Wisdom from the Captain.
Greg seeks out some advice as news of Sara's pregnancy sets in.
Number 14 in the Ducks in a Row Series
………
Jim Brass looked up at the soft knock on his office door to see Greg Sanders leaning against the doorjamb, worried expression across his features, in a ratty pair of worn out jeans and a faded Stanford sweatshirt. The man obviously had the night off, and Brass figured something had prompted him to meander into work.
"Greg. Come on in. Isn't it your night off?" Brass peered at the younger man, watching him as he silently closed Brass's office door, and took a seat in the empty chair on the opposite side of the desk. Greg didn't speak right away, but Brass let him had a few moments of silence before prompting him. "What's on your mind, Greg?" Greg met Brass's steady gaze, and smiled.
"I, um. I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Sure. What is it?" Brass took a sip of his coffee, waiting for Greg to speak. The younger man leaned forward, hands buried in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He took a deep breath, and Brass had the fleeting thought that this is what Greg must have looked like as a child, all fidgety and nervous and tense, and small.
"Sara's pregnant." It came as a whisper, but Greg's smile broadened as the words left his mouth.
"Congratulations." Brass smiled warmly at Greg, before realizing that Greg wasn't finished. "We're happy about this, right?" He set down his coffee mug, and peered at him cautiously. Greg seemed to snap out of whatever thought he was in, and smiled childishly.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm completely psyched." His body betrayed his words and his tone, however, as he nervously ran a hand through his wavy hair.
"But."
"But I'm scared. Don't ever tell her." Brass nodded, trying to suppress a knowing laugh. "I mean, what if she decides that she doesn't want me in the picture? What if she shuts me out? What if she thinks that we aren't ready to have a baby? What if this is all too fast? I mean, a year ago, I was being set up by my college roommate, and a year from now I'll have a wife and a baby." Greg shifted uncomfortably.
It's ok to be scared, Greg. Having a baby is frightening." Brass smirked at the younger man. "I won't tell her a thing."
"Thanks." Greg slouched in the chair, pursing his lips in thought, considering the older man. "I want her, I want the baby, I want a life with her and the baby in it. What if she doesn't-"
"Greg. You are being ridiculous." Brass watched Greg sigh heavily before continuing. "What did she say when you asked her to marry you?"
"She said yes."
"And what can we conclude about her commitment to you from that?"
"That she loves me."
"And."
"And she wants to be with me." Greg cracked a smile, and visibly relaxed. Brass nodded supportively. He was fond of the youngest CSI on the night shift, and felt honored to be the first in the department to know about Sara's pregnancy.
"She won't leave you, Greg. She loves you. You don't have to be a CSI to notice that." Brass took another sip of warmish coffee.
"Thanks, Jim." Greg flashed Brass a half smile. "This is all just such a dream come true, you know? I keep waiting to wake up."
"You've been chasing her since she got off the plane from San Francisco."
"Yeah. I've been in love with her that long, at least."
"Fatherhood. Your life is about to change forever, Greg."
"Yeah. I'm going to be someone's Dad. I can't even begin to wrap my mind around it." Greg sat up, pulling his legs to him on the chair to sit cross-legged on the seat, leaning his chin on one hand.
"You'll be a great father, Greg."
"Yeah?" Brass stopped trying to hide his laughter, and chuckled. The man before him looked more like a child than anything. Greg smiled uneasily at the captain, and Brass picked up on the glint in his eye that was desperately seeking reassurance. He felt a surge of fatherly affection for the younger man.
"Yeah. You and Sara will do a wonderful job with this baby." He glanced at the photo of Ellie and him at Ellie's high school graduation, on the corner of his desk. "You'll do a far better job with your child than I did with mine."
"Jim-"
"A child, Greg, is the most precious gift Sara will ever give you. Being a Dad is the most important job you will ever have. And if you play your cards right, you'll have that job forever."
"Can I do it?" Greg's voice was barely audible, and he nervously ran a hand through his hair for the fifth or sixth time, making his scraggly waves even more unruly.
"Somewhere in there, Greg, hidden inside the Greg that loves that Manson guy, and the obnoxious band tee shirts that make me feel really old, and the jokes and the laughter, is a serious, grown up Greg, who is ready to be a father, ready to have a baby. You're ready for your dreams to come true, Greg. You can do it." Greg grinned at Brass's words, and nodded in understanding.
"Thanks."
"Anytime. When are you going public with this?" Brass smirked. "Or should I not know?" Greg smiled, leaning back in the chair.
"I, uh, I don't know. I think Sara wants to get in the clear, out of the high-risk miscarriage stage before we jinx it. I didn't tell her I was coming here, no."
"You can't keep secrets to save you life, Sanders."
"It's half my secret. And I was panicking. I needed to tell someone."
"You're nuts, you know that?"
"Yeah, Sara tells me everyday."
"Sara has to tell Grissom. It's department policy."
"I know." Greg sighed, his features becoming somewhat more serious. "She doesn't want me to go in with her. She said she wanted to handle it herself."
"It's not you, Greg. They have a complicated past."
"I know."
"Best let her work it on her own terms." Brass reached into the bottom drawer of his desk, and pulled out a half empty bottle of scotch, and small glasses, each with a smattering of opaque stains on the inside, dirty from use. He poured a small amount into each, and pushed one towards Greg. The younger man accepted the glass, and they clinked them together. "To having your dreams come true."
"Time and time again." Greg watched the older man tip back his glass, and followed suit. He winced only slightly as the bitter brown liquid washed through his mouth. As he swallowed the scotch, he realized that everything was going to be ok, the baby, Sara, their future. He could handle it. They could handle it. Brass was right. His dreams had become his life. Greg couldn't suppress the broad grin that spread across his face. Sara was pregnant. He was going to be a Dad. All those lingering feelings of nervousness and anxiety lowly turned over to excitement and love. Someone was going to call him Dad. Brass's laughter brought him out of his thoughts, and he couldn't help but join in, chuckling at himself.
"You're a mess, Sanders."
"Yeah, but I'm a happy mess."
"Congratulations."
"Thanks." The older man just nodded, stashing the bottle of scotch, and Greg didn't have to say anything more.
Greg bid goodbye to the captain, and slipped out the side door of the building. He got into his Denali, and made his way home in a few minutes. He unlocked his apartment door, stepping into the clean, organized space. Sara had obviously spent the afternoon blitzing his apartment. He shook his head at the thought of her cleaning on her day off, and kicked off his shoes. He padded his way down the hallway to the bedroom, where Sara was sitting against his headboard, reading his copy of JFS.
"Hey. Where'd you go?" She closed the journal, and held out a hand to him as he crawled across the comforter, coming to rest with his head pillowed against her thigh, wrapping his arms around her hip and leg. He pressed a gentle kiss to her leg, and closed his eyes wearily as he felt her fingers sift through his hair affectionately.
"Had to stop in at work to get something."
"Oh? I could have gotten it for you later tonight."
"Nah, I had to get it myself."
"What?"
"My confidence." Greg had already half fallen asleep, thanks to her fingers. Sara arched an eyebrow at him, but shook her head, turning her gaze toward the article she had been reading. "I love you." His words were mumbled half with sleep and half because he spoke into her leg.
"I love you too."
………
A/N: Even Greg needs reassurance sometimes.