A/N:  Hmm, I don't know if this is going where I want it to go, but we'll see.  My heartfelt gratitude to everyone who has commented and, I implore you, if you read this story, please leave a review. You can empathize with how much they mean to me. Thanks—your humble author.

My Blessed Mistake:  Unlikely Help

            Four hours later and they were sitting together in the secluded section of a restaurant, away from cigarette smoke and the smell of coffee.  Some cheerful little waitress approached with a big smile.  She probably dotted her i's with hearts or flowers.  Sara wondered if she could get away with tripping the girl.

            "Hi!  I'm Trish and I'll be your server.  Are you ready to order?"

            "Yeah, I'll have a salad with oil and vinegar dressing and some lemon water.  And don't put any egg, bacon, croutons or anything else that isn't a vegetable on the plate.  Y'know what?  Skip the dressing."  She paused.  "In fact, I'll just have the lemon water."

            Greg caught the waitress's attention with a wave of his hand.  "Why don't you come back in a few minutes," he suggested, then turned to face Sara.  "I know you're afraid of throwing up again, but you have to eat.  Could I make a few suggestions?"

            Where had this side of Greg come from and why didn't it show up at work?  Apparently, pregnancy brought out the best in him.  "I guess."

            "Start out with chicken broth, crackers, and some flat Coca-Cola.  If you get that down, we can ask her to bring a fruit and vegetable plate.  You'll definitely want a banana—it's high potassium—and strawberries have a lot of fiber.  Does the smell of beef make you nauseous?"

            "No…do you wanna add a side of ribs to the fruit and vegetable plate?"

            "I was asking for myself; I want a hamburger but I'd prefer you didn't throw-up on it, as appetizing as that sounds."

            She rolled her eyes.  "How do you know so much about what I should eat?"

            "You're not the first pregnant woman I've know.  I helped my sister get through it about thirteen years ago."

            "You make it sound like a divorce proceeding."

            "Well, let's just say it's no walk in the park.  Oh, our waitress is back."

            Trish took their orders and bounced off for the kitchen, leaving the scientists in silence, which Greg broke.

            "So," he started, looking a little unsure of himself.  "I don't want to pry or—"

            "Me, Grissom, one-night stand a few weeks ago and yes, I'm absolutely sure it's his."

            Greg turned a modest shade of crimson but pushed ahead.  "And you don't think he should—I don't know—be told that he's fathered a child?"

            "There are three people in this world who know I'm pregnant:  you, my doctor, and I."

            "So you've been to the doctor?"

            "Only for the pregnancy test, some preliminary blood work, and my gigantic prenatal vitamins.  Whales couldn't get those things down."

            "But don't you want your eight-million micrograms of folic acid?"

            "Whatever.  Look, Greg," her tone changed, serious again, "you can't tell anyone about this.  Do you understand me?"

            "What are you so afraid of?"

            She sighed and fell back in her chair.  Let's see, there was the prospect of single motherhood, the difficulty of having a child, the difficultly of raising a child, financial matters, relationship issues, and the natural terror that came with any major, life-altering, and unplanned situation.  "I know," she began carefully, "that having a baby is a wonderful thing.  You know, how it's the most joyful time in a woman's life.  I also know the stigmas concerning a pregnant, unmarried woman are slowly disappearing.  That doesn't make it any easier.  And I know for sure that Grissom doesn't want any kids."

            "Do you?"  He didn't look her in the eyes when he asked.  The subtext of the question was obvious and Sara found herself surprised at Greg's concern over her fetus.  Boy, he was surprising her all over the place.

            "I've thought about having an abortion, yes.  And I don't know."  Her expression turned sad.  "I just don't know."

            Trish broke the melancholy with their food and her overwhelming, bubbly presence.  "Is there anything else I can get for you?  Do you want some more Coke, ma'am?"

            Sara looked up from her spoonful of soup.  "No.  Go away."

            "Thank you," Greg said quickly, drawing the girl's attention away from Sara.  "We'll let you know if we want anything else."  Trish walked away.  "Does that stare also freeze drinks, or only people?"

            "Just eat your hamburger."

            "Do you have heat vision, too?  Because my fries are kinda cold."

            She threw a piece of saltine at him, but her lips curled into a smile as she bent down blow on the broth.  They ate in companionable silence.

                                                **************************

            Greg lie face down in his pillow.  Granted, he couldn't breathe, but it felt good to close the world out with some fabric and a few goose feathers.  He was struck by a disturbing thought:  were geese harmed in the making of his pillow?  No, surely geese lost their feathers naturally and some entrepreneurial man or woman walked around picking them up.  This, of course, was entirely inaccurate, but it kept him from thinking about the deeper issue.  Namely, Sara.

            Beautiful, smart, unattainable Sara; now beautiful, smart, unattainable, pregnant Sara.  And who else but Gris as the father—it just figured.  This was going to be a tough secret to keep;  how would he ever look at Grissom the same again?  From "boss" to "oh, you're the guy who knocked up Sara and made her cry."  Yeah, that might prove difficult.

            But she had come to him.  To Greg.  Okay, maybe "come" was the wrong word.  Chanced to him, then.  Still, she laid everything on the line over breakfast and trusted him enough to keep her secret.  She even took his advice on food.  Sara actually appeared to be accepting help—not her nature at all.  So Greg resolved to be as much of a help as she would allow.  His first order of business was picking up the phone.

            Nobody at the crime lab knew Greg had a sister, let alone that she got pregnant at nineteen.  A summer vacation in France gone awry.  Since Greg was only thirteen at the time, with few responsibilities, he chose to take on his sister as one.  He helped her through morning sickness, belayed fears of fatness and the future, rode out her emotional roller coaster, and acted as researcher on all things pregnancy-related.  Little did Sara know that the one person to whom she could possibly tell her secret was probably the best of them all.

            "Hi, little brother," his sister sang over the phone.  She delighted in calling him "little" brother, even though he had long since outgrown her.

            "Hey, Liz.  Have you got a minute?"

            "For you?  Always."

            So many siblings share a love-hate relationship; that was not true for the Sanders' kids.  "I have a friend here who's expecting a baby; can you part with your copy of What to Expect When You're Expecting?"

            "A friend?  Greg…"

            "No, it's not me!  Geez, gimme some credit, will you?  It's a coworker and I wanted to reference the notes I wrote in your book."

            He heard her chuckle on the other end.  "No problem.  Y'know, Greggy—"  He hated it when she called him "Greggy."  "—you're gonna make some woman very happy one day."

            "And I trust that "one day" is in the far off future."

            "Have it your way.  Look, I gotta; one of the kids is calling.  I love you."

            "Yeah; love you, too."

                                                **************************

            Sara lay in her bed, hand on stomach, reflecting over the day's events.  What had happened?  Had she actually confided in Greg?  Weird, goofy, peculiar Greg?  Greg, who always seemed to never quite belong?  Well…yeah.  That Greg.

            Oddly enough, as frightened as the thought of her secret going public made her, she knew it wouldn't happen because of him.

            But she was frightened.  Scared senseless, actually.  Her whole life had changed in one single moment, and even if she aborted the baby, it would never be the same.  Oh, and abortion…a viable option to dispose of an unwanted or life-threatening condition.  Except her heart yelled at her that it wasn't a disease to be cured.  So much time with death lent itself to a deep respect for life.  She couldn't deny that what was inside her was life.  Sara Sidle epitomized science and rational thinking.  She could empathize with the scared girls who had abortions.  She now understood their fears and worries.  In the end, though, she knew she couldn't follow their path.  Sadly, she didn't know where her path would lead to.

            Turning off the light, Sara sighed heavily.  What on earth would tomorrow bring?