Disclaimer: Don't own anything, if I did, I probably wouldn't be writing fanfictions, lol. The song is called 'Field of Innocence' by Evanescence.

Rating: Uh... G?

Pairing: Since it's a sequel, there's talk of S/C.

Author's Note: I said I wasn't going to write a sequel to any of my songfics, but I got this idea and just had to get it out. It's very short, probably boring, and the song doesn't have much to do with the fic, but I think it kinda interprets Calleigh's life. So, enjoy.

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My mother is a wonderful woman, a beautiful southern bell, whom from the day I was born has tried to protect me from the evil of this world. She told me once that she wanted my childhood to be better than hers, that she didn't want me to grow up to be the person she had become, someone insecure and dark, even though in my eyes she had always been perfect. She seems to forget sometimes that I have already experienced the cruelties of life, that she wasn't the only one who lost someone when a teenager had decided to drink and drive. It was my father that was killed that horrible night, before I was born, even before my mom knew she was pregnant.

~*~

I still remember the world

From the eyes of a child

Slowly those feelings

Were clouded by what I know now

~*~

She said the day she found out she was expecting was one of the happiest days of her life, that I was truly a blessing, a gift from my father to her. That's why when I was born, she named me Thea, a short form of Timothea, which is, of course, the female version of Timothy. She decided it was probably best to have her last name, so my middle name is Speedle. I have, of course, gotten looks from people when I tell them my full name is Thea Speedle Duquesne, but I've always been proud of my name. It's a representation of my father, through me, and I represent what my parents shared.

~*~

Where has my heart gone

An uneven trade for the real world

I want to go back to

Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all

~*~

I love the way it sounds when my mom says 'Thea,' the way it flows off her tongue with her accent. I've always wished I had an accent like hers, but growing up in Miami had prevented that. I do, however, have her hair, long and golden blonde, though hers now has subtle streaks of gray. I inherited my eyes from my father, a deep chocolate brown. I can tell when my mother looks into them sometimes that she's somewhere else, remembering looking into my father's eyes in some happy memory. But those memories always go as fast as they come.

~*~

I still remember the sun

Always warm on my back

Somehow it seems colder now

~*~

Over the years, my mom has told me many stories about my father, and while I'm glad to hear what he was like, her stories always seem so sad. He lost his best friend when he was young, and left home soon after. She said he always had a tough exterior that no one could see past, until one day, after her own best friend passed away, she had a breakdown, and he finally opened up. They both did, and then she lost him, too. That was probably part of the reason she thought herself so dark, perhaps marked by God as someone who wasn't allowed to ever be completely happy.

~*~

Where has my heart gone

Trapped in the eyes of a stranger

I want to go back to

Believing in everything

~*~

One time, I asked her if she believed in miracles, and she did the parent thing, saying I was her miracle. I told her that wasn't what I meant, and she looked me in the eyes, seeing I was serious. She got up from the couch and went into her bedroom, emerging a minute later with a small box, which she handed to me carefully. I opened it, expecting something extraordinary, something amazing. Instead what I found was a old, dried yellow tulip. Sure, I knew it was her favorite flower, it was also my favorite, but what was so special about this one? I looked at her, and she shook her head slightly, letting me know I wasn't going to find out anything about it, at least not that day. But in that moment, I realized that was okay, for this dried yellow tulip made my mother believe in miracles. That's all I needed to know for now, because my mother was a beautiful southern bell, who'd had a tough life, but had pulled through it all for me, and in that sense, she was my miracle.

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Ok, the end! Please review and let me know if ya like, 'cause I've got some more S/C stories in my head that'll I'll write if ya guys want.