Cal slouched so low on the couch cushion his ass was basically hanging off the edge and he was almost horizontal, with his legs propped up on the table in front of him. On the stereo was what was turning in to the soundtrack of his life with Gillian and Lewis and now Owen; all Elton John songs; Benny Taupin was a true poet. Cal figured the blow to the head must have turned him in to a right sap. Or Gillian. On second thought, if it was Gillian, he might not mind so much. The baby monitor was by Cal's ear, so he could hear it over the music, and Gillian was out having her 'Gillian' time, Owen was having a nap and so was Lewis. Or he was meant to be. He clearly wasn't or had woken up, because he slipped in to the room and wandered casually around the couch and took a seat silently next to where his father was slouched.

Cal left it a second, then just as nonchalantly, looked over at his five year old son. His eyes roved over the boy's face, mussed hair, hearing aids on, and deduced the boy had probably been asleep, and was now awake again. A half hour nap was pretty good for a kid his age. Especially when he was under the illusion he no longer needed a break in the day time. Gillian had lain down with him just so he could 'rest' and as soon as he had fallen asleep she had bailed, telling Cal he was officially on babysitting duty as she had rushed out the door. She was having 'big' person time in town and Cal was, or had been, having 'big' person time alone in the 'big' person lounge.

"What are you up to darlin'?"

"I like this song," Lewis noted, sweeping his right hand in a curve along his left arm.

"This is Your Song," Cal noted.

"For me?" Bright blue eyes turned to him. Lewis leaned over his father's head, staring hypnotisingly into his eyes, pointing at his chest.

"That's the name of the song," Cal corrected, looking up at his boy: 'name', 'song'. Lewis nodded. "Wanna hang out for a bit?" He signed 'spend' and 'time'. "While Owen's asleep and Mum's gone out?" Lewis nodded again and abruptly shifted so he was lying, curled on the other couch cushion, in a little ball like a kitten. His head rested against his father's and he tilted his jaw to plant a kiss against Cal's temple. Cal felt a smile on his mouth and the warmth of his son close by; sweet kid.

They lay in silence for a while and then Lewis shifted around a bit and Cal could smell his shampoo. The room fell quiet as the song changed. Cal strained his ears at the baby monitor, checking he could hear the soft click of the machine registering every breath his other son took. He fought down the urge to go up and check on him anyway. Cal spent a fair amount of time trying to convince his wife that the kid was fine and that they needed to stop being so paranoid, that it wouldn't be healthy for them and it would teach Lewis that there was something wrong, something to be afraid of; something that warranted more time and importance than him. Not to mention the fact that Owen could very well grow up with a hang up. Cal said all kinds of things to Gillian to try and get the both of them to relax a bit more; if he said it aloud to her, then he had to act the same way otherwise he'd be a hypocrite. Owen had been home for months now. They had to let go eventually. Or drive themselves in to a grave chasing something unrealistic.

"Dad?"

"Yeah munchkin?" Cal reached for the remote by the monitor and turned the music down even more. He felt less tense about Owen's baby monitor that way, and Lewis would be able to hear him better with a little less background interference.

"What's that thing there?" His smaller hand came into his father's peripheral vision and pointed. Cal shifted his gaze to see where Lewis was indicating. At his feet. Cal raised his head a little to see better. What was Lewis pointing at?

"Oh that's a... uh..." Cal shifted so he slid off the couch and was sitting on the floor. He lowered his legs from the table one by one so he could reach forward to take the statuette off the coffee table and show it to the five year old up close. It was a wooden carved figurine of a rain god from the time he was in Indonesia, so long ago. It was about the length of Cal's hand and had a wicked carved mask. "This is a rain god," Cal turned his head to his son to make sure he could be heard and raised an open hand then dropped it down gently so it was parallel to the floor. He handed it over to the boy, who sat up to inspect it closer. The 'big' person lounge was out of bounds to the boys and often the door was closed to reinforce that notion and the only times they were allowed in was when an adult was with them. This was where the truly precious possessions came to see out their days.

"I like this," Lewis made a quick sign, then ran his finger in the grooves of the face and down the chest of the stunted god.

"Me too," Cal agreed.

"What's a rain god?"

"Well, some people believe it's a more powerful bein' that will make it rain durin' their crop season." Cal didn't know the sign for 'god', nor did he know how to make the concept out of the signs he knew. Lewis looked a little blank and Cal wasn't that surprised. He and Gillian didn't tend to have conversations about religion with their boys. Or crops for that matter.

"But if you have it then how will it rain?"

Cal chuckled and turned so he was leaning his side against the couch and could face his son. "It's not the actual god Lew, it's a replica. Like when you take a photo of somethin', it's just a copy." He grouped the fingers of his right hand into the palm of his left and then moved them up and away from himself.

"Is the actual god this big?" Lewis seemed dubious.

"Uh not really. This is a mini-version that you can put in your house." He used 'little'.

"So it will make it rain?" He looked out to the yard as if he expected the sky to suddenly open up and drench their garden.

"It doesn't actually make it rain. It's just that, there's a group of people in the world that believe if they pray to this god," Cal indicated the small statuette. "That he will hear them and be able to make it rain when they need it." He tapped his ear twice.

"What's praying?" Lewis used the 'wh?' question gesture.

"It's when you focus really hard in your mind like you're talkin' to someone who isn't there but hope they can hear you."

Lewis gave him a bemused frown.

"Yeah," Cal agreed. Perhaps the concept of something more powerful that was also rather abstract was too hard to explain. He didn't want his kids to believe in something just because. His mother had been like that and it had never made any sense to Cal at all. Even when they used to go to church and pray before bedtime when he was very little, he remembered thinking it was silly. He didn't know who he was meant to be talking to. Who was even listening? "Some people believe that works."

"Who do you pray to?"

"I don't pray," Cal shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Cos I don't need any rain," Cal quipped but Lewis's face went thoughtful again, taking the response seriously. "I don't believe in prayin'," Cal clarified.

"Can I pray for rain?"

"No," Cal interrupted him. Was this far too heavy a conversation for a five year old? Maybe. Cal remembered something else from his childhood, something he promised himself he wouldn't do if he had kids of his own, something he had in fact done to Emily, despite that vow: he didn't want to shut down a conversation because it was awkward or because he thought Lewis might not understand. If the kid asked, Cal was going to answer as best he could. Had their conversation about babies not gone the exact same way?

"The thing is," Cal started again. "I don't pray because I don't believe there are otha more powerful bein's out there that control things like the rain or..." he stopped. He almost said 'who lived and died' but he was thinking of a whole bunch of different religions all at once and then there were aliens and then there was Lily. Geeze this was hard.

"And," Cal went on. "Even if there were, I don't think prayin' would have any influence ova these powerful gods to do anythin' for us." Because he had read things, a lot of things, that suggested there were forces out there bigger than he was. Even Einstein believed there had to be a god or some force bigger than human because the universe was put together far too perfectly for there to be coincidence. But that didn't mean the physicist was talking about any of the religions known to man. And Cal was maybe inclined to believe there was something else, but he certainly felt no affinity to any world religion and how did he explain all of that to a five year old?

"Do you undastand?" He raised his hand by his head, the back facing Lewis, and flicked his index finger up.

"My friend Harry says there's a god." Lewis signed 'friend' and finger-spelled 'Harry'.

"And do you believe him?" Believe was an index finger by the forehead, then brought down to grip the left hand, palm to palm.

Lewis thought for a moment. "I haven't seen it," he shook his head.

"Me eitha."

"So there isn't a god?"

"Do we have to see somethin' to believe in it?"

Lewis screwed his mouth up as he thought. "Like... magic?" He opened his hands with the fingers pointing down and moved them around in a little circle together before directing them to the side, like he had cast a spell.

"Yeah."

"But there's magic on TV."

"Yes there is," Cal agreed. And that was a whole other conversation for later. "But what about in real life?" He used 'real', his index finger against his lips, brought forward and down a few inches.

"I couldn't see Owen in Mum's tummy but he was in there."

That was a good one. And wholly crap! Did that just come out of his five year olds mouth!

"That's very true," Cal responded, nodding, impressed. "So maybe, just because we can't see it, doesn't mean it's not there." He used 'see' and shook his head.

"I never seen Santa," he mimicked having a long beard. "And he still brings presents." He used two curved index fingers and moved them to the side.

"Also true."

"And the tooth fairy!" Lewis enthused, tapping his front teeth, clearly reaching a point of understanding.

"That's also true," Cal nodded. Lewis gave him the carved wooden statue. There was a similar one right at the back of Cal's dresser which was a male fertility god, complete with overly large penis and all... and well Gillian had gotten pregnant twice against odds so maybe... Maybe Cal did believe in something. He had to believe in a Miracle didn't he?

"So maybe the rain god is real?"

"Maybe," Cal agreed. Maybe.

"But we just don't know cos we don't see him."

"Sure."

There was a moment's silence as the CD ticked over to the next track. Cal leaned forward to put the statuette back on the coffee table.

"Dad?"

"Yeah buddy?"

"Can I pray to god?"

"If you want to," Cal relented, signing 'want'. "But Lewis, there is nothin' in the history of man to suggest god, any god, has eva listened to prayers." He looked his son in the eye and shook his head.

"Oh," Lewis looked thoughtful again. "I'm gonna go try." He used 'S' hands against his chest, then moved them outwards. He pushed himself up from the sofa cushion and wandered off again. Cal watched him go, not sure what had happened or whether he should just tell his son 'no' and be done with it. Religion, gods, the universe, all of it was such a long lifetime of conversation. Cal had his beliefs and he knew Gillian had hers and they were mostly in sync but they weren't quite the same and did that mean, as parents, they should tell their son what was what based on theirs? Or let him come to his own conclusions. And could he decide now, or when he was older? And should they stop him if he invested his beliefs in something Cal considered ridiculous?

"Hey," Gillian's voice called from across the room. Cal turned his head but could only see the back of the seat he was leaning against. "Cal?"

"Yeah I'm in here," he confirmed.

Gillian appeared around the couch. She had shopping bags in her hands; clothes. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"Talkin' to your son about religion."

Gillian put her bags on the table and perched on the edge of the seat Lewis had just vacated. "And how did that go?"

Cal gave a slight wince as he looked up at her. "You know? I'm not really sure."

"What did you tell him?"

"I have no idea," Cal sighed.