Brettly rubbed Mirand’s back. As the tears fell. There was a brief moment that he thought that the tears were because she was either sad or mad that he made the kissing stop. It was one the hardest things for him to do. Loving the feel of her hands roaming over his body. Enjoying the passion and love that had flowed between them . Relief filled him when Miranda said that the tears were tears of joy. That this was the first time that she felt love that he had for her. Hearing that was bitter sweet. Knowing that she should have felt that from him long ago. It was because of his actions that it was only now that she felt the love he had for her. Yes she had felt his love for only in recent years but she didn’t remember that.<br/><br/>“ Do you want me get you something for the pain?” Concern written on his face when he saw her cringe in pain.<br/><br/>“Maybe one day. When you are completely healed. Yes it was quite bad. I don’t want you to concern yourself about  that right now. All I want you do is work on getting better. Which you are doing. I’m so very proud of how much progress you have made.” Brettly had meant every word. The only thing was he didn’t want to every tell Miranda about her attack. It was more than “quite bad”. That Miranda had survived the attack a pure miracle. Brettly attention was brought back to Miranda when she grab up her journal. Another thing he was proud of her for. Truly believe her writing down what she remembered would help her recovery.<br/><br/>Brettly rose from the bed. Gather their half-eaten meals and place them on the counter near the bar. Planning on taking the dirty plates down to the kitchen in the morning. Returning the seat next to the bed and picking up his glass of  scotch and taking a sip. Watching her over the glass rim as he took a sip of the alcohol as she wrote in her journal. Smiling at her when she asked if like to read what she wrote.  It had been Miranda’s idea to share the journal. Meaning that both could write and read the journal.<br/><br/>“ Would love too.” Taking the journal from her.   A smile tug at the corner of his lips at some of the things she wrote.<br/><br/>“I don’t  know I still think that purple hat was for me, Not that panama hat. “ Brettly tease her. Referring to the mention of a shopping trip they taken just before they went to the island that later become an vacation home. Brettly refused to tell Miranda where they were going.In realty he wasn’t sure himself. Purposely getting lost and ending up on the coast. Just so that they spend alone together, due the fact that they hadn’t seen much of each because their demanding careers.  The day had been spent lazily browsing coastal shops. At one shop Miranda had found panama style hat and had given it to Brettly to try on.  He grab up a large purple floppy hat. Placing the woman’s hat on his head, saying that the purple hat looked better on him. Making Miranda laugh and rolled her eyes at him. They spent the weekend there at the coastal town. Milling around town, beach combing and fishing were just few things they did over the weekend.  All this was written down in her journal. That and how much she had thought it was sweet of him to surprise her with the weekend.  A small proud smile cross his face at the knowledge that another piece of her memory had come back to her.<br/><br/>Not all the memories that had been written about were as sweet.  Like her seeing him kissing that red head in Paris while they were on their honeymoon. Brettly telling her to quite the FBI,the fight that ensued and her leaving the first time.  But didn’t faze his proudness of her. A memory remembered or gain was a sign of her progress. A sign of her healing. Though doctors had warned that Miranda may not get all of her memories back. He hoped that they were wrong. More than anything he wanted her to get all of her memory back. Expect one. The attack. Yes he knew that he could not cherry pick what Miranda remembered, but he could hope or dream.<br/><br/>The hardness thing to read was not a memory but a question that she had wrote .About them not having children. Why that was.  Reading that was like a punch in the gut. Knowing that he would need to tell her why. He didn’t want to tell her about the miscarriage. How at each one killed a bit of her and him. Each one brought on a very bad down ward spiral of depression for Miranda. For once Brettly had been there for Miranda. Consoling her as best as he could. Thought she tried to push him away. Deviling in work as much has she could. With each miscarriage she drove deeper in work. After the third one she almost never came home.<br/><br/>“ Any more of these compliments will give me a big head. I enjoyed our makeout session too." Bobbing his  eye brows at her. Masking his own pain at the memory of the miscarriages.  The thing of it was he was going have to tell her something at some point. Just what though. He didn’t want her to blame herself like she had done before. It was not her flaunt. Genics had played their part. “I’m glad you enjoy our little picnic a few days ago.”<br/><br/>Brettly remove the ice from Miranda’s ankle. They watched the rest of the movie. Afterwards he helped her get ready for bed. Like every night since she came home he held her in his arms. Though he didn’t go sleep, thoughts race though his mind. Once Miranda was sound asleep. Brettly got up and grab up the journal and began to write.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">My dearest Mira <br/><br/>I didn’t address what you admitted about Thomas and you. Mostly because you had admitted to it months after it happen. Years ago. At the time that you admitted what happen I was furious.  And very jealous. But really I had no right to be that way. I treated you as if you were a second class citizen. Something I should have never done. Then made sure that you thought I was cheating on you. All because I wanted to punish you for us being married.  Something neither of us wanted. So I drove you to Thomas. He has always shown that he has cared for you. Been there when you needed a friend. I’m no longer jealous of the two of you. No I’m not mad at you or him for what happen any longer.<br/><br/>This is the hardest thing to tell you. You ask about us having children. We tried many times. Only to find out that my swimmers aren’t that great.  In fact their are next to nil. Sorry about that sugar. We talked briefly about adopting but we never really decided. I think you make any child a wonderful and great mother!!! So adopting is still an option to  talk about when you get better. <br/><br/>I love you. <br/><br/>Forever yours Bre <br/><br/>P.S.<br/> You look like a beautiful angel when you sleep. </span><br/><br/><br/>Sighing heavily, knowing that at some point the lie that he wrote to her would bite him in the ass. He just could not bring himself to tell her about the miscarriages.  He rather take the blame than to see her fall into another deep depression. More than anything he wanted to spare her pain and heart ache. Leaving the journal where she left it. He sat and watched Miranda sleep for a long time. Then crawled back in bed and wrapped an arm around her.