The room was initially cold when Amelia first set foot into it, but a quick flick of a switch by the fireplace quickly remedied the problem. The low light cast off by the fire illuminated the red paint and gold wainscot motif that ran rampant through the large mansion. Various paintings and tapestries hung on the walls and when her eyes reached the ceiling, an antique brass chandelier hung precariously from a hook and chain.

"This will do nicely, Missus Hawkins." Amelia turned in a semi circle and was now peering at a thick, burgundy floor length curtain.

Seeing the young captain's distracted gaze flit from one thing to the other, the former innkeeper cleared her throat to garner her attention once more.

"There is a laundry chute in the bathroom. Just drop your clothes through before you go to bed tonight and they will be ready for you in the morning." The door swings shut behind Sarah and Amelia finds herself alone.

Uprooting herself from the center of the room, she roams around the tiny space. A wardrobe sits to her right and her green eyes find detailed carvings of a forest frolicking across the rich rosewood. Twisting the brass handle open revealed a long fur coat and a few hats lining the top shelf. The closet is for the most part empty, and she can only speculate as to the owner of the old coat. It is worn in places, but it was well taken care of.

Before her better judgment can step in, she takes the coat off the hanger and inspects the tag. It is from an unknown designer a couple of systems over, but there is an extra tag sewn underneath the manufactures mark. The name 'Abagail Doppler' is sewn neatly in white thread on a black piece of fabric and Amelia puts the coat back into the closet, shutting the door with a sigh.

This had been her room.

Everything suddenly holds a different meaning for her.

The painting above the mantle is of a woman in an evening gown, and Amelia wonders if it's Abigail. Looking around, her gaze finds time worn pieces and she wonders to herself how many times Abagail's gaze had settled on it with a fond sigh.

A clock ticks in the corner. How many times did Abagail's hand reach into it to manually wind it after it had stopped?

She hardly has time to notice the décor of the bathroom as she kneels over the toilet, her vagus nerve pulsing in her chest. Seconds pass, and nothing happens.

She sits back after a minute or so, wiping the clammy skin on her arms with a nearby hand towel. Amelia is shivering, and she doesn't know if it's from the low temperature inside the previously uninhabited bathroom, or if it's because her sense has finally left her.

She stands on shaking legs and turns the tap on, splashing her face with the cold flowing water and drying off with the towel she had placed on the side of the basin.

Amelia convinces herself that it's just a room. It's only a bed and a few well placed knick nacks. And Abagail Doppler was no longer it's occupant.

She can no longer comfort herself with the idea that she never knew of her existence. But when she thinks of her widowed husband, her heart lightens. Amelia smiles at the thought of their very first meeting in the smoke choked tavern.

He had found her seated in a wing backed chair in the corner of a busy tavern, swirling brandy in a glass and waxing poetic to the empty seat next to her. Amelia couldn't quite remember what was said, but there was an exchange of information and she left the tavern that evening with a manila folder clutched in her claws.

They met again at the spaceport in less than a month, the gangly doctor ensconced in a metal suit, and she in her military jacket and boots.

Night and day difference they were, but Amelia couldn't deny that even in those early days of their relationship that she didn't feel anything for him. It was a keen twisting in her stomach that was wholly unlike anything she had experienced in the past. At first, Amelia thought it might have been jitters, due to their unlikely destination. But as the journey progressed, and she began to see more and more of Delbert, she could no longer attribute that strange crumpling feeling in her core to anything but him.

The bathroom was decorated simply in alternating black and white tiles and brass fixtures. Delbert certainly did like brass, she thought to herself. An old clawfoot bathtub sat in the middle of the bathroom with a shower curtain hanging above it, adorned with ducks. Fuzzy, newborn ducks marched in diagonal lines on a cloudy, blue sky. Her lips turned upwards at the ducks and she let out a soft chuckle.

Finally, her eyes found a small door next to the baseboard and upon opening it up, discovered an empty hole leading down the duct work of the house. This must be the laundry chute, Amelia thought to herself as she began to empty her pockets.

Striding back into the bedroom she laid the couple of pound notes and her pocket watch onto the bedside table and stripped down to her skivvies, balling up her clothes as she went back to the laundry chute.

Gazing into the growing flames, she stood near nude on the carpet and she let her hand happen across the surface of her time worn locket. A barren tree decorated the front of the well worried locket and she flicked it open carefully in her palm.

Pressing the button on the side, the holographic image of her mother popped in front of her eyes. Stark feline features accompanied alabaster skin and a delicate smile. When she closed her eyes, she could remember the many nights spent under the comfort of her blanket, and her mothers arms.

A fond smile reached her features and she clicked the hologram off silently.

What would her mother think of her now, Amelia wondered as she turned down the covers. Would she be proud of the woman Amelia turned out to be? Twenty something and up for hire as a chartered ship after years adrift in the eastern etherium.

Clicking the lights off, she let her mind drift off, but sleep would not come.

Delbert rose early the next morning, which was entirely unlike his usual schedule. Scrubbing a paw over his face, he reached for his spectacles and placed them promptly on his nose, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

The dry cotton mouth that accompanied his nocturnal snoring was enough to rouse him into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

It wasn't until he spit out the mouth rinse that he was awake enough to glimpse himself in the mirror. Staring at the untamed hair on the back of his head, he reached for the tie he used, his hand instead navigated over to the comb that sat unregarded on the side of the sink.

Delbert remembered about Amelia. She would certainly be up and around by now with those insane hours he knew she kept. He could see her judgmental gaze now as he tamed his appearance.

After performing an efficient toilette, he found himself satisfied with his reflection in the mirror. She would certainly find something to snip at him for though. That wit of hers would cut through all the self confidence he had built up for himself that morning.

Delbert would probably blush and stammer out something lame like "I didn't notice," if he could talk at all around her. If there was any one thing he had noticed about Amelia, apart from her amazing er- intellect it would be the way his blood pressure would skyrocket and his throat would close up whenever he thought about her.

It was entirely different from the way Abby made him feel. When he thought of his late wife, the empty pangs that accompanied her had long subsided, and were replaced by a solemn hum, deep within his chest. There was a time when his thoughts still revolved around her, replaying her final moments in his head and wondering why he didn't see the signs

She did look a little sick, and he knew he should have pressed the issue of going to the hospital. Abby's easy going attitude quickly wiped away any doubt he had about her health, and foolishly he believed her.

Abagail Doppler didn't die in her sleep, the way he wished it would have happened. The novels she read contained heartbreaking scenes of loved ones dying ensconced in the arms of their lovers, drifting off on waves of sleep, and the whisper of death.

Abagail Doppler died suddenly, a cry of pain cracking from her throat.

He tripped headlong over piles of books and pulled her head into his lap, horror striking him as he noticed the blood dripping from her left ear.

The novel she dropped had landed on it's spine, instantly cracking down the middle.

Delbert likened the book months later to the way his heart had cracked clean through. He had picked up the silly novel months after her death, convinced he would be able to pack it away with the remainder of her things. As soon as he begun to leaf through it's contents, his eyes found several dog eared pages in the well worn novel, and he let himself grieve her again.

Delbert doesn't think about her as much any more, not since he met Amelia.

With that final thought, he pushes the pin through his cravat and exits his room.