The storage locker was a mess and the boxes delivered weren't in any logical order. They weren't even correctly labeled.

"Wow." Angie murmured as they stood at the mouth of the disaster and peered into the book that labeled 'books'. "I didn't know mommy had so many CD's."

The small voice next to him was the only thing keeping him from showing how pissed off he was and Metal carefully set the box aside and opened another one. This one didn't even have a label. Ronda had assured him it was all organized and labeled. Yet another thing to add to the list of things the woman didn't come through on. He'd been lucky when she tracked down where Angie took swimming lessons and got hold of the records for him. Even then he'd needed to call the place and thankfully the individual in charge remembered Angie. He'd even taught her a few times over the years and was extremely helpful in shedding light on what likely would and wouldn't work when teaching her.

Frowning at a box that was full of random vases and decor he passed it to Angie and kept looking. The kid wanted her books and he was damn well going to find them.

"If you see something you want in your room or in the house, put it aside, otherwise leave it. We'll deal with it later."

He knew irritation was bleeding through when Angie got real quiet, watching him with big eyes.

The next large box he found had a bunch of Angie's clothes, so he tossed it near the entrance and kept looking.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Angie pull a painting of a mother lion and her cub from the box. Then she rummaged through a little more and carefully brought out another one of a black bear by the river with two cubs. She set both lovingly near the door before rummaging through the box again.

Getting distracted easily by the boxes around her, Angie abandoned going through the box at her feet and started opening some others, peeking under the edges while Metal waded deeper into the pile.

"Hey! My Lego!" Angie chirped suddenly, a happy little smile forming as she dragged out a box and opened it properly. It was quite the collection. "And my horses!"

She found a smaller box filled with plastic farm figurines on top of the Lego.

"Ooh! And here's my skipping rope! I don't have to borrow Lilly's now!" Angie was tearing through, finding all kinds of things that brought an excited flash to her cheeks. "And my helmet! Is my bike here?! I want to ride my bike!"

"Put what you want with the stuff we're taking home today." He ordered, anger cooling slightly with her childish delight at finding toys. "I'll see if we can find your bike somewhere in here."

He had a bad feeling there was going to be an explosion of things in his house, but there was no way he could deny her any of it. Not when that spark of life shone so brightly, chasing away the dark circles that shouldn't be under the eyes of a child.

Opening another box, one that he thought felt like books, he paused. It wasn't the books he hoped to find, but he recognized the journal on top. Angie's mom used to write in it all the time when he and Catherine were still together. Underneath were more along with a laptop and an external harddrive.

If he knew Catherine at all, she would have written all about Angie…and possibly about why she left him too. Either way, he'd just stumbled across a gold mine of possible intel on his own kid and glimpses into the years he missed if there were pictures to be found on the computer.

Closing up the box, Metal set it with the growing pile of things they were taking.

"I found my books!" Angie cheered, drawing his attention to where she was standing on top of two precariously stacked boxes, teetering as she balanced to look inside the top one.

"Angie! Get down from there!" He told her firmly, fighting back the wave of alarm that came with seeing her wobbling. How had she gotten up there so fast?

The child didn't hear him immediately and she leaned to her left, trying to reach something.

"Oh! I missed this one! It's-"

Seeing the outcome of Angie's sudden shift and reach before she did, Metal picked up his pace and got ready to catch her. A tiny gasp escaped the girl when the corner of the box under her feet gave way and she tipped sideways. He reached her just in time, grabbing her out of the air before she could smack into the concrete floor.

Her brown eyes were huge when he set her down on her feet, using his body as a block point in case the boxes of books decided to fall on them.

"You ok, Bambi?" He asked, the affectionate term he often used mentally slipped out, fitting those big brown eyes of hers. In hindsight the name fit her perhaps a little too well given that, like the little deer in the story, she'd ended up with her father after her mother was taken from her too soon.

Gulping and a touch breathless, Angie nodded. "Yeah!"

"Don't climb up the boxes. I'll get them down for you."

Nodding, Angie tucked close to him and pointed, "That one has my books."

"Ok. Go stand by the door. I don't want this falling on you."

Skittering back, Angie waited for him to lift the desired container down.

"Anything else you want to bring home today?" He asked, eyeing the jumble of bags, boxes and containers critically.

"No. I don't think so…maybe…maybe just," Angie trailed off, staring around as if only just registering this was all that was left of her life before coming to him. "There was a blanket…mommy always had it on her bed. I…I want that. Please?"

Wincing because lord knew how long it would take to find it, Metal suppressed a sigh and started hunting.

"You start on that side." He growled, jerking his head to the opposite end of him. "Don't climb up anything. Don't pull anything down. Whole thing could come down on you."

"It's kind of like Jenga." The moment she said that, her eyes lit up again and he knew she'd just thought of yet another thing she wanted to find. "I wonder-"

"One thing at a time," Metal reminded more gruffly than he meant to.

"Right." Angie went serious and started looking through bags and boxes again, ducking her head and chewing her lip.

Guilt rippled through his bones and Metal fought back another wave of irritation, this time with himself. She didn't deserve his sour mood directed at her.

The small box he opened next contained odds and ends, all clearly from Catherine's room. A collection of shells and rocks, a jewelry box, and a figurine of a dancing bear along with another of a wolf howling at the moon.

Figuring it was best to keep valuables at home rather than in the unit and that Angie might want them, Metal took the whole box and set it near the entrance with the other stuff. Just as he closed it up, something inside the bottom chimed with four notes of a song and he went still.

He knew that sound.

Moving items carefully, he dug to the bottom of the box and found the small, intricate designed metal music box.

He'd bought it for her . They found it at an antique shop, hidden behind a shelf of plates where it wasn't supposed to be. It started playing the sweetest, simplest song when they passed by and Catherine joked it was haunted, trying to get them to take it home. Ultimately she was enthralled by the song despite her initial freak out over the way they found it. Metal remembered laughing at her when she started talking herself into taking it home after the fuss she made over how creepy it was that it just started playing on its own.

In the end she said the song made her think of sunshine, lakes and forests, and the melancholy warmth in the tune was begging her to take it home. He'd teased her that it was a witches box, and she'd been stolen away to another world if she bought it. Catherine hadn't thought that was funny and defended the box, stating that nothing evil could ever produce such a pure, beautiful sound that made her remember all the good things in life.

For his part, he thought the music was beautiful, but the artwork on the circular little music box was what drew him to it more. The metalwork was amazing, looping and swirling with lifelike vines and flowers. The detail in the picture on top of the wolf pack in the forest was breathtaking and the kind of work he'd only dreamed of being able to do when he was younger.

Holding it in his palm, he twisted the key carefully and let the tune enter the space.

He could see the forest, and the lake in his mind's eye now, and he could feel the wind coming off the water while he walked beside the woman he'd loved. There were few moments in life that Metal would have admitted to being aware of the supernatural, but for the smallest of seconds, he could have sworn he felt Catherine's presence nearby.

A dry sob broke him out of the spell he was under and Metal quickly looked for Angie.

She was sitting on one of the plastic bins, a box open at her feet and hugging what he assumed was the desired blanket in her arms, crying.

Abandoning the music box that was still playing softly, he crossed the storage unit and crouched down next to his girl.

"It smells like her." Angie sobbed, rocking back and forth.

"Come here." He held out his arms, helpless to do anything else and Angie tipped into them, dragging the blanket with her and clutching it under her nose. The moment the scent reached his senses, Metal found himself bombarded with memories of the woman, and he had to agree it was overwhelming. When Angie asked if he'd loved her mother, he hadn't been lying when he said yes. Now he had to accept that he loved her still and had all these years, only now it was too late to do anything about it.

After a while, Angie's tears slowed again and he produced a pack of tissues from his pocket. He'd learned in recent weeks to have some on hand.

"I think we'll call it a day, little bear." He said quietly. "We can go through the rest later. Let's pack it up and head out."

Nodding, Angie wiped her face and nose, then hugged the blanket tighter, wordlessly indicating she had no intention of letting go of it. Not commenting, Metal carefully packed the rest of the box up, locking away the lingering smells of Catherine in the sealed container rather than in the cardboard. After that he packed the truck and helped Angie up into her seat so the beloved blanket didn't get dirty.

It was a quiet ride home, followed by a quieter evening.

By the time he had Angie tucked safely into her bed, fast asleep and covered with the blanket that she hardly let go of all evening, Metal was starting to think maybe the therapist Naima recommended was a good idea. He understood grief and had an idea of what the kid was going through, but the change that came over her so quickly today was troubling. The fact he couldn't snap her out of it made it worse and all he could offer her his own two arms when she wouldn't speak. She hadn't said a word since the storage locker, lost in her own little mind.

Wide awake, at a loss and wondering if he'd been irresponsible letting her come to the storage locker after an emotionally exhausting morning in the pool, Metal sank onto the couch and rubbed his face.

The tick of the clock in the background was irritating, but he couldn't bring himself to turn on the TV. It wasn't going to provide answers.

Letting his hands slide down to his chin, he turned and peered thoughtfully at the unpacked items in the corner of the room.

Answers. Maybe he could find a few after all.

The first thing he retrieved was the journals and laptop. When he snagged up the music box too, he told himself it wasn't sentiment or the fleeting hope he would feel what he had earlier that day. It was just because it was still one of the coolest things he'd ever seen.

The computer was password protected, which he was only mildly annoyed by. He knew if all else failed he could find a way. He had connections, after all.

The journals were what he really wanted to look at, so he grabbed the one he knew Catherine had been writing in while they were still together and opened it, figuring he would start at the beginning.

He didn't expect an envelope addressed to him to fall out into his lap right away.

Opening it slowly, he read familiar handwriting.

Dear Scott,

If you're reading this, then it means my journals have ended up in your possession like I wanted, and I'm praying it also means so did our daughter.

I'd say 'surprise' but I feel like it wouldn't be in good taste and I know you hate surprises. It's a shock, I'm sure. And I figure you're angry with me, which is completely fair. What you must think of me, I can only imagine. I've tried for years to figure out what to tell you, and nothing ever seemed good enough. In the end I was a coward until it was too late. My time, it seems, has run out and very soon I'll be forced to leave my poor, beautiful baby girl all alone without anyone that I trust to care for her, except for you.

When I say I was a coward, I mean it with every inch of my being. With each year that passed since leaving you with no explanation I've regretted it bitterly, and yet I still feared trying to find you again. I couldn't bear the thought of finding you with someone else, someone you deserved. Pair that with my flimsy reasons for taking off in the first place and coming back with a child you never knew about? I just couldn't bring myself to do it, to face you. I regret it so much.

I can almost hear you now, asking why. Why would I just leave without a word? Why would I keep Angie from you for nine years? The truth is, I don't know anymore. Initially, when I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified. You were so focused on your training to be a Seal and had been so adamant about taking measures to make sure we didn't get pregnant that I was convinced that I knew what you would say. I was afraid you wouldn't want our baby, that I would be pressured by our friends to take a path I couldn't, that you would be angry and my last memories of you and our life together would be heartbreaking. I also couldn't take the thought of you blaming me for the birth control failing. Please believe that I know now you never would have done that. You aren't like that and you would have tried to be a good father, given the option, even if it wasn't what you wanted.

I told myself I did it for us both. I left so you could have the career you wanted, the life you dreamed of without the weight of family responsibilities, and I, I became a single mother to raise the child I secretly wanted so desperately and feared I would never have the chance to have because you weren't eager to be parents. In the end I see how wrong I was to take that choice from you, deciding for us both. I knew within weeks of leaving I'd acted out of fear and that the picture, the reaction I imagined out of you, wasn't accurate at all despite how long we'd been apart that year between deployments and training. I knew better. We could have worked it out if I'd just trusted you to be the man you are, but by then I was convinced it was too late. The damage was done and the door was closed. I couldn't go back and face you after what I did so I stayed away and with each year it got harder to consider coming back.

I made the best of it. I got work playing for various orchestras. My dad helped me out with Angie and bills until he passed. I never settled down with anyone and I can't say I even really dated anyone. I never really got over you, I guess and I think in some ways I didn't think I deserved to be happy. But, enough of that. I lost the privilege of being close to your heart long ago, and I need to make peace with it. Just know that even now I still love you and I hope with all my heart that you found someone better than me, someone who didn't just leave with no explanation and hide your child from you. I'm so sorry for what I did, and I hope you can forgive me.

There…now that that's out of the way, we can talk about your daughter.

Angie. My little angel. I could go on for days about her. She is the best thing that ever happened to me. I have no regrets there and the only thing I would change if I could go back is having you a part of her life from the start. She's got your temper, I'll have you know, and your determination, and your complete and utter lack of fear when it comes to climbing. I've got one too many gray hairs because of that child and her blasted climbing, and I will absolutely blame you for those genetics. She's smart as a whip too and she's inherited our love for reading. I think perhaps she will enjoy your taste in stories over mine, however. She prefers magical realms to mysteries.

She's noble, and so kind to everyone. She's sensitive, like me. Have fun with that. I could go on and on about her, like telling you to make sure she doesn't get reclusive with her books and that she gets hangry easily, so make sure she stays fed, or that she's terrified of water and I'll never forgive myself that she nearly drowned as a toddler. I may have inadvertently made her just as scared of bad weather as I am too. Be prepared for middle of the night cuddles when it's stormy. What else can I tell you? She desperately wants a dog, her imagination is vivid and she's prone to nightmares along with getting lost in her own little world of pretending (you should ask her about those imagenines of hers. They are so precious.). She hates math and it will be a dubious task making her do her math homework. She's not above lying about having her work done, and her tell is when she scratches her earlobe. You're welcome. She's good at hiding things some days and terrible the next. You may as well have as much advantage as possible. Oh! It's not in her medical file, but watch out for allergic reactions when it comes to shellfish. She got hives once after eating lobster. It wasn't enough to be overly concerned, but I've always been worried about it. She also hasn't had many men in her life so she'll likely be shy of you at first…of course, I'm sure you'll have coaxed her into trusting you in no time. You always were good at that.

Now I'm worrying about what if she doesn't end up in your care. Oh, please, dear heavens, let her be with you, Scott! The thought of her being with anyone else makes me sick. I might not have trusted you enough back when I left, but I do now. If you don't have her right now, Scott…tear the world apart and go get her. I'm begging you with all that I am. Don't let our daughter grow up in the system, or worse that psychopath my sister married. I can't bear the idea of Angie not being with you where she's safe now that I'm gone. I suppose I just need to trust that I still know you and that you wouldn't let that happen. You would never abandon her and regardless of where life took you, you'll find a way to take care of her.

I wish I could tell you more right now, but it's getting harder and harder to write and Angie is due to come see me soon. My journals are yours, and then Angies when you feel it's time for her to have them. I hope you find them helpful.

I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I kept her from you. I'm sorry I left. I love you.

Give my love to our girl and remind her that I'll always be there. To help with that, I've made a few things for her, recordings mostly of-

The letter was cut off, smudged and wrinkled by moisture and there was nothing more. By some cold irony it was almost fitting for Catherine to leave a mystery behind.

Metal sat there for a long time, staring at the words, not really sure what he was feeling. Possibly grief. Maybe some anger. Mostly just an aching loss because truly the whole situation was tragic. He'd still loved her this whole time…and she'd still loved him, living to her last breath with regret and never knowing that he would have given it a second chance if she came back. He would have forgiven her with time. She was his greatest weakness from day one.

Damn it. He wished things had been different. The fact she couldn't trust him back then to support her in having Angie…that cut deep, but part of him couldn't blame her. It had been a rocker time in their relationship and he'd been gone a lot more. He had to admit that who he was back then likely wouldn't have been very supportive at first. Still, Catherine was right. He would have tried anyway and in the end he might have made a different career choice for the sake of his family.

A life that never was.

"Wish you told me." He murmured to the letter. "I never really got over you either."

The sound of the music box suddenly playing briefly had him jumping out of his skin a second later and he stared incredulously at the piece of art sitting on the coffee table.

"That was not funny." He snapped at it.

When it chimed two more notes without him touching it, he narrowed his eyes, heart pounding in his chest.

"Just a coincidence," He muttered, rubbing his eyes and forcing himself to breathe. "Spring let loose. It's old."

Although…Catherine would have gotten a kick out of him jumping sky high like that, especially since he'd pranked her using the music box years ago and scared the ever living shit out of her. Come to think of it, she swore to have her revenge someday.

Peering at the small music box over the tips of his fingers, Metal considered the possibility. When he caught the faint whiff of Catherine's smell in the air, he got up and headed for the kitchen to pour a small shot of whiskey.

"Nope." He said. "I'm tired. That's all. Just a coincidence. Probably just lingering on the journals."

A final bright note ticked happily into the air from the music box. Metal pretended he didn't hear it and convinced himself that the only reason he felt an odd sense of reassurance and love was because he was overtired, just shot some whiskey and needed sleep.

There was absolutely nothing supernatural going on. Probably.

He went to bed after that.

When Angie knocked on his door and came into his room a few hours later, Metal thought she must have had a bad dream except she seemed too calm and was half asleep as she climbed up with her 'mommy' blanket and snuggled into his arms with a contented little sigh.

"What's going on, little bear?" He asked, still half asleep himself. "Bad dreams?"

"No…" Angie murmured, already nearly out. "I had a really wonderful dream about Mommy. She was here and she cuddled me, and then when I woke up I wanted to be with you. Can I stay?"

"Uh huh." He mumbled, tightening his arms around her and letting himself drift off again, content that his child was at peace for once and that, in a sense, she had her mother and father holding her as she slept.