it now - was pointless.

Mia and Emmanuella were on their own again. Being too young to work left their days open for learning, for Mia to continue teaching Emmanuella the power of books. They read everything they could get their hands on, spending days on end at the New York Public library. It was at the library that they could access the hundreds of books that the two savored.

Mia saw those books as serving a dual purpose; they provided an escape from the harsh realities of life as well as a tool for a better future. Even if it was cliché, Mia believed that knowledge was power and that it was her weapon to wield against the world.

Books were Mia's pride and joy. Indeed, the only possession that the young girl had was an old, tattered book that she believed had been left by her birth mother. It was the only link she had with the woman who had given her up such a long time ago.

She had a beautiful smile. Mia thought dreamily to herself as she and Emmanuella sat on the subway, en route to the library. It was one of the only pieces of information that she had about her birth mother. She was a fan of Richard Castle, and she had a beautiful smile.

Mia pulled the old, tattered book out of her burlap sack and stared at the cover for the millionth time.

STORM WARNING

The photograph of the author on the back was quite dashing, and she'd done no small amount of research on him. Afterall, he was the one possible tie she had to her birth mother. Mia sighed as she opened the worn cover to re-read the words inscribed. She'd memorized them by now.

"To Kate. You have a beautiful smile, it's a shame you don't use it more. Best Wishes, Richard Castle."

It was simple, to the point and had been penned over 13 years ago, but it was all she had. So Mia clung to that book - her only possession, with hope that one day she would meet Richard Castle, and that he could somehow provide a clue that would finally lead her to her mother.

"Blackbird fly. Blackbird fly. Into the light of the dark black night."