AN: This short story is a sequel to Amelia and the Time Traveling Physicist. The most obvious question is did "Amy" write this or did April in Paris? The honest answer is I don't know. This story was a struggle for me, and so there are parts I am not certain Amy would have written. With all of its faults in mind (including the title), I decided to post it and let you determine for yourselves. So, faults and all, I give you . . .

Amelia and the Magic Slate

For the first six nights, Amelia cried. During the day, it was overwhelming, yes, but there was magic to it. His house that wasn't a house, but rather part of a large building where others lived. Strange tights and skirts and sweaters called cardigans that his friend Penelope brought for her. Indoor plumbing and the steamy thrill of this thing called a shower. A magic slate, lit from behind, that held all the world's books if she wanted them; she read hungrily while Cooper repaired his time machine sitting in the corner of the crowded room. Lessons on a white chalkboard, mostly history, but also economics and other topics Cooper thought she needed to know.

Most nights, she fell asleep mentally exhausted in that strange, almost bare room next to Cooper's. He had apologized for its plainness, explaining that his friend Leo had moved out not that long ago, and it was all he had left behind; but Amelia liked how simple it was, it felt more like home. However, invariably, something woke her in the middle of the night, strange sounds that Cooper explained as sirens or air conditioning or a helicopter, and she found herself sobbing. Then Cooper would be there, coming from his own room in those strange plaid nightclothes he wore, his arms around her, holding her and smoothing her hair.

On the seventh day, Cooper did not help her cook the evening meal, smiling as she marveled over all the modern tools and machines that made cooking not a chore but a joy. Instead, he left her home alone, saying that he had errands to run. He brought home groceries, and a strange, flat box that contained something called pizza.

"Do you like it?" he asked with a smile, sitting opposite of her at the high table that was called an island.

Her mouth full of the delicious mixture of foods, Amelia nodded.

"Good. It's one of my favorites, too." Then he sat his piece down on his plate and took a deep breath, reaching into his pants pocket.

It was so thin and delicate, it didn't even made a sound when he set it down in front of her. Her heart pounded. She picked it up, trying to take care with it, and it made her chest hurt.

"Is this . . . is this meant to be . . ." she whispered, looking at the silver ring.

"It's a choice," Cooper said, quietly. "Either you can take it with you when I take you home. No one will ever know it's not the same one you had. Or you can . . . put it on. And stay here with me. Right now, it's just an object. It doesn't have any power. It is for you to choose, where you want to be bound. To your time or . . ." he shrugged.

To me. He had not said the words, but they hung in the air between them, nonetheless.

"I can go home?" Amelia asked.

Cooper's eyes shut at her words, and she said the ripple along his jaw. "Yes. I've been repairing my machine. I have reworked some equations and I think I can now accurately take you back to that afternoon. You'll be back before your parents arrive home, but after we left together. I'm sorry it you want to forget me, but I don't think's it possible. We cannot cross your own timeline to a time before we met."

"Oh, Cooper, I don't want to forget you."

He opened his eyes and looked at her intently. "But this choice is a final choice. Either I take you home and you stay there, with your memories of me, or you stay here and make new ones with me. I cannot . . ."

For the second time in a week, Amelia felt torn in a way she had not expected to be. "How long do I have?"

"I cannot give you a time frame. I will not rush you again. But," Cooper stood to gather the dirty plates, "at some point I have to go back to work. Really, I should go tomorrow. And perhaps it would be better for both of us to know what our past is, so we can put it behind us."

Amelia felt stupid and selfish at that moment. All she had thought about for the past week was herself: how skimpy the clothes were, how strange the air was, how it made her dizzy to look out the windows, how it conflicted her to be living with a man who was not her husband even though he'd not done more than chastely kiss her, how terrified she was wake up in the middle of the night. She looked at Cooper and saw that he looked different than he did on the prairie. Not just because he was wearing yet another strange shirt, but because he had dark circles under his eyes. It had never occurred to her where he got his money, why he was at home all day with her, that maybe he was lying awake at night waiting for her tears to start so he could come and try to sooth them away.

"If I stay, will we . . ." she whispered.

"Yes," he said. "I'm sorry it's not a romantic proposal, no holy palmers' kiss."

"If I go home, you'll never . . ."

"No. Never again."

She sat, looking down at the ring. Such a tiny object with so much meaning and weight.

"Amelia?" Cooper suddenly asked, breaking the silence, standing close to the edge of the island. "There's something else you need to know. Because I won't lie to you. If you stay . . . if we . . ." Amelia watched him blush and realized this was the first time she had ever seen that. Cooper had always seemed like such a strong man, a sure man. "I have been with another woman before. In the Biblical sense."

"You were married before? What happened?" Amelia blurted out, but then regretted it.

Cooper smiled softly. "No, I've never been married. Here it is common to be with someone without marriage. Leo and Penelope, for example, they are not married." Amelia raised her eyebrows. She had assumed they where, since they lived together across the hallway. "There is an annual festival here, called Comic-Con. You wear costumes. Last year, I went as Batman. And there was a woman there, dressed as Cat Woman. We struck up a conversation waiting for a panel and well . . . And there were a few times, after. She lives in L.A., too."

"Do you still . . ."

Cooper shook his head. "Not for a couple of months. And I promise you I will not see her again if you decide to stay. Not her, not anyone. Monogamy hasn't changed in 140 years."

He walked over to her and ran his fingertips down the side of her face. She felt the electric hum that only he had ever been able to bring to her. "I'm going to Leo's. We have something we have to do, somewhere we have to go. And I think it is best for you to be alone with your thoughts. I think I'll be out late. Penelope will be home if you need anything."

"But it's already late. And dark. Where are you going at night?"

Cooper smiled. "You will find there is always paperwork in the 21st-century. If you stay, there are some papers you will need. Leo and my friends have found a way to . . . procure them."

Amelia did not understand this statement. What paperwork could he possibly mean? But Cooper had already stepped away from her and was putting on his jacket. He opened the door and turned. "Goodnight, Amelia. Don't wait up for me."

She smiled at him as he left. Then her shoulders sank. Always when Cooper left - usually just to go across the hall - the foreignness of his house seemed to grow. Having Cooper at home, even if they weren't talking, rather just silently working on their own pursuits, was a great joy to her. She found his presence calming and peaceful.

Deciding it was late, Amelia stood and turned off the lights, flicking the switch an extra time to enjoy the wonder of instantaneous electricity. She walked down the hall to her own spare room and changed into her nightgown. The flannel nightgown was the only piece of clothing Penelope brought her that felt familiar. There was an extra chair in her room, and she pulled it over to the window. During the day, the height below her and of all of the buildings around her unnerved her, and looking down at traffic made her dizzy. But at night, if she only looked straight out, all the lights on the buildings seemed to twinkle, and it almost seemed like being lost among the stars.

Amelia curled up in the chair, tucking her feet into the gown. So many things were confusing to her here, in the future, and Cooper's revelation that she needed some sort of papers were just another example. If it was a simple matter of presenting herself at a clerk's office and signing some register, why wasn't she going, too? But it didn't seem to be that simple; Cooper had said that he and Leo had to figure out a way to procure the papers. Why the pause before the word procure, why not just buy or obtain? And why were they going at night? Suddenly, she gasped. Whatever Cooper was doing, it wasn't strictly legal. He was breaking the law for her. She sat back deeper into the chair with a frown.

Why was Cooper doing this if he was giving her a chance to leave? Was he so certain she would stay? Was she going to stay? Amelia bit her lip. She wanted to stay. But she wanted to leave. She missed her family, her animals, the prairie, all far more than she had expected. She hadn't even really thought about it, stepping into the time machine. It had all been so fast, and her heart was pounding wildly at the thought of an adventure at Cooper's side. Except now . . .

Except now it didn't seem like an adventure anymore. It seemed like she was in some sort of dream, and only in the middle of the night did her soul try to fight its way out. And what would happen to her when Cooper went back to work? Would she just stay at home all day, alone, and read? It sounded both pleasant and . . . monotonous. She missed the sunshine on her face, not just out a window. She missed having tasks to do, there was so little work here. She wanted to see the world, to explore it, but how would she ever accomplish that, stuck in these few rooms?

She had thought all that she wanted was Cooper's love. She had thought that would be enough to sustain her. And, at times, like when he smiled at her or patiently explained something to her it felt like enough. But there were the times she sobbed in his arms, and even his arms didn't feel strong enough to bury all her losses and fears forever. Most confusing of all were the times he kissed her or brushed her face. She felt like her whole body had been waiting for those moments, but they only made her hungry for more.

A tear was falling, and Amelia brushed it away. And now . . . And now Cooper was both telling her that he couldn't live like this any longer and that there had been another. She didn't know why that knowledge bothered her. Susan, her friend from school, had married a young widower, after all. It was not uncommon. And, of course, she couldn't judge. Even though she was alone in the dark, she thought of the way she had climbed into bed with him, half-way wanting him to touch her in that manner. But that was different, wasn't it, because Cooper was supposed to be hers, wasn't he? Why else would he have crash-landed on her farm if he wasn't fated for her, hers alone? Wasn't he her destiny? She had always felt she needed something greater than she had, and suddenly there was this handsome man to take her away. Hadn't his crash set into motion an inevitable and irresistible course of events? But . . . maybe he didn't believe in destiny. Maybe she was just another -

She heard footsteps in the hallway and jerked. How long had she been sitting there, watching the not-stars, lost in thought? And why did she only feel further away from an answer, more confused and adrift than she had felt in long time?

Amelia got up and walked to the door. She already knew the sound of his steps. He had stopped in the hallway, very close to her door, she thought. She wondered if he was listening to determine if she was crying. If she was, would he have come? She remembered how hurt she had been the last night on the prairie, when she realized he was already distancing himself from her, making the part so quickly, sleeping in a different bed, turning his back to her. But now she understood; if there was distance, if there was a barrier, it might hurt less to leave.

She heard a brush against the other side of the door, and she put her hand on wooden face of it. She stood by the door, her palm almost feeling his palm on the opposite side, wondering why it was so much easier to love someone than to promise to stay with them forever.

AN: Thank you in advance for your reviews!

I also want to extend a very public thank you to my friend Melissa, whose corrections, suggestions, and ideas of encouragement were once again critical. I have never written with a Beta reader before, for several reasons. But when I sent the first Amelia story to her, really just as a private story that I couldn't stop writing, for her to enjoy, it was her encouragement that led me to post it. Also, her knowledge of historical writing was invaluable to me. But this time she went above and beyond Beta reading into full-time counselor when I was practically in tears about how awful I thought it was. Not a coddler, her constructive criticisms were just want I needed. In the end, this story is still not my best work, and that is entirely due to my shortcomings. But it's a hundred times better than what it was, and that is entirely due to Melissa's impeccable taste.