Graduation: Chapter Two of the Fireheart Saga

Part Seven: Recovery Is A Bitch

The mansion felt eerily quiet as Amelia walked through a couple hours later, swapping her tank top for a fresh grey shirt, using a broom to clear away some of the broken glass, sweeping it out the hallway and into a growing pile in the kitchen. It didn't do any good, the place remained a complete mess, but it put Amelia's mind at ease to know she wouldn't step on a shard of glass at a moment's notice.

Amelia skipped down to the garage, avoiding the empty slot in the wall, nuzzling her cup of coffee close as she wandered over to the lounge area, drawn by the odd crate in the middle of the carpet. Tony had set up a projector in front of the counter, an old film reel set up opposite with a chair in front. Several old film cannisters lay on the carpet, blueprints for the arc reactor and notebooks scattered about around the chair. Amelia ran her hand along the silver crate, 'Property of Howard Stark' written in black letters across the top, throwing back the lid for a peek. A few newspaper clippings sat inside, scattered atop a cardboard box and two more notebooks. Amelia picked one out at random, flicking through page after page of formulas and equations, all of it scribbled in neat handwriting.

Amelia balanced her mug on the carpet as she settled on the floor in front of the box, crossing her legs underneath her as she rifled through some of the newspaper clippings. Most of them were about her grandfather, his numerous breakthroughs, the 1974 Expo, one even claimed he'd been branded an enemy of the state for selling technology to the enemy in the late 40s, the black and white image of a young Howard Stark during a Senate hearing put a smile on her face and she mumbled to herself. "Runs in the family, I guess."

Just as she returned the clippings to the box, something odd caught her eye. Amelia brushed aside another film cartridge and picked out an old, faded, military cap. The leather visor had cracked over time, small scratches lining the rim, and the material had frayed around the edges, tiny holes poked in several places from where moths had eaten away at it, but overall it was in pretty good shape. She rubbed her thumb over the bronze button on the front, cleaning dust from the army insignia, the bald eagle, olive branch and arrows unchanged even after seventy years. Amelia turned the cap over, the silky lining worn with age, the edges all stringy and gnarled along the tear down the middle, a square shape bent into the material after hiding something for so long. Another newspaper clipping had been tucked inside, kept there even after all this time, and Amelia unfolded it carefully, smoothing it out on the carpet.

A grainy black and white image stared back at her, three women pictured on the front, all of them posing with one knee bent and their hands on their hips, wearing matching costumes, 'The Opportunity Killer Strikes Again!' read the headline. The woman in the middle stood out from the rest, eyes staring invitingly into the camera, dark lips perked in the most charming smile. An identical military cap rested slightly crooked amongst her dark curls, most likely the exact same cap and Amelia ran a careful finger down the image, something ever so familiar about the woman.

"Your grandmother."

Amelia startled at Tony's sudden voice, spilling coffee on the carpet and narrowly avoiding the clipping. "My what?" Amelia breathed, shooting him a devilled frown.

"Your grandmother." Tony repeated settling into the chair beside her, reaching over Amelia's shoulder to tap the woman wearing the cap. "Amelia Scott."

Amelia Scott. Amelia's brown eyes bulged, completely forgetting the growing stain on the carpet. "I'm related to Amelia Scott?" She'd found some old photos of an Amelia Thompson in the album, black and white just like these but so scuffed from age she could barely make the face. Now she put two and two together.

"You think your mother picked the name Amelia at random?" Tony stretched his arms out behind his head, shutting his eyes, "That woman was your mother's idol."