I know I shouldn't do this. I KNOW that. But I'm here, and they're there. Infront of me. Demanding to be read. Practically.

It's the practically that's stopping me. That and the ass kicking I will get if Cath and Gil found out what I did. If they found out I couldn't be trusted alone in their home.

Well, I'm not strictly alone, Linds is here. But she is sleeping, so I'm roaming free, with no adults to make me behave. No Cath to make me behave. Cath and Gil are at some boring conference, sorry I don't mean that. Cath and Gil are at a conference. It has something to do with the life cycle of the dung beetle. Not my bag. Not Catherines' either, but Gil can be very persuasive when it comes to Cath. So anyway Linds and I have the run of the house for the weekend. And all was going well...

We've eaten junk food all day, we've watched Justin Timberlake videos all day, then we read Buffy fanfic on the internet. A great day. And now my beautiful girl is sleeping, peacefully and happily. Which is why I find myself in this situation, with this dilemma.

The journals.

The journals they wrote to each other for their wedding anniversary. They are here, on the beside table. I guess my favourite couple in the world were reading them before they left this morning. And they forgot to put them away. Which is a bad thing when they have a nosey house guest. Well, basically, when they have me as a house guest.

I want to know what is in there.

But I can't. I can't do it. It would be too rude. To much of an invasion of their privacy. But...

They are right infront of me. And no one would ever know, not if I was sneaky enough. Not if I did this right.

But no.

Well, maybe I could learn from them. Learn how to be a better partner. Okay that's what I'm going with. That's what I'll tell my maker on the day of reckoning, I want to learn from them. I wish I had a conscience.

But no, as it turns out, I don't. So I pick up the books and settle down for the night. But something feels wrong, I feel that I shouldn't be doing it, shouldn't know all of their secrets. So I promise I will only read a few entries. I'll pick the stuff that doesn't make me feel like a stalker. So if there is any NC-17 stuff in there, then I am burning my eyes and asking for forgiveness. I just want the cute stuff...

I remember the first day I saw you. The day all of this began. The day that led us to here.

I heard you first, heard you before I saw you. You were arguing with some cop, Brown I think. You were demanding that he listen to you, listen to your evidence, to your reason. And I enjoyed it so much. Listening to this passionate woman, and then I saw you. And my heart stopped. Does that sound corny? I don't mean it to, don't mean to make this common place, because you are anything but. It's true, though. That's why I am telling you that my heart stopped. It did. I felt my heart in my chest for the first time in my life. I felt it beat, beat for you. Do you know my heart beats for you? I hope you do. Well I'm telling you, so now you know, sweetheart. Did you read that, I can call you sweetheart. You are mine to call sweetheart. I love that. I love you. But I digress, which I am blaming on you by the way. You've won power over my concentration since the day we met. You bewitched me since the day we met. But you know that by now.

So the first time. Do you remember? I do. I walked out into the hallway, walked out with no comprehension of how my life was about to change. And there you were. Standing in the corridor, smouldering. Frustrated that a cop would not listen to a rookie, that a cop would not listen to the evidence.

I have to admit you made me a little uncomfortable, I forgot how to speak. So I hid in the doorway for a few minutes, working up the nerve to dazzle you with my charm. I didn't know then that it would take me so long, but I did realise from the beginning that you would be worth the wait. Worth the world.

Do you remember what our first words were? Do you think they spoke of what was to come, that they were filled with the promise of a life to be lived. I wish that were true. But it is not. If my memory is correct, and I remember everything about you Cath, so I have no reason to doubt it. Well, if memory serves I asked you if you needed any help.

Not good.

You practically exploded. You were magnificent. Your eyes were magnificent, the life in them. Your words however? Well you were honest with me, as always. You told me that my that my help was unsolicited, and not required, and then you stormed off, all legs and indignation. And I was gone.

I was yours.

I think of that day often. I think of the way your hair bounced on your collar as you stormed away. I think of how I wanted, more than I knew possible, to run after you and bury my face in your hair. To inhale you and make you mine.

And it came true.

Can you believe it? It came true. You are mine. And equally I am yours.

So on this day, on the first anniversary of the day we officially became each others, I wanted to remind you, that it was always so. That I have been yours since that first meeting, since I first heard your voice, since I first noticed your spirit. Remember that sweetheart, take this book out often and remember that I have loved you forever and will love you forever. Read this book to remember it, but look in my eyes when you want the proof.

I love you.

Phew. That was... Private. I'm a bad friend. The worst. But, honestly, I'm glad I read it. Seriously, how cool is that man. I'm telling you, if he were not straight, and in love with my best friend I would be tempted to make a play for him. Not really, but he does look good in black. I'll admit that. And I'll admit that I wish someone would write a journal full of these confessions for me. But I'll stop now, leave the rest of Gils' thoughts private. But I do need a peak into the mind of Cath before I let this go.

I want to tell you of my heart. There are a lot of pages in this book and I know I'll be able to fill them all, with words of how you fill my heart.

So where do I start? The first time we met? Do you remember? I don't mean the first time we worked together. I mean that time when I exploded at you and then stormed off.

I still get goosebumps when I think of it. When I think of the effect you had on me that day. You made my blood flow faster in my veins even then. You controlled the blood in my veins from the first.

I knew about you, of course. I'd heard the stories of how intimidating you were, of how you were so consumned by your work you had no time for anything other than the job. I laugh when I think of how wrong they are, of how they misunderstand you. But I do. I understand you sweetheart, that's why I am so lucky. That's why I am the one who gets to write this to you. I took the time to love you, to know you. I say that as if I had a choice, which is not true. You have a control over me that has nothing to do with reason, with rationale thought, and everything to do with instinct and need.

I need you. Do I tell you that often enough? Probably not, so I'm telling you now. I know you know, but it feels wonderful writing the words, sharing them with you.

Anyway, I was telling you of the first day we met. I was with that idiot Brown, and he was ignoring me as usual. And I was shouting at him, as usual. I sensed you before I saw you. I could tell you were lurking in the doorway of your office, that's the first time you gave me goosebumps. So I waited. Waited for you to come to me, God I was confident. I was so sure that if I waited you would come to me. Who new how long we would have to wait. But it was worth it, wasn't it? I went off topic there, sorry honey. I was telling you of how I was intoxicated by your presence from first we met. Well, I was.

You strode towards me, full of concern and of kindness. Which, I have to tell, is not what I expected. But of coures I know now, it's the man you are. But I wouldn't let you be kind, wouldn't let you help me. I exploded at you and then stormed off. Have I ever told you that I was praying you were watching me? That I hoped that the contact between us was continuing even though we were not talking. I wanted you to run after me, I suppose. I wanted you to be admiring me, checking me out. I hope you were. Well, not that it matters now, but I hope you were as affected as I was from the first. I remember you were wearing a brown shirt, one I never saw again, but I remember wondering what would happen if I opened the top three buttons on it. I remember wishing I had the courage to run back to you and open your shirt. But we both know I didn't do that.

I can do it now though, you might have noticed. It's one of my favourite activities. I wonder if you still have that brown shirt, I'd love to undo the buttons.

I love you,

Cath xxx

Okay. Okay. That was lovely. But it's made me want to read more. I feel like I've gone into the library and picked up a book that has to be read.

I want more...

"Uncle Jon, what are you doing?"

Busted.