Finally!
Fianlly, after months of promising and rewriting and typing, and so on and so forth. I bring you a brand new, complete Gil MPreg.
Title: La Vie Fantastique
Author: ___jealousy
Paring: Nick Stokes/Gil Grissom
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. I do not have any affiliation with CSI. I do not have the money to be sued by the creators of CSI. Don't take this personal.
Summary/Notes: Pretty chronological, starting after The Season 5 finale. AU, as men cannot actually get pregnant. Unfortunately. Enjoy, darlings.
La Vie Fantastique
When I was 14 years old, I took French in school. I hadn't really wanted to, but the school I was at was not offering Latin, so I had to settle. I soon discovered the beauty of the language and I quickly fell in love with it, but I absolutely could not stand my teacher.
Madam L'Amoureaux was a tall, round woman, with a permanent smile on her face. It was as if nothing ever angered her. And, though having never actually living in France, she could recite the anthem and describe the streets of Paris by hear. Her passion for what she taught was quite evident and awe-inspiring. All of this would have made me enjoy her if it were not for her perpetual optimism.
Now, I've always considered myself to be optimistic... or at least, I think I have. I've always liked to surround myself with optimistic people. But this woman... It was like she'd completely lost touch with reality, completely engrossed in her juvenile, glass-half-full views...
About halfway through the year, one of my classmates, Suzanna Prince, lost her father to cancer. Although we'd never been entirely close - I wasn't entirely close to anyone in those years - we'd gotten along quite well. She was funny and an intellectual and we'd had many good conversations throughout our school years. Her father's passing took a real strain on her, and she was completely distraught, crying during classes for weeks afterward. And Madam L'Amoureaux had the audacity to scold her.
"Don't cry!" she'd exclaimed. "Be happy! C'est la vie fantastique!"
It's the fantastic life. She always said that, especially when it was inappropriate. How was Suzanna supposed to be happy at a time like this? Be happy my ass! Positively ridiculous! And yet she was always piping in with her motto: La vie fantastique.
As I grew up, graduated, I tried to take the philosophy of a fantastic life with me. And, with a life like mine, it was no walk in the park. I've always said that I meet people on the worst days of their lives. I mean it. That's the life of a crime fighter. And to every case I've gone to, I've kept Madam's words. But one can't just tell a woman who has lost her son to stop crying. I've no right to tell a rape victim to be happy. And it's impossible to tell a dead body to enjoy the fantastic life.
And there are the things I've witnessed between the ones I'm closest to. What's so fantastic about my best friend being cheated on, then widowed? Or one of my guys on a stretcher, his back a charred mess? How is a gambling problem or a DUI fantastic?
What is fantastic about watching the love of your life, trapped and scared, and not able to do a damn thing about it? Holding him and causing him pain? Watching your strong man cry? Where’s the fucking fantastic life?
It was just days after rescuing my Nicky, while I still loathed the idea of a fantastic life, that I discovered I was pregnant.
'Why now?' I'd asked myself. Nick was still in the Intensive Care Unit, in and out of consciousness. He slept through most of the day, and, when he was awake, the medication he was on kept him from being totally with us. And it wasn't about to get any easier! God knew what troubles we'd be facing ahead, what condition Nick was going to leave this in. There was no saying if he'd be able to properly care for himself, let alone a baby and me! And how was I supposed to care for Nick and plan for a baby?!
Nick came home two weeks after his kidnapping and I decided to tell him that night. No use in hiding things from him. I really didn't know what to expect. Given his current mental state, I wouldn't have been surprised with anything from explosive rage to a complete mental breakdown. But I know one thing for sure; I definitely didn't expect what he did do.
Nicky laughed. It started as a small, disbelieving chuckle and he asked me to repeat what I'd said. I remember my voice being very soft as I told him again. His eyes squeezed shut, forehead crinkling slightly, and a wide smile came to his face. His laughter shifted from the soft chuckles to a pure howl of joy. I couldn't believe how happy he was.
And as he pulled me into his arms, and his hand rested on my stomach, I couldn't help but laugh too.
I was right: things didn't get easier right away. The first few weeks were hard on the both of us.
Pregnancy spared my aging body no discomfort. I was unbearably sick, and not just in the mornings. As my body began to adjust to it's new duty, it left me exhausted and sore in rather... embarrassing places (I can still see the confused and disgusted look on Greg's face when he caught me rubbing my nipples). During my shifts, I juggled my condition and business, all while trying to keep things appearing normal. I tried hard to act as if nothing was different while I was at work. It was tiring work, though, keeping up the facade. And every night, when I returned home, I'd have to keep it. Nighttime was when I took on Nick's own discomforts.
His wounds were still healing; physical and mental. He was still covered from head to toe in ant bites, and they made it hard for him to get him around. I'd made it my job to be at his every need. I made sure he had his medications and that what few bandages he still had on were changed. I provided all the comforts I could. And while he slept, I would cater to his mental pain.
Since his release from the hospital, I had not seen Nick cry. If he was feeling any after effects from all this, he hid it well. He would greet me with a wide smile and a kiss everyday when I returned from work. We would talk about our days, laugh at each other's jokes. It was if nothing had ever happened. But he couldn't hide his emotions while he was asleep.
Nick would toss and turn violently in our bed. His face would scrunch up, and tears would streak his chiseled cheeks. But most painful of all were the cries. It varied every night, for soft, scared whimpers, to loud, heartbreaking sobs. And it did break my heart, seeing him in such pain. It took me back to that horrible night in May, sitting in the lab, eyes glued to the computer screen. Watching him. Unable to help. The sick, restlessness feeling I'd felt then would resettle in the pit of my stomach, leaving a sour taste in the back of my throat.
And to make it worse for myself, nothing would calm him down. No amount of kisses or whispers could comfort Nick. Needless to say, this made me feel more helpless than ever. And, I'm not afraid to admit this, I would cry, too. Some fantastic life, Madam.
It was one of those nights, late in the summer, when things began to change. Another nightmare had Nick in it's grasp, soft whimpers escaping from his trembling body. I sat up in my side of the bed, leaning against the headboard, Nick's hand in my own. I was crying again, thoroughly exasperated, hating myself for not knowing what to do.
And then, it happened.
It felt as if one of my beautiful butterflies I kept in my office had landed on my stomach and was walking across my skin. Except, it was on the inside...
My eyes had widened at the sudden realization that followed: My baby had kicked.
I sat there for a very long minute, waiting. For what exactly, I wasn't sure. Another kick, another flutter, something to prove I hadn't imagined this in some tired haze. The baby then kicked again, as if it could feel my question. As depressed as I was at the time, I couldn't help but smile at this amazing feeling. One tiny little kick and it were as if every hurt I'd ever had disappeared; just like that!
... Including the helplessness. I finally knew what to do...
Gently, so not to wake him up, I moved Nick's had across my stomach, to the newly formed bump, and to where I'd felt the flutter. I pressed his fingertips to my stomach, praying the baby would kick once more. It did.
Nick's reaction was almost instant. He stopped moving and for what seemed like forever, he didn't move. Finally, through the deafening silence, I heard it. A soft, contented sigh. Nick's hand gripped my stomach lightly and he shifted, his head finding it's way to my lap. And through the dim moonlight, I saw a soft smile creep to my sleeping love's face. It was the most peaceful I'd seen Nick in far too long and I couldn't even begin to describe the overwhelming joy I felt.
That night was the best night's sleep I'd had in a long time.
In early September, four months after everything happened, Nick returned to work. His first day back was surprisingly mellow, leaving us very little to do that night. It was as if all of Las Vegas had known of Nick's return and had mutually decided to take a breather. If that were the case, I'd have to remember to write a thank you letter.
We spent the first day back in our office. Him, our newly reformed team, and I. I remember Catherine being perched on my desk, laughing at Warrick, who had wasted o time in giving Nick the biggest noogie of his life. Greg and Sara sat Indian style on my couch, teasing each other, making the other laugh. Jim and Al stood off to the side near my shelves, pointing at my various jars, no doubt cracking a joke or two at Miss Piggy's expense. And I sat at my desk, gently caressing my stomach, watching this reunion of sorts. I never realized just how much I'd missed seeing all these faces together, smiling and laughing, enjoying each other's company. I'd missed the familiarity, the comfort, and this sense of belonging. I couldn't have begun to describe to them the emotion I felt, but they would soon have a good idea.
As I looked around the room, I could feel my throat tighten up, and my eyes began to sting. I blinked them rapidly, silently cursing as my vision blurred. I covered my mouth and cleared my throat, trying to swallow around the lump that formed. But it didn't work, and I found myself more choked than before. I looked around my room, trying to find something to focus on until I pulled myself together.
But, of course, that would have been too easy. For I had Greg - ever the subtle one - in the room.
"Hey, Gris, y'alright over there?"
I looked up at him. His head was cocked to one side, an adorable, curious-puppy look on his face. I quickly prayed that no one else had heard him and let my eyes travel around the room. But, of course, this was Greg we were talking about. His whispers could have been heard across a crowded room. Everyone's eyes were on me; confused, questioning, burning. I could feel my face reddening and I silently cursed my embarrassment. I looked down at my desk and closed my eyes, wishing whole-heartedly that I could have just crawled under a rock.
A gentle touch to my shoulder brought my gaze back up. Opening my eyes, I was relieved to meet Nicky’s gaze. He stood beside me, smiling softly and benevolently, rubbing my shoulder softly. He sat down on the edge of my desk, rubbing my shoulder, and I couldn’t suppress my urge to lean into his touch. I leaned foreword and burrowed my blushing face into his shoulder, groaning lightly to myself. And although I couldn’t see them, I knew that we were getting odd stares from the others. It was no secret that Nick and I were together. We just never were big on public displays. They must have known something was up.
“Damn,” he chuckled softly, whispering in my ear. “Hormone’s are going to be the end of you.”
“I hate it,” I mumbled against his shoulder.
I could feel him laughing, my closeness allowing it to reverberate throughout my body. I couldn’t help but smile.
“Gil…”
Catherine’s voice - soft and worried - took me out of the moment. I looked up slowly, not wanting to look her right in the eye. Catherine knows me better than anyone else in this world. Better than Nick. Probably better than I know myself. I’ll admit, it’s always been rather intimidating. I met her eyes slowly, knowing what she was going to say.
“Grissom. What’s going on?”
Her voice was soft, tender, as if she were speaking to Lindsay. I couldn’t help but offer a small smile. She always knew how to make me feel all right, how to make me feel safe and secure.
I looked up at Nick, my brows furrowed in question. We had planned on telling them that day. We just hadn’t planned on my hormones randomly outing me. His smile was soft and he took my hand as he nodded.
“Might as well.”
Their reactions were just as I’d expected.
Al, father of six, grandfather to one, was full of advice and absolutely thrilled to be able to share some of it. Jim cracked a joke about my expanding waistline and I’m sure I blushed deeper than ever. Warrick’s smile looked as if it would rip his face in two, and he pulled out his old frat-boy charm. He punched Nick’s shoulder in a congratulatory gesture, commenting on his “Texas Swimmers”.
Sara’s smile was tight, and I could tell that she was trying her hardest not to be upset. Things between the two of us had gotten much better since Nick and I had gotten together, but I knew then - and knew now- that, deep down, she hasn’t quite gotten over what she felt for me.
Greg bounced up and down like a Chihuahua on Mountain Dew, clapping his hands with a manic giggle. I half expected to find a puddle on my couch when he jumped up to hug Nick.
Catherine’s eyes glistened and her lower lip quivered lightly as she smiled. She reached out, taking my hand in hers and I gave hers a soft, reassuring squeeze. And when she reached down to hug me, I couldn’t help but hug her back. Out of all my peers, I wanted her - my best friend - to be happy for me.
Life was starting to look fantastic after all.
My pregnancy was pretty much by the book. Or at least the book Catherine gave me. Since telling her about the baby, she’d been nothing but help. She’d bought Nick and I plenty of “research material”. She wrote out lists of things we would need, going as far as to write out where we could get it and what stores had the most reasonable prices. She provided me with questions I should ask my doctor and foods that were good for the baby.
And in the lab and on the field, she became an official mother hen. Catherine would guide myself and Nick as to what I could and couldn’t do, what chemicals were safe to work with, and the quickest route to the bathroom from various places in the building. She also taught me the joys of keeping a “screaming pillow” in my desk drawer, to help with those pesky hormones (which came in quite handy with Ecklie).
And Catherine was the one that threw me a baby shower. Of sorts…
It was late November, just after Thanksgiving and my 7-month marker, and to put it nicely, I wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine. I was beyond uncomfortable. The pasty few months had wreaked havoc on my body. My back ached, and my feet swelled under the additional weight. The baby was positioned close to my lungs, often leaving me a bit short of breath. I’d also been experiencing Braxton Hicks’ contractions. They felt more like an overly full stomach than anything, but that’s what the book was calling them. And to top it all off, I’d just been given strict orders by my doctor not to do field work for the duration of my pregnancy. Not exactly what I’d wanted to hear.
If I looked as bad as I felt, I had to have been a sight for sore eyes.
Needless to say, I wasn’t in the most cheery of moods when Catherine knocked on my door. I wordlessly called her in with a wave of my hand.
“Well,” she said, amused. “You look… great.”
I rolled my eyes and groaned softly, entirely displeased.
“Hey, could you come into the break room? I’m having a hard time figuring out this piece of evidence.”
I nodded, closing my notebook, eager to be of some sort of assistance. With all the restrictions I’d been given, I was ready to jump at any opportunity to help out. I walked slowly by Catherine, one hand supporting my lower back and the other gently caressing my stomach. I’d taken on the typical pregnancy pose shortly after my baby had started kicking, but had taken it on now more than before.
I’d always seen the pregnant rub their stomachs, but I never quite understood why until I was the one with the belly. The skin had gotten rather taught over the past few months and my belly button had turned from an innie to an outie. Though the intense itchiness was annoying, I could not help but be thrilled. The newly tight skin had also brought a new depth to my pregnancy: visibility. Nick and I had spent countless days lying in our bed, watching my stomach, smiling wide when we saw a small flutter against my skin. Sure, we went to work exhausted, but Nick’s laughter and kisses had been entirely worth it. It was an incredible feeling and I was glad to be sharing it with someone I truly loved.
“So what’s the problem?” I asked as we rounded the corner to the break room.
“I’ve got this piece of cloth with a bloodstain on it, and there’s this sort of weird imprint in it,” she shrugged slightly. “I figured you’d be able to decipher it.”
“Well, I’ll give it a tr-“
“Surprise!”
My eyes widened as I looked around the room. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Bright green steamers and balloons hung around the room, various insects on both of them. The table, usually flooded with papers and evidence bags, was lined with a matching insect-covered tablecloth, chips and pretzels and veggie trays set up. On one of the chairs sat a mountain of garishly wrapped packages, bright pink wrapping paper, light blue ribbons atop of gifts, and hideous tissue paper sticking out of equally hideous bags. The sounds of Pink Floyd filled the small room and a banner across from the door read “CONDRATULATIONS” in large handwritten letters, my friend’s signatures surrounding it. And around the table, smiles broad on their faces, was my team.
“Guys…” I was speechless.
Nick walked over to me, taking my hand and leading me into the room.
“Is this…?” I shook my head, unable to wrap my mind around the situation, let alone form a coherent sentence.
“A baby shower?” Nick laughed lightly at my nod. “Yeah. It was Catherine’s idea.”
He smiled wide at me and then over at Catherine. I, too, looked over at Catherine. She had a wide smirk on her face that only read one thing; ‘You’ve been had.’
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”
She shook her head, her smile widening.
“Real deal, Gris. Do I ever joke with you?”
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest, resting them on my distended stomach.
“This isn’t a bloodstain.,” I said, rather annoyed.
She laughed lightly, as did the others. I looked around at the group, trying to keep my pissy face. It obviously wasn’t phasing them.
“Gris, chill out for a bit,” Warrick said with a shrug and a smirk. “It’s a snooze day anyway.”
“And besides,” Greg smirked devilishly and slithered over to me, patting my belly. “Every expecting mommy deserves a baby shower.”
If looks could kill, I guarantee Greg would have been dead. The laughter from the others didn’t help any. Nick wrapped an arm around my back, kissing the side of my head tenderly.
“C’mon, Gil, it’s a tradition,” he smiled sweetly at me. “We’ve got cake…”
He pointed to the table and I looked down. In the center of everything was a large cake, still in a pan. Delicious looking green icing covered the cake, sloppily put on, and someone had decided to stick toy insects into it. Written in a darker green, yet equally messy, icing were the words “Ladybug or Drone Bee?”. The scent of chocolate wafted towards me and I could feel m mouth begin to water. I sighed quickly and looked back up at the group.
“Fine. As long as we don’t play any stupid games.”
My friends smiled wide, clapping, and Catherine cut the cake, giving my the first, large slice. It tasted fantastic.
The baby shower had provided Nick and I with just about everything we needed; toys, clothing, food, and even a stroller that they had all pitched in to buy. As much as I would never admit to them, I had really enjoyed myself.
One of the best things about the baby shower was that it had given us inspiration for the nursery. And by us, of course, I mean Nick. It had been two weeks since our baby shower and he hadn’t let me into the room once. Which was really inconvenient, seeing as the room had once been my home office and most of my stuff was still in there.
I mentioned this to Nick, hoping I’d be able to get a peek at what was going on. But, of course, that wouldn’t happen, for I was dating a smart-ass. I woke up the next day with numerous cardboard boxes at the foot of my bed, filled with my belongings. How humorous of him. Jackass.
My impatience was short lived, however. I was woken up one cold December morning to myself being shaken and an annoying fast repetition of my name.
“Gil! Gil! Gil! Gil!”
“What Nick!?”
I cracked open an eye, squinting up at Nick. He was quite blurry without the aid of my glasses. But Nick has a smile that could shine through the darkest fog, and that day was no exception.
“C’mere!” he said excitedly, taking my hand to pull me up.
I was definitely at the stage where getting up by myself was a joke. Which is why I was being woken in the morning in the first place. The baby shower marked my last day at work before forced “maternity” leave. I hadn’t wanted to go, but Catherine had insisted. And I had to admit, I was glad I’d listened.
I put on my glasses as I sat up, stretching gently. Nick kissed the top of my head, his hand rubbing at a knot at the base of my spine. My eyes closed and I let out a low groan of pleasure as I felt the tension ease away. I quite enjoyed being woken up like this
“Mmm, Nicky. Keep doing this and I might forgive you for waking me up at 8 o’clock,” I said with a smirk.
“Oh shush, it’s 8:30. I promise, I’ll give you an amazing massage later. Just come with me?”
I could never say no to his smile. That adorable ‘could do no wrong’ smile. Sighing defeatedly and a bit disappointedly, I nodded, letting out a chuckle.
“Alright, alright. But you better keep that promise…”
The nursery was amazing. It was as if we’d walked into some fantastic garden, right in my own home. The four walls were painted to look like a rainforest. Beautiful plants, tall trees, and flowered vines crept up to the ceiling all around us. Even the ceiling had been painted, looking as if the sun were shining through the trees’ canopy. A dresser and changing table sat side by side, stained a beautiful white, ladybugs, grasshoppers, and butterflies painted all over them, each insect unique.
And then there was the crib. It wasn’t the largest of cribs, just the right size, painted with the same intricate design as the other pieces of furniture. The inside was lined with a simple ladybug printed sheet. Topping it off was the gorgeous lightning bug night-light hanging just above the crib.
“Oh, Nicky…”
I turned towards my partner, a soft appreciative smile on my face.
“D’ya like it?” he asked with a small tilt of his head.
I nodded slowly, waddling over to the dresser, tracing a beautiful dragonfly with my fingertips.
“Did you do this yourself?”
“Yeah,” nick shrugged and moved so he was standing beside me, his arm wrapping around my back, rubbing my shoulder. “I’m pretty good around a tool bench, hmm?”
“Nick, this is amazing…” I turned to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He smiled widely at me, the same smile he always gave me when he knew he’d done a good thing. He slid his hand over my waist, resting it right on my stomach. We both laughed at the responsive kick our baby gave. Nick pulled away from me, bending down on one knee. With one hand resting on my side and the other still on my stomach, he placed a small kiss to the spot that had just been kicked.
I loved when he did that. It felt fantastic.
That Christmas was the best I’d ever had and New Year’s was just as special. Nick and I had spent it together, alone in our house, cuddling on the couch. And when the ball had finally dropped and Nick’s lips touched mine, I’d have sworn I’d made it to Heaven. Maybe life was starting to be fantastic after all. Just maybe.
Three days later, in the middle of the night, it happened. An unbelievably painful cramp ripped through the top of my stomach, wrenching my back. Our baby was coming. Fast.
Nick and I were at the hospital within a half-hour. And by sunrise, our daughter was here.
When the nurse placed her in my arms, it was as if time itself stopped. No one else was in the room, nothing was moving. It was Nick and I and our baby girl.
She was beautiful. She had Nick’s adorable nose and my dark, curly hair, fanning delicately at her temples and framing her face. As she squirmed in my arms, I could feel that she had Nick’s strength, and when she looked up at me, I saw my own blue eyes staring back at me. Our daughter was a perfect mix of the two of us, an experiment gone horribly right. She was perfect, simply perfect.
I sat up late that night, after Nick had fallen asleep, just holding her. She was asleep, curled against my chest, cooing softly. I stroked her soft, pale cheek, completely engrossed in this new project we’d taken up. I leaned down, kissing her forehead, whispering sweet “I love you”s to her.
For years, I’d searched for the one thing that would make sense of what Madam L’Amoureaux had always said. It’s the fantastic life. Could it have really existed? In thirty-five years, I had never found anything that classified my life as fantastic.
Never in a million years did I imagine I’d find it at the Desert Palms hospital. And yet, there it was, lying in my arms. The one thing that had made it set. My Emily Paige. My darling little girl had finally given me la vie fantastique.
Title: La Vie Fantastique
Author: ___jealousy
Paring: Nick Stokes/Gil Grissom
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. I do not have any affiliation with CSI. I do not have the money to be sued by the creators of CSI. Don't take this personal.
Summary/Notes: Pretty chronological, starting after The Season 5 finale. AU, as men cannot actually get pregnant. Unfortunately. Enjoy, darlings.
La Vie Fantastique
When I was 14 years old, I took French in school. I hadn't really wanted to, but the school I was at was not offering Latin, so I had to settle. I soon discovered the beauty of the language and I quickly fell in love with it, but I absolutely could not stand my teacher.
Madam L'Amoureaux was a tall, round woman, with a permanent smile on her face. It was as if nothing ever angered her. And, though having never actually living in France, she could recite the anthem and describe the streets of Paris by hear. Her passion for what she taught was quite evident and awe-inspiring. All of this would have made me enjoy her if it were not for her perpetual optimism.
Now, I've always considered myself to be optimistic... or at least, I think I have. I've always liked to surround myself with optimistic people. But this woman... It was like she'd completely lost touch with reality, completely engrossed in her juvenile, glass-half-full views...
About halfway through the year, one of my classmates, Suzanna Prince, lost her father to cancer. Although we'd never been entirely close - I wasn't entirely close to anyone in those years - we'd gotten along quite well. She was funny and an intellectual and we'd had many good conversations throughout our school years. Her father's passing took a real strain on her, and she was completely distraught, crying during classes for weeks afterward. And Madam L'Amoureaux had the audacity to scold her.
"Don't cry!" she'd exclaimed. "Be happy! C'est la vie fantastique!"
It's the fantastic life. She always said that, especially when it was inappropriate. How was Suzanna supposed to be happy at a time like this? Be happy my ass! Positively ridiculous! And yet she was always piping in with her motto: La vie fantastique.
As I grew up, graduated, I tried to take the philosophy of a fantastic life with me. And, with a life like mine, it was no walk in the park. I've always said that I meet people on the worst days of their lives. I mean it. That's the life of a crime fighter. And to every case I've gone to, I've kept Madam's words. But one can't just tell a woman who has lost her son to stop crying. I've no right to tell a rape victim to be happy. And it's impossible to tell a dead body to enjoy the fantastic life.
And there are the things I've witnessed between the ones I'm closest to. What's so fantastic about my best friend being cheated on, then widowed? Or one of my guys on a stretcher, his back a charred mess? How is a gambling problem or a DUI fantastic?
What is fantastic about watching the love of your life, trapped and scared, and not able to do a damn thing about it? Holding him and causing him pain? Watching your strong man cry? Where’s the fucking fantastic life?
It was just days after rescuing my Nicky, while I still loathed the idea of a fantastic life, that I discovered I was pregnant.
'Why now?' I'd asked myself. Nick was still in the Intensive Care Unit, in and out of consciousness. He slept through most of the day, and, when he was awake, the medication he was on kept him from being totally with us. And it wasn't about to get any easier! God knew what troubles we'd be facing ahead, what condition Nick was going to leave this in. There was no saying if he'd be able to properly care for himself, let alone a baby and me! And how was I supposed to care for Nick and plan for a baby?!
Nick came home two weeks after his kidnapping and I decided to tell him that night. No use in hiding things from him. I really didn't know what to expect. Given his current mental state, I wouldn't have been surprised with anything from explosive rage to a complete mental breakdown. But I know one thing for sure; I definitely didn't expect what he did do.
Nicky laughed. It started as a small, disbelieving chuckle and he asked me to repeat what I'd said. I remember my voice being very soft as I told him again. His eyes squeezed shut, forehead crinkling slightly, and a wide smile came to his face. His laughter shifted from the soft chuckles to a pure howl of joy. I couldn't believe how happy he was.
And as he pulled me into his arms, and his hand rested on my stomach, I couldn't help but laugh too.
I was right: things didn't get easier right away. The first few weeks were hard on the both of us.
Pregnancy spared my aging body no discomfort. I was unbearably sick, and not just in the mornings. As my body began to adjust to it's new duty, it left me exhausted and sore in rather... embarrassing places (I can still see the confused and disgusted look on Greg's face when he caught me rubbing my nipples). During my shifts, I juggled my condition and business, all while trying to keep things appearing normal. I tried hard to act as if nothing was different while I was at work. It was tiring work, though, keeping up the facade. And every night, when I returned home, I'd have to keep it. Nighttime was when I took on Nick's own discomforts.
His wounds were still healing; physical and mental. He was still covered from head to toe in ant bites, and they made it hard for him to get him around. I'd made it my job to be at his every need. I made sure he had his medications and that what few bandages he still had on were changed. I provided all the comforts I could. And while he slept, I would cater to his mental pain.
Since his release from the hospital, I had not seen Nick cry. If he was feeling any after effects from all this, he hid it well. He would greet me with a wide smile and a kiss everyday when I returned from work. We would talk about our days, laugh at each other's jokes. It was if nothing had ever happened. But he couldn't hide his emotions while he was asleep.
Nick would toss and turn violently in our bed. His face would scrunch up, and tears would streak his chiseled cheeks. But most painful of all were the cries. It varied every night, for soft, scared whimpers, to loud, heartbreaking sobs. And it did break my heart, seeing him in such pain. It took me back to that horrible night in May, sitting in the lab, eyes glued to the computer screen. Watching him. Unable to help. The sick, restlessness feeling I'd felt then would resettle in the pit of my stomach, leaving a sour taste in the back of my throat.
And to make it worse for myself, nothing would calm him down. No amount of kisses or whispers could comfort Nick. Needless to say, this made me feel more helpless than ever. And, I'm not afraid to admit this, I would cry, too. Some fantastic life, Madam.
It was one of those nights, late in the summer, when things began to change. Another nightmare had Nick in it's grasp, soft whimpers escaping from his trembling body. I sat up in my side of the bed, leaning against the headboard, Nick's hand in my own. I was crying again, thoroughly exasperated, hating myself for not knowing what to do.
And then, it happened.
It felt as if one of my beautiful butterflies I kept in my office had landed on my stomach and was walking across my skin. Except, it was on the inside...
My eyes had widened at the sudden realization that followed: My baby had kicked.
I sat there for a very long minute, waiting. For what exactly, I wasn't sure. Another kick, another flutter, something to prove I hadn't imagined this in some tired haze. The baby then kicked again, as if it could feel my question. As depressed as I was at the time, I couldn't help but smile at this amazing feeling. One tiny little kick and it were as if every hurt I'd ever had disappeared; just like that!
... Including the helplessness. I finally knew what to do...
Gently, so not to wake him up, I moved Nick's had across my stomach, to the newly formed bump, and to where I'd felt the flutter. I pressed his fingertips to my stomach, praying the baby would kick once more. It did.
Nick's reaction was almost instant. He stopped moving and for what seemed like forever, he didn't move. Finally, through the deafening silence, I heard it. A soft, contented sigh. Nick's hand gripped my stomach lightly and he shifted, his head finding it's way to my lap. And through the dim moonlight, I saw a soft smile creep to my sleeping love's face. It was the most peaceful I'd seen Nick in far too long and I couldn't even begin to describe the overwhelming joy I felt.
That night was the best night's sleep I'd had in a long time.
In early September, four months after everything happened, Nick returned to work. His first day back was surprisingly mellow, leaving us very little to do that night. It was as if all of Las Vegas had known of Nick's return and had mutually decided to take a breather. If that were the case, I'd have to remember to write a thank you letter.
We spent the first day back in our office. Him, our newly reformed team, and I. I remember Catherine being perched on my desk, laughing at Warrick, who had wasted o time in giving Nick the biggest noogie of his life. Greg and Sara sat Indian style on my couch, teasing each other, making the other laugh. Jim and Al stood off to the side near my shelves, pointing at my various jars, no doubt cracking a joke or two at Miss Piggy's expense. And I sat at my desk, gently caressing my stomach, watching this reunion of sorts. I never realized just how much I'd missed seeing all these faces together, smiling and laughing, enjoying each other's company. I'd missed the familiarity, the comfort, and this sense of belonging. I couldn't have begun to describe to them the emotion I felt, but they would soon have a good idea.
As I looked around the room, I could feel my throat tighten up, and my eyes began to sting. I blinked them rapidly, silently cursing as my vision blurred. I covered my mouth and cleared my throat, trying to swallow around the lump that formed. But it didn't work, and I found myself more choked than before. I looked around my room, trying to find something to focus on until I pulled myself together.
But, of course, that would have been too easy. For I had Greg - ever the subtle one - in the room.
"Hey, Gris, y'alright over there?"
I looked up at him. His head was cocked to one side, an adorable, curious-puppy look on his face. I quickly prayed that no one else had heard him and let my eyes travel around the room. But, of course, this was Greg we were talking about. His whispers could have been heard across a crowded room. Everyone's eyes were on me; confused, questioning, burning. I could feel my face reddening and I silently cursed my embarrassment. I looked down at my desk and closed my eyes, wishing whole-heartedly that I could have just crawled under a rock.
A gentle touch to my shoulder brought my gaze back up. Opening my eyes, I was relieved to meet Nicky’s gaze. He stood beside me, smiling softly and benevolently, rubbing my shoulder softly. He sat down on the edge of my desk, rubbing my shoulder, and I couldn’t suppress my urge to lean into his touch. I leaned foreword and burrowed my blushing face into his shoulder, groaning lightly to myself. And although I couldn’t see them, I knew that we were getting odd stares from the others. It was no secret that Nick and I were together. We just never were big on public displays. They must have known something was up.
“Damn,” he chuckled softly, whispering in my ear. “Hormone’s are going to be the end of you.”
“I hate it,” I mumbled against his shoulder.
I could feel him laughing, my closeness allowing it to reverberate throughout my body. I couldn’t help but smile.
“Gil…”
Catherine’s voice - soft and worried - took me out of the moment. I looked up slowly, not wanting to look her right in the eye. Catherine knows me better than anyone else in this world. Better than Nick. Probably better than I know myself. I’ll admit, it’s always been rather intimidating. I met her eyes slowly, knowing what she was going to say.
“Grissom. What’s going on?”
Her voice was soft, tender, as if she were speaking to Lindsay. I couldn’t help but offer a small smile. She always knew how to make me feel all right, how to make me feel safe and secure.
I looked up at Nick, my brows furrowed in question. We had planned on telling them that day. We just hadn’t planned on my hormones randomly outing me. His smile was soft and he took my hand as he nodded.
“Might as well.”
Their reactions were just as I’d expected.
Al, father of six, grandfather to one, was full of advice and absolutely thrilled to be able to share some of it. Jim cracked a joke about my expanding waistline and I’m sure I blushed deeper than ever. Warrick’s smile looked as if it would rip his face in two, and he pulled out his old frat-boy charm. He punched Nick’s shoulder in a congratulatory gesture, commenting on his “Texas Swimmers”.
Sara’s smile was tight, and I could tell that she was trying her hardest not to be upset. Things between the two of us had gotten much better since Nick and I had gotten together, but I knew then - and knew now- that, deep down, she hasn’t quite gotten over what she felt for me.
Greg bounced up and down like a Chihuahua on Mountain Dew, clapping his hands with a manic giggle. I half expected to find a puddle on my couch when he jumped up to hug Nick.
Catherine’s eyes glistened and her lower lip quivered lightly as she smiled. She reached out, taking my hand in hers and I gave hers a soft, reassuring squeeze. And when she reached down to hug me, I couldn’t help but hug her back. Out of all my peers, I wanted her - my best friend - to be happy for me.
Life was starting to look fantastic after all.
My pregnancy was pretty much by the book. Or at least the book Catherine gave me. Since telling her about the baby, she’d been nothing but help. She’d bought Nick and I plenty of “research material”. She wrote out lists of things we would need, going as far as to write out where we could get it and what stores had the most reasonable prices. She provided me with questions I should ask my doctor and foods that were good for the baby.
And in the lab and on the field, she became an official mother hen. Catherine would guide myself and Nick as to what I could and couldn’t do, what chemicals were safe to work with, and the quickest route to the bathroom from various places in the building. She also taught me the joys of keeping a “screaming pillow” in my desk drawer, to help with those pesky hormones (which came in quite handy with Ecklie).
And Catherine was the one that threw me a baby shower. Of sorts…
It was late November, just after Thanksgiving and my 7-month marker, and to put it nicely, I wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine. I was beyond uncomfortable. The pasty few months had wreaked havoc on my body. My back ached, and my feet swelled under the additional weight. The baby was positioned close to my lungs, often leaving me a bit short of breath. I’d also been experiencing Braxton Hicks’ contractions. They felt more like an overly full stomach than anything, but that’s what the book was calling them. And to top it all off, I’d just been given strict orders by my doctor not to do field work for the duration of my pregnancy. Not exactly what I’d wanted to hear.
If I looked as bad as I felt, I had to have been a sight for sore eyes.
Needless to say, I wasn’t in the most cheery of moods when Catherine knocked on my door. I wordlessly called her in with a wave of my hand.
“Well,” she said, amused. “You look… great.”
I rolled my eyes and groaned softly, entirely displeased.
“Hey, could you come into the break room? I’m having a hard time figuring out this piece of evidence.”
I nodded, closing my notebook, eager to be of some sort of assistance. With all the restrictions I’d been given, I was ready to jump at any opportunity to help out. I walked slowly by Catherine, one hand supporting my lower back and the other gently caressing my stomach. I’d taken on the typical pregnancy pose shortly after my baby had started kicking, but had taken it on now more than before.
I’d always seen the pregnant rub their stomachs, but I never quite understood why until I was the one with the belly. The skin had gotten rather taught over the past few months and my belly button had turned from an innie to an outie. Though the intense itchiness was annoying, I could not help but be thrilled. The newly tight skin had also brought a new depth to my pregnancy: visibility. Nick and I had spent countless days lying in our bed, watching my stomach, smiling wide when we saw a small flutter against my skin. Sure, we went to work exhausted, but Nick’s laughter and kisses had been entirely worth it. It was an incredible feeling and I was glad to be sharing it with someone I truly loved.
“So what’s the problem?” I asked as we rounded the corner to the break room.
“I’ve got this piece of cloth with a bloodstain on it, and there’s this sort of weird imprint in it,” she shrugged slightly. “I figured you’d be able to decipher it.”
“Well, I’ll give it a tr-“
“Surprise!”
My eyes widened as I looked around the room. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Bright green steamers and balloons hung around the room, various insects on both of them. The table, usually flooded with papers and evidence bags, was lined with a matching insect-covered tablecloth, chips and pretzels and veggie trays set up. On one of the chairs sat a mountain of garishly wrapped packages, bright pink wrapping paper, light blue ribbons atop of gifts, and hideous tissue paper sticking out of equally hideous bags. The sounds of Pink Floyd filled the small room and a banner across from the door read “CONDRATULATIONS” in large handwritten letters, my friend’s signatures surrounding it. And around the table, smiles broad on their faces, was my team.
“Guys…” I was speechless.
Nick walked over to me, taking my hand and leading me into the room.
“Is this…?” I shook my head, unable to wrap my mind around the situation, let alone form a coherent sentence.
“A baby shower?” Nick laughed lightly at my nod. “Yeah. It was Catherine’s idea.”
He smiled wide at me and then over at Catherine. I, too, looked over at Catherine. She had a wide smirk on her face that only read one thing; ‘You’ve been had.’
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”
She shook her head, her smile widening.
“Real deal, Gris. Do I ever joke with you?”
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest, resting them on my distended stomach.
“This isn’t a bloodstain.,” I said, rather annoyed.
She laughed lightly, as did the others. I looked around at the group, trying to keep my pissy face. It obviously wasn’t phasing them.
“Gris, chill out for a bit,” Warrick said with a shrug and a smirk. “It’s a snooze day anyway.”
“And besides,” Greg smirked devilishly and slithered over to me, patting my belly. “Every expecting mommy deserves a baby shower.”
If looks could kill, I guarantee Greg would have been dead. The laughter from the others didn’t help any. Nick wrapped an arm around my back, kissing the side of my head tenderly.
“C’mon, Gil, it’s a tradition,” he smiled sweetly at me. “We’ve got cake…”
He pointed to the table and I looked down. In the center of everything was a large cake, still in a pan. Delicious looking green icing covered the cake, sloppily put on, and someone had decided to stick toy insects into it. Written in a darker green, yet equally messy, icing were the words “Ladybug or Drone Bee?”. The scent of chocolate wafted towards me and I could feel m mouth begin to water. I sighed quickly and looked back up at the group.
“Fine. As long as we don’t play any stupid games.”
My friends smiled wide, clapping, and Catherine cut the cake, giving my the first, large slice. It tasted fantastic.
The baby shower had provided Nick and I with just about everything we needed; toys, clothing, food, and even a stroller that they had all pitched in to buy. As much as I would never admit to them, I had really enjoyed myself.
One of the best things about the baby shower was that it had given us inspiration for the nursery. And by us, of course, I mean Nick. It had been two weeks since our baby shower and he hadn’t let me into the room once. Which was really inconvenient, seeing as the room had once been my home office and most of my stuff was still in there.
I mentioned this to Nick, hoping I’d be able to get a peek at what was going on. But, of course, that wouldn’t happen, for I was dating a smart-ass. I woke up the next day with numerous cardboard boxes at the foot of my bed, filled with my belongings. How humorous of him. Jackass.
My impatience was short lived, however. I was woken up one cold December morning to myself being shaken and an annoying fast repetition of my name.
“Gil! Gil! Gil! Gil!”
“What Nick!?”
I cracked open an eye, squinting up at Nick. He was quite blurry without the aid of my glasses. But Nick has a smile that could shine through the darkest fog, and that day was no exception.
“C’mere!” he said excitedly, taking my hand to pull me up.
I was definitely at the stage where getting up by myself was a joke. Which is why I was being woken in the morning in the first place. The baby shower marked my last day at work before forced “maternity” leave. I hadn’t wanted to go, but Catherine had insisted. And I had to admit, I was glad I’d listened.
I put on my glasses as I sat up, stretching gently. Nick kissed the top of my head, his hand rubbing at a knot at the base of my spine. My eyes closed and I let out a low groan of pleasure as I felt the tension ease away. I quite enjoyed being woken up like this
“Mmm, Nicky. Keep doing this and I might forgive you for waking me up at 8 o’clock,” I said with a smirk.
“Oh shush, it’s 8:30. I promise, I’ll give you an amazing massage later. Just come with me?”
I could never say no to his smile. That adorable ‘could do no wrong’ smile. Sighing defeatedly and a bit disappointedly, I nodded, letting out a chuckle.
“Alright, alright. But you better keep that promise…”
The nursery was amazing. It was as if we’d walked into some fantastic garden, right in my own home. The four walls were painted to look like a rainforest. Beautiful plants, tall trees, and flowered vines crept up to the ceiling all around us. Even the ceiling had been painted, looking as if the sun were shining through the trees’ canopy. A dresser and changing table sat side by side, stained a beautiful white, ladybugs, grasshoppers, and butterflies painted all over them, each insect unique.
And then there was the crib. It wasn’t the largest of cribs, just the right size, painted with the same intricate design as the other pieces of furniture. The inside was lined with a simple ladybug printed sheet. Topping it off was the gorgeous lightning bug night-light hanging just above the crib.
“Oh, Nicky…”
I turned towards my partner, a soft appreciative smile on my face.
“D’ya like it?” he asked with a small tilt of his head.
I nodded slowly, waddling over to the dresser, tracing a beautiful dragonfly with my fingertips.
“Did you do this yourself?”
“Yeah,” nick shrugged and moved so he was standing beside me, his arm wrapping around my back, rubbing my shoulder. “I’m pretty good around a tool bench, hmm?”
“Nick, this is amazing…” I turned to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He smiled widely at me, the same smile he always gave me when he knew he’d done a good thing. He slid his hand over my waist, resting it right on my stomach. We both laughed at the responsive kick our baby gave. Nick pulled away from me, bending down on one knee. With one hand resting on my side and the other still on my stomach, he placed a small kiss to the spot that had just been kicked.
I loved when he did that. It felt fantastic.
That Christmas was the best I’d ever had and New Year’s was just as special. Nick and I had spent it together, alone in our house, cuddling on the couch. And when the ball had finally dropped and Nick’s lips touched mine, I’d have sworn I’d made it to Heaven. Maybe life was starting to be fantastic after all. Just maybe.
Three days later, in the middle of the night, it happened. An unbelievably painful cramp ripped through the top of my stomach, wrenching my back. Our baby was coming. Fast.
Nick and I were at the hospital within a half-hour. And by sunrise, our daughter was here.
When the nurse placed her in my arms, it was as if time itself stopped. No one else was in the room, nothing was moving. It was Nick and I and our baby girl.
She was beautiful. She had Nick’s adorable nose and my dark, curly hair, fanning delicately at her temples and framing her face. As she squirmed in my arms, I could feel that she had Nick’s strength, and when she looked up at me, I saw my own blue eyes staring back at me. Our daughter was a perfect mix of the two of us, an experiment gone horribly right. She was perfect, simply perfect.
I sat up late that night, after Nick had fallen asleep, just holding her. She was asleep, curled against my chest, cooing softly. I stroked her soft, pale cheek, completely engrossed in this new project we’d taken up. I leaned down, kissing her forehead, whispering sweet “I love you”s to her.
For years, I’d searched for the one thing that would make sense of what Madam L’Amoureaux had always said. It’s the fantastic life. Could it have really existed? In thirty-five years, I had never found anything that classified my life as fantastic.
Never in a million years did I imagine I’d find it at the Desert Palms hospital. And yet, there it was, lying in my arms. The one thing that had made it set. My Emily Paige. My darling little girl had finally given me la vie fantastique.