CHAPTER TWO – Prelude to a Tootsie Pop
Like as the waves make toward the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end,
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards to contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned,
Crookéd eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stand but for his scythe to mow.
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
Sonnet 60 by William Shakespeare
As a teenager, Amelia Kinsey had never been disposed to take naps. She'd always been a very energetic person, which was a good thing, since her life had been one of nonstop activity since she was a small child. Growing up, she'd spent her days in an endless stream of lessons under the care of countless nannies and tutors. When she was old enough, she'd begun paying her dues to her father's political career at various social functions— everything from reception galas to red-ribbon dedication ceremonies to charity events. By that time, she was also beginning to build a life of her own, playing her beloved violin as part of several distinguished Baltimore youth symphonies, and setting her sights on a permanent career in music.
Indeed, she'd taken all the steps necessary to succeed in her chosen path— a Major in Performance from the Oberlin Conservatory of Music and before long a seat with the National Symphony Orchestra. She'd gotten away from home on her own meal ticket, something she'd always been extremely proud of. At the age of twenty-four, she had built herself what she was convinced would be a very fulfilling life, with neither the time nor the inclination to ever take a nap.
A year ago, all that had come crashing down around her.
Through weary, heavy-lidded eyes she gazed dispassionately at the intricate tile-work on the ceiling of her bedroom in her parents' Washington mansion. Late afternoon sunshine spilled in through sheer drapes on the French doors leading to the balcony outside. The air was thick and warm, contributing to the stupor she'd been under for the better part of the day.
These days, she spent much of her time in this manner. Chemotherapy was hard enough on anyone, but lately Amelia's sessions seemed to be leaving her more tired than ever before. Or maybe she was just losing heart. The treatment was not proving very effective, and though nobody ever voiced it around her, Amelia knew there wasn't much hope for her recovery.
As was the case with most women her age, the breast cancer had not been diagnosed until too late. By then, it was so advanced it had spread to other parts of her body as well. Surgery was impossible, and all other treatments unlikely, though they'd tried many. At the request of her sister, Lydia, Amelia had moved back in with her parents to be more easily cared for. She gave up her position with the symphony. She now took a nap for the better part of most days.
Amelia shifted slightly, craning her head to gaze at the music stand set up next to her bed. She was grateful, at least, that despite the severity of her illness, she was still able to play her instrument. This round of chemo was over and she would not have another for a few weeks. In a couple of days she'd have more energy, and she'd be able to get out of bed, perhaps go shopping, and play her violin.
A soft tap on the door drew her attention away from the music stand. "Miss Amelia?" One of her mother's favorite maids poked her head hesitatingly into the room. "Are you up for company? The Senator wishes to speak with you."
Amelia blinked slowly. "That's fine. Thank you, Marian," she replied with a small nod, trying to resist a sigh. She hadn't seen her father for days, but somehow, one-on-one conversations with him always made her feel more tired than ten rounds of chemotherapy, and they always had. Marian pushed the door open more widely and stepped out of the way to reveal the tall form of Robert Kinsey standing just behind her. "Hey, dad," said Amelia.
"Amelia," her father greeted in return, looking a little uncomfortable as he stepped into the room. He also looked out of place in his starched suit. She wondered where he'd just come from. Odd that he would come up here first. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired."
"I have some good news," he announced. That was her father. Straight to the point. He'd never been one for small talk, at least not if it wasn't political, and especially not with his children. He sat down slowly in the chair nearest the bed.
"Yeah?" Amelia murmured sleepily, curious despite herself.
"I understand the chemotherapy hasn't been very effective."
"Not exactly, no."
"Well, the good news is that you won't have to be going through that anymore."
Now she was really curious. "What do you mean?"
Her father opened his mouth, then glanced back at the bedroom door, which was still hanging open. Quickly, he got up, crossed the room, and shut it before he came and sat back down again, speaking in a very hushed and secretive voice. "Amelia, I've recently received permission from the right people to have you taken to a medical research facility in Colorado. They have a groundbreaking new treatment there that will probably be able to help you."
An odd chill swept Amelia's body at this little speech, not only because of its strangeness, but also because it was so unexpected. Despite her weariness, she slowly rose to a sitting position to stare at her father. "Medical research facility?" she repeated. "Permission?"
"The research is conducted under the supervision of the Air Force. It is secret, for now."
Amelia wasn't quite sure what to make of this announcement. To say she was stunned would have been an understatement. The chill she'd experienced earlier had as much to do with the strange, clandestine mannerisms of her father as it did the content of his cryptic words. She'd spent most of her recent life trying not to think about her father's position and what sort of things he might have been made privy to, and Robert Kinsey had never bothered discussing such matters with his youngest daughter. The extent of their relationship usually consisted of his requesting her presence at the many political functions where the presence of family would rack up points on opinion polls. Amelia had never felt very close to him. The indications of what sort of life he might really be leading sat rather uneasily with her. For one thing, why would he need to shut the door?
"If this treatment is so great, why isn't it available to everyone?" she finally asked.
"Someday perhaps it will be, but the time is not yet right for that."
"Isn't it safe?"
"Yes, it is safe. It will work. I've pulled a great many strings to get you this chance, Amelia. Our flight leaves for Colorado in the morning."
Amelia continued to stare blankly at her father, not really sure what he expected her to say. In another lifetime, she might have argued against being told what to do, but right now she felt much too tired to resist her father. Besides, as much as she hated to admit it, there was one undeniable truth to all of this. If something wasn't done, she was going to die, and she wanted very badly to survive. Slowly, she nodded. "Okay, dad."
"Good," her father said approvingly, giving the curt and satisfied nod of a man who was used to getting his own way. He got to his feet. "I'll send up someone to begin packing your things shortly. Our flight leaves early tomorrow; I've got to be back in Washington for a committee meeting on Thursday."
She watched him leave the room before she swung her legs slowly over the side of the bed and headed towards the bathroom. At least she wasn't feeling too nauseous today. She could probably just start packing on her own. Whoever her father 'sent' would really have no idea what all Amelia needed packed.
She made her way to the bathroom and peered at her reflection in the mirror. A pale, slightly freckled face gazed back, rather wan-looking, even in this good light. She fingered the dark brunette curls that fell onto her shoulders. Somehow, they made her face seem even paler. Her hair was actually very fair— a light, reddish blond— but since the chemo she'd been having fun with several wigs, figuring she may as well get what enjoyment she could out of the experience. Dark hair was something she'd always wanted as a little girl. She smiled a little as the curl twined around her finger.
If her father was right, and this strange new treatment was successful, then he was correct about the end of chemotherapy. Soon her hair would begin to grow back. Perhaps it would come back dark instead of light. Despite herself, a small ray of hope began to blossom inside Amelia. Perhaps soon she would be well, and her life could go back to the pleasant way it was before. Everything would be just the same, and she would never have to bother with a midday nap again.
The next morning was a little draining, but at long last, Amelia found herself in an elevator with her father, two members of the Air Force, and a number display that kept getting higher, despite the fact that they were going down.
"Lieutenant Grogan, can I ask you a question?" she finally asked. She was eyeing the number of buttons on the elevator panel nearby. "Why, exactly, does a medical research facility need to be twenty-eight levels underground?"
At her question, two of Amelia's three companions turned to gaze at her in surprise, undoubtedly because she'd been pretty quiet for most of the morning until now.
"Well, it's easier this way, Miss Kinsey," said young Grogan at last, very seriously. He paused, and rocked slightly on his feet. His eyes flicked briefly to her father, and he continued, "If anybody dies, they're already underground, see?" Only then did Amelia note the twinkle in his eyes and the smile on his lips he was valiantly trying to suppress. She could not keep back a laugh of her own, despite her father's disapproving glance at the young man. "Sorry, sir," Grogan quickly muttered, and straightened to a stance of military attention, eyes facing ahead.
The Senator returned his attention once more to Amelia. "This base is a converted missile silo," he said. "It was decided to be the most secure venue for the Air Force's special needs."
Amelia decided not to point out that her father hadn't actually answered her question. Instead, she continued to watch the number display. At last it stopped on level twenty-five. "Senator," said Lieutenant Grogan, reaching down to pick up Amelia's suitcase. "I'm to show Miss Kinsey to her quarters. The General is expecting you in his office." He nodded at the elevator's fourth occupant, the other airman who had yet to speak.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," said Amelia's father. Grogan stepped out of the elevator and Amelia followed somewhat hesitatingly. She turned just in time to see the elevator doors close once more on her father and the other officer.
"Can I get that for you, Miss Kinsey?" asked Grogan. He nodded at her right hand, where she was clutching the handle of her violin case. The suitcase and the instrument were the only things she'd brought with her.
"I'm fine, thanks," Amelia replied.
"Let's go, then," he said. They proceeded out into a tunnel-like, concrete corridor, and they hadn't gone very far when Amelia realized that most of the corridors looked the same. "Well, this far underground, at least nobody has to wash the windows," she observed dryly.
Grogan laughed. "That'd be another benefit, yes."
"How long have you been assigned here?" she asked as they walked.
"Just over a year. And let me tell you, there isn't any other assignment I'd rather have. I'm thrilled to be involved."
Amelia gave him a shrewd expression. "You don't look like a doctor to me," she muttered.
"Nope, not a doctor."
"There's more going on here than just medical research, isn't there?"
Again he tried to suppress a smile. "I didn't say that," he insisted.
She sighed and laughed. "Okay, fine. I'll play along. But I'm not brainless, you know."
"A shame on anyone who think so, Miss Kinsey," said Grogan. He stopped before a blue-gray and yellow striped doorway that looked no different than any of the others they'd passed. "Here we are. The infamous VIP room. One of them, anyway. Specially decked out just for you, ma'am." He swiped a security card through the scanner on the door and eased it open. "I've got to go report to the General," he continued, walking into the room and setting her suitcase beside the bed. "I'll leave you a chance to get settled. Someone should be along soon to direct you. In the meantime, Sergeant Prescott will be along shortly to stand guard."
"I need a guard?"
He shrugged. "For the moment. It's standard procedure. Don't take it personally."
"Thank you, Lieutenant."
"My pleasure," he said. Then he was gone.
Amelia looked around the room and gave a small sigh. She had to admit that the décor, warmer and less military than the rest of the base, was nice enough, but the walls behind the furniture were still plain, gray concrete. She wondered how often she'd be allowed to leave. "Might as well get used to it," she informed herself in a pragmatic tone of voice.
In an effort to shake off her gloom, she squared her shoulders and swung her suitcase up onto the bed. Within ten minutes she had everything unpacked and put away. Then she lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and thinking about the course of the day thus far. They'd awoken early in Washington, and had flown to Colorado on her father's private jet. It had been an uneventful flight, and Amelia had used the opportunity to catch up on some much-needed rest. She was still recovering from the latest bout of chemotherapy, although her newfound optimism seemed to be helping her regain her energy more quickly than usual.
After landing, they'd been escorted by two Air Force officers to a plain car and driven for about forty-five minutes until they'd come to this place, the Cheyenne Mountain Air Force base, home of NORAD. The most mystifying part of her morning had been the very long and verbose nondisclosure agreement she'd been forced to read and sign before they let her in. After that, they'd met up with Lieutenant Grogan, who'd led them the rest of the way.
She could hear the alarm clock next to the bed ticking softly. How long would it be before someone came to retrieve her? "Not that I care," she informed the light fixture above her head. "This is fun. Really."
Eventually, her mind once again started drifting to her father and his career and all the other unpleasant thoughts she'd had when he'd first informed her of this plan. Amelia decided, however, that she really wasn't in the mood to dwell on all that again. She sat up very quickly. "I am not going to be depressed," she said to the light fixture matter-of-factly.
Three minutes later, her violin was in her hands and she had lost herself in her music. She'd brought a limited selection of her favorite pieces, and already she was afraid that they would end up being worn out. For now though, she almost instantly felt more relaxed and more cheerful.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she heard muffled voices outside her door. "Finally," she muttered, lowering the violin from her shoulder.
There was a pause, and the door opened about halfway. Apparently, Sergeant Prescott had arrived, for someone clearly on guard duty was easing the door open to admit a man with short, fair-colored hair in blue fatigues whom Amelia didn't recognize. "Hello?" she asked uncertainly. She had been expecting to see her father, or perhaps Lieutenant Grogan again.
The man gave her a warm smile. "I'm sorry, Miss Kinsey," he said, staring at her with his head cocked ever so slightly. "I came to investigate the source of the music. If I'm not mistaken it was…" he paused and gazed at the ceiling for a moment in concentration before saying, "Mozart's third violin concerto, first movement."
Amelia blinked. "That's right," she said, felling totally bewildered. "The Allegro."
His smile broadened before he fixed his eyes on her violin. "And you were playing it?" he asked, taking a couple of steps into the room. "It sounded great. Just like what I hear on the radio."
"Thanks, I think," she replied, laughing tentatively.
"No, really," he insisted, "it was great. I've never seen a real violin before."
"You mean up close?" she asked, unthinking.
"Nope, I mean ever." He hopped up a little to sit on the bureau behind him, plopping down the notebooks and folders he'd been carrying in one hand. Then he pulled something out of his pocket. "Tootsie pop?" he asked. "It's chocolate," he added meaningfully.
"No thanks," said Amelia. She watched him pull the wrapper of his sucker and stick the paper in his pocket before she added, "I don't mean to be rude, but who are you? Is my father expecting me?"
The young man had just popped the sucker into his mouth, but at her question his eyes widened and he pulled it out again, jumping down from the bureau as quickly as he'd mounted it. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, shaking his head. He extended his hand, which she accepted almost warily. "Jonas Quinn, from Kelowna."
"Amelia Kinsey," she replied. "Maryland. But you seem to already know that."
He nodded. "Well, the Sergeant there told me who you were before he let me in," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the still-open door. "We were told to expect you, of course, but I just didn't realize it would be so soon."
"I only arrived a few minutes ago," Amelia told him. "Where's Kelowna?"
For the first time since he'd ambled into her room, Jonas Quinn looked out of sorts. He opened his mouth slightly and his eyes shifted around, putting her in mind of a little boy who'd just broken his mother's favorite vase by accident. "Well, uh… Kelowna is…"
"It's a different planet, Amelia," said a new voice. She looked over to the door to see her father standing there, a long with a short, bald man in a General's uniform.
Jonas Quinn spun around in surprise. "General," he said with a nod, looking guilty.
"Planet?" asked Amelia at the same time, staring back with confusion at her father.
She exchanged glances with Jonas Quinn, who gave her a small smile and an embarrassed shrug. "It's also a city in British Columbia, or so I'm told," he offered.
Amelia's father disregarded her question altogether. "Amelia, this is General Hammond, the commander of this base. General, my daughter, Amelia."
"Pleased to meet you, General," Amelia said with a smile, shaking his hand. She found he had a good, steady handshake.
"Likewise, Miss Kinsey. I see you've already met Jonas, but Jonas, I don't believe you've ever met the Senator," said Hammond, with a tone of careful neutrality that failed to alleviate the sudden and palpable tension in the room.
"No, sir, I most certainly have not," said Jonas very seriously. He extended his hand to Amelia's father, and there was a strange, calculative curiousness on his face in place of the smile with which he'd greeted Amelia. "But I've heard a lot about you, Senator."
Amelia wasn't the best at picking up on subtleties, but even she could see that there was something very much unspoken in the exchange between her father and Jonas Quinn as they shook hands— the particulars of which she alone was unaware of. "Mr. Quinn," her father said stiffly, "I've heard a good deal about you as well." He looked as if he wanted to say more, but his eyes flicked to Amelia and he said nothing.
Jonas gave a small cough and released her father's hand quickly. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Miss Kinsey," he said, nodding his head back at her. "I'm just going to get back to work now." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder out the way he'd come. "Major Carter and I were just looking over some data from yesterday's mission, so…" He gave one last guilty glance at Hammond as he took a couple steps backwards the door. "Bye then." Then he turned heel, and as quickly as he'd come, he was gone.
Her father followed Jonas's retreating figure with an unreadable expression before he turned back to Amelia. "Come with us, Amelia." We've got a great deal to discuss."
When Jonas returned to Sam's lab, he found her reading a blue-bordered file folder with intense concentration. "Hey," he greeted.
She looked up. "Oh, hey. Did you find the notes you wanted?"
By way of an answer, Jonas held up the folders he'd gone to his quarters to retrieve. "Right here," he said, pulling his Tootsie Pop out of his mouth. He tossed them on top of all the other materials he and Sam had been using to study the previous day's mission. "Ran into Senator Kinsey and his daughter on the way back," he added casually.
Sam looked up in mild surprise. "What, she's here already?"
Jonas nodded. "Apparently just arrived."
"Well, that was quick."
"Yeah." He frowned, peering more closely at Sam's reading material. "What's that?" he asked.
"Oh," she replied excitedly, "It's the report on the UAV findings from this morning. Major Lorne brought it up while you were gone."
"Yeah?" he replied eagerly, stepping in for a closer look. "Anything good?"
"Well, unfortunately, there's still no indication of any trinium, however—" she paused and grinned at him, "—you were right in your theory, at least. The survey found a small collection of what appears to be Ancient ruins in the opposite direction from the obelisk."
"Really? That's fantastic. When are we going back?"
"Well, SG-8 and SG-3 were scheduled to go back tomorrow, regardless of the results."
"SG-3?" Jonas asked.
Sam nodded. "Colonel O'Neill and I both have the day off tomorrow, so General Hammond assigned them as backup this time."
Jonas had been skimming the specs the UAV had provided on the ruins with an eager eye. "Well, seeing as how I've got nothing pressing to do, then maybe I'll ask him if I can go along." He looked up and grinned. "Provided we can avoid catastrophe between now and then, of course."
Sam laughed. "You just had to say it, didn't you?" She glanced at her watch. "Wanna go grab some lunch?"
Jonas chose that moment to finally bite into his Tootsie Pop, so for a moment he was only able to nod his affirmative. When he'd finished it off, he added, "Yes. Definitely. I think they're serving pumpkin pie today."
Sam locked her computer, shut off the lights in the lab, and together they walked out into the hallway, heading towards the elevator.
"Did you know Miss Kinsey was a violinist?" Jonas asked as they rounded the corner, his mind wandering back to his earlier encounter.
"Is she?"
"Yeah, she was playing in her room just now."
Sam seemed to be only begrudgingly impressed. "I'm glad I'm not sleeping on her floor then," she said plainly.
"You don't like the violin?"
"Not especially."
"Did you ever play any kind of instrument?" he asked.
"Nope."
I bet you would've been good at it," Jonas said knowingly.
She shrugged as they reached the elevator. "It never really appealed to me," she said, swiping her card to open the doors. They stepped inside and she peered at him curiously. "What about you?"
"I never got around to learning music, but I've always found it very interesting."
Sam smiled amusedly at him. "You think everything is interesting, Jonas."
Their conversation moved on to other topics as they progressed to the commissary, but Jonas could not get his excitement over the violin out of his head. He wondered how long Miss Kinsey would be staying. Maybe she'd be able to play the second movement of the concerto, which was his favorite part. It would be amazing to hear it in person. He wondered if he could perhaps even ask—
He dismissed the thought out of hand. It would never work out. For one thing, he was far too busy most of the time. For another, Miss Kinsey probably wouldn't be staying that long.
When her father and General Hammond finished explaining things to her, Amelia couldn't do anything for several moments except stare at them in dumb shock. "So—" she finally managed, "—this stargate… Can I see it?" She wasn't entirely sure if she should believe them. It all sounded too incredible.
"Certainly," said General Hammond, nodding his head at the guard beside the door and rising to his feet. The guard flipped a switch near his position and Amelia jumped as a heavy steel cover behind the General began lifting up to reveal a window it had been concealing. By this time, Amelia and her father were both on their feet as well, and Hammond waved them over to the window.
Amelia peered in trepidation through the glass. In a very large, concrete room that fell beneath the briefing room she saw a sight that evoked from her a small gasp. It was a beautiful stone ring with a wheel inside it and lights all around. "Wow," she whispered.
"It's really something, isn't it?" chuckled Hammond.
Amelia glanced at her father, suddenly confused. "But why are you telling me?" she asked. "I mean, I thought I was coming because of some new, secret medical research. What does the stargate have to do with any of this?"
"I was against telling you," said her father, giving Hammond a disapproving look. "As far as I'm concerned, secret medical research was all you ever needed know. But the General convinced me that it would be both difficult and unlikely that everyone you encountered would be able to maintain the pretense." He glanced back towards the hall they'd come in from and frowned. "As just proven by Mr. Quinn's lack of propriety."
"Miss Kinsey, you've signed the nondisclosure agreement. I know you understand the importance of keeping anything you see and hear during your stay a secret."
"You can't tell anyone," her father added. "Not your mother, not Lydia. No one."
"I understand."
"And on that note," the General continued, "feel free to take more liberty with your time her on base, once you know your way around. Certain areas are still restricted, of course, but I'm certain you'll be more comfortable if you're not kept solely to your room and the infirmary."
"Thank you, General. That would be greatly appreciated."
"Excellent. I'll see about arranging someone to give you a tour soon, so you'll know the layout, as well as where you are and are not permitted."
As he spoke, a tall man with slightly graying hair sauntered into the briefing room. "General, did you have a chance to look at my report from—" he broke off, his eyes falling on her father. "Senator! We've missed you! Why, I don't believe we've seen you in this parts since we sent the Aschen packing." The man put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels with a very satisfied smirk.
"Colonel, do you really think this is the time for this?" asked Amelia's father through barely moving lips.
The other man looked briefly at Amelia, and she could clearly see that he knew exactly who she was but didn't care. He looked back at her father. "Why not?" he asked with a casual shrug.
The general was quick to intercede. "Colonel O'Neill, this is Amelia Kinsey. As you know, she'll be staying with us for a few weeks."
"Of course. Nice to meet you, ma'am. Your father and I go way back."
This Amelia could also see. As it had been with Jonas Quinn, there was definitely something going on between her father and the people here that she was utterly clueless about, and judging by the way people were behaving, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know. "Thank you, Colonel. I'm afraid to say I know nothing about it, though, considering the venue—" she looked around the room "—I guess that's hardly surprising, is it?"
O'Neill's eyebrows rose ever so slightly, and she wasn't sure, but she thought maybe he was a bit surprised about something. "Too true, Miss Kinsey," he finally said. Then he cleared his throat. "General, if you'll excuse me, I was just on my way to rescue some of that pumpkin pie in the commissary from the fate of either Jonas or Teal'c, so—"
"Very well, Colonel," Hammond nodded. The Colonel gave Hammond a cocky salute and headed back out the way he came.
There was an awkward silence for a moment before her father looked at his watch. "Well, General, I've got a plane to catch back to Washington within the hour. I trust someone will keep me informed?"
"Of course, Senator. If you'll excuse me?" With a very stiff, formal bow of his head, Hammond walked out of the room, heading in the opposite direction as Colonel O'Neill had gone, leaving Amelia alone with her father.
She really wasn't quite sure what to say. At last she blurted the first thing that came to mind, though perhaps it wasn't the most tactful route. "Interesting secret. Makes me wonder what else you know that your family doesn't."
"You're smarter than that, Amelia. I know many things that my family doesn't know. It comes with the job."
Amelia shrugged. "I noticed you didn't bother warning me not to tell John," she said instead.
"I know you don't get along with your brother, Amelia, but you could at least try to be a little more supportive of his career. It's the least you could do after ignoring mine for all these years."
Amelia gave a soft snort and stared out the window at the stargate again without really seeing it. "Dad, I won't do anything to impede his precious career," she said lowly. "But please don't ask me to get out the flags and fix a parade. He'll do well enough on his own. He's got enough ambition to fill a fleet of air balloons."
"Well, I've really got to get going, Amelia, so can we please drop this and have our goodbye?"
"Sure, dad." She walked over and gave him as good a hug as she could manage, considering how sour she suddenly felt. "Thanks for doing this for me," she remembered to add. She did owe him that much.
"You're my daughter," he said in an obvious tone. He reached over to pick up his briefcase from the tabletop. "Stay away from Colonel O'Neill," he said as he headed towards the door.
"Why?" she couldn't resist asking to his retreating back.
"Because he's a walking hellion is why," he replied in his 'that's final' voice without turning around. Then he was gone. Amelia closed her eyes and emitted a long, slow sigh to calm down. It had been some kind of crazy day.
A/N: Well, where the heck do I begin? Perhaps with the sickening tale that we almost lost this story for good? My hard drive died on Friday night. Now, I've lost a hard drive before in the past. More than once, actually, and I know very well the bitter lesson about not being properly backed up against such an eventuality. I keep all my stories on a jump drive and back them up from time to time, not everyday, but regularly enough to minimize loss.
Well, for whatever reason, I had inadvertently removed the backups from the jump drive this one time (go figure). While most of my fanfics remain safe and sound and posted online, Amelia in its original form had been pulled from FF.N to begin the reposting. I had lost all file copies of both versions of the story. You can imagine my frantic reaction.
Fortunately, my friend Domi Lys, a long time fan of this story who likes to read printouts rather than a computer screen, still had her printouts from the files I'd sent her over the course of the past year. So long story short, even though I am being forced to retype each and every single chapter… the story is not lost. This is the reason for the delay. I had intended to update Sunday night but did not discover this problem until that time. I have spent about three hours (with intermittent chatting) retyping chapter two for your benefit.
As such, please forgive any quirky, minor typos. I tried to keep an eye on the file as I was going, but I may have overlooked something in my haste.
Your greatly relieved author,
Saché
EDITED: To include forgotten sonnet.
