"Every burden is a blessing."

Walt Kelly

…

"What?" Sara stared back up at him as if he had sprouted and extra head.

"How far along are you, Sara?"

"We aren't having this conversation, Greg." No, she was not pregnant. She was stressed out, she was dealing with trauma, she was not pregnant.

"It's too late to back out of it now, Sara. Talk to me."

"It's not like that, Greg." Sara rubbed her hands over her face, and met his gaze.

"What did your doctor say?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Sara." His tone was gentle, his expression softened.

"I haven't made an appointment."

"Sara."

"I'm." She took a deep breath. "I'm late, but it's stress."

"How late?"

"Greg-"

"How late, Sara?" Greg's voice was quiet, gentle, and he knelt beside her, letting her weave her fingers into his.

"Seventeen days."

"What happened?" he brushed aside a stray curl, and was startled when she choked out a laugh.

"You, of all people should understand the physics of conception, Mr. Former DNA Technician." He smiled, relieved that she was making a joke.

"Yeah, yeah, you're funny. What I meant, was why didn't you do anything?"

"We weren't trying or anything, God, I'm too old to be doing this." She sighed, gripping his arm. "I haven't even peed on a stick yet. I guess I'm hoping that I'm not pregnant, I don't want Lauren growing up without her father, never mind a brand new baby."

"But Sara, there could be more of Nick alive in there, don't you want to know for sure?" Sara pulled him to her, and he knelt between her knees, rubbing his hands along her back, as she gripped his shoulders much like Lauren always did, hugging him to her. He dropped a kiss to her shoulder, holding her tightly as she regained her composure against his shirt. She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the last time she and Nick had had a night off together, days before the shooting.

"How would you feel about another baby?" Nick whispered suggestively in her ear, pulling her tighter against him.

"You're crazy, you know that?"

"C'mon, darlin', seriously. What do you think?"

"You didn't ask me what I thought about the first one."

"Well, I don't think Jack Daniels asked either of us on that one. I'd do it again, though, even if I was sober." He rolled on top of her, his suggestive grin, the crinkle of his smile reaching the corners of his eyes.

"Nick, get off me."

"Are we too old for another baby?"

"Absolutely."

"How about one that looks like you."

"Nicholas."

"Sara, it's midnight."

"Mmhmm. Brilliant observation, Cowboy."

"What's that song? 'But the world will bend, An' the fight will end. Love will always win-'"

"Enough, don't sing."

"Shirts, Sara, should be illegal. Let me help you with that."

"Nick!" She had let out a girlish laugh as he lifted the hem of her Harvard tee shirt over her head in one swift motion.

"Don't laugh at me! You'll wake up Lauren."

"Oh, I'll wake up Lauren. I see how it- Jesus, Nick." He had hit that spot, kissing her along her neck, and Sara arched into him involuntarily.

"Pants should be illegal too, I should know, I used to be a cop."

"It could just be stress." Sara pulled back, resting her forehead against Greg's. "It's probably just stress. I'm terribly stressed." Greg cracked a smile, shifting only just to kiss her cheek, and whisper in her ear.

"I think maybe you should pee on a stick." He felt her laugh softly into his shoulder, and he stood, holding his hand out to her. She took it, and he helped her out of the chair. "I have one left over from Lauren, in the bathroom." He nodded, and she walked past him, placing a hand on his chest, telling him to stay there.

"I'll put on some tea."

"Alright. I'll, um. Be back in a few minutes." He watched her make her way down the hall and up the stairs, and he listened to her footsteps making their way to the bathroom, then the door open and close. He threw a dishtowel down onto the counter, and leaned against the stove after turning the kettle on.

"Jesus, Nick. You should be here." He turned to the cabinets, finding a mug, and reaching further back to retrieve a tea bag. He set them on the counter, and stared at the burner until it blurred like a Monet painting through his tears.

Upstairs, Sara was perched on the side of the tub, staring at the floor, unable to watch the lines appear or not appear on the plastic stick. She leaned against the tiles on the side of the shower, propping a foot up on the side of the tub. She laid a gentle hand on her abdomen, letting the sobs wrack her body.

Nick wasn't here. Nick would never be here. He was gone. He had left her, left her pregnant with a five year old, she wasn't stupid, she knew what the plastic test stick would say. She could still hear his soft moan by her ear, still feel his weight on top of her, his kisses down her neck, his chuckle against her stomach, his hip against hers.

"Why did you leave me? Why did you go where I couldn't follow, Nicky? I need you." She coughed out a few sobs, gathering herself when she saw that the egg timer had stopped. Lauren had dropped it a year or so ago, making pancakes to surprise her with Nick, it hadn't buzzed since. She stood, taking a quick glance at the test stick that only supported Greg's original observation. She held a death grip on the flimsy plastic as she made her way down the stairs. She paused at the foot of the stairs, listening to the musical, soothing string of Greg's soft voice, speaking in gentle Norwegian.

"Nådig Helgen Joseph, beskytter meg og min familie fra all onde da De gjorde den Hellig Familie. Snilt beholder oss noensinne forend seg i kjærligheten av Kristus, noensinne glødende i imatasjon av dyden av vår Velsignet Dame, Deres, og alltid trofast i hengivenhet til De. Amen." The kettle began to whistle, and she heard him move, and the whistle died slowly, as he poured the hot water into a mug. He always made tea, even before the shooting, when Greg was anywhere near their kitchen, he was making tea. She sighed, realizing that that simple act comforted her. She smiled, making her way silently to the threshold of the kitchen, thankful she went unnoticed. He stood against the counter, steeping the tea bag. "Gir hennes styrke, vi begge vet hun trenger det." He mumbled, under his breath.

"So what's all that in English?" he turned, and offered her the mug and a small caught-in-the-act embarrassed smile.

"Ah, a prayer. Not important." He glanced at the test strip she still held tightly in her hand. "So what does the stick say?"

"Pregnant." Her voice cracked, and she laid the stick down on the counter, and walked into Greg's embrace. She wrapped her arms tightly around his middle, burying her face in his shoulder. Greg hesitated at first, but easily slid his arms around her shoulders. He kissed her curls, and dropped his head to her shoulder, kissing the base of her neck, before smiling into their hug.

"That's wonderful." His words tickled her neck, and she wiped her tears on his shirt again, turning her head to face him, still nestled against his shoulder. She relaxed against him, taking comfort in his support and in the contact he offered her.

"What did you pray for?" He was silent for a moment, and she tightened her hold on his abdomen.

"Strength. From St. Joseph."

"What's he the saint of?"

"Unborn children, among other things." He smiled at her, and she pulled away to see his cheeks redden slightly, and she reached up to push a lock of hair out of his eyes. "I just, I couldn't do anything else. I'm not even particularly religious, I don't even know those prayers in English. I learned them as a child." Sara took him by complete surprise, touching the side of his face, and pulling him gently to her, pressing a soft, innocent kiss to his lips. She pulled away moments later, and smiled sadly at him.

"No one's ever prayed for me before." He smiled back at her briefly, putting a step of space between them. She rubbed her face with the sleeve of the long sleeve shirt she was wearing, one of Nick's baseball undershirts from college. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." She scrunched her nose, in what Greg recognized as her first stage of panic face. "Sara, relax." He offered her the mug of steaming tea. "Here."

"Thanks." She took the mug, holding it with both hands.

"So who has the honor of the first phone call?"

"I should call Nick's parents."

"But."

"How did you know?" Sara set down the mug, placing one hand on her flat stomach, another on the edge of the counter. "How did you know I was pregnant? I didn't know I was pregnant."

"I've spent the majority of my double digit career memorizing your facial expressions and your mannerisms. Of course I figured out you were pregnant." She smiled, as genuinely as she could handle. He had stopped flirting with her, had stopped asking her out. He had accepted her relationship with Nick, had loved her daughter dearly. They had built a friendship, on trust and affection, and the codependency they had developed for each other in the field. And he still watched her, with that same distant, loving, considerate eye.

"Thanks, Greg." He waved her off.

"You'd do the same for me. Although, if I was pregnant, I'd have other, more pertinent issues to deal with." He sighed, missing her smile as he rubbed at his eyes tiredly. The triple homicide on the triple shift was catching up to him quickly.

"Get some rest, Greg." She picked up the test stick and tossed it in the trash, moving to grab the address book, flipping through to the S's.

"You sure you're okay?" He leaned beside her on the counter, scanning her expression. She found the page that had Nick's parents' number on it, in Nick's lazy scrawl, and picked up the cordless phone from the counter.

"Yeah. I-I need to do this myself." He nodded, and left her in the kitchen, making his way to the living room and laying down on the couch. He stretched out on his stomach, pillowing his head with his arms, and listened to Sara's half of the conversation with Mrs. Stokes as a lullaby, drifting off to a light, even sleep in minutes.

Sara held the phone away from her ear, sighing as Nick's mother started to cry in Texas. Nick had dealt with telling them the last time around, and had gotten off the phone in tears himself. Of course, they had been happy tears then, Nick's mother was so happy her youngest little baby was finally settling down. Nick didn't tell her about the whiskey.

"Are you alright, Sara?"

"I don't know, Jillian, I just haven't done this in a while."

"How far along are you, love?"

"I'm late, almost three weeks, and the home test was positive."

"Are you feeling sick? You were sick with Lauren."

"I'm queasy, I don't know, I can't keep anything down."

"That's normal, love, this has just been so much." The older woman sighed into the phone. "I can be on the next plane."

"No, it's alright."

"Is there someone to be there with you? Nicky wouldn't want you to be alone, Sara."

"Greg is here. Lauren will be home from school in a few hours. I-I just, I needed to tell you."

"What do you want me to tell Bill, love?" Sara ran a hand through her curls, and cradled the phone with her shoulder.

"Tell him whatever you want. My next call is to the OB office though, so we- I can get all this straightened out."

"And Greg will go with you."

"Jillian-"

"You need the support, Sara." Nick's mom paused. "Take care of yourself, and I'm only a phone call away. Take care of those babies, they're all we have left of Nick." Sara's heart broke as she listened to her would-be mother in law's voice hitch. "I'm sorry, love. Say the word and I'm on a plane."

"Thanks." Sara said her goodbyes to Nick's mom, and hung up, placing the phone in its cradle by the entranceway. She turned her attention to the sleeping man on the couch. Greg had stretched out along the length of the couch, had kicked off his Converses, and had, in his sleep, cuddled up to one of the throw pillows. He was exhausted, and their earlier argument, as well as the uncovering of her pregnancy, had worn hard on him. The poor man worked a triple shift, and still found the time to bring her daughter to school, to support her and hug her even after she tried to kick him out.

Sara reached over him, pulling the knitted afghan blanket from Nick's grandmother over Greg's sleeping form. She shifted the blanket to cover him, but he groaned softly, halfway waking up.

"Hey, what did Nick's mom say?" She smiled at the groggy sound of his voice, intoxicated with fatigue. She moved to step away from him, but he reached out to her, brushing his fingers against her leg. "Hey. What did she say?" He sat up, childishly wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"She offered to get on a plane."

"And you declined."

"Well, yeah. I think I'm okay, and I have you." He smiled, and pulled her down to sit beside him.

"You will always have me, I will always be there for you." He pressed a kiss to her cheek, and lay back down, using her leg as a pillow. "Let's work out a plan of action, shall we?"

"You're going to fall asleep." She ran a hand through his hair, gently working out a knot.

"So you talk, I'll sleep." Sara pursed her lips in a small smile, and Greg closed his eyes. "Or I'll just sleep." Sara nodded, even though he couldn't see her. She was thankful he didn't pry, and even more thankful that he was here, she needed him more than he would ever realize. She listened to his even breathing, and she let the tears drip from her eyes, opting the run her fingers through Greg's hair, appreciating the simplicity in human contact.

………

A/N: More to come. Thanks for the plethora of reviews!