"Family isn't about whose blood you have. It's about who you care about."
-Trey Parker and Matt Stone
…
"Justine."
"No."
"Megan."
"No."
"Esmeralda."
"You'd better be joking."
"I like Jeffery." Lauren looked up at her mother and her uncle from where she was lying on the floor, an assortment of coloring books fanned out in front of her.
"Jeffery is a boy's name, baby, we already have a boy's name, remember?"
"Oh yeah." Lauren grinned and glanced at the picture of her parents hung up on the wall. "Nick. For Dad."
"How about Anna?" Greg flipped casually through the pages of one of the baby name books that Nick and Sara had bought when they were naming Lauren.
"No." Sara frowned as she readjusted Nick's Houston Astros throw blanket around her pregnant belly. "It's not a girl, I don't know why we're even bothering."
"Because it's bad luck to only have one name picked out. What if it is a girl?"
"This is not a girl, Greg." She smiled faintly, that must have been the thousandth time she had said that.
"The baby needs a name before it bursts out of you, Sara."
"The baby has a name, Greg. Because it's a boy."
"Fine, fine." Greg slouched against the other side of the couch, and Lauren got up from the floor and climbed into his lap. Sara watched as Greg held the baby name book out in front of both of them, and pressed a gentle kiss to Laurens forehead as she rested comfortably against the crook of his shoulder. They fit so easily together. Greg fit so easily in their home. Into their lives.
She had been worried, worried about how Lauren was going to react to Greg moving in, but there had been no need. Lauren had adjusted well, or as well as could be expected of an almost-six year old that had witnessed her father being fatally shot in the chest. When she tried to talk to Greg about it, Greg mentioned some heart to heart he had had with her a few weeks back, and kissed her and told her that everything was okay, he and Lauren had squared with each other.
Whatever that meant.
Clearly it worked, however, because Lauren's giggles once again had returned to the house, and in the latest drawing of her family that she created at school, she had included Greg. Sara sighed tiredly, smiling softly at her daughter and her friend. Friend? Was that really all he was? She didn't think so. There was something there, something more, that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Of course she loved him. She had always loved him. Would things have been different, had she and Nick not accidentally gotten pregnant? Probably. Not that she didn't love Nick. She did. She had. She always would. Sara's fingers went immediately to the delicate silver chain around her neck, rolling Nick's engagement ring absently between her fingers. Lauren's little voice brought her out of her thoughts.
"Mumma? Can we name the baby Princess Buttercup?" Lauren grinned mischievously at her mother, and Sara shot Greg a disapproving glance.
"No naming the baby after characters in 80s movies."
"Huh?"
"Nevermind, baby. It was worth a shot." Greg smiled, chuckling softly, running a hand through Lauren's Stokes-straight Stokes-brown hair, before turning his attention back to whatever ridiculous name Lauren was pointing to.
Sara turned back to her copy of JFS, and forensic odontology as it relates to maxillofacial pathology. With her due date fast approaching, mere weeks in the future, Grissom had put her on maternity leave, making these journal articles her only real window to forensics. She had agreed begrudgingly, but only after Greg had softly reminded her that they would be able to be together on his nights off. Like tonight. It was almost like they were a family.
Maybe they were.
She hastily wiped the tear that had begun to well in her eyes before it fell on the thin pages of the journal. She knew Greg hadn't missed it, she could feel him watching her slyly out of the corner of his eye, hiding his concern from the child in his lap. Finding that she was about as interested in forensic dentistry as she was in whether or not Luke was going to be able to destroy the Death Star and escape a fiery demise in time, she closed the journal and tossed it onto the coffee table. She glanced at the television, displaying the last few minutes of Return of the Jedi, and cringed as the baby began to kick. She shifted, rubbing where the baby was kicking firmly in an attempt to settle the boy that was trying to prove to her that he was indeed a Stokes, and was indeed athletic.
"Lauren, baby, why don't you clean up your coloring books and crayons?" Greg's soft timbre resonated from the other end of the couch, and Sara smiled at the two of them, as Lauren clambered off his lap and began to pick up her art supplies that she had scattered across the floor. Greg watched Sara and Nick's daughter as she gathered up her coloring books and crayons and leaned over to accept the kiss she gave him as she marched off to deposit them in her bedroom, leaving the two adults alone.
"You alright?" His tone had shifted, and she brushed her tear away, offering him a halfhearted smile, and nodding.
"Yeah." She pushed aside the blanket, and eased herself slowly off of the cushions and onto her feet, rubbing her abdomen again. She made her way to the kitchen, maneuvering easily around his end of the couch, ruffling his unruly curls as she passed by him.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He frowned at her, asking slowly, as if she was going to shut him out if he said the wrong words, made the wrong moves. He was never very good at playing ball with pregnancy emotions in general, but he waited for her to speak before pushing the issue.
"Can you get the tea from the top shelf?" She turned to him, and he acquiesced, climbing out of the sofa, and crossing the distance to the kitchen. He plucked the box of tea out of its hiding spot well above their heads, and she smiled a thanks. He leaned back against the counter and watched her put the kettle on to boil the water for tea. She would speak when she was ready, he only had to give her the time she needed to work out whatever she was battling over. She would let him in when she was ready. She had always worked things out on her own first.
The difference was that now, he was certain that she would in fact talk to him, lean on him, rely on him, take his support.
And suddenly, he realized just how much their relationship…Thing. Their thing had changed. They had changed. Everything had changed. If they didn't hold on to each other, they were both going to fall apart.
Greg's thoughts immediately traveled to the manila envelope on the kitchen table, holding the adoption papers he had applied for from the state. The papers had sat on the kitchen table, remained in the envelope, for close to a week now, neither of them willing to cross that particular bridge just yet. He had wanted to get the guardianship legalities settled before the baby came, but, as in most aspects of his life with Sara, had let her tell him when she was ready. Sara hadn't mentioned them. So again he would wait.
He was drawn out of his thoughts by Sara's hand covering his on the edge of the counter. He caught her eye, and offered her a supportive smile. Her fingers curled gently around his own, and he let her hold his hand between both of her own, turning it over in her grasp, focusing on the lines on his palm. She was hesitant, biting her bottom lip as if she wanted to speak, but was unsuccessfully searching for the right words. He leaned forward, touching her lips to hers gently, capturing her sweetly in a loving kiss, breaking away from her as the kettle whistled a few moments later.
Sara sighed, lifting the kettle off the burner as Lauren appeared at the doorjamb of the kitchen, grinning madly, bluntly interrupting them.
"Mumma? Can I watch Daddy's baseball game?" Sara glanced at the clock, realizing that it was just about time for the Astros/Dodgers game to start.
"Sure, honey. Channel 47." Lauren Stokes grinned broadly and romped her way to the sofa and switching the television on midway through the first inning from Dodger Stadium. "I really couldn't part with the baseball." She offered as an explanation to Greg, who was watching Lauren settle into her father's chair, attention rapt on the game.
"I think it's good for her. Gives her a connection to Nick that she doesn't think you or I understand."
"Little does she know, her favorite uncle knows just about as much about baseball as her father did."
"Yeah, but I'm a Mets man."
"Details." Sara joked gently, and followed him to the kitchen table, taking a seat opposite him, and focusing her attention on steeping the tea in the mug in front of her.
Greg was like this tea, seeping into the water like he seeped into her life, slowly at first, then quicker, taking over her heart, covering her with his support, his love. He had only asked to be loved back, and she had assured him that her feelings for him ran deeply. It was due to him that she had developed the habit and the taste for tea at all. Whenever she and Nick would argue, or disagree while she was pregnant with Lauren, she would seek refuge in Greg's apartment, take comfort in the tea that he always offered her, to calm her nerves. Now, here she was years later, making her own tea, remaking her home with him. The manila envelope caught her eye, and she frowned.
Greg adopting hers and Nick's children had an intimidatingly permanent way of driving home the concept that Nick was not returning. Not that she expected him to waltz in as if she was coming home from a shift. He hadn't walked over the threshold of their house in almost seven months. Sara glanced past Greg, watching as a player on Nick's team slid into second base before reaching over and picking up the manila envelope and laying it in the center of the table, between them.
Maybe, after all is said and done, the hardest part of accepting a death is filling out the paperwork.
Greg leaned on his elbows, slowly arching an eyebrow at her, studying her expression solemnly. These was the first time she had acknowledged its presence, however, never mind touch it. Perhaps this was what she was wrestling over.
"The case worker said we could take as much time as we needed." He kept his tone soft, gauging her reactions carefully. She nodded, blinking a tear away down her cheek, and gripping the warm mug with both hands.
"I loved him." Her voice was quiet, but he didn't have to strain to hear her. She smiled sadly, and glanced at the manila envelope again before meeting his gaze. "I mean, I really loved him."
"I know."
"I never thought it would come to this, you know? I never thought we'd actually make good on asking you to be guardian."
"I want to do this, Sara. Not because you asked me to, years ago. Because I love you, and I love Lauren, and both of us will fall apart if we doing have each other to lean on." He laid a hand palm up on the table, and she put her hand in his, giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze before pushing the manila envelope across the table, and pulling her hand back, sitting back in her chair.
"Okay." Her eyes welled again with fresh tears, but she determinedly blinked them away, giving a valiant effort to keeping herself together.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." Greg considered her for a few moments more, taking in her weary mannerisms, her tired expression. He let out a breath, and slipped the packet of papers out of the envelope, laying them out on the table between them. Maybe this was like the glass on the counter, like ripping a band-aid off. Maybe he just needed to do it, for both of them.
Sara watched him fill out the forms in silence, resting her head in her hands on the table. When did she get so weak? When did she come to need Greg to desperately? She was still grieving, more privately than before, however. She was consciously-fold-the-socks-like-Daddy grieving, make-Nick's-favorite-dessert-more-often grieving, don't-let-your-daughter-see-you-cry grieving, still-buy-Skippy-peanut-butter-even-though-everyone-likes-Jiffy better-because-Nick-always-bought-Skippy grieving. And here they were, taking Nick's parental rights away from him. Not that he could use them anyway. Having Greg legally adopt Lauren and the baby was the logical answer. It made sense. It had reason. It was the conclusion they had come to, the only thing that would validate his move into their home, other than her own selfish, needy reasoning.
They sat there, at the kitchen table, in silence, Greg filling out paperwork, Sara watching him, signing an occasional dotted line here and there, until Lauren came padding in, taking giant steps, and stretching her little limbs as much as she could, coming to stand beside Greg.
"Hi, baby." Sara offered her daughter a smile, and Lauren returned it, flashing her a grin. Greg leaned over and pressed a kiss to Lauren's hair before turning back to the paperwork before him. "What kind of a walk was that?"
"Mumma, seventh inning stretch. I was stretching." She stated, matter-of-factly, causing both adults to chuckle.
"Who's winning?"
"The Dodgers. But it's okay. Dad's team won yesterday. They can't win all the time, they have to share." Lauren climbed around Greg's arm, and up onto his lap, leaning back against the crook of his elbow, and looking over the papers on the table. "What're you doing, Uncle Greg?"
"I am," he signed his name on yet another form, and slid it over to Sara, who signer her name as well. "I am filling out all these papers so I can sign your permission slip to go to the museum next month with school." He threw her a grin, and continued to fill out the forms around her, not bothered with her in his lap.
"But Mumma signs my permission slips." Sara opened her mouth to explain guardianship to her daughter, but Greg beat her to the punch.
"Mumma might be having the baby when you go to the museum, so I would have to sign. It's not just for permission slips, baby."
"What else?"
"If you get sick, me signing these papers means I can let the doctor give you medicine."
"Like if I get the flu?"
"Mmhmm. And years from now, if you steal a car and drive to Kansas, the police can call me and I can come and get you." At that, Lauren laughed, and rolled her eyes.
"Uncle Greg, I can't even sit in the front." Greg cocked an eyebrow at her, and feigned dramatic relief.
"Oh good. I wouldn't want to have to bail you out of the slammer." There was a gentle sparkle in his eyes that told Sara he was joking, and his lopsided grin put Lauren at ease.
"These papers will make Uncle Greg your guardian, baby." Sara started, and Lauren frowned, not understanding. "Like Daddy, but not the same." For a brief second, panic flashed through her eyes, and she turned to Greg, pushing away the hand that held the pen from the form he was filling out.
"It's okay, baby. It's not the same as Dad. I promise."
"I don't want you to be my Dad, Uncle Greg." Lauren mumbled against his shirt, and Sara barely heard her, but Greg nodded in understanding.
"I won't be. I'm still your Uncle Greg. All these papers, they are for the state. Nevada doesn't know how much I love you, so I have to tell them with all these papers."
"The baby too?"
"Yeah. Who knows, you know, the baby could turn out to be a car-thief, and that means someone would have to go all the way to Kansas to post bail." He lowered his voice, whispering in her ear. "Not Mumma, she'll be old by then." Lauren giggled, visibly relaxing.
"What are you writing?"
"Mostly my name."
"Can I write my name?"
"Sure." Greg reached behind him and grabbed a scrap piece of paper, and handed her the paper and a pencil. "Use this."
Lauren set about scribbling her name over and over on the paper that Greg had given her, and after a few minutes, she held it up for Sara to see.
"Look, Mumma, just like Uncle Greg." Sara smiled, wholly amused, and relieved that telling Lauren about the guardianship had gone so well.
Maybe everything would work out, after all.
……
A/N: Sorry this took so long. More to come. Erm, don't exactly know when.