Cal was sixty and sometimes he worried that he might not be able to keep up with his kids anymore. Owen was seven and still an incredibly energetic boy. Cal saw the way Emily had to race after Ethan, now that the toddler was walking and running around, and he wondered how he had done it, twice more, so late in his life. He must love his wife very much. Of course he did. He often thought about what he wouldn't do for her.

Gillian was curled up against his side, right now, where they lay squished into a lounger on the patio area outside of their living room, keeping close to him for the warmth under the blanket. Although, it wasn't like she had much choice. It was a pretty tight fit within the arms of that lounger. Not that it was particularly cold, or maybe it was just that Gillian did a very successful job of keeping him warm. It probably helped that they were cuddled up next to a brazier, a new toy from Cal's birthday several months ago, that they could only really use effectively now that it was getting cooler at night. It was at Gillian's back, the flames at Cal's face, and he felt a little flushed.

Lewis and Owen had run off inside to get the rest of the marshmallows; so long as they kept Cal supplied he didn't mind too much if they ate their way through the entire packet tonight. Sometimes it was nice to just let them indulge. They were good kids. And they were having so much fun toasting the marshmallow in the flames and then either handing them over for their parents or sucking down the gooey flesh themselves quickly, burning their mouths and hands but giggling about it. There had been a few fires, and one spectacularly messy marshmallow blood splatter all over the paving stones. They were probably going to be up late now. Hyped up on sugar. Gillian bought the marshmallows.

"You've gone all quiet," Gillian murmured, shifting her head. She was so still Cal almost forgot she was there while he daydreamed, aside from the solid weight of her practically lying all over him; it was the easiest way for them to fit together.

"I was thinkin'."

"About what?"

"You. The kids."

"What about our kids?" She sounded a little dubious.

"Oh you know? The amount of raw suga they've inhaled this evenin'."

"Mh hm. Dibs not having to try to get them to bed."

Cal gave a chuckle and then the boys were back, the container of marshmallows in Lewis's hand and the both of them brandishing their slightly singed skewers like light sabres. The sun was practically gone by now and it had cast beautiful colours on the clouds over the roofs of their neighbours homes. Now the cheerful candy pinks and reds were turning to deep melancholy purples and blues as twilight descended upon this side of the world. The brazier ran on a gas cylinder, though it did have an open flame for the toasting and false logs to make it look as though it was fuelled by wood. Cal could smell the chemical marker of the gas and thought a wood fire would have been so much nicer; it would have really added to the atmosphere. The smell of smoke in the air. The crackle and hiss of sap overheating. The glow of embers. The roar as more fuel was added.

A stick of marshmallows came their way and Cal reached out his right hand from under the blanket to take it. He offered it to Gillian and she took it from him. He could feel her jaw working against his collar bone as she chewed and then her fingers were pressing an underdone vanilla marshmallow against his lips. He opened his mouth and she pushed the treat inside. Sweetness painted the inside of his cheeks and even after Cal had dissolved the sugar he spent time sucking everything else he could find of it from behind his teeth and the roof of his mouth; digging around with his tongue.

Gillian reached a hand back to give the skewer back to Owen, who was sitting closest to them, perched on the wooden seat on the other side of the brazier, and licked her fingers clean. Owen took the make-shift utensil with a nod, pink melted marshmallow oozing from between his lips. When Gillian turned back Owen was already starting to thread more marshmallows onto the empty stick. Cal turned his face back to the sky, watching the stars start to come alive. "First star," he murmured to his wife.

"Hm?" She asked softly.

"First star of the night," he repeated. He had a background memory of his father telling him something about the stars. No, not his father. Someone else. It was after his mother had died. Saying she was the first star in the night, always looking down on him. Who had told him that? A neighbour or... An aunt. He remembered now. An aunt he never liked, on his father's side, who in that moment, gave him a little pocket of strength to keep going on, knowing his mother was up there looking down on him.

"Make a wish?" Gillian asked.

Cal realised he'd never told her that story. Why not? But he wasn't going to repeat it here. He knew the boys could hear him, well Owen could hear him, and it was not something he wanted them to be thinking about right before bed. Sheltering was not the same as lying. It was not. "Sure make a wish," Cal encouraged.

"Wow," Gillian responded. "That was quick." Cal expected another skewer to appear in their vicinity but he was wrong and Gillian went on. "My wish came true almost instantly," and she gave him a big squeeze and he grinned; she was being cheesy. He got it now. He gave her a squeeze back, knowing she was teasing but only half so.

"Dad there's no more marshmallows," Owen spoke up.

"Oh well," Cal responded lightly. He noticed there hadn't been another skewer heading in their direction for a while. He supposed it went two for the boys, one for them.

"What do we do now?" Owen asked.

"Go to bed?" Cal suggested.

"Can we toast something else?" Owen again.

"No," Gillian spoke up.

"Aw," Owen gave a short complaint.

"Could always go to bed," Cal reiterated but he wasn't serious and the boys knew that.

"Whoa look at all the stars." That was twelve year old Lewis.

Gillian's fingers smoothed around the curve of Cal's ribs.

"Dad, do the stars look different in your country?" Owen again.

"My country is your country Owen, so yeah they do," Cal answered.

"England," Lewis said to Owen and a second later Owen was asking his question again, but it was reworded.

"Do the stars look different in England?"

"No they look the same."

"The stars look different in the south," Lewis volunteered.

"Very good," Cal noted.

"The south of what?" Owen asked confused.

Cal felt a puff of breath against his neck and the slight vibration of his wife stifling a laugh. Owen was often away in his own world, doing his own thing, and it seemed he wasn't paying attention, but in reality, he was. He paid maybe not as much attention as his big brother, but he was still thinking about things. Maybe he just didn't always voice what was on his mind. Which made him quite a bit like Lewis really. They were so alike in so many ways Cal had a harder time explaining how they were different besides the classic: Lewis was an introvert and Owen the extrovert.

So Owen got that Cal had grown up in a different country, and he was thinking about how two countries were different, and that stars could look different in each sky. Just not that there were north and south parts of the planet.

"The south half of the world," Lewis clarified.

"Southern hemisphere," Gillian called out.

"How do the stars look there?" Owen asked.

"They don't have a north star," Lewis answered first.

"Then how can they know where north is?"

Cal chuckled this time. Owen knew what he was trying to ask, he just hadn't worked out how to phrase the question properly. "They can't see the North Pole," Cal told him. "Because they're in the south but there are stars that point to the South Pole, which they're close-a to right?" He looked over at his son while he talked, adding in a few one handed signs he could manage for Lewis; Gillian was lying on his other arm. Cal went on to talk about the different parts of the sky visible from the south compared to the north. He didn't know exact details, apart from the North Pole/South Pole thing, but he did know it was different down there. He didn't remember paying too much attention to the stars on his trips to the southern hemisphere. But he did recollect the water went down the drain the other way.

"Dad, how come you lived in England?" Owen asked next.

"You're the popular one tonight," Gillian noted softly against Cal's throat.

"That's where Dad was born," Lewis answered that one too. Cal was impressed he remembered so much about his father's life.

"Then how come you came to here?"

Now that was a good question. And Lewis remained silent.

"I had had enough of bein' in England," Cal answered, feeling Gillian tense against him slightly. She didn't intervene though. The reason he had left England had been to run a million miles from his life. But that wasn't really something he wanted to explain to his sons or even knew how to.

"You came to marry Zoe right?" Lewis asked.

"Well not quite," Cal clarified. "I came here first, then married Zoe."

"How come you're not married to Zoe anymore?"

"Cos I'm married to Mum."

"Did you have enough of Zoe too?"

Cal almost laughed. Gillian did a little, but turned her mouth against his neck to muffle the sound again.

"No they didn't love each other anymore," Lewis told his little brother.

Kind of true. Both of them.

"Zoe and I felt that we couldn't be with each otha anymore," Cal added.

"How come?"

"We grew apart. We stopped bein' friends and we didn't love each otha very much anymore. Sometimes it happens," he added lightly, trying to be neutral or nonchalant. He didn't want his kids to read too much into their father being divorced. He didn't want them to get preconceived ideas about marriages falling apart and people reaching the point where they couldn't stand the other. Hold on to the magic. Make it work.

"Is that how come you're not married to that guy?" Owen laid down his next query.

What had brought on all these questions? The stars?

"Alec," Lewis supplied.

When had Lewis even heard about Alec? Cal thought, while he felt Gillian shift against him to turn her head and raise a hand to sign. Did Gillian tell them about Alec? It wasn't so strange with Zoe, she was Emily's mother. She was in photos and she had met them and Emily talked about her mother. But Alec. Alec had practically disappeared off the face of the earth as far as the Lightman's were concerned.

"Yes," Gillian reiterated. "It happened like that for me and Alec too."

"Did you copy?"

Cal chuckled, incredibly entertained. "Yeah Gill did you copy?" He asked her, lowering his voice so it was more for her than the crowd. A finger pressed into his ribs. He had nowhere to escape to but it was relatively light, a warning.

"No Owen. Sometimes things just happen."

"But if it didn't? Then you couldn't marry Dad."

"Yeah I guess," Gillian admitted but Cal could hear the impressed tone lacing her words. She, like him, liked the way their sons thought.

"Oh then we would never exist!" Owen added. He turned to Lewis with a horrified expression on his face. Lewis watched impassively for a moment and Cal swore that they were communicating without words. Not signing but somehow sending telepathic messages into each other's brains. After a moment Lewis snuck an arm around Owen's shoulders and drew him into a rough hug.

"How come we never meet Alec? Is he not alive anymore?" Owen the chatterbox.

"We're not friends anymore," Gillian told him. "So I don't talk to him. Why would you meet him? He's not our family or our friend."

Harsh but true.

"But then how come we talk to Zoe?"

"Cos of Emmy," Lewis piped up. "Zoe is Emily's Mum so that means Zoe is still in her life and cos she's our sister then it means that sometimes Zoe's in our life."

Cal had told him that. And he had recited it almost perfectly.

"It's just all very confusing," Owen sighed.

'Yeah,' Cal thought. Life was confusing. But it was so much less confusing with Gillian than it had been with Zoe. Life with Gillian was in general, so much better. Cal looked over at his sons, both looking thoughtfully into the flickering gas flame. The elder Lewis, starting to turn into a man, and Owen, who it seemed was picking up his brother's knack for asking questions until he got answers that satisfied him. They were really so very interesting.

"Bed time," Gillian announced, pushing herself up from Cal. He felt colder without her there to keep him warm. "You can think about it in bed."

PJ

AN: I just wanted to give you guys a bit of warning that tomorrow is the last chapter.