"Two minutes," Cal said without looking up. He was writing furiously on a pad of yellow legal paper, finishing a thought before he was due to pass off his notes to Ria so she could continue with an interview. Out of the corner of his eye, Cal saw the figure of a woman pass by his desk but he didn't stop to look up or identify properly. As soon as he'd done this he had a meeting with his cop friend Fox-Boycott and he was bordering on being late if he didn't hurry his ass. Warm arms wrapped gently around the back of his shoulders and a kiss landed on the crown of his head. Cal sat up straighter suddenly. "You're not Ria," he noted quickly.

"No," Gillian agreed.

"Cos this would be a little weird if you were," he tilted his head completely backwards to see her.

She gave him a forced smile. "Absolutely. It would be."

"I need two minutes," Cal told her again and righted his head. He crossed the 'T's' of the last word he had written.

"I bought us tickets for the Wheaton festival this year."

"You what?" Cal asked absently, finishing another sentence. His hand was starting to cramp and he was aware of the time. He hoped traffic was going to be kind to him.

"Tickets. For the Wheaton festival. For this weekend."

"This weekend?" Cal echoed.

"Yes this weekend."

"For mutha's day?"

"No," Gillian said slowly, patiently. Although it did also happen to be mother's day this weekend coming up. She put her hands on either side of Cal's face and tilted his head back again to look up at her. "Are you focussing? This is important."

"I'm busy," Cal protested.

"Then I'm not listening. Sorry. I'll come and talk to you later," Gillian responded lightly. She planted a kiss on his forehead and went to move away.

Cal grabbed her hand. "No I'll listen if it's important."

"It's important to me," Gillian countered. "But not life threatening. It can wait."

"Remind me late-a k?"

"Yep," she agreed and slipped out of his office through the study.

PJ

When Cal got home Gillian and the boys were already eating. Lewis was sitting up at the table with a knife in fork in his hand. He was next to this brother, who was around the corner from Gillian, who had taken Cal's seat at the head of the table. They usually sat with the boys between them, to supervise. "Sorry I'm late," Cal greeted.

Gillian smiled as she chewed and four-year-old Owen turned in his chair completely, hanging over the back of it. "Hi Dad."

"Hey buddy," Cal kissed the top of his head then kissed Lewis, who only noticed his father when he was in his line of sight, and finally his wife. "Oven?"

"Yes. Owen, turn back around and eat your dinner."

Cal retrieved the plate that was being kept warm for him and joined the boys at the table. He sat at the other end; they'd had to move the table down further when Owen graduated from the high-chair.

"How's Aiden?"

"Yeah good fine," Cal responded, taking his first mouthful of white rice. "Says hi."

Gillian smiled in response.

"Mum what's this thing?" Owen asked.

"It's a green bean."

"I don't like."

"Eat it," she commanded sharply. Give Owen an inch and he'd run off with half a mile. Owen put the vegetable in his mouth with his fingers and sort of, mashed it up with his tongue and hand instead of his teeth. Cal gave Lewis's knee a nudge under the table and the nine-year-old looked up at his father. Cal wiggled his eyebrows at his son and Lewis gave him a grin in return. Owen and Lewis were incredibly similar sometimes in their mannerisms. Except one glaring difference was their hearing. Owen had started to compensate for his big brother, nudging him when one of their parents was trying to get his attention. Cal realised something else about the boys. Lewis used to be like Owen; squealing and funny and mischief and bright blonde hair. And that had changed, Lewis had changed. He was a little bit more reserved now, just that little bit more serious, not so quick to immediately react with joy.

When had he changed?

When he got his hearing aids? When Cal had been sick that time, with his head injury? Or was it when he started school... no, it was earlier than that... it was...

"Cal?"

"Oh sorry," he looked up. All three of them were looking at him. "What? What did I miss?"

"Mum's talking to you," Lewis told him, twirling a finger in front of his mouth.

"Yeah sorry," Cal met Gillian's eye, seeing the silent question in them, 'are you all right?' "Say again?"

"I said, can we talk about the weekend now?"

Cal realised she was excited. She had planned something. "I thought it was my turn to make plans for our anniversary?"

The enthusiasm on Gillian's face dialled down a notch. "But I found something really great for you."

"I found somethin' really great for you."

"Can I get down?" Lewis cut in. He pointed sharply at the floor.

Cal glanced at his plate. "What's wrong with that?" He gestured to the smattering of rice still there.

Lewis looked at the rice granules for a second, then picked up his fork again. Cal looked over to his wife who was spiking a bean onto Owen's fork for him to put in his mouth himself. Otherwise he mostly ate with his hands. Lewis was using his right hand to push the rice on to the fork in his left hand and then put it in his mouth. Close enough.

"Can you move your thing?" Gillian spoke up, leaving the fork on the edge of the plate for Owen to grab when he was ready.

"No I got tickets," Cal answered.

"So did I."

"Well when is it?"

"Sunday afternoon."

"My thing's Friday night," Cal grinned. Gillian smiled, pleased.

"Now Dad?" He made 'Y' hands, palms facing up and dropped them down a few inches sharply.

"Yes," Cal checked Lewis's plate again and allowed. "Take your plate and wash your hands."

Lewis pushed out his chair and jumped down, then pushed the chair back in and grabbed his plate with two hands, shifting to keep it even as his knife and fork slid around a bit. He headed towards the kitchen slowly and Cal watched him go, wondering again, when his personality had changed so much, if it really had even changed or if he was just imagining it, and if it even mattered. Lewis was happy and well adjusted... so that shouldn't be something to worry about right?

"Me too!" Owen announced, turning in his chair again to get down.

"No," Gillian caught him by the shoulder. "You're not finished." She shook her head and made a 'five' hand, the palm facing her, then swung it abruptly, hinged on her wrist, so her palm faced Owen.

"Am. Look. All gone," he brought his fingers to his eyes and then pointed them down at his plate and added 'gone', pulling his right hand down through his left's grasp.

"No," Gillian shook her head. She used his fork to scrape together the remnants of his meal.

"How much?" Owen queried.

"This much," Gillian answered, dividing the pile of rice and green beans and chicken and sauce in half and indicating which half Owen had to eat before he earned his pass to get down. Lewis came back to ask if he was allowed to watch TV and Cal countered that if he had done his homework that it was all right.

"I've done my homework," Lewis responded with a nod. 'Home' was the fingers by the mouth, then back against the cheek. Then 'work': 'S' hands, the right hand tapping the top of the left. Cal nodded then that it was fine and felt a little pang that he had missed out. At least he was here for bed time rituals and considering Gillian had already done her share of parental duty today he would probably do it alone too.

The TV came on in the background and Owen mashed his meal in to his mouth with his hands more than using the fork, then announced he was finished and Gillian said he could get down from the table. He carried his plate but she got up to supervise some hand and face washing, and then he too was allowed to watch TV. Cal cleared his own plate, stacked the dishwasher and then went to see where his wife had disappeared to. She was in the 'big' person living room, lying on the couch, a book in hand. Nope, a journal, Cal realised as he got closer. He sat on her feet, and even though she tried to rapidly shift them out of his way he still caught her toes. She looked over the top of the journal at him.

"So this weekend," Cal prompted.

"I've already got my babysitter organised."

"Who's that then?" Cal was surprised.

"Em."

"Aw," Cal complained, leaning back against the couch. "Now who am I gonna use? Stole my babysitta," he grumped.

Gillian wiggled a toe under his thigh. "Oh please, flutter your eyelids at some poor unsuspecting sucker and I'm sure they'd be over here in a flash."

Cal turned his head to give her a bemused frown. He dived towards her suddenly, making her bring up a knee beneath him and protesting loudly. Cal grinned and wormed his way up her body, using his weight to immobilise that knee. "And what about mutha's day? Suppose I should organise somethin' for that too. Oh wait," his face got serious and he stopped still, leaning over her, holding up his weight on his arms, his hips flush against hers, their legs tangled. "Probably shouldn't tell you about that. Pretend I said nothin' and make sure you act surprised when you get breakfast in bed."

"I often do," Gillian shot back and laughed.

Cal hung his head. "Set myself up for that one."

A hand smoothed through his hair. "Yep you did."

Cal leaned down and kissed the edge of her throat, then looked up at her again. "Do you think Lewis is all right?"

Gillian's face went straight to concerned immediately and Cal figured he should have worded his opening a little differently. "He's just bulking up to go through a growth spurt."

"No I meant, do you rememba when he was..." Ok, how the hell was he really going to bring this up? Gillian gave him a frown, waiting for him to go on. "When he was little, he was like Owen."

"Well yeah they look similar at the same age but they do actually have different genetics..."

"No," Cal cut her off with a slight shake of his head and an apologetic smile. "I meant, personality wise." Gillian was silent this time, inviting him to explain, her eyes questioning. "Lewis used to rush around and squeal and laugh and be trouble but that's changed. He's changed."

"Where is this coming from?" Gillian asked slowly and shifted a little beneath him. Cal repositioned his weight so he was crushing her less. She went on before he could answer, "Lewis has grown up, that's all. Yeah he used to be trouble but he was a lot less trouble than Owen is. And yeah he used to squeal around enjoying life but he still does that now, just maybe, without screeching the house down. He was probably so noisy because he couldn't really hear himself very well. I've seen you two having marathon tickle torture and laughing over a movie or some silly story you're telling him."

Cal watched her earnest eyes as she talked. "You don't think he changed, you know, around a specific time?"

"No I think he grew up, is growing up, like he should be, with love and laughter. Lewis has a fascination with the world and a curiosity he takes seriously, and so do you. If anything, it's your fault, for treating him like an adult. But that doesn't mean he's not happy or well adjusted."

"Hm," Cal noted. He wasn't sure the accusation was a tease. He had always treated Lewis as a little adult. "You think I'm too serious with our kids?"

"No. It's not like they don't have fun. It's not like they don't ever go to the park or have friends over on play dates or go swimming or spend hours with their Dad playing Lego on the floor of their bedroom or tickle torture," she stressed again. She paused and prompted again, a little firmer this time, "Where is this coming from?"

"Was just thinkin', could have been related to... you know, the hearin' aids or that time I was in hospital?"

Gillian smoothed her hand over his temple. "Oh Cal..." They watched each other for a moment. "Lewis is fine."

"You check up on him don't you?"

She gave a little roll of her eyes, enough to say she didn't like the accusation but she couldn't deny it wasn't true and she didn't try. "Sometimes."

Cal leaned down to give her a kiss. "Thanks."