To Serve and to Protect
Genre: Family, Angst, FUTURE FIC
Pairings: None mentioned
Main characters: Greg, Greer as an adult
Greg paused outside the doors. He had a gut feeling drawing him there. An instinct telling him this is where he would find who he was looking for. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door inwards and entered.
Taking a quick glance around, he didn't know if he should be relieved or not to find his daughter in a corner, nursing a glass of scotch.
He approached slowly, casually almost, pausing only a minute to order and collect a pint to carry with him.
"Thought I'd find you here," he said casually, as he sat down.
Greer looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and her face blank, no recognition seeming to register.
Adrenaline spent, and then gone numb, Greg realized.
"Tell me about today," he said quietly.
There was a long silence as Greer weighed her words and Greg sat it out. He'd been a young Sergeant himself once, and he'd had his first crime scene like this one too.
"Sergeant Lestrade," Greg said gently but firmly. "Report to me. Now. That's an order."
Greer sat a moment longer, before she finally looked up.
"I'm sure you've the report on your desk, Sir," she finally said. "No doubt you've reviewed it already, seen the officers involved."
"Yeah," Greg said, casually, calmly. "I've read them. Detective Sergeant Bailey's lot was called in, I see. His DI commended him, and you as well. So did Julian. DS Bailey, I mean. He made special mention of you, in fact. Both he and his DI commended your professional conduct."
"Did they, now," Greer said, as she contemplated her glass, then raised it for a pull.
"I didn't do anything Sir. All I did was take the call." Greer started to fidget with her glass, and Greg knew.
He knew not only from knowing his daughter, but from knowing the young uniforms he'd worked with over the years.
Hell, he knew from being one himself, what felt a lifetime ago.
His daughter was a textbook case. He hated it, but at the same time, he was relieved this career inevitability had finally happened.
He knew from the reports how Sergeant Greer Lestrade had arrived on the scene, had conducted herself with the lone surviving witness - a traumatized child no less - and made the difference for the rest of the case. How she had taken control of the scene and prevented it from being compromised while she and the PC she was with waited for backup.
How she had risen from the trenches bloodied but unbowed.
At least it wasn't anything unusually horrible. It was simply horrible. That, he could relate to, and help her with, at least.
"Another round, Little Love?"
Greer seemed to stir from her trance, finally realizing who she was actually sitting with.
She raised her face and gazed at Greg with his eyes. In a flash, they brimmed over and she fought it.
"Daddy… does it get easier?"
Greg smiled sadly before shifting himself around to sit next to his daughter, wrapping a protective arm around her.
"No, Little Love. It doesn't, nor should it. EVER. But you get used to it, and you learn to cope. This," he said, waving at the near empty tumbler that sat in front of her, "isn't necessarily the best way. But this time, it's your way. Next time, maybe you'll have a different way."
Greer nodded, as she brought her hands up to fall apart.
Greg waited patiently for the torrential gale to pass, as his daughter trembled and shook with catharsis.
When it finally had, he spoke.
"I'm so very, very proud of you my little lass," he said. "You made a difference today, not only to a case and to a crime scene, but to a person. Your conduct was everything we are supposed to be as Yarders."
Greer sat a few moments, composing herself, finding her voice.
"To serve and to protect, yeah?"
"Yeah," Greg said, giving his daughter a squeeze and leaning over to kiss her temple. He lingered there a moment, then rested his forehead against his daughter's hair, saying softly, "to serve and to protect."