Alright, you guys...I have a couple of things to say to this. This is in fact the sequel to "Again and Again". I know you're waiting for an update for "Fabric" but I'm having terrible "writer's block" with that...and it happens that this story just took me suddenly and now I can't resist it. I am still trying to largely work on Fabric, however, if the urge to write for this is REALLY strong, I'll just write and post it. I hope I'm not confusing you too much. Now to this...set a bit after the end of A&A and tackling the issues that I always thought would be in their future...
In other news: I also have a oneshot lined up that negs and I wrote together just a few days ago when I was still with her..watching the Nanny and suddenly going "I want to write a gambling scene" and her "Yes, I think this could've happened" lol We stayed up till 4 that night and role-played it...it's about 50 pages long and I'm currently in the proces of putting it into fluid writing, so bear with me ;)
Anway, I hope some of you will read this and join my favourite trio again. :) R&R, please!

Disclaimer: Samantha is still mine and I am thrilled to write her again.

Deeply, Strongly, Unreservedly

by EspoirDio

Prologue:

The murmur of voices in the great hall was like music itself, a steady stream of syllables and words that sometimes reached a crescendo only to die down again a second after. The atmosphere was heavy with nervous electricity and great expectations and C.C. Brightmore was for once grateful not to be in the middle of this. Instead she kept her eyes glued to the waterfall of blonde curls that belonged to her daughter and that could be seen now and again at the edge of the stage. The little girl in question, Samantha Claire Brightmore, was also wondering what on earth had possessed her when she had decided that maybe she was ready to perform in front of a large audience, she only had had two years of piano lessons after all and all the girls that were nervously flittering around backstage had been having lessons for several years.

"That doesn't matter, Sammy, you are wonderful and you've practiced hard." Her uncle Noel had told her repeatedly, the same man who was now waiting in the wings with her and giving her an encouraging smile whenever she needed it.

There was no piano in the Brightmore household and if it hadn't been for Noel, Samantha probably would've had nowhere to practice. Suddenly another surge of whispers passed through the audience and then the noise died down altogether. Mrs. Altman, her teacher, was giving the welcoming speech. It was almost time and Samantha suddenly felt as if she was going to be sick. Her mother had reassured her time and time again that she didn't have to do this if she was too nervous, but Samantha was a stubborn girl and wanted to make her parents proud.

"To start us off, we have one of my youngest pupils, Samantha Brightmore, age 8. She'll play Greensleeves and a Hungarian folk song for you. Please give her a warm welcome!"

C.C. watched as her daughter walked on stage, looking much smaller and more frightened than normal and for a moment her maternal instinct took over as she whooped loudly and applauded harder than anyone else in the audience.

"Get a hold of yourself, Babcock," a warm chuckle reached her ears and a second later her husband Niles slipped into the vacant seat next to her "you're going to embarrass her."

"Sorry," C.C. whispered and instinctively took hold of his hand.

"She'll be fine." Niles said softly, as his wife proceeded to sit at the edge of her chair, ready to fly out of her seat at the slightest sign that Samantha needed her.

And then her daughter started to play, hesitantly at first but soon with growing confidence and C.C. remembered wistfully how a couple of months ago Sam's teacher had told her that she wouldn't be able to play the piece because her hands were too small to reach the chords. She remembered how Sam had wept at the unfairness of it, how none of Niles' stories had calmed her and so pride washed over C.C. now at hearing her daughter's flawless performance. What never would've seemed possibly was a reality now: there was no stronger, more exhilarating rush than maternal affection. After Samantha had played the final note of the Hungarian folk song, she turned to face the deafening applause of the audience with a grin. And there, in the third row, were her mother and her father, smiling from ear to ear. And suddenly she'd never felt taller.