A/N: Thank you again to Mascaret and Organanation. We have a couple more chapters to this, and I promise that you won't have to wait too long to get them. You'll have your answers in the next one. I have a few more fics in the pipeline, so if you'd like, keep an eye out for them. In the meantime, enjoy this one. And thank you for reading.

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Della's House - A Los Angeles Suburb

They had decided that once they got back, they would get cleaned up and get comfortable, before sitting down for their talk.

Della leaned back against her closed bedroom door, and took a deep, steadying breath. She had asked for this, so why was she nervous? Because, she realized, even though Perry was the most rational, calm person that she knew, her behavior towards him had been deplorable. She was going to have to explain everything about herself, Arthur Gordon, the hotel….

Why she had been so horrid to him when his only crime had been to try to surprise her on her birthday.

God, she was such a fool. He might never forgive her, and she couldn't blame him.

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Della selected a light green cotton dress - nothing too showy, but Perry had often commented how it complemented her eyes. Her heart pounded as she left the room, thinking about their upcoming conversation. Things had been a bit uncomfortable between them, but they were somewhat working on it. When they were able to set aside the trial for those brief moments, and as long as nothing was mentioned about their relationship, they were able to be relaxed, happy, and - dare she think it - even slightly flirty. Her cheeks burned a bit as she thought of how being with him in their home again, after so long of being apart, made her happier than she had been in a long time.

She was lost in her thoughts as she passed the spare room - no, his room - and, not for the first time, she glanced inside his open door. The bag that he had brought with him was laying on the bed, closed, but unzipped. A glint of light shone off the corner of something metallic looking, that was sticking out slightly from the bag. Before she knew what she was doing, Della was in the room, and opening the bag. The light had lit up a corner of a picture frame, and she recognized it as a picture that they had taken together approximately 30 years prior, at a charity dinner that had been given on behalf of Easterseals Perry looked incredibly handsome, as usual, she thought, examining the picture, and she had to admit that she looked pretty good herself. A bit more looking uncovered a picture of herself that she was not as fond of. Della, standing on the deck of a boat, her hand shielding her eyes from the sunlight. Not a lick of makeup on, she noted, shaking her head. I still don't get why Perry is so infatuated with this photo.

"Della? Everything ok up there? What's taking so long?"

Hurriedly, she shoved the pictures back into the bag, closed it as it had been, and called, "Coming right now, Perry!"

The man himself was sitting on one end of the sofa, a glass of Scotch in each hand. She was pleased to see that he was in a pair of blue trousers, with a white dress shirt, but no neck tie, which was unusual for him.

Perry handed her the glass of Scotch, as she went to join him on the sofa - though at the other end. Della wasn't sure that he'd want to be that close to her, no matter what she had seen in his bedroom. "Thank you." She cradled the glass in her hands for a moment, as she stared down at the amber liquid that surrounded the ice cubes. "I know that I asked for this, but now that we're here, and it's time to talk, I just…."

"Della, before we begin, full disclosure; Paul gave me this when you went out to the jeep to look for your wallet. I thought we might look at it together." Perry took the envelope out of the inside jacket of his suit.

"What is that? Oh." Why had Paul given him that letter? "It's really nothing, Perry. Just give it to me and we can have our talk."

"I think I'd rather open it. I have the distinct idea that it has something to do with our conversation." He inserted a finger into the end of the envelope, sliding it along the flap.

"Perry, please….please don't read it."

She gazed at him, silently beseeching him to do as she asked. He considered it, briefly, before taking the letter from the envelope. Perry held it out to her. "Then could you read it to me?"

Staring at the letter, she shook her head, fairly certain as she was that she wouldn't be able to read it aloud, but Perry wouldn't take her implied "no" for an answer. Finally, she held her hand out, unfolded the letter, and in a shaky voice, began to read:

"Dear Perry,

If you're reading this, then chances are that I'm on my way to the California Institution for Women, and you're busy beating yourself up for something you have no right to beat yourself up for.

Perry, don't.

Perhaps this was an indefensible case. Perhaps though you did everything you could, you couldn't win, because I actually did kill Arthur, in a fit of anger and jealousy. Even you wouldn't want to get a guilty woman off, would you?

Ok, I didn't actually kill Arthur. A bit of gallows humor there. Lord knows we saw enough of that in the years we were together, didn't we? I don't know who killed Arthur, but whoever it was must have disliked me quite a bit. And they were smart. They would have to be, to not only frame me, but to also get one over on you. You're the most brilliant man I know, Perry, and no matter what happened in the courtroom with me, I want you to continue on in the law. Contact the governor, and get reappointed to the appellate court. If you don't want to do that, then perhaps you can reopen your practice.

The main thing you can and must do is resume your life, the way it was before I involved you in this mess. The way it was when you were in San Francisco. I think that you were happy there. I hope that you were happy there, and perhaps you could be happy there again. Do it for me, Perry, because I know that you'll think you don't have the right to do it for yourself.

I want for you to know that I know that you did everything you could for me. No other attorney could have done any better, and I know that if I ever had a chance at being found innocent, you were the one man who could do it. Even if I could go back and do this again (though why I'd want to, God only knows), you're the only man I would have by my side.

I know that I have hurt you, and I am so sorry. I know you have questions, and you have every right to ask them. I've taken that away from you. I left a letter for you to receive if anything ever happened to me, but I think it's appropriate for you to read now. You'll find it tucked inside Moby Dick. It's on the bookshelf in my library."

Her voice broke as she knew what was coming, but continued reading as best she could.

"One more thing, Perry. I don't want you to come visit me. Ever. Remember me the way I have been recently, or better yet, how I was when we first met, and you, Paul, and I were young, and we had so many adventures. No matter what happened, we just knew that everything would turn out right. The way that it should. We could do anything, and we did.

I suppose it's ridiculous to say this now, and you might think it's a bit selfish, but I want you to know how much I love you, how I've never stopped loving you - how I never will.

The only other thing I can say now is thank you. Thank you for giving up your dream for me, for giving me the most wonderful life I could ever have imagined, and for loving me more than I thought anyone could.

I love you just the same.

-Della"

How she had managed to read the entire letter, she had no idea. She folded it up again, then looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. Della was a little unnerved that his were, too.