As Cal reached for the box and started to take the weight of it in his hands he realised it was a lot heavier than he had expected. He nearly smashed himself in the face as he dropped the box into the wall and lowered it to the ground. It tipped on its side and contents spilled out against the dry wall. Cal gave a little sigh and bent over to the right the box. Paper and books spilled out in a heap onto his shoes lined up against the wall, tumbling over each other, shedding loose sheaves. Cal gave another grumble and moved the box awkwardly to the space in the middle of the wardrobe, between his clothes and Gillian's. He had to kneel to gather up the spilt items, his hip feeling tight as he leaned over, trying to balance his weight and not fall.

His gaze drifted to a familiar item, a worn journal; his mother's diary. So he still had it. And it was stashed at the top of the wardrobe? Seemed a bit... oh but where else would he keep it? Somewhere for everyone to stumble over it? He flipped through it, finding it too hard all of a sudden to actually read the words. He used to have it memorised, well just about, and he was curious to find the words were now unfamiliar, knew, like he was seeing them again for the first time. That can't have been because of his head injury. This fell inside the safe zone of things he should remember. Cal sat back on his ankles for a moment, the closed book in his hands. He didn't feel an affinity anymore. Had he really... moved on from his mother's death? Finally?

Cal leaned over to put the item back in the box. He pulled it closer to him and tidied it again, stacking up the folders and books of the same size into order. He had a quick look through them but didn't really know what they were. Legal papers by the look of it; his divorce paperwork! Old passport. Birth certificate. Passport photos. Cal stared at them intently for a while. Taken before he had gotten so gray. Interesting. Then he sat back again, reaching for the loose papers that were still scattered over his shoes. He wondered why he had kept half of this crap. He thought he should maybe just toss it.

Cal's hand fell onto a heavy envelope; expensive paper. He tossed the other paper into the top of the box but turned the envelope over. His name was written on the front. Handwritten. In Gillian's script. His full given name. Calvin. His heart started to beat a little faster.

"Dad what you doing?"

Cal turned his head, startled. Lewis was standing in the doorway to the walk in closet, looking coy. "Uh, cleanin' up a mess I made. What are you doin'?"

Lewis came into the smaller space, resting a hand on his father's shoulder to move around him awkwardly, so he didn't step on his mother's shoes, all lined up neatly in two rows. He turned for the box Cal had just put back together. "What are these things?"

"Mine," Cal told him with a growl, gesturing to his chest, giving his son a light tickle. Lewis laughed and squirmed away, falling to his hands and knees amongst his mother's heels anyway. Cal put the envelope on top of a pair of his work shoes and stood. "Better fix those," he warned, pointing. While Lewis started straightening the shoes out again, Cal lifted the heavy box to his chest. He might be cutting down on physical therapy, but that didn't mean he was back to his old strength. He shifted the box in his hands so he was gripping it differently, so he could push it up, above his head and slide it onto the shelf again.

When he turned back, a little warm from the exertion, Lewis was walking carefully in a pair of his mother's pumps. He still had his own shoes on too. "Uh," Cal started to object. No, really, Gillian would kill him if he let Lewis ruin her shoes right? Cal reached over and picked Lewis up, extricating him from the shoes. "No," he told his four year old. He put Lewis on the carpet. "Don't wear Mum's shoes," he added. "You might break them."

"They're verr pitty."

"Yeah but they're also... tricky. Tidy them up," Cal directed instead. He felt a little shaky. He had probably over done it with the box. And manhandling Lewis. So he took a seat on the wardrobe floor, leaning against the door frame, directing his son, and reached for that envelope again. It had already been opened. Or, actually, as Cal looked closer, perhaps it hadn't actually been sealed in the first place. He pealed back the flap and slid the piece of paper inside out. It was also heavy, expensive, the same stationary as the envelope. Cal's curiosity peaked. What was Gillian doing writing to him? With no postage stamps or address...

Cal folded back the paper to read, feeling like he was unveiling a lost treasure. It was a lost treasure. With his memory, everything was a freaking lost treasure these days. The words were a little blurry but he could make them out ok. He read it through, his heart beating wilder, his body getting warmer. It was a love letter. Gillian had written him a love letter! Wow. Definitely worth keeping that was.

"What are you guys up to?" Gillian's voice came from above Cal's head.

He looked up at her. She was smiling at him, then her gaze went to her shoes. "Trying on my shoes again?" She asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you mean again?" Cal asked back. Surely she was kidding him.

Gillian gave a smirk, stepped over his legs and reached for the long dresses that hung near the back. "Where's my little munchkin?" She sat on the carpet. Cal heard Lewis giggle. Gillian must have spotted their boy hiding from the different angle. Cal hadn't notice him disappear. Too absorbed. Had Gillian seen what was in his hand? Because she hadn't said anything. And why did it feel a bit like he could be busted for reading the letter? It was for him. From her to him. It was his.

Gillian was asking Lewis what had happened to her shoes. He gave her a shrug and tried climbing into her lap. She fended him off gently, directing him to put her shoes back where they belonged. Cal watched them, watched the gentle way Gillian was with her child, watched the way Lewis responded, attentive to his mother and obedient. He was staring. Then he was busted for staring. Gillian gave him a smile. Her nose was red from her cold and she looked tired but still, she was beautiful and he loved her. And damn did she love him.

"Are you ok?" Her voice was soft, a little croaky.

"Yeah."

"And you're sitting in the closet because?"

"I'm not ready to come out of it yet."

She gave a slight smile, wasn't entirely sure he was joking. That could be taken in quite a literal way. And he was slumped there, like he was suddenly unable to move. Still not a hundred percent. His first day back at work was tomorrow. It suddenly felt a little daunting. Gillian scooted closer to him, reaching to place a hand on his knee. "What's that?" She inclined her head.

Cal pushed it towards her. "You tell me."

She took it, glanced at it, looked up at him, knowledge registering in her eyes. "Where was this?" She asked good-naturedly.

Cal pointed up. "Stashed away."

"Hm," Gillian mused. "Not framed somewhere, I note."

Cal gave a slight smile. Now why hadn't he thought of that? No seriously, why hadn't he? Was he... did he not completely love the letter she had written him? Why not? What was wrong with him? It was beautiful and amazing and...

"Read it to me," he requested softly.

Gillian raised an eyebrow slightly. "You didn't read it?"

"Haven't got my glasses," he supplied lamely.

"Want me to get them for you?"

"Or you could read it to me," Cal suggested again, encouraging her to take it. She did.

Gillian glanced down at the page in her hand. Was she embarrassed? Cal watched her face, searching. This could be interesting. There was nothing in there she should be ashamed of. It was beautiful and sweet and he realised suddenly she had given it to him on their honeymoon. It was her confession, her vows. He remembered. She had written it after they had gotten married, but before they had reached the Caribbean and she had saved it for that last day, before they had had to pack and come home.

"Dear Calvin," Gillian started. She stopped and cleared her throat. She didn't look up at him but seemed to hesitate just a little. She lowered her wrist so the page was resting against her leg and brushed hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"Believe it or not, but I never used to believe in soul mates. I always thought we could only really do the best we could, find someone it would be possible to spend the rest of your life with or, at least, a big chunk of it, scrape through and survive. Tolerate. Settle. I believe in love, you know that, but to think there could be someone out there, in a population of billions, who was your perfect match... the idea is quite frankly mind boggling. Imagine my surprise when I found you. My needle in a haystack.

I don't know if we're soul mates or not but I know that I've never loved anybody else like I love you. I've never felt more in sync with someone, more in awe, more worshipped and worthy. I've never found anyone else so infuriating, so challenging, so intelligent, so sweet and kind. I've never wanted to kiss someone all the time before. I didn't know love could feel like this.

So you're my husband now and that is truly amazing. I doubt life will be sweet smelling roses from here on out but maybe the occasional thorn won't hurt as bad with you by my side. I know we'll patch up any wounds together. We've already been through a lot; the best friend I've ever known. Whatever life throws our way I know we'll make it through.

I love you Cal. I'm so glad you love me too."

Gillian looked up at him when she finished. Cal watched her for a moment, his heart feeling warm and full. "I do love you Gill."

"I know," she smiled.

PJ

AN: Couldn't leave it on a weird uneven number like 149 could I? You can thank Laukie for a very polite PM requesting to know what the honeymoon letter said (I hope you find this chapter).

To all those who review as guests. A massive thank you from my entire heart. I don't get to respond to you each personally and thank you for your wonderful comments and support. I love you guys just as much. xxx

Till next time...

PS hi my little aussie clarebear. Have you read my fic 'Season Four'? It might be something you're looking for.