The ticking of the clock on the mantle echoed through the house. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tickety tock… Nothing else moved. Nothing else made a sound. Meg's head rested against Dean's shoulder but neither one was breathing deep enough to make a sound. They simply took up space on the sofa next to one another. What was there to say? The man that both of them respected, cared for, and admired was no longer here. The man that had stepped into the shoes that their fathers' had abandoned was gone. There was no comfort for this pain. So they sat in silence as the shadows crept across the floor.


Dean leaned back against the sofa, his arm propped against the cushions and resting against Meg's shoulders. "I can't believe you kept all of this." she whispered.

"We were friends, all three of us. You meant the world to me; I knew you were Chris's wife and that meant you were off-limits… Don't you remember what I said on the boat? I told you that you were someone I couldn't touch because you belonged to another man. As soon as you were free and I knew where you were I was coming after you. You were going to be mine. If I had known what life had been like with him I'd've said all that before, I'd've been in that house with you. You'd've had temptation in your face…" he muttered against her jaw. "I kept pictures of us, all three of us, to remind me of your smile...the good times together. I didn't know how badly he'd treated you. I never believed any of the crap he said. I just knew I missed you. I had to keep mementos of us and it was no one's business that I had them."

"I get it." she whispered, holding pictures of them in her hands. Pictures of Dean, Chris and herself in so many locations – the old back yard, the boat, the fire house, in turnout gear, on the engine, in bathing suits on a beach… some pictures had other friends but the three of them were the constant and center of every one.

Setting them aside, she pulled out more. "If I were a teenage girl, I woulda cut him out of each and every one."

"Glad you're not a girl. I like your manly parts." He snorted. Meg slowly fingered a picture. "This is us with the Chief."

"We got a few pics without Chris. I put them in the bottom." He took that picture from Meg's fingers. "Look at us, Meggie. Look at Chief. We look like we…" he choked up.

"Even then we looked like we were…" She couldn't finish either.

"I want to frame this."

"Agreed."

"It goes on the mantle." Dean said. Meg nodded. "There are pictures of calls that we were on together…"

"I see." Meg said. "When I have time I can scrapbook these and we can put it on the coffee table so people can see it when they visit." A little grin tugged at Dean's lips.

"What about my hunting trophies?" Meg raised an eyebrow. "Look farther. There are a couple of turkey mounts and some deer antlers in there." Both eyebrows were now raised. "A turkey mount is a wooden plaque that holds the turkey's feet and tail feathers." Pride filled his voice. "Mine look good. Really should put them on the wall. I need to figure out how to display the antlers, too."

Meg leaned forward to get a glimpse of these trophies. "I guess you'll need to show me the appeal of hunting. I just don't understand it yet."

"You will." he assured her. Still speaking quietly, Dean admitted that there was one more item in the trunk. "When I realized how serious we were, where I wanted this to go, I got something. Well, I got something ready for you. Something I knew I wanted to give you." Dean pulled Meg around to face him on his lap. "Meg, I love you. Life is too damn short to wait around and hope that we have tomorrow. Chief thought he had tomorrow. We thought he'd be here and that when we were ready, he'd be here to celebrate with us and walk with us when we decide to… Well I don't want to wait. I want to make us official. I want us to have the same last name, to have that damn piece of paper, to wear the rings. I want it all, Meggie. Even though he's not here… Even though the timing isn't ideal… Will you marr-"

"Yes." Meg cut Dean's question off with her answer. She answered him before he finished. "Yes, I'll marry you. Let's do it. Let's get married." Dean reached into the trunk and pulled out a small gift box.

"This belonged to my grandmother. She gave it to me before my parents cut me off. I've kept it in hopes that one day I'd meet…find…I had it cleaned and put in the trunk until you were ready." He took the ring out of the tissue paper and slid it onto her finger. The simple white-gold diamond ½ carat solitaire glistened on her hand. "Perfection."