Chapter Thirty-Five: (A/N: Hi! WARNING: Super-mega angst-ridden. Uber-sad, slightly miserable, but there is one line that I adore! Ahem, anywho, it will get better, I promise!)

About five weeks later, Allie didn't feel right. Sure, she'd felt fine for a while after leaving the doctor's office, but then things hadn't gotten any better, and, in the last few days she felt constantly nauseous, and she never felt as though she was getting half-enough sleep, and there was a weird pain in her abdomen. Greg had noticed, and he definitely wasn't pleased about it. In fact, he'd done nothing but check in on her constantly from the second she woke up to the moment she fell asleep. He really liked the idea of having a mini-Sanders running around, and, from what Allie had said, he'd be pretty good with a kid. He liked Tallulah, and babies were pretty cool, so long as they didn't cry too much. He'd spent several hours on the internet, checking up pregnancy, and, between the disgusting, gory-parts, and the things that could go wrong - those, he did not want to hear about -, he barely learned one thing about it. He did know that, in her ninth week, she shouldn't be feeling pain. In any week, she shouldn't be feeling pain. While she was out, he'd paced the floor of the sitting room in Glen House. The phone was in his hand, and the doctor's number was dialled, but he had to hesitate on the little green phone that actually did the work. He flopped himself down on the sofa and sighed. If anything was wrong, could he not just ignore it, wait and see if it got any better? Again, if something was wrong, would Allie be alright? He sighed heavily and pressed the green phone. After a few rings, a woman picked up.

"Hello, this is Doctor Barton's office, who, may I ask, is calling?" The female sounded young, chirpy and ready to deal with anything thrown at her. Greg was glad. She'd be able to help, somehow.

"Uh, hi, this is Greg Sanders. My wife, Allie, uh, well...she's pregnant, nine weeks, and she isn't feeling too good. She feels constantly sick, and I don't think she's getting enough sleep..." Frankly, she hadn't told Greg much about it. She was doing her usual keeping-things-to-herself-and-worrying-the-Hell-out-of-him thing.

The line went oddly quiet at the other end. Then a click. "Please hold for one second, Sir." This concerned Greg. Surely if it wasn't anything to be worried about, the receptionist would make up some excuse for the doctor like they generally did. They wouldn't put you directly on hold and hand you over to the head honcho. He waited for another few moments until another female came onto the line.

"Hello, Greg? Greg, this is Doctor Barton. What's wrong with Allie?" Doctor Barton was barking into the phone, whilst also typing away on her computer. She was a powerful, scary lady. When she got going, and things had to be done her way, or no way at all. Greg frowned, deeply. He didn't really appreciate her tone. Not at this precise minute, anyway.

"Uh, well, I'm not really sure..." He sighed. Damn Allie, and never again would he let her off the hook this easy whenever she started grumbling about illness. Now he felt like a total ass. "I think...she might have a pain."

Doctor Barton stopped typing. "Might have a pain?" She sighed. "What kind of pain, and where do you think it might be?" She hated time-wasters.

Greg groaned. "Well, I don't know, but look, this morning, she wouldn't eat anything, and last night-"Last night had worried him especially; every night, Allie pressed herself as close to Greg as she could for warmth, but last night she'd slept completely on her own side, curled up into a ball, almost unable to speak without there being a strange, high-pitch to her voice.

"Is she eating properly? Any signs of other illness? Spotting? Anything?"

Greg rolled his eyes, feeling as useless as he could. He didn't know; he didn't know anything.

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Allie frowned and groaned at the same time, glaring at the sandwich in front of her. She wasn't hungry, she felt woozy and she had a pain. Again. This time it seemed to be a dull, throbbing pain right in the centre of her abdomen, whereas earlier it had just been an annoyance. She shifted in her seat; she went off to visit her mother, but the pain was too much for her to handle, so she settled for Diane Driver's house, which was much closer. Since then, she'd been sat in a chair, blanket around her, cup of water in her hand. Diane frowned and sat in the chair opposite her.

"Where is the pain?" Diane, having had children of her own, tended to worry about these things for future-parents. She was incredibly fond of Allie, and Greg, for that matter, so pain plus pregnancy - not good. She leant towards Allie, forehead creased with worry. Allie smiled, weakly.

"It's fine. Really. I can barely even notice it." Allie swallowed. Of course she could notice it - it was all she could think about! She placed a hand on her stomach. She regretted, slightly, telling Diane about the pregnancy so early. No one else knew. She needed a subject-changer - ASAP. "Anyway, how's my man Frank?"

Diane sighed. "Lovesick, desperate to get a job, really talkative, and I really can't remember a time when he was ever as perky...especially since that 'Emo' faze, and the black hair-dye, and the loud-ish music. Well, in fairness, he did always turn it down...don't really think it was his 'scene'. Oh, and he's been talking Dylan into getting a job, too, so you're in luck. Anyway, he's fine, honey, but you're not. Have you told Greg about this?"

Allie glanced at her hand. She hadn't. "I didn't want him to worry about me." Even though, technically, that was one of his jobs. Suddenly, her whole stomach felt as though someone had just punched her. She never flinched, and she didn't say anything. Instead, she placed her cup on the coffee table and stood up, almost collapsing with the agony. "Listen, Diane, I, uh, I'd better go...look, we won't worry about it, just please don't tell Greg, okay?" After Diane agreed that she wouldn't tell a soul, Allie left quickly and drove off to Glen House. On her way there, she began to get somewhat frightened. This pain, whatever it was, was not easing up. She never suffered from cramps, and she didn't have an appendix to speak of, so it couldn't be anything along those lines. Oh, God. Maybe it was her spleen. She'd seen several documentaries involving spleenectomy-s. This would just be payback for her thinking on it as cool. A tear rolled down her cheek as she stood on her doorstep a few minutes later. She wiped it off and opened the door, reminding herself not to panic. Greg was sitting on the sofa, frowning at the TV screen. "Hi, Greg!" She managed to keep her voice as cheery as possible. "Oh, mad day, sorry, listen, I have to go to the...uh." She held a hand to her forehead. Why was she so dizzy? She looked awful, too, Greg noted. Her eyes were red, her mouth was contorted into a frown and she looked as though she'd not only seen a ghost, but she'd married one, too.

Greg stood up wand walked over to her. "You're coming to the doctor-"

"No!" Not again, no way was she having Greg worry over something as menial as stomach-pains that probably only indicated constipation or something. She felt the room spinning, and the perspiration on the back of her neck, and the way her knees felt as though they could buckle underneath her at any given moment. This was it; she was definitely about to die. No more would she ever chat to Diane, or Frank, or her family, and no more Greg. She felt the tears somewhere behind her eyes, burning, but she didn't think that they would spill out in the way they were at that moment.

"Allie!" Greg placed a hand on her back and re-opened the door. "No arguments. Now, go." Allie never had a chance to 'go', because the next thing she knew, she was on the floor, and everything was black.

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Greg paced the room of the hospital; Allie had collapsed. She was running an extremely high-temperature, 103.2, and was yet to wake up. Greg had been walking back and forth for an hour or so, worried out of his mind. From what the doctors had said, things weren't looking bright or rosy. Things were looking bleak, and disastrous. Greg finally stopped walking and sat down in a chair. For one of the very few times in his life, he didn't actually know how he could go on. Usually, he had a drink, called his Mom and - although he'd only had her for four or five years - he'd confide in Allie and then he would be fine. Now, though, he didn't want a drink, he feared as though, should he call his mother, he'd only erupt into a fit of tears and of course, the latter was obvious. No Allie. If he didn't have Allie, what would he do? If he lost her, then what? He sighed, deeply, and let his head fall into his hands, eyes focused on the ground beneath him. He started remembering things, little moments from their entire relationship, that had been permanently etched onto his brain. This only made the fight that he was putting up to stop the tears threatening to spill from his eyes even harder. How could he go on when...

When everything was so bleak.

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The funny thing about memories was that once you started remembering, you couldn't stop them, or forget them again. Earlier on, Greg had cast his mind back to the day he had asked Allie to formally move in with him, instead of just crashing at his place every night and hen heading back to her's for 'real food'. She was so enthusiastic about the idea, and so worried about what her mother would think, and intensely scared about leaving two teenage boys to take care of her house. Greg had consistently told her not to worry, and helped ease her into his Devil-may-care attitude towards things. They'd had a large dinner, watched some random TV, and then Greg had lifted her up and carried her into his bed. The next morning, he woke up to her, wrapped up in the baby-blue sheets she'd picked out, pressed up tightly next to him, only wearing a slight smile and the two-heart-shaped necklace. He'd toyed with her hair, pressed random, exquisite kisses to her head, or wherever was nearest, and then he'd probably fallen asleep. But, and this was the thing that really annoyed Greg, she had said something to him when she woke up, and he could not for the life of him remember it. He sighed again, for the millionth time that hour and tried his very best to remember.

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Allie awoke to a pulsing in her head and a crushing pain in her stomach. She felt something similar to being put through a blender and then directly into a glass of despair. She frowned deeply, and tried to sit up. Oh, God. This was it. She was dead, definitely. Absolutely no doubt about that. She sighed and glanced around the room. Funny, but Heaven or Hell looked a lot like a hospital room, which was both horrifying and unpleasant. And where the Hell was that damned husband of hers? Shouldn't he be around, somewhere, even if she was dead? There should be some sort of floating guardian angel in the form of Greg Sanders, aiding her and assisting her. But no. Just a stupid monitor, beeping away noisily, which she loathed. She groaned once more and this time, managed to sit up. She glanced down at herself and immediately it hit her; she had collapsed. She'd felt really bad, then she'd collapsed. Her mind immediately flashed onto the baby, and then she decided that she had to get up. When she tried, she discovered that she couldn't even find the energy to pull one leg out of the bed. A tear of extreme devastation rolled down her cheek, and she pressed the little red button on the remote next to her pillow.

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A while later, the nurse and doctor had left Allie, assuring her that they would send Greg in to her as soon as possible. Since then, the tears had been steady and fast, with no chance of stopping any time soon. She was sitting up, knees raised as close to her chest as she could get them, eyes red and her face blotchy. Her breathing had become slow, and in the last half an hour, she'd fallen hopelessly, completely, into a giant hole of sadness into the ground. She'd lost her baby. The one tiny fragment of herself and Greg, and she'd miscarried it. She felt stupid, and thoroughly helpless. She didn't even want to think of Greg, because that only made it worse. She felt intensely hollow, and rough, as if she'd been dragged through the wars and back. She lay down on her side, curled up into a small, tight ball, crying into her pillow. No way was she jumping out of that hole in a hurry. A few minutes later, she heard the door behind her open and close, then a soft padding of feet coming towards her bed. There was a soft sigh, and then she felt pressure on the side of the bed next to her as Greg sat down. The next thing she knew, there was a perfect set of arms around her, and a hand to wipe away her tears.

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Greg stayed close to Allie for the rest of the night, holding onto her, wiping away random tears, trying to fight off his own despair. The latter was by far the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. Occasionally, she made small, soft noises through her tears, but neither of them spoke. Frankly, they weren't sure what of what to say to each other. Every second seemed more like a minute, and the room was so silent. Everything had gone still, the world had stopped. As Allie drifted off to sleep in the wee, small hours of the morning, Greg finally remembered what she'd said.

I'm never leaving this place, Greggo. And I'm never leaving you, either...

And then she'd kissed him. It wasn't much. But at least he remember it. He pressed a kiss to the side of her face and continued to hold onto her, refusing to ever let go.

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Allie got released a few days later, not once speaking to anyone that wasn't Greg. Dylan, Frank and even Bonnie had called, checking in on her, thinking that it was a tad suspicious about her absence from their lives. The first moment she entered Glen House, she seemed to coil directly into herself. In the daytime, she cleaned everything - sometimes more than once, just out of pure absent-mindedness - and then headed into bed at midnight, unable to sleep until around six. Greg had just been there, hoping to help her through it, but when he tried to chat to her, she just waved it off, said she fine. She wasn't fine - far from it -, but she was coping, just. She was determined, however, that she would return to work as soon as possible. Greg had said no, but he knew she wouldn't listen to him. The week after that was spent in much the same way, except on Thursday, Allie managed to get back to the lab. Somehow, she couldn't get to grips with the fact that one minute, there was a tiny person inside her, and then there wasn't. She sat at her desk, working away with the GCMS and then Nick, Sara and Catherine walked in.

"Allie!" Nick grinned. "You're back...how're you feelin'?" A momentary flash of panic rose in Allie's chest.

How did Nick know? Nobody knew! Nobody even knew she'd been pregnant, nevermind the fact she'd lost it. "Uh...I-I, uh, I feel good, thanks, Nicky."

Catherine cleared her throat. "Greg told us you had a gastric flu. For a week and a half?" She looked, and felt, skeptical. Allie suddenly felt harassed, harangued and slightly infuriated. She loved the team with as much of her heart as she could, but she really didn't want to see them - or anyone else - until she felt ready.

Allie furrowed her eyebrows and picked up a magazine. "Yeah. It was, uh, rough. Anywho, I haven't got your results yet, so you can go back to whatever kind of...forensic thing you were at." Usually, she spent ages chattering to them, like Greg did when he was the lab-master, but today, she just couldn't. Catherine and Nick exchanged a surprised look, while Sara only frowned and smiled carefully at Allie before they all left. After that, Monica had been in, been her usual chirpy-self, while Hodges had harped on constantly about illness, and disease, and how he hoped Allie wasn't too contagious. Grissom, so far, had been the only person not to mention her absence, but he had raised his voice over her putting-Catherine's-stuff-in-front-of-his like Greg had told her to. After a while, Greg sauntered in. He smiled at Allie and sat down next to her.

"Hey. How you doing?" He was being overly-protective, and he knew it, but Allie found it utterly sweet, and he just couldn't help it. However, it did little to pull her out of the hole. She was now ambling somewhere around the middle of the hole, whereas before she'd fallen fifty feet to the ground, so anywhere above there was great.

Allie smiled, feebly. She shrugged and blinked. Tears had become more frequent, but she tried her best for Greg. The whole experience had brought them even closer - as if it were possible - and they were definitely helping each other through it. "Everyone's asking me, Greg, and I don't know what to tell them."

Greg frowned. He inched closer and took Allie's hand. "Don't worry about it. They don't need to know if you don't want them to." Frankly, he didn't care what anyone thought, but he really didn't want anyone putting pressure on Allie. "Anyway, it's none of their business."

Allie nodded and cleared her throat. It was horrible, having to constantly remind herself that she was a strong woman, she didn't need to cry but then - oh! Tears. She wiped them off and shook her head. "You'd better go, Greg. Grissom's on the war-path."

Greg sighed and stood up. He kissed Allie on the cheek and pulled her into a small hug. "I love you." He was still telling her this, every chance he could, and each time he meant it ever more than the last.

"I love you too, Greg." More than her words could describe.

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After a whole day with her thoughts, good, bad or indifferent, Allie felt marginally better. She had gone up a step or two in the hole by the end of her shift. Of course she would never be completely able to forget this experience, she could at least get a little bit of closure for it. Greg was slowly meandering towards closure as well, and Allie was thankful for it. Suddenly, Sara Sidle walked into the lab, after walking past several times with a curious glance in Allie's direction. She sighed and smiled, sitting down opposite Allie.

"Hello." She handed Allie a small pack of chocolate, obviously concerned for her. "So...uh, what's happening with you?" It was more of a 'what is going on with you?' than just a friendly 'what's the scandal?'.

Allie smiled. "Not much, Sara. Take it you heard about the mystery illness of Allie Sanders, then, huh?" It was so easy for her just to slide into the Sanders surname. It was as if she'd been a Sanders her whole life. Sara nodded.

"It wasn't a gastric flu, was it, Allie?" Sara Sidle was too damned smart for her own good. She'd begun to suspect something was wrong with Allie a few weeks back, after she'd caught her leaving the bathroom looking all disheveled and haywire. There had definitely been something wrong.

Allie looked down at the floor. "No." She needed this. She needed to offload onto someone other than Greg for a change. The poor boy was probably ready to shoot himself, after seeing her fall asleep each night with a tear in her eye and a sob ready to be choked out. She glanced around the lab and pushed her chair closer to Sara. "I was pregnant, for about a minute, and then...a week and a half ago, I just...I miscarried it - I don't know why. Wasn't even listening to the doctor when she told me."

Sara tilted her head to the side and frowned. "I'm very sorry, Allie. Is there anything we can do for you?" Although they weren't the closest people in the Las Vegas Crime Lab, Allie and Sara had always had a very good understanding with each other.

Allie shook her head. "No...thanks. Just, don't tell anyone, okay? I just...I don't want them to know." Sara nodded at this. "Anyway, it's Greg I feel sorry for. He was just so..." Allie blinked and drew a deep breath. "Excited about it." Her heart almost broke in two each time she remembered the day she told Greg about the baby. Allie sighed and began to offload. And it felt good.

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A month after the incident, Allie and Greg both managed to find their closure. Allie had begun to laugh at Greg's jokes again, and, much to her happiness, Greg had started sleeping on top of her again. They had definitely conquered the hole, together and apart. Allie refused to cry, and she felt much stronger, much more confident than before, even. She could talk again, without hesitation, and everything felt the same. There was always going to be the pang of sadness over the child that could have been, but wasn't to be. Everything was going perfectly again, just like it should. Sara had become a lot more talkative towards Allie, and Grissom hadn't yelled at her at all since the two women had talked. Allie stretched out on the sofa one evening, Greg lying next to her, blanket wrapped around them. They had been watching some random documentary that neither of them were interested in, and then they'd started talking and then Greg had taken Allie's hand, examining it carefully.

"Hey, Allie?" He asked, gingerly. Allie opened one eye and half-smiled to herself. He wanted something, more than likely. That was the little, innocent tone he always used whenever he wanted to head out with Nick, and Warrick. For some reason, he didn't like leaving Allie for the night.

"Yes, Gregory?"

"Could we, uh...could we try again?" He suddenly considered himself a very, very stupid man. After all, how was she supposed to know what the heck he was muttering about? There hadn't been any warning, or anything. Yet he somehow felt like he should continue. "You know...for a kid."

Allie grinned, widely. She knew he liked the idea of a mini-them swanning around the place, rolling it's eyes and playing with it's hair. "Okay. Anything you want." As if she was going to argue with him about it! She twisted round and pushed Greg onto his back and kissed him, one hand meandering up to his hair. "But you have to get a haircut first." She smiled and lay down on his chest, eyes drifting shut.

After that night, every attempt was pulled out to get Allie pregnant - secret rendezvous in the locker room/shower/anywhere at anytime that they could find to be together... -, but, for a few months, nothing seemed to be happening. The two of them found it odd, but they weren't too bothered.

After all, good things come to those who wait, right? Right.

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A/N: Hola! Sorry the a) the amazing amount of angst in this chapter, but once I got my angst-bubble back, I could not stop writing the stuff! The next chapter will be super-fluffy, though, I hope XD

And b) the strange way it was written! Never have I typed XD - XD so much in my whole life! I'm actually supremely impressed with this for a chapter, it isn't bad, and I really like the 'giant hole of sadness in the ground'. Kinda classic, LOL. God, I have a big head!

Thanks to all my reviewers, as always, I am forever in each of your debts!

Please press Benjamin, cause we just love him! And there's only two chapters left - didn't I say that five chapters or so ago, LOL?? - so get your name down there!

Have a brilliant rest of the day,

Mary-Lou

PS: Still gardening, got a really nice tan, went out to the library today, it was brilliant, managed to spike my hair up in a nice Eric-Szmanda-esque way. Very spiky. OH, OH, OH - Warrick!! How COULD they!? And there's a new girl on the team - according to my TV - , which'll be cool. As long as they don't even THINK about setting her up with my wee Greg. XD