The next few days were a blur to Greg. Nick's parents had come, Grissom had offered to pick them up from the airport, for which Sara was thankful. Greg's heart shattered all over again when he realized that Sara was right, Nick's parents blamed her, in the blind of their angry grief. Each night he left Nick and Sara's house long after Lauren had fallen asleep, drawing the covers carefully around Sara's weary, grieving body, tucked lovingly and safely into the bed she had shared with Nick before making his way home to his empty apartment, falling over in exhaustion into his own empty bed, grieving for the loss of his friend and the pain if had caused Sara.
He and Warrick had fallen into a similar routine, only Warrick had been going home to Catherine's, curling up to her restless body and pulling her close. They had both sought out comfort in each other, and for it, they seemed to be fairing somewhat better than himself. Every night he left Sara, in her fitful troubled sleep, he knew that, unlike Warrick, he would be curling up to empty space, his own mourning gone uncomforted. Greg was okay with that, as long as Sara and Lauren were alright. Most days they were.
He was the one she clung to at Nick's funeral, and he forgot his own grief, instead she leaned on him, and he held her tightly, keeping her from falling. They had all filed in, this church in Laughlin with a plain front, that every time Nick drove by it, he would comment to Sara about how much it looked like the church he used to go to growing up in Dallas. Greg didn't listen to Nick's brother Tom as he spoke about his brother, or to any of the readings. He focused all his energy on supporting Sara, her weight, her tears, her love for his friend. Nick's father had held Lauren, but partway through the service, squirmed out of her grandfather's arms, and made her way to Warrick, who picked her up and hugged her almost as tightly as she hugged him, saturating his shirt with her tiny tears.
At the cemetery, Sara had no tears left. She had built up the walls around her heart with the strongest brick and mortar, closing herself off, void of any outward emotion. She was the last to leave him, still standing a few feet away from the casket. He stood a few yards behind her, remaining in the spot where she has left his embrace. He wasn't sure his heart could take more fracturing, but his tears finally surfaced, for mere moments, as Sara ran her hand along a portion of the casket, and then bent, pressing a kiss to its cool metal surface. He shoved his hands in his pockets, lowering his gaze to the ground as she straightened, and her whispers were carried with the gentle breeze. She took a deep breath, and turned reluctantly from the casket, making her way back to where Greg waited for her. He held out his hand to her, and she took it, gripping his fingers tightly, brushing away her tears roughly.
The reception after the service and the service at the cemetery was held at Nick and Sara's house, but Sara became overwhelmed with Nick's family quickly, and sought refuge in the kitchen, where most of their colleagues had the same idea, with the same conclusion. Grissom completed the thank-you rounds for Sara, who shied away from the plethora of hysterical Stokes women in the living room. Warrick went with him; Lauren still wouldn't let him go. Greg suspected that the little girl thought that if she did, Warrick would go away just like Nick.
Greg kept close to Sara, never straying more than an arm's length at most. She had found comfort in his consideration, and often found herself reaching out, her fingers finding his arm, or his hand. She was grateful of the support he so selflessly gave her, never shedding more than a few tears in front of her. Their wordless understanding of each other transcended the crime scenes they worked, and Greg was comforted in turn by Sara's acceptance of his help. When she straightened herself, from leaning against the counter, and slipped away, out the backdoor to the tiny porch, he waited a few moments before following her.
Sara had always found peace out on their porch, and there were suddenly too many people and not enough space in the house for her liking. She was angry, mostly. Angry at herself for enrolling Lauren in ballet, angry at the jealous husband for choosing a floozy of a wife, angry at Nick for giving up so easily, slipping away from her so quickly, without any goodbye. Mostly, angry at Nick's parents, for not honoring their son's wishes, and placing him in a casket, underground, instead, dooming the love of her life to relive his nightmares, even in death.
She took deep breaths of the fresh Nevada air, gusting through on a soft breeze that sent a shiver up her spine. Nick's high school varsity baseball sweatshirt flopped down at her elbow, and she shifted her gaze to her left, as Greg came to stand beside her, leaning on the railing, and scanning their backyard. She picked up Nick's sweatshirt, and pulled it on, over her head, warming instantly thanks to the gentle shield against the wind.
"Thought you might be cold."
"Thanks."
They stood there in comfortable silence for several minutes, Sara snuggling into Nick's sweatshirt, Greg analyzing every child-centered item in the backyard.
"Lauren seems to be doing alright today."
"Yeah, she slept through the night last night. It was the first time she didn't come running into our room, looking for Nick." Sara's eyes welled with tears again instantly. Not their room. Her room. She coughed, wiping the tears away quickly, turning to face him.
"Greg?"
"Mmhmm."
"You haven't cried, are you alright?" Sara pursed her lips, considering her friend with a worried expression. Greg sighed, finally turning to face her.
"Yeah, I'm doing okay. Someone's got to catch you, Sara, you need me more than I need to grieve. It's on my list of things to do, after making sure you're alright. I get a little bit done every night, after I've tucked you in, checked on Lauren, and gone home. I cried, Sara, but catching you is more important than crying for Nick."
"Greg, I didn't know."
"I can't help Nick, but I can help you." Greg turned back to his inventory of the Sidle-Stokes backyard.
"Thank you." Her voice was a whisper, hoarse from tears, weary from trauma. He nodded, turning only to press a kiss to her curly mass of hair before sweeping his gaze back over the swing set he had helped Nick construct a few months ago.
"I was thinking about a swing set."
"That's lovely, think on that all you want."
"G, are you going to help me or not, man?"
"Yeah, I'm in."
"Thanks, man, Mum's the word, it's a surprise for Lauren's birthday."
"Jesus, Nick, I'm shit at secrets."
"Try really hard on this one, Greggo, its really important."
"I will always catch you, Sara. I will never let you fall. That I promise. And we can stay out here as long as you want. Nick's family is overwhelming for all of us." His gaze remained outward, and he missed the faintest hints of a trace of a smile twitching at Sara's lip. With time, that faintest hint would broaden to a grin, but for now, it was just a faintest hint.
………
A/N: I have some direction, and I'm really excited about this… the focus is going to shift to the healing process, and the help Greg is offering, and Sara trusting him enough to take it willingly.