A/N: The next in the Late series, dedicated to Schnerbles, because she's going away and begged rather creatively for this before she left. Here you go, schnookums.
Yours
An envelope sat on his desk when he returned late that night from the field. The office was dark. Cho, his partner for the day, grabbed his stuff and grunted his goodnight, eager to get out of there. Wayne picked it up for the square center of his desk, its pristine whiteness marred only by his name written in a script he'd know anywhere.
He opened it, knowing its sender but baffled as to what she needed to say in letter form. Two pages greeted him. One in that writing. The other, a printout from a doctor's office. He read the letter first, far more interested in what she wanted to tell him.
Dear Wayne,
I'm sorry.
God, I've been staring at this piece of paper for fifteen minutes now and that's all I can think to say. I am so, so very sorry. There's something I need to tell you, but I'm afraid that if I say it to your face, I'll get too emotional to do it properly. And there's so much I need to say. Most of all, I want you to know that I don't expect anything once you've read this. You don't even have to answer it. I simply want you to know. To keep it from you would be cruel and I never, ever want to see you hurt. Well, anymore than I already have. So I'll just say it now.
I'm pregnant.
And yes. It's yours. One of the many reasons I had to write this down was because I couldn't handle the possibility that you would ask. Despite our mutual agreement to move on and see other people, I need to be honest now and tell you that I have yet to do so. See other people, that is.
Attached is my doctor's test result. I wanted to be sure before I broke the news.
In a few weeks, I'll inform Lisbon. I won't mention you. It's no one's business who the father is and I'll keep you out of it as best as I can. She'll relegate me to desk duty in several months, after which I'll go on maternity leave. Hopefully, I won't be gone more than two months.
Please, please, please don't see this as an obligation. I have a little money put aside. I'll look into daycare and other stuff as the time gets closer. I don't need any financial support and I certainly don't want this to interfere with your life in any way. I feel terrible even telling you, knowing that you're an honorable man who would want to do the "right thing", whatever you see that as. But it's unnecessary. I promise you, I can do this on my own. I'll be sure to get duplicates of ultrasound photos and hospital records, so you can see how everything's going. I'll be sure to mail them to your apartment. It was worrying enough to leave this letter on your desk, never mind pregnancy pictures.
Okay. I'm done. I hope you're well. You look happy these days. I'm glad. Sadness doesn't suit you.
Yours,
Grace