Notes: Episode 151, "The Power Explodes! Ami's Song of the Heart" Or, "The one where Ami writes poetry and powers up."

Episode 151

A fast reaction time wasn't exactly Ami's strong suit. She wasn't at Usagi levels, which was a source of some pride (which became a source of some guilt), but nobody would ever think of Ami and have the word "fast" come to mind.

But when the phone rang, Ami ran out of her room FAST.

She caught it halfway through the second ring. "Hello?" she said in a quiet voice and with a worried look over her shoulder. Her mother thankfully hadn't stirred on the couch. She would be returning to the hospital in just a few hours, and needed all the rest she could get.

Even if Ami wished she maybe didn't have to go back quite so soon. It was over a week since they'd done much more than say "hello" or "goodbye".

All those thoughts vanished from her mind at the voice on the other end of the phone. "Ami-chan!"

"Papa!" Ami exclaimed, then winced at her volume. She grabbed the phone cradle and hurried into the bathroom, partly closing the door behind her. "Papa!" she said again at a normal level. Mostly.

Papa was laughing his big belly laugh, and Ami felt her heart swell. She closed her eyes and lost herself in his laughter. The puffs of air like tiny hurricanes carrying her away. His deep rich voice felt like chocolate. She could imagine her head on his chest, able to feel his laugh, turning it into something physical that she longed to hold.

She knew all of this. Had committed it to memory, memorizing it as she did all important things. The difference between knowing a thing and experiencing it had never been so clear.

Ami put the cradle on the ground, sat back against the bathtub, and listened.

"So how's my Birthday Girl?" Papa asked, once his laughter had subsided.

The date was a given, Ami didn't need to check. Her internal clock was uncannily accurate, leaving Minako to joke more than once about who was the REAL Senshi of Time. Still, her eyes darted to her watch, as though perhaps just this once she'd been wrong and her birthday hadn't actually been three weeks ago.

She didn't correct him. He had the date wrong, but he was very close this time, and Ami took that as a positive.

"I'm doing well," she replied, then shyly added, "I'm doing better for hearing from you."

He laughed again. Ami didn't point out that it wasn't a joke, and instead let his laugh infect her. She giggled too, for a moment. "I got your picture. It was beautiful, thank you."

"You're welcome!" he said, sounding pleased. "Which one was it again?"

Ami felt her smile start to crumble, but pushed against it. A talented artist like Papa made hundreds of pictures, and he could hardly be expected to remember each. "It was a lake by mountains? It was very beautiful. Very … inspiring."

"Lake, lake …" Ami could picture him looking up, searching his memory. "Ah! Yes! I remember now! Great place!"

A surge of encouragement shot through Ami. She'd studied Papa's sketch completely. Every stroke was noted. She had traced the lines and seen where he'd changed pencil pressure. She wanted to talk to him about all the little things she loved about it, to ask him what had made him erase in some places but turn a mistake into a detail in others.

To ask him what he'd seen in this picture that reminded him of her.

"I was carrying way too much junk and needed to clear space. Couldn't sell that one, though and was just gonna throw it away when I thought, 'Hey, I bet my little girl would appreciate it more than a trash can!'" He laughed again. "And right on the nose! Papa knows best, eh?"

"Yeah!" Ami agreed, hoping he wouldn't hear the tremor in her voice. "You sure do, Papa."

"I'm really glad you liked it," he told her warmly, and to Ami it felt like a comforting hug. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. "I gotta run now, but I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"W-Wait, go?" Ami leapt to her feet, stretching the phone cord taut and causing the cradle to bounce on the ground. It jangled slightly and Ami glared at it. "But it's only been a few minutes!"

Papa chuckled, a helpless "what can you do?' sound. "I know, but my train's boarding in a second, and if I miss this one it'll be hours until the next."

"But I … Will you call again when you arrive?" Ami's voice sounded small to her ears. "I wrote a poem! Lyrics, would probably be more accurate. I … thought I'd share it with you."

"Where I'm going they barely have electricity, let alone phone!" Papa laughed again at his own joke. "Next time though, okay?"

Ami nodded, then realized he couldn't see her. "Okay," she said, already knowing it would never happen. She cradled the phone receiver in both hands.

"Okay," he repeated, just as the sound of a train whistle came clear over the phone line. "I really have to go. You enjoy your birthday, and tell you mama to buy you something nice from me. Anything you want! Love you!"

"I love you too," Ami was saying, but he'd already gone.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there in the bathroom with the phone receiver dangling from her fingers. When she felt it being taken away, she looked up in surprise.

"Mother! I'm so sorry to have woken you! I—"

Her mother shook her head and gave Ami a sad smile. "He loves you very much, you know."

Ami's eyes widened and immediately began to tear up. She fought against the urge to cry.

"He doesn't mean to hurt you."

Nodding was the best Ami could manage. She did so, emphatically.

Her mother sighed. "That doesn't make it hurt any less, I know."

Ami couldn't meet her eyes. She wasn't sure she could handle seeing what she was hearing in her mother's voice.

Neither said anything for a long moment. Her mother picked up the phone cradle and replaced the receiver. "Let's do something tonight," she said suddenly.

Had Ami heard correctly? "Tonight? But you have to work tonight." She was bewildered. Was her mother suggesting skipping work? Everything else she was feeling seemed to fade to a dull background ache. Utter confusion became all Ami knew. It briefly crossed her mind to pull out her computer and see if her mother had been taken over by a monster.

"There's nothing that can't wait," her mother said, then leaned in close. Her hand was to her mouth conspiratorially as she whispered, "One of my patients is particularly grouchy, and I think I could use a break!"

It was all Ami could handle, and she burst into giggles, even as the tears spilled down her cheeks. Tomorrow would be back to normal, she knew, back to notes left on refrigerators and mealtimes alone.

But that was tomorrow. First there was tonight.

Ami had never asked how her mother felt about poetry, and decided that tonight she would learn.