Dear Chris,
Street cleared his throat from the intense emotion overwhelming him while willing his hands to stop shaking around the piece of paper.
I don't think you understand how much the moment we just shared in the shooting range means to me. I'm not even sure if you'll recall these past few minutes by the time you're reading this...I'm talking about when you convinced me to fulfill the SWAT tradition by all but ordering me to address my unwritten locker room letter to you.
Gazing up at Chris was a risk, considering he nearly fainted seeing her like this for the first time a few minutes ago, but Street took it and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. From her widening warm eyes and dilated pupils, he knew she well remembered that moment.
It had been meaningful to her, too.
Well, let's start. The shift might be over, but I don't have all night.
Street's eyes couldn't help but briefly shoot up again. Chris's lips twitched, but her eyes grew wary. Who could blame her? Jitters aside, he'd been a loose cannon when he'd written these words five years ago.
Chris delicately chewed on her bottom lip, the blood-red lipstick she wore a beacon to Street, but he had to focus on reading aloud.
If you are reading this, either I just died—in a very heroic and selfless way, I'm sure. Oh, look who was right, the superstition didn't work.
Street cast a glance at Luca and Tan, who sat in the front row of plastic folding chairs, and shrugged non-committal. "Never been more glad to be wrong in my life."
"You better replace that letter now," Luca chimed in, the biggest grin on his lips. "Don't jinx it."
"Dude, I'm a bit busy at the moment."
Everyone laughed except the most important person to him. Street deliberately met Chris's stormy gaze. Her smile had faltered at the remainder of one of her greatest fears possibly coming true. He inched closer, bare feet digging into the golden sand, and continued reading aloud, infusing intention into his words.
Or I'm showing this to you in person on our wedding day—don't twist your nose! This is my letter, not yours. You bossed me into writing it, and I'm gonna write what I want. What I need—isn't that the meaning of all this?
Chris's vivid red lips curved up. One point for Street. His belly flattered with emotion, almost painfully. All it took to make it better was locking his gaze with Chris for a few beats before plunging on.
Now you're thinking I'm an idiot—which I may be, but that's another story—
Street ignored the guy's not-so-discreet agreements in the background. Only Chris's smile counted.
—and that I'm not taking this seriously enough, but this is not the case.
I know I said this letter was a stupid thing, but I didn't mean to disrespect any of you guys or any of your traditions.
I just told you I didn't know who to address it to, and it was true. I mean, while I'm writing this, you don't really know how little sense it would have to put my mom's name on the envelope, but maybe by the time you're reading it, I have told you everything about her. But I don't want to talk about it right now.
It was the weirdest thing thinking about his mom now. Street didn't want to go there. He didn't want to delve into the disappointment he felt for her not being here to witness yet another one of the milestones of his life. But as well, he didn't want to analyze the relief that washed over him at the thought she had no means whatsoever to mess this up for him.
20-Davids were here. And his SWAT extended family. And Chris's aunts, uncles, cousins, and countless relatives he couldn't even name. Relatives that he would be able to legally call his family in a matter of minutes. Plus someone else, someone who'd been close to missing this day and who Street would have missed more than his own blood.
There would be, and there is another important person in my life whose name I might have put on the envelope…
Street's gaze shifted from the paper sheet to his best man, standing tall and proud beside him, all cleaned up in his button-down shirt. Street pressed on, the words directed to Chris as much as Buck.
I don't think I ever mentioned to you yet that Buck Spivey has always been more like a father to me than my actual father, but surely, if he wanted me to leave him a letter in my locker, he would have explained the superstition—sorry—the tradition to me when he put me on 20-David team.
"Not my fault." Buck shrugged. "It's a non-written rule. I expected your teammates to fill you in. I thought I had them better trained."
Street shook his head and turned his attention back to his dream girl—soon-to-be wife—ignoring Luca and Tan's protest of Buck's statement. The smile in her earthy eyes was enough to make him lightheaded. And the scarlet jumpsuit with cleavage so deep that continually beckoned his attention to the promised land didn't help the least to rain in his anticipation. He just wanted to get over with this and kiss her. Kiss her for the first time as husband and wife.
For a split second, the lively colors adorning everyone's semi-elegant clothes disappeared, and gears and uniforms took their place on his friends and colleagues mixed in the multiple rows of chairs. Of course, Street guessed, this casual wedding would be the same even if more than half the guests were dressed in black and blue, groom and bride included. Obviously, since Chris was retired, she would have never worn her dress blue in any case, which was a fortune since she was drop-dead sexy with this one… But none of this mattered. Only saying 'yes' to their life forever together counted.
So now that I have someone to address this thing to, what should I write?
I thought about what you just told me. You were right. We're friends now, becoming pretty tight, I dare say.
But you were also wrong because I've not stopped hitting on you. I just paused. You probably didn't notice, but I can be very patient. I'm just waiting for the right moment to make the right move. Just give me some time, and I'm gonna win you over. That's a promise. Because guess what? You're important to me, too. Just let me prove it to you.
Patience has been the key. Street had waited and waited, and when he'd been too hurt not to try giving up, she'd finally come to him. But at last, he did it. He won her heart. He grounded himself to the feel of soft sand grains under the hardened skin of his feet and took a nerve-soothing deep breath before reading more.
Now, if I didn't have that time, you just know I would have kept my promise. But while waiting to do so, I'm a hundred percent sure I enjoyed every second of our precious friendship. You know, I don't really have many friends… Incredible, right? Why would anyone not love me?
The cringe that had started to form on Chris's face at the words 'didn't have time' morphed into a bit-back smile while they both tried to ignore the SWAT officers' comments in the background. There were only two of them, the groom and bride standing exhilarated and head-lighted beneath this flowered pergola, with the rhythmic sound of the waves calming their jitters. However, speaking of time ticking, gray clouds in the distance threaten to take over the ever-blue sky.
And if I did have that time and I managed to conquer your heart, well, let's both look up from this piece of paper so you can meet my eyes, and we'll both be sure this is not just a wonderful dream.
They locked eyes, and Chris reached over to cover Street's hands with hers where they were holding the letter in place. A breeze picked up from the ocean, but as awareness shot through Street, he realized his hands had stopped trembling around reading aloud the first paragraph of his letter. After meeting Chris's affectionate gaze for the first time after starting pronouncing his wedding vows.
"I've always known you would fall for me one day," Street softly told her while Chris smiled, even blatantly rolling her eyes.
But an abrupt shiver crossed Street's body as clouds rolled low in the sky. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore became louder and louder still, swallowing everything until it transformed into the blaring of sirens, accompanied by red and blue flashes of light breaking the grayness all around.
Street looked at Chris, uncontaminated love in her eyes.
His nerves were acting up; that's why he was seeing things. Some kind of last-minute commitment issues were surfacing.
"Hang in there," Deacon said from his spot as a wedding officiant at the center of the makeshift altar.
"What?" Heat spread from the center of Street's chest, but not the good Chris-induced kind. Red so dark to seem black bloomed on his white shirt, expanding at every beat of his heart, which hammered in his ribcage.
Family and friends seemed so distant, so unreal, as a circle of white light enclosed the scene, tightening as his vision blurred. The beach trembled beneath, and he fell for endless moments until hard concrete was under his back.
Street had the cold feet. Literally. But he held on to Chris, to her smile, to her hands…
"I've got you." Deacon again? Yes. But his elegant dress was gone, full gears replacing it.
Icy prickling overtook Street's fingers, orphaned from Chris's warm grasp. Someone else was applying constant pressure on his hands over his gut as darkness swallowed people and places, images and sounds. He was bone-chilled, shaking violently until he stilled, devoid. His body was simply too tired to keep up the defenses.
A sharp pain that wasn't there before exploded at his insides and radiated outside. Or had it been there slow-burning all along?
"Stay with me," Deac said, his voice laced with concern. But why? Street was getting married. Wasn't he? Chris was there with him. Wasn't she?
Don't hide your smile.
The letter continued, but the darkness won just as Chris's smiling face, her eyes full of affection and reassurance, came to Street one last time.
…
Don't hide your smile.
The letter continued, and Street's smiling face, complete with adorable dimples and glimmering gaze, flashed before Chris's eyes.
She rested a hand on her stomach while her chest constricted. Her lungs felt as fatigued as if she'd been out in the ocean all day, fighting with waves that tried crashing her under the surface. And maybe that was what was happening inside Chris because she simply felt devoid. But as presumptuous Street had been, as stubborn to always need to discuss her feelings, convinced to read her better than she could herself…he was right.
Chris smiled while reading his words for her, written so long ago but still so fresh and present. And whenever she caught herself doing so, guilt washed over her and she tried to hide the little wet beam. How could she genuinely smile so soon after such a hole had been seared in her heart? The silent tears that cascaded copiously were surely more appropriate, even though not less annoying.
Pausing her reading, Chris closed her eyes and curled deeper in Street's bed. His former bed. The bed that had been alternatively warm with tenderness and sizzling hot with passion until only a few nights ago and that now was cold and empty.
Cold and empty like her heart had instantly gone at the news of Street's passing.
And yet, she smiled picturing Street's smug expression while writing this letter all those years back and imagining him reading it to her in person a few months from now, maybe on their spur-of-the-moment wedding day.
A wave of grief hit Chris in the chest anew. He was gone. He would never have that chance.
Whatever reason brought you to read this—
A surge of hot anger flamed Chris's cheeks. "You're dead, you idiot! That's why I'm reading this," she wanted to scream but didn't. The coldness had clawed at her heart again, extinguishing that sprout of fire in her veins.
In all truth, she'd been reluctant to read this letter so soon after what happened to Street on the line of duty. She'd been overwhelmed, to say the least. The real reason she was here now, clinging to this piece of paper with Street's handwriting on it, was because Luca suggested the letter may contain Street's last will. None of them ever talked openly about their final home, and Street didn't have any family to take care of that.
Not true.
Not true at all. Street had a family with Chris. And Luca, Tan, the whole 20-David and their extended families were part of that family, too. Together, they'll figure it out even if these words here weren't clues to what he'd wanted. Eventually, they will put together the bits and pieces he'd disclosed to one or the other while he was organizing his mother's funeral, and the rest, they would guess. After all, the open-book kind of relationship they'd had went both ways.
Chris's mind went back five years to the first time she took Street to an Alonso family gathering. Was she already falling for him at that point? Probably. She'd started feeling warm toward that smart-ass-on-the-outside, heart-of-gold-on-the-inside man when he'd shown his true colors to that kid during their first assignment as partners on the job.
Shaking her head at herself, Chris acknowledged how deep her feelings for Street had always been. She thought back to that night, to that moment in the shooting range when she'd told him to address this letter to her because he was important to her. Warmth was back in her limbs, and a wistful smile again on her lips. Then she glanced at the nightstand, the one on his side of the bed, where she'd laid the envelope Street had marked with her name all those years ago and—she tore her eyes away; it was not the time yet to process all that was over there.
Nausea churned in Chris's stomach at the thought she could not answer to all he was saying her and that he couldn't answer to all she had to tell him. But anyway, she pushed out a long breath loaded with emotional weight and went a step back in her reading before plunging on.
Whatever reason brought you to read this, I hope you are smiling. No, I know you are.
You have this beautiful smile that you don't display nearly enough. It lightens me up and makes me want to do anything in my power to make it appear.
Probably I'm being a little presumptuous here, but I'd hate to be the one to steal it or cause you to put it away for long.
Chris caught herself rolling her eyes. Five months since they had known each other, Street was assuming they would get married despite she'd done nothing but discourage his advances, but here he worried about being presumptuous by thinking his death would affect her to the point of not feeling like smiling at least for a while?
I truly hope to be there with you to see your eyes glistening, but if I'm not, please don't stop smiling. Never. I still see you. I'm still with you, and I will be forever. Not that I'm all that religious…just…if we really are friends like you just told me, and if we really became even closer like I hope to, I'll always be there in your memories. I will never leave you.
You know, what? Maybe my ghost will haunt you. Pranks and things like that so you don't forget me.
But how could Chris forget him? Had Street really thought that was a possibility? She'd always known he'd tried to show off more confidence and self-assurance than what he had in him, but…
This was not showing off, and it was shocking to realize how much he'd cared for her from the start.
Hugging herself again, Chris knew—felt—Street would indeed always be with her, though not as either of them had envisioned it. And he would never know how right he'd always been.
Chris took a shaky breath, asking herself if all those years of dancing around their true feelings had hurt him even more than she'd thought. But she'd needed that time to get in contact with her emotions. They both needed to grow a little bit—or a lot—from the people they were when they met each other before they could recognize each other as soulmates, although she'd never believed in that concept. Never before meeting Street and giving in to him. Maybe she'd wasted precious time she didn't know they didn't have, but she wouldn't have done anything differently.
Jokes aside, if I'm gone and you're suffering for my loss—be it tomorrow when we've freshly become best friends or in sixty more years after we spent over half of our lives as husband and wife—you pick up the pieces and go on.
That I'm standing before you reading this, or that you're reading this to yourself, promise me here and now that you will not close off. That you will give yourself the permission to feel all your feelings and eventually let yourself be happy again, open your heart to joy and love. Because you deserve all that.
Deserve a happy ending? Chris didn't feel like that at all—never felt like it as a kid, and not feeling it with the loss of her true love so fresh—but she knew Street would have deserved more, deserved better.
To her surprise, though, she didn't regret allowing Street to thoroughly love her, nor letting herself love him, even though his death had left her hollow and in more pain—an emotional ache that was almost physical—than she could have imagined possible after getting back on her feet after Erika's loss.
She missed him as she'd never miss anyone, but still...she felt his love for her nonetheless. She didn't feel abandoned, although she felt a little bit as if she'd abandoned him. Irrational old-habit that was hard to die. But it was at least a little bit true. Having left SWAT and 20-David, Chris had not been with Street when he'd gotten hurt. She had not been there for him, to protect him—though that hadn't been a big difference in Erika's case—nor to hold his hand and reassure him in his final moments.
It was obvious then that, curled up as she was in Street's empty bed, Chris couldn't even picture herself beginning a new journey to happiness. Despite that, she closed her eyes and made that promise to him. She would try. She would try staying open to the possibility. Maybe not today, though. But she would, eventually, try her best to let happiness come into her life again.
It was a promise she was making to him but not him only.
And please, keep only the good memories. Just forget all the times I've been an ass—I'm sure there have been many more than the current ones by the time this is being read, but what can I say? I'm still learning how to behave. Not that I was raised by a pack of wolves, but…
20-David had been Street's pack for the last few years. Yes, he'd been a total ass a few times along the way, but he'd grown so much, matured in a way no one would have thought possible when they first met him. And not just that, thanks to him, Chris had grown too. Because admittedly, she'd been pretty rough on him on a couple occasions, too. But thanks to him, she learned to love and let herself be loved. She didn't want to regret that but…
Chris felt around Street's bed and tangled herself in the soft sheets he'd slept in for the last time mere days ago. They still smelled of him. The whole room did. And though she didn't know how long it would last or if the scent was a memory imprinted in her nostrils, she didn't care.
She took another deep breath and went on reading.
Oh, look at that… I thought I would have written a couple paragraphs only, and I scribbled on an entire page…
What are you doing to me, Chris? Breaching through my protective shell? Making me open up so easily? If you have not been careful, by the time you're reading this you've become the person I tell everything to. The person I'm most comfortable opening my mind and heart with. And I'm not sure it will be a good thing for you. It's pretty chaotic here, so much so that sometimes I'm afraid to venture inside on my own...
Chris may have breached Street's defenses quickly, but he'd done the same to her. She still couldn't believe how she'd fought nails and teeth to keep the walls up and her defenses impenetrable, and he'd so easily got under her skin and lodged firmly in her heart.
They'd been best friends for so long, albeit with some bumps along the way. Lovers for so little. But Chris couldn't put this on him. They'd shared a connection she'd never experienced with anyone in her life, and she just knew she would never experience anything like that with anyone going on.
Because Chris would fight and go on. Street was asking her to. He was pleading with her not to close up, though back then, he hadn't seen yet how she would react to such a loss. How she'd bottomed out after Erika's death. That's how well Street could read her from so early in their relationship and how spot-on he'd been foreseeing how much he would really mean to her in five years just from her telling him that night he was important to her.
Okay, that's it.
For now.
But it couldn't be the end already. That 'for now' hit Chris like an ice bucket, and nausea rolled in her stomach. There were no more words after this letter ended, and she needed to feel him a little longer. She wasn't ready to let him go. She simply couldn't.
You messed up with me already, can you see it, Chris?
But it's okay. I wouldn't change how you make me feel for anything in the world.
Truly yours, Jim (Street).
"And you're still messing up with me," Chris whispered softly, spreading one hand over her stomach.
A tear cascaded on the paper, and the shock of the letter being ruined startled a wretched sob out of Chris's throat. She unclenched the hand that still clung to the paper before she would completely crunch it, wiped away her tears, and focused on his last few words.
How many more times would she go back to these last words—this whole letter—in the next few days and months? And in the next few years?
PS: Just one more thing…
I love you for what you just said to me, letting me know I'm important to you, that we can build something real. I admire you as a cop and a SWAT officer, and I really like you, Chris, as a woman. But I love you as my best friend (just for now, I know that). I hope to come back to change the latter sentence. No. I know I will come back and change it soon, when this love blooms inside both of us.
Just give me time... and if someone else decides not to give me that, just know I would have done it.
I always keep my promises.
Chris sniffled but smiled. Street sure kept that promise, though he forgot to go back and edit that sentence. He'd been like water flowing in a stream. Patient, strong, determined. Persistent. They'd both hurt each other, then made up for it. They chased one another and fled from each other and themselves, well, mostly, she did. But at long last, he did it. It won her over. Smashed all her defenses. They'd chosen one another. That will never change.
But now, her worst fear had come true. Chris let herself love him, and now he was gone forever. Lost forever. But as he said in the letter, Street was one to keep his promises. He would never be far from her heart. Her mangled, wretched heart.
Chris smoothed the letter over the mattress and took Street's pillow to her face, inhaling his scent deeply. She would honor him. She would live for him.
But no, this was not what he asked her to do. Street wanted her to live on for herself. Could she do that?
Turning into a puddle of grief wasn't an option this time. Street wasn't there to wake her up from this state like he did after Erika died. And Chris knew he would suffer watching from a distance while she closed off from the people who loved her.
No. Chris decided, defiant and resolute. She needed only a few more minutes alone, only needed a little more space to deal with things on her own. If Street couldn't be here to share this moment with her, there was no one else who had the right to be. This was too much of an intimate moment. Precious and dreadful and revealing.
And once this moment passed, once she'd absorbed the news—whatever it would be—once she'd been able to 'tell him' though he wasn't physically here to listen, she would trust her friends with it and walk chin-high into the world, ready to face anything.
Because whatever that test revealed—whatever—Chris was right now accepting that she deserved to live. Live for a bright future for herself while still cherishing the memories of the ones she loved but couldn't be with her anymore. Live to be happy with herself again and not only for what she could give to others, not only for what others could give her.
One day. One distant day.
The little light on her phone blinked. Chris had forgotten to un-mute her phone, and the timer had gone off unnoticed for long minutes while she was absorbed in her reading, in her grieving, in her crying and smiling at the same time. And as she reached for Street's nightstand where the properly peed-on stick was waiting to be interpreted, Chris found herself hoping for something she probably wasn't ready for. And maybe, that 'one day' when she would be happy and whole again wasn't so distant after all.
This was the true legacy of the love she and Street shared. Chris placed both hands on her belly, infusing to and soaking up warmth from the creature growing inside her.
They will have each other's six from now on, and that would be a huge relief. But it also was the most painful thing thinking about the injustice of this all. She had to do it alone.
And it sucked. Because though they weren't at that point in their lives yet, Chris knew how Street wanted to have a family of his own one day. She'd wanted it too. With him. One day. Because they both stupidly thought they would have all the time in the world.
This sucked because Chris knew how much Street deserved to create his own family, to make it grow, to enjoy the warmth of it. She knew how much he would have deserved it.
Street would have been the greatest dad on the planet. Better than his father and better than hers, though it didn't take much for that. At that thought, Chris found herself terrified that without Street, she wouldn't be much better a mom than her own mother was or, Heavens forbid, any better than Street's.
She ached to be reassured, needed for someone to tell her that nobody could take this away from her. That nothing would take this away from her. She ached to share the half-absolute-dread, half-pure-joy she was feeling with the man she loved. The man she had loved and will always love.
Chris didn't feel ready, and yet she'd never been more prepared. She felt lost and yet had never felt so grounded. Fate had thrown her a gift, had conjured with antibiotics that messed up with her pill and poorly-stored condoms, and with timing and desire and lust and love.
And at last, Love had won.
If Street had been in this room with her, Chris would have briefly cursed at all that, thrown off balance by the unexpected too-sudden change in her life before being able to accept it with gratitude. But he wasn't here, so she skipped that step, skipped to full-on blessing this gift. The timing was perfect, because otherwise, the chance would have been lost forever.
Street would have been lost forever.
But he wasn't. He would never be. Never forgotten, never truly gone. And the mere thought it was still too soon to hope, that anything could go wrong with the pregnancy at this early stage and tear this last shred of hope and joy from her was enough to make her feel sick, make her mind reel and her chest squeeze.
But she couldn't go there. Wouldn't go there. This little creature will join her in the world soon, even too soon, considering all the stuff she needed to prepare for in just a few months.
And thinking of all the things she and the baby would need, Chris's heart shattered, realizing this precious little thing will never meet their father. They will have to learn about his kindness and braveness through tales and memories, not from direct experience. They will have to look in the mirror and compare their features to pictures instead of standing shoulder to shoulder with their dad, smiling to reveal dimples, or studying which shade their hazel eyes will take that day. They will never hear his voice, never experience his caresses, kisses, and hugs. Orphan from his touch, just like their mommy.
And since it wasn't Street's fault he couldn't be there, Chris would have to make do for both of them. Being mom and dad and good and bad cop. But could she do it alone? Could she really do a job for two, or as they say, for an entire village all on her own?
She looked around the room once more, inhaled and exhaled. Luckily, she was not alone. Never will be. And not just for the dozens of honorary aunts and uncles this baby will have, ready to spoil them in any possible way, to step up whenever she would feel lost. Chris knew she and her baby, their baby, would never ever be alone again.
This was the hardest thing Chris had ever had to do, and she'd faced quite a few challenges in her life, but she carefully folded the letter back in its envelope and got up from the bed. There was a huge hole where her heart should be, but she was determined not to give up. She grabbed the stick and carefully stuffed it in her pocket. A little human was already starting to fill up that vacated space and would grow and grow until she had to make more, making her heart bigger. And though a piece of the puzzle will always miss, though the pain was still so fresh and hot, everything might—just might—be okay.
So it was decided. Chris took a deep, calming breath full of Street's scent and unhurriedly took in the room before approaching the door.
"I love you," she heard in her mind, Street's voice a soothing gust of wind despite the window being sealed. His image flashed before her closed eyes, his perfect little dimples adorning his goofy smile.
"You don't stop, do you?" Chris whispered back.
A warm shiver crossed her body as she listened carefully. "I will always love you. Don't give up on yourself."
Chris didn't believe in ghosts, but she damn sure wished she did. He was kidding in his letter about hunting her instead of passing on, but he was right, too. He would always be with her. In her baby and with their baby. In her heart. In her mind. Everywhere. And she will always love him as well.
So now Chris braced herself and slowly swung the bedroom door open.
While she'd been holed up in there, Luca had moved close, sitting on the corridor floor, his back to the cold wall, his knees hugged to his chest and his forehead rested on them. He was present for her without being intrusive or pushy. He only looked up when Chris stepped out and closed the door behind her, his eyes red and puffy, a mirror of Chris's own. Would the news of her pregnancy be a relief for his pain or a shock to his system? But she wasn't ready to tell him she'd taken the test just yet. She needed this one thing to be the last trace of intimacy between her Street for a while longer, the last secret they shared before letting him go.
Failing to steady herself, Chris gave Luca a slight shrug, her grip unsteady on the letter, and he promptly raised to his feet and engulfed her in a bear-hug.
Just as Chris had thought she didn't have any more tears to shed… She held tight even as she felt Luca's hot silent tears dampening her neck, and the dam broke, all restrain lost. She embraced her feelings, not wanting to block them unhealthily anymore, despite knowing she would suffer for a long, long time, maybe forever. But it was all worth it. Being with Street for even that short time had been well worth this.
The love they shared and would always share was everything. And now she would have living proof of it.
In this stark corridor where they kissed with unrestrained passion for the first time, where she was now in her desperate friend's arms, Chris knew she was not alone in this, and she would never be. She knew Street would be proud of her for how she was determined to handle things. Here and now, Chris chose not to close off.
She owed Street that much.
She owed herself that much.
And they both owed it to this little, big miracle they were about to bring into the world. Always together.
PPS: Thank You
Note: This one was another long and weird journey for me. I drafted the plain letter eons ago, probably during season 1 or 2, but I couldn't bring myself to post it like a letter without any context. I was split between the two scenery, making it a full-on joyful wedding or a dreaded funeral, then thought, while not both? But anyway, I stored the project away for a while—aka years. Recently it came back to me, and with Chris and Street being a thing in canon it made even more sense in a way... And so I started interjecting lines of 'action' in between lines of the actual letter I'd already written, changing things here and there with what I had learned in the meantime about the characters. My first intention was to make Chris react and want to go on for herself because she accepted she deserved it, but then...well after a line about her touching her belly popped up in my head, I couldn't go back and added the baby.
Special thanks to Lalez for the style suggestions and for putting up with me and all my insecurities. I don't know how you can be so patient when I'm being this crazy.