"There could never be a father who loved his daughter more than I love you."
-Paul Simon
……...
Nick's family filtered out eventually, so did the night shift, to their hotels and homes respectively, leaving Sara alone in the empty house. Greg went to check on Lauren, who Warrick had put to bed an hour or so before. Sara sank into Nick's favorite chair, and curled up in Nick's sweatshirt, wiping away the tears from her eyes with the sleeve.
Greg cracked open the door to Lauren's room, and leaned against the doorjamb, watching her little chest rise and fall. This was all a lot to take for a five year old, but she seemed to be holding up better than he expected. Lauren shifted, squinting towards the soft light of the hallway.
"Dad?" Her sleep-logged voice came out as a whisper, sounding just like Sara.
"No, baby, it's Uncle Greg." Greg opened the door wider, and stepped into her bedroom, and waded through the scattered toys on the floor, sitting down on the side of her bed. "I was just making sure you were asleep."
"Did Grammy and Grampsy leave?"
"Yeah, they said they'd be back tomorrow."
"Daddy's family is really big."
"You did well, with your Grammy and Grampsy." Lauren shifted again, facing Greg.
"Grampsy said that 'we can put them boots in the oven all we want, but that don't make them biscuits.' What does that mean?" Greg smiled softly, for the first time in days.
"I think Grampsy just meant that we can talk all we want about what happened to your Dad, but nothing we say is going to bring him back. We have to accept it, even though it really hurts."
"I miss Dad."
"I know, baby. But your Dad will always be with you, he's a part of who you are."
"How, Uncle Greg?" Lauren sat up, a questioning stare that looked just like Nick's. Greg gave her a small smile, and brushed her bangs out of her eyes.
"Every person has something inside them, and everyone's is different. It's called DNA. You have DNA inside you, and I have DNA inside me. But our DNA is different, because we have different parents. DNA is a present we get from our Mom and our Dad, half of our DNA is from your Mom, and half of your DNA is from your Dad."
"My Dad is in me?"
"Absolutely. And try as you might, you will never be able to get rid of him. He's in you forever. A person's DNA tells us who they are, that's how we catch bad guys at the lab. But DNA tells you who you are even if you aren't a bad guy."
"So half of me is from my Mom, and half of me is from my Dad?"
"Pretty much."
"Can I see my DNA?" Lauren turned her attention to her hands, turning them over in examination. "Where is my Dad?"
"I'll show you." Greg leaned over to Lauren's nightstand, and took the picture of Nick and Sara, showing it to Lauren. "Some people show more DNA of one parent than the other. I look like my mother, but you, Lauren, you look like Nick." Lauren took the photograph of her parents and held it in her hands, as Greg reached over and clicked on the tiny lamp, casting gentle light on Sara's daughter. He reached over into the drawer of the nightstand, and extracted a play mirror, handing that to Lauren as well.
"I can't see him."
"Look at the pieces, not at the whole. Let's start with the hair. Look at Dad's hair, and look at Mom's hair. Whose hair looks like yours?" Lauren squinted at the photo, and squinted at the mirror.
"Mumma's hair is curly. Daddy and me have straight hair."
"It's the same color too. So, there's your Dad, right there." Greg pointed to Lauren's hair, and she smiled. "What else about your Dad do you see?" Lauren turned her attention to the photo again, concentrating hard.
"Mumma said once that I smile like Daddy."
"Well, you may not feel like smiling now, because you feel sad, but, when you do smile again, really smile, nice and big, and for real, your Dad will be there, smiling too, because he gave you his smile."
"In his DNA."
"Exactly." Greg smiled faintly at Lauren, and leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead. "When you feel like you're ready to smile, I think you should smile a lot, your Dad wouldn't want you to be sad. And your Mom, she would appreciate it, because every time she sees you, she sees your Dad as well, and she loved your Dad's smile."
"I can help Mumma, help her not to be sad anymore."
"Only you can do it, Lauren, only you can smile like your Dad."
"I'm glad I look like Daddy."
"Me too, baby, me too." Greg adjusted the covers, letting Lauren settle down in the bedding. Greg safely tucked her in, and kissed her forehead, before turning off the lamp, and making his way to the doorway. "Sleep well, baby."
"G'night, Uncle Greg." Greg closed the door to Lauren's bedroom silently, and made his way down the stairs to the living room, intent of getting Sara to bed as well.
He paused at the stream of photos lining the wall of the stairs. The were mostly of Lauren, Lauren as a baby, Lauren in Texas, a few of Lauren at the ocean that time they had taken her to see Sara's mom at the penitentiary in San Francisco, a few months after she was born. In each, Nick was standing at the water's edge, his jeans rolled up to his calves, holding Lauren above his head, holding her against his chest, pointing at something out of the shot, and dipping her tiny feet into the gentle Pacific waves. He remembered when they had taken that trip, over a weekend, stopping by the prison to see Sara's mom, then spending the evening with Sara's brother and his wife, taking Lauren to the ocean, and then heading back to Vegas. Sara had come into shift on that Monday relaxed and happy, having made peace with her mother, and her brother.
Greg took a deep breath, shaking off the tears that had fallen from his eyes. He had to take care of Sara first. He made his way down the stairs, and passed by the living room, where Sara sat curled up in Nick's chair. He went straight to the kitchen, pouring fresh water into the kettle, and rummaging through the cabinets for the chamomile tea that would settle his distraught friend's nerves. Placing the tea bag in a large mug, he waited a few moments for the kettle to sing, taking it off the burner and pouring the heated water over the tea bag. He mixed in a spoonful of honey, to soothe her throat, and flicked off the burner, taking the mug of tea into the living room.
Sara looked up to see Greg come into view, and accepted the warm mug he gave her. He reached behind her, and retrieved a throw blanket, the Houston Astros fleece that Lauren had given him for his birthday last year. He wrapped it around her, and sat on the couch, a few feet away.
"Lauren woke up, but I tucked her back in, she's asleep."
"Thanks." Sara took a sip of the warm tea, and closed her eyes, letting the sweet liquid fall down her throat, and warm her stomach. She had been queasy al day, but had chalked it up to the funeral, and leaving Nick at the cemetery. She was exhausted, she hadn't slept a full night since the shooting, and last night she jolted awake, reaching for Nick, and all she touched was cool, empty sheets, fading quickly of Nick's scent.
That was what had her break down every time she entered a room. She smelled him everywhere. In their bedroom, she smelled his shampoo on his pillow, his deodorant, and his soap in the bathroom. In the kitchen, she smelled the leftovers from his cooking, still in the tuppeware container in the fridge. There was the hamper of dirty clothes in the laundry room, the air freshener he had picked up for the mudroom. He was everywhere, but he was nowhere, she was chasing a ghost. She curled up to his baby blanket, the faded blue soft mass he affectionately called his "woobie" each and every night, soaking it with her tears. No one had touched his running sneakers, still caked with mud, now dry, laying where he threw them in the entryway. She hadn't touched any of his clothing, leaving it haphazardly strewn about the bedroom. His jacket still hung in the hall, his toothbrush still sat on the edge of the sink.
His half empty glass of iced tea still sat on the kitchen counter, waiting to be finished.
"I can't do this forever." Sara mumbled into the mug, taking another soothing swallow of tea. "He's everywhere."
"Sara, he wouldn't want you to wallow."
"I'm not wallowing. Much." She raised her gaze to him, considering his tired features from her nest of the fleece throw and Nick's sweatshirt. "Greg."
"Mmhmm." He leaned on his elbow, matching her gaze. She had a request on the tip of her tongue, and he could see her shifting with the insecurity of asking him. "What is it, Sara."
"I, um. Could you. Could you put Nick's glass in the dishwasher?" Her request came out as a whisper, her voice hoarse yet again. He sat up, leaning forward on his knees, looking her over with a critical eye, analyzing her wearily.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm ready. To run the dishwasher. I think I can do that." She paused, carefully untangling herself from the throw blanket, and pushed it aside, unfolding herself from the chair. She closed the distance between them, and holding out a hand to him. "I could use the moral support." He tried to smile, failing in reassuring her. He took her hand, squeezing her fingers, as she made her way to the kitchen, coming to stand in front of the counter, square with the dirty glass.
"It won't bite."
"Am I a horrible person? I mean, Nick's practically still warm in the ground," her voice cracked, and she gripped the side of the counter. "And here I am erasing him from our home." Greg moved to embrace her, and she let him, gathering her composure in his arms, turning away from him with a determined expression on her features.
"I can do it, if you want." She reached out, touching the smooth side of the glass almost lovingly, before pulling her hand away.
"Please." She covered her mouth with her hands, choking back a sob, as Greg picked up Nick's glass, and emptied its contents into the sink, rinsed it out with water from the tap, and pulled open the dishwasher, placing it on the top rack. He closed the dishwasher, taking Sara's hand as she reached out for him.
"You alright?" he stepped closer to her, placing a steady hand on her waist.
"Yeah. Got to start somewhere, right?"
………
Sara was doing alright, and with Greg's gentle support, was able to do a few loads of laundry, with a few of Nick's shirts and a couple of socks, among hers and Lauren's things. He cleaned out the tuppeware containers in the fridge, and ran the dishwasher a few more times in a few more days. She had moved his toothbrush from the edge of the sink to its holder, and had capped his shower stuff, and put them in a small cardboard box under the sink. In time, she would move them out of the bathroom, but not yet.
She was fine, almost, even putting away the folded laundry a week after Nick's funeral. She placed Lauren's clothes in her dresser first, taking care to pair up her socks like Nick used to, folding one sock over the other. She took the laundry basket to their room next, separating out Nick's clothes from hers, putting hers away before dealing with his. She pulled out Nick's sock drawer, and was pushing over his clean sock to make room for the freshly laundered ones when her fingers hit something hard. She set down the clean socks in her arms, and rummaged through his drawer, tossing the others into a pile on the bed, before she uncovered a small velvet box at the bottom of the drawer.
Sara glanced around, half expecting Nick to come flying into the bedroom, catching her in the act. She sighed heavily, remembering that he was not going to catch her, she could rummage through his things all she wanted, it wasn't going to make him return. She held the tiny box delicately in her hands, laying a finger on the edge, prying it open.
She gasped, nestled inside the box, carefully placed, was a silver band with a single, shimmering diamond, sandwiched between a tiny Peridot stone, and a tiny Sapphire stone. His birthstone, and hers, hugged by the delicate silver setting. His mom hadn't had anything in mind for their trip to Dallas, it was Nick who was planning on proposing. She had been good, she hadn't cried until that moment, all day. But this find threw her for an unexpected loop, and her eyes welled up with tears, quickly blurring her vision. She choked back a sob, wiping the tears from her cheeks, quickly shutting the tiny box. She left the dresser, sitting down on the edge of the bed before her knees gave way from underneath her. Downstairs, the phone rang, and was picked up, but she didn't pay attention, focusing instead on the tiny velvet box cradled in her hands.
"Hey, Sara, that was Catherine, everyone's going to her house for dinner, she wanted to know if we wanted to come, I told her that'd be great." Greg popped his head in the door, his expression crumbling into worry as soon as he saw her. "Sara, what's wrong?" Sara looked over at her friend, not bothering to wipe away her tears. Greg entered the room, coming to sit beside her, pulling her into a hug, pressing a kiss to her hair, and holding her weight tightly against him.
"I, um. Dinner at Cath's is fine. Lauren will be glad to see Lindsey." He pulled away only just, his face inches from hers.
"What happened, Sara, you haven't cried all day." His heart broke again, as he watched her shake her head, dismissing his concerns, wiping her tears.
"It's nothing."
"Don't shut me out, Sara." He ran his hand soothingly over her back, and she sighed, trying to compose herself. She smiled sadly, and held out the velvet box.
"I'm sorry." She let out a sad little laugh, wiping her tears against Greg's shoulder. "I finally get the courage to do laundry, and I stumble across Nick's hiding spot. Apparently hidden treasure keeps best in the sock drawer." She handed him the box, and he took it, releasing her shoulders, to cradle the box in his hands. He knew what she had found instantly. The engagement ring Nick had bought last month. He had told Greg all about it on the way to a scene in Henderson a few months back.
"I'm going to ask Sara to marry me."
"Bout fucking time, man, Lauren is almost five."
"Yeah, yeah. I picked out this amazing ring, I'm going to ask her when we go to Dallas in a few months."
"So, 24-hour drive through?"
"Nah, called my mom a few days ago, she talked to the reverend at her church, he said he'd officiate if she says yes."
"You're going to get married in Texas?"
"Pending she'll have me."
"Nick, you guys are practically married anyway. Her daughter's last name is Stokes. I'm going to put my money on her saying yes."
"That's good to know, G, I'm nervous about it, and I sleep beside her each and every night."
Greg opened the box silently, taken aback by the diamond sandwiched by the August and September birthstones. The silver band shone back at him, with the dull shine of a handcrafted metal.
"Nick talked about it a few months ago, that he'd found the perfect ring, that he wanted to ask you to marry him in Texas."
"Really?" Sara leaned on him, looking at the ring over his shoulder.
"Yeah, he had it all planned out, he wanted to marry you down there, while you were there with his family, and then have a party here when you got back." Greg handed her the open box, and she took it, plucking the ring out from its nest, and held it out in front of her.
"That would have been more perfect than my wildest dreams." Sara sighed, slipping the ring over her knuckle, tearing again when she realized he had pegged her size exactly, before slipping it back off. "He never said a word to me about marriage, ever. We never talked about it, ever. Not once."
"He'd been planning this for a few months, that he let us know about. Who knows how long he'd been thinking about it before he acted."
"What should I do with it?" she held the engagement ring in her palm, inches away form her nose as she leaned on her knees. Greg rubbed her back in a soothing motion, sighing.
"I don't know, Sara. But I do know, he meant for you to wear it." Greg offered her a sad smile, and she nodded, standing to rummage through her tiny jewelry box, and extracting a delicate silver chain.
"I don't know if I can wear it on my finger, he didn't actually put it there." She strung the ring onto the chain, and clasped it around her neck, tucking it underneath her tee shirt. Greg rubbed his hands over his face as she took the velvet box from him, and closed it, placing it where she found it at the bottom of Nick's sock drawer.
"Mumma?" Both Greg and Sara turned toward Lauren, standing at the door. "Don't be sad Mumma." Lauren climbed into Greg's lap, and Sara sat down beside him, her attention on her daughter.
"I'm trying, baby." Lauren frowned at her mother, reaching up and pushing a stray curl away from her face.
"What's the matter, Mumma?" Sara's eye flicked to Greg, searching briefly for reassurance, and, finding it, returned her gaze to the five-year-old replica of Nick Stokes sitting in his lap.
"I'm just scared, Lauren. I'm scared to be without Daddy."
"Daddy said not to be scared." Lauren stated, matter-of-factly. Sara peered questioningly at the little girl.
"When did Daddy say that, honey?"
"When we were going to the hospital. I was scared, and Daddy pushed the doctors away, and held my hand, and told me not to be scared, he was right there, and he wouldn't ever let anything happen to me. When we got to the hospital, Daddy told me he loved me, and not to be afraid, you and Uncle Greg were going to come for me, and everything was going to be okay." Lauren sighed, blowing her bangs out from her eyes, and leaned against Greg's chest, holding his arm tightly. "Don't be afraid, Mumma, Daddy wouldn't want that." Sara kissed Lauren's little hand, and gave her a weary attempt at a smile.
"No he wouldn't. When did you get so smart, baby?" Lauren rolled her eyes at her mother, making Sara smile, and glanced at Greg.
"From Daddy. Uncle Greg said I have his DNA. That means part of Daddy is in me, all jumbled up with part of you. Daddy was smart, so I am too." Lauren climbed out of Greg's lap, and wrapped her little arms around Sara's neck. "Don't be sad Mumma, Daddy's a part of you, too, even without DNA."
And finally, Sara laughed.
…………
A/N: please with where this is going.. sorry it took me all damn day to find the right words. Thanks for reading.