"A Time To Be Born" (Nick/Greg, 4/4)

[snow-white.livejournal.com]

Last installment, folks, and thanks for the wonderful feedback you gave me on chapter 3. I’d offer chocolate to the first person who names the DVD Emily watches in this chapter, but I have a feeling you’ll all recognise it. Thank you to the awesome elmyraemilie for beta work.

Title – A time to be born

Author - black_dahlia63

Characters – Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders, various OC’s

Rating – PG.

Warning – character death. Yeah, big time Kleenex warning.

AN - the prayer Greg uses is the Norwegian version of the Lord’s Prayer, and thanks go to Nina for helping me with linguistics again. The poem Nick reads is Henry Scott Holland’s “All Is Well”.

Disclaimer – Not mine, sadly.

part one here

part two here

part three here


Greg’s notebook, August 17th.

Last year I booked a table at that Cajun restaurant he likes, because we both had the night off. The Denali was in the shop, so we had to take my car, but when we got down to the parking garage it wouldn’t move – he got out to see if he could fix it, and I was right behind him before he even opened the hood. I pressed him up against the wall, and even though he told me to stop I could tell he didn’t really mean it…I got down on my knees, blew him right there, and he came so hard he couldn’t move after I got done – I had to grab his arm and drag him into the elevator, and we only just managed it before the guy in 213 pulled into the spot next to ours. We spent the rest of the night in bed(never mind the restaurant, we ended up raiding the fridge around 1 a.m), and he ragged on me for days afterwards about how I must have done something so the car wouldn’t start, but I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about.

(It was the spark plug, actually. I went down and put it back once he’d finally gone to sleep.)

None of that tomorrow, though – we’re parents now, right?

*****************

August 18th, 12.20 p.m

Court had taken longer than he’d planned, and because he’d just come off a week of working nights Nick was barely able to keep his eyes open by the time he got back home; he rode the elevator up to the third floor, blinking sleepily and morbidly certain that he was going to open his front door to find the apartment full of people, despite what he’d told Greg.

But when he turned the key in the lock and opened the front door, all he could hear was a familiar sound coming from the direction of the living room. It was the DVD that had been a present from two of Emily’s cousins the previous week, and to which she’d become instantly addicted – so much so that Nick and Greg had formed a pact that they wouldn’t play it for her more than once a day.

“Touch a needle on this tree and I’ll give you such a doing!”

“Oh yeah? You and what army?”

“Oi!”

“Oi! Oi!” Emily shouted, from where she stood between Greg’s thighs, clinging to his knees as he sat on the floor. When Nick coughed loudly, his daughter turned towards the sound, and four teeth were instantly displayed in an ear-to-ear grin; letting go of one of Greg’s knees, she swayed unsteadily, but Greg caught her before she could fall.

“You look surprised,” Greg said, rising to his feet with Emily in his arms and crossing the room. “Thought there were going to be a dozen people here, didn’t you?” and he shifted Emily to rest over his right hip so that he could curve his left palm around the back of Nick’s head. “You told me no party this year, right?” he said, a smile spreading across his face before he tilted his head so that their lips touched for a second or two. “Happy birthday,” he murmured, and then he looked at Emily. “Are you going to say happy birthday to Nicky, kiddo?”

“Oi!”

*******

The two of them were sitting on the couch with Emily between them; she was enthusiastically ripping up the empty envelopes which had contained the birthday cards covering the coffee table, and every so often Nick or Greg would pluck a piece of paper from her fingers just before it found its way into her mouth.

“Careful,” Greg said, passing a small package to Nick once all the cards had been opened. “Don’t drop it.”

“Did she wrap this herself?” Nick teased, his lips twitching into a smile as he picked at the tape securing the crumpled tissue paper; he was finding it easier to smile now, although it still didn’t come automatically the way it had done six months previously. Ever since the terrible day when Emily had been taken to hospital and he’d shed tears, it had been as though an immense weight had begun to lift from his chest.

“Smartass,” Greg said in a whisper. “You know I’m no good at that stuff,” and he watched Nick lift the present from its nest of paper. It was a white mug, with Nick painted on one side in red lettering and a small red handprint on the other. “You like it? We went to that pottery place across town, you’ve got no idea how hard it was to get a good handprint from her -”

“I love it,” Nick said, his voice a little uneven. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured into Emily’s hair as his daughter continued shredding paper, and then he looked up at Greg again. “So what did you get me?”

“You’ll find out once she goes to sleep this afternoon,” Greg told him matter-of-factly, and he quirked one eyebrow ever so slightly before leaning to pick Emily up. “Going to come and have some lunch?”

************

2.00 p.m.

Nick glanced at the dresser to reassure himself that the baby monitor was turned on, and then he tiptoed out of the room; he pulled the door almost shut, and once he’d done this he walked along the hallway.

The blinds in the bedroom he and Greg shared were closed, blocking out the afternoon sun, and a single candle on one of the night stands cast flickering light. Greg sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, wearing only the black cotton lounging pants he always put on to go to bed, and when he saw Nick standing in the doorway he rose to his feet; closing the distance between the two of them, he grasped the hem of Nick’s T shirt with both hands and moved his head forward so that their mouths were almost touching.

“Anything you want,” he said, breath shunting from his lips to Nick’s. “Until she wakes up again, I’m all yours.”

***********

Rising on his knees, Greg reached for the bottle that sat in a basin of hot water on the night stand; he uncapped it, allowing some of the contents to trickle onto bare skin, and then he leaned forward.

His fingers roamed over Nick’s shoulders and he began massaging them slowly, a soft smile curving his lips. When he reached what was evidently a particularly sensitive spot, the prone figure beneath him stiffened visibly, and Greg instantly let his touch become feather-light.

“You’re all tensed up,” he murmured. “Just relax, I got you,” and he resumed his efforts. Taut knots of muscle were probed and smoothed out, and for a long time the only sound in the room was the whirring of the air conditioning unit – then, when Greg pressed the heel of his hand slowly along the curve of Nick’s spine, there was an audible sigh of appreciation.

“Better?”

“Mm,” Nick responded, not lifting his head from where it rested on his forearms. “You’re too good to me.”

“I know I am,” Greg said. “Deal with it,” and he was smiling as he stretched himself out on top of Nick. He tilted his head, darting the tip of his tongue into the hollow behind Nick’s ear, and when his ears picked up a hitch of breath he drew Nick’s earlobe into his mouth and bit down gently. “Now turn over so I can work on the other side.”


**********

4:45 p.m.

Greg walked out of the shower, towelling his hair briskly, and found the bedroom empty; a familiar gurgle of laughter echoed down the hall, followed by nonsensical babbling, and it made him smile as he collected his clothes from the floor and put them back on.

He walked into the kitchen to find Emily in her high chair, eating a banana which she’d squashed between the fingers of both hands. Nick sat at the table, looking at a small piece of paper which bore the signs of having been folded and unfolded many times; he kept his eyes on it while he slid a mug of coffee across the table, and as Greg accepted the mug he found his interest piqued.

“What’s that?”

“She lives about six doors down from Catherine,” Nick said, still not looking up, and he held the scrap of paper out to Greg; it bore a phone number and the name Angie written in Catherine’s habitually neat script. “Looks after a few kids in her house.”

“Oh?” Greg responded, trying to act casually. “How long have you had that dragging round in your pocket?”

“Remember when she was teething?” Nick said, turning his gaze towards Emily who was now working the remnants of the banana into her hair. “Cath gave it to me after our shift ended one night - she said one of us was going to end up falling asleep on the witness stand or at a crime scene one day if we didn’t get some help.”

“You said we weren’t going to put her in daycare.” Greg paused, thinking of this piece of paper sitting in Nick’s pocket for over a fortnight, and he reached out to take Nick’s hand. “I said I was fine with that, and I meant it – I still do,” and he managed a rueful smile. “She’ll get all her teeth eventually, right?”

“I don’t want her to pay for what happened to me,” Nick said as he looked at his daughter. “We can’t wrap her up in cotton wool just because of one sick person, G, she needs to be around other people too.”

“Only when you’re ready for it,” was Greg’s response, and he tightened his grasp on his lover’s hand – sensing, somehow, that there was another reason that hadn’t been revealed yet. “You haven’t got to prove anything to anyone, you know.”

“It’s all this, too,” Nick told him, waving his free hand around the kitchen. “The three of us like this, it doesn’t happen anywhere near enough,” and his voice became quieter. “I – there’ll be times when I’m here on my own and I think about Cisco, and I need to talk to you and you’re not here,” he went on; he lowered his head, and when it came up again he was blinking rapidly. “That’s selfish, isn’t it?”

“No,” Greg said quietly, and he thought of all the nights when their bed had seemed miles wide without Nick in it; his chair scraped as he leaned forward, planting a kiss on Nick’s mouth, and he smiled gently. “Tell you what – neither of us has to be anywhere until tomorrow, why don’t you call this woman and see if we can meet her tonight?” and his smile widened. “You do that, and I’ll see what I can do about getting this mess out of Em’s hair without having to shave her head.”

“We don’t even know if you’ll get back on nights, though,” Nick said, a doubtful tone in the words despite the relief in his eyes at the fact that Greg understood. “And I don’t know if Cath mentioned the shift thing, this woman might not want a kid five nights at a time, and that’s if you can even -” but whatever else he might have said was cut off by another kiss.

“Call her,” Greg said, and he stood up. He scooped Emily out of her high chair, provoking an outraged squawk, and a handful of banana was swiped across his face; he carried her from the room, and once the two of them were in the hallway he stopped moving. For what seemed a long time, there was no sound from the kitchen –then, when the silence was finally broken, Greg found himself smiling.

“Hi, is that Angie? Ma’am, you won’t know me, but Catherine Willows gave me your number…”

*************

7:00 p.m.

The breeze ruffled the flag hanging from a pole in the front yard of the house; toting Emily over one hip, Nick followed Greg up the path that divided the neatly-manicured grass. They stopped on the porch, turning to look at each other, and Nick opened his mouth to speak – but before he could say something like are you going to ring the bell, G? or maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, there was the sound of a chain being drawn back, and then the door opened.

The woman looked as though she was in her mid-fifties, short and smiley with greying hair and bright blue eyes; she was wearing a T shirt bearing a faded emblem that couldn’t be made out on the dim glow of the porch light, and she wiped her hands on her sweatpants before extending one of them to Nick and Greg in turn.

“Just a bit of flour,” she said, her accent betraying New York origins. “I was baking when I saw you pull up,” and she stretched a hand out towards Emily. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing?”

“She’s a bit shy around people she doesn’t know,” Nick said, trying to keep a note of apology out of his voice as Emily buried her face in his shirt. “Maybe -”

“Just give her a bit of time,” was the response. “That’s all it takes. Now, come on in and have some coffee,” and the woman stepped aside to allow her guests into the house.

************

Greg’s notebook, 2 a.m.

We were there for more than two hours, and I honestly didn’t realise it until I looked at my watch. She makes chocolate cake that’s even better than my mom’s, and we seemed to talk about everything except why we were actually there – but I think she found out everything she wanted to know about us anyway, because I get the feeling she doesn’t miss much. Must come from her husband being a cop - I guess that intuition kind of rubs off, right? I know she picked up on how nervous Nick was, even though he tried not to twitch when she picked Emily up – she got him talking about Texas, because her best friend lives just outside Dallas, and after a while it was like they’d known each other for ages.

She and her husband moved down here so they could be near her son – he and his wife both work for United Airlines, and she started watching the grandkids when their parents both had to work at the same time. (told Nick he should stop worrying about the shift thing, ha ha) She just loves being around children, she doesn’t do it for the money – which makes me feel a lot better about this, if I’m honest. She’s got one other kid at the moment, and the grandkids are there one week every month – that way it’ll be like a family, not one of those huge commercial places that seem to be everywhere.

She didn’t put any pressure on us – just said we should call her if we wanted to take things any further. I liked her a lot, though, and even though Nick still hasn’t said very much I think he did too – so we’ll see what happens, won’t we?

***************

October 9th, 7.00 a.m.

“You’re quiet,” Greg said as they headed for their first destination. Nick had been quiet the entire shift, now that he thought about it; he was pretty sure it hadn’t been merely due to the fact that their case had involved the victim being in the kitchen while his head was in the bathtub, because Nick would have said something then. Ever since they’d started dating seriously, they’d had one rule that was carved in stone – they didn’t talk about work at home – and now they were parents, this had become even more important. “Anything you want to tell me?”

“Later,” Nick said, managing a smile that was almost convincing, and he brought the Denali to a halt outside a house where the Stars and Stripes flapped in the early-morning breeze. Killing the engine, he removed the keys from the ignition and then headed towards the house with Greg in tow; once they were up on the porch, he knocked at the door – quietly, because he knew Angie’s husband was working nights this week - and Nick’s smile became a genuine one when a shrill “Ee-ee-ee!” echoed from inside the house.

“You’re just in time,” Angie said, opening the door wide to let them in. “There’s a fresh pot of coffee just brewed,” and Greg knew from experience that there would probably be cake or waffles to go with it, because Angie’s mothering tendencies didn’t stop at the children she looked after. “Rough night?”

“Don’t ask,” Greg said. “It’ll be all over the papers later on.”

“Oh, God, were you two at that thing off the Strip? Max was called out to that, he said something about the guy’s head – no, I won’t ask,” Angie replied as the three of them entered the kitchen. “Look who’s here, Emily -”

“Hello, sweetheart,” Nick said, moving swiftly across the room to scoop Emily out of the playpen that sat in one corner of the kitchen. He planted a kiss on her forehead, producing another delighted squeal, before passing her to Greg to receive the same treatment; they sat down at the kitchen table as mugs were filled and handed out, and for the moment at least Nick’s worries were pushed to the back of his mind.

It had taken him a long time to call Angie after that initial meeting, and the first time they’d dropped Emily off with her had been a weekend they’d booked off so that if there were any real problems they could go and collect her before the night was over. She’d cried when it had become clear they were going to leave without her, reaching out towards them from Angie’s arms; everything in Nick had told him this wasn’t going to work, that they should just take her home…but then Angie had said just go and wait on the porch, okay?, the look in her eyes saying that she knew exactly what was going through Nick’s mind. They’d done what she’d suggested, although Greg had had to tug pretty hard on Nick’s arm to get him out of the house, and they’d listened through the partly-open front door in amazement as the sobbing was abruptly cut off; when they’d peeked through the living room window moments later, they’d seen Emily crawling purposefully in the direction of Angie’s elderly cat as a stream of chatter flowed from her lips. “Let’s go,” Greg had whispered, and they’d headed back for the apartment where they’d slept for the next nine hours - and when they’d returned the following morning, there’d been coffee and carrot cake while Emily sat in a highchair cramming her mouth with Cheerios, something she’d refused to even try eating at home.

*********

1:20 p.m..

A quick check to ensure that the baby monitor was switched on, and then Greg slid into bed; the blinds shut out the afternoon sun, Emily was going to sleep for at least two hours, and he and Nick had developed the habit of taking catnaps at the same time. But he knew Nick too well to believe that he was already asleep, and so Greg slid an arm across the unmoving shape beneath the covers – and his suspicions were proved right when there was a gentle sigh.

“Nicky?”

“Mom called last night,” Nick said, shifting so that he lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. “While you were talking to Warrick.”

“Something with your dad?” Greg asked, leaning until his head touched Nick’s shoulder. Bill had asked to be taken off the clinical trial two months previously, when it had become apparent that whatever they were testing on him was making him feel worse instead of relieving his symptoms; lately, he seemed to alternate between sleeping for most of the day and not eating, or trying to do things he was no longer capable of and then getting angry with himself.

“He went to the specialist yesterday,” Nick answered after a long silence. “Guy told him he shouldn’t fly.”

“Oh, man,” Greg said softly. “Well, listen, we take the party out there, that’s all – no big deal.”

“Everyone was supposed to be here,” Nick said. “People from work, my folks, yours…” and an audible sniff echoed in the darkened room. “How often have your folks seen her, G? Twice?”

“Three times,” Greg replied. “They understand,” he said, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at Nick. “They understand, Nicky, they know why we go to Dallas so often,” he went on. “You know they do.”

“But -”

“No,” Greg said, emphasising the word ever so slightly. “I’ll call them later today, I bet they’ll be able to come out to the ranch instead – and even if they can’t…” He broke off then, draping himself across Nick’s chest and feeling Nick’s arms winding themselves tightly round him.

Even if they can’t, they’ll be around for the other birthdays. Although Greg hadn’t finished the sentence aloud, Nick had known what he would have said – because it had been hanging over them for over half a year now, and it was getting closer with every day that passed.

*******

Dallas, October 19th, 4.00 p.m.

The back yard was full of people, and balloons had been tied all the way along the fence; a table had been placed at one end of the deck, laden with food, and the air rang with the shrieks and giggles of the younger children playing on the grass.

To all intents and purposes, a family party like so many others, but the faces of the adults told a different story. Whenever one of the children approached they would be hoisted onto someone’s lap, favoured with a smile, their hair ruffled affectionately; but when they were back roughhousing on the grass again, the adults would talk in small groups, their faces showing what none of them could say aloud.

Nick leaned against the wall, holding a beer that he’d only taken one or two sips from, his eyes riveted on a scene playing itself out a few yards away; Greg was sitting cross-legged on the grass, his posture mimicked by that of Nick’s twelve year old niece Daisy. Emily was walking back and forth between them, honing a skill she had mastered barely a week since; when she lost her balance and landed on her bottom she was scooped up by Daisy, who blew a raspberry against her neck and made her shriek with laughter.

Bill Stokes sat in a nearby lawn chair, an untouched glass of iced tea in one hand; pain had etched new wrinkles into his face, but his eyes were riveted on his youngest granddaughter as though committing her face to memory – and as Nick looked at his father, he felt his throat tightening until it was hard to breathe.

One birthday, that’s all he’s going to see…

“Nick, can you give me a hand?”

Blinking rapidly, he looked round to see his mother standing in the half-open doorway holding a cake. Easily more than two feet long, it bore a cluster of pink rosebuds at each corner, along with the words Happy Birthday Emily and a single candle at the centre; Nick knew that his mother must have been up very early that morning in order to get it finished in time, and he managed to smile as he opened the door all the way to allow her to walk out onto the deck.

“Kaketid, mamma!” Greg called out to his mother, who was deep in conversation with one of Nick’s sisters, and everyone gathered round as the cake was set on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw his father levering himself out of his lawn chair infinitely slowly; he watched his niece scramble to her feet, leaving Greg to pick Emily up, before approaching her grandfather and placing a hand on his arm. Whatever his father said was too quiet for Nick to make out, but he saw Daisy’s hand drop down to her side again as Bill picked up his cane and made his way up the three steps leading to the deck.

“What did he say to her?” Nick asked under his breath as Greg drew level with him.

“Don’t know,” was the response. “I was sorting Em out, she tried to eat grass again,” and before they could do more than turn to look for Daisy, the singing had begun.

“Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday, dear Emily,
Happy birthday to you…”

*******

It didn’t take him long to find Daisy, because all Nick had needed to do was think about where he’d always gone as a child when he’d been upset about something.

He pushed the door open and closed it behind him, breathing in the familiar scent of straw and horses. He didn’t call out, but walked silently with his eyes alert until he reached the empty stall at the very end of the stable block. A figure was huddled in the corner, hands clasped around their knees and dark hair hanging forward to hide their face; climbing over the gate, Nick crouched down beside his niece and touched her shoulder, only to be rewarded with a mumbled, “Go ’way.”

“Daisy, whatever he said, he didn’t mean it, okay?”

“He s-said he didn’t need anyone fussing over him,” and when Daisy lifted her head Nick could see that her eyes were almost swollen shut from crying. “I only wanted to help him get up, and he just shook my hand off,” she went on, her lower lip quivering. “He just gave me this real angry look -”

“He’s not angry at you, sweetheart,” Nick said, sitting down next to her. “He – well, he’s scared about what’s happening to him, and when people get scared they can get angry too.”

“I don’t want him to die, Uncle Nick,” Daisy said, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t want him to die and still be mad at me -” Her voice cracked then, and when Nick put an arm round her she didn’t fight him off. He held her as she wept furiously, shedding tears which he suspected had been held in for a long time; eventually, he retrieved a Kleenex from his pocket and handed it to Daisy, who dabbed at her eyes before looking at him.

“You talk to your mom and dad about how sad you are?”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Mom doesn’t like talking about it,” Daisy said, looking down at her lap. “She cries when she thinks I’m asleep and dad’s working late, so…”

“You can’t keep it to yourself,” Nick replied, and he swallowed hard, because that was exactly what he’d done for more than twenty years. “You’ve got to talk to someone, otherwise – well, it eats you up,” he said. “I know it hurts your mom to talk about your grandpa not being around for much longer, because it hurts me too.”

“Does Greg let you talk to him about it?”

“Yes, he does,” Nick said. “And your mom’s going to let you talk to her too, once I have a word with her.”

“No, Uncle Nick, you can’t -”

“Yes, I can,” Nick said with a solemn smile. “I’m her little brother, it’s my job to bug her about stuff,” and he put a finger under Daisy’s chin when she stared down at her lap. “No, you look at me,” he said quietly. “We’ll stick together and we’ll make this better, okay?” and after a long silence there was a tearful nod. “Going to come out and have some cake?”

“’M not hungry.”

“Well, you sit next to me, and I’ll eat your cake for you,” Nick told her, and he rose to his feet. “How about that?”

********

8:00 p.m.

“How come Daisy gets to stay over and I don’t?”

“Because Uncle Nick and Uncle Greg need her to help them with Emily tonight, that’s why,” Nick’s sister Janet said, her eyes meeting Nick’s over the car roof. “They’re going to bring her back tomorrow when they leave to go to the airport.”

“That’s stupid,” Daisy’s brother Sam muttered, kicking one of the car’s tyres to emphasise his disgust. “I could help them too.”

“You know what?” Nick said. “You can come visit us in Vegas,” and he bent down to boost the disgruntled five year old into the car. “I bet Greg’s going to have a new game or two for his PlayStation pretty soon.”

“What about Bully?” Sam asked, enthusiasm sparking in his eyes. “Will at school says it’s this really cool game where you -”

“Not till you’re at least fifteen,” Nick said. “Do your seatbelt up, kiddo,” and he straightened up to look at his sister. “You going to be okay?”

“I will be,” Janet said, smiling although her eyes were red-rimmed, and in the next instant Nick was enveloped in a fierce hug. “Thanks, Nicky,” she whispered shakily before the two of them broke apart; stepping back, Nick watched her get into the driver’s seat, and he kept his eyes on the car until it had disappeared from view.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said, and he closed his eyes briefly as Greg’s arms slipped round his waist from behind.

“Where’s Emily?”

“Your mom wanted to give her a bath, and mine’s probably in there telling her she’s not doing it right,” Greg said, leaning forward so that his chin rested against Nick’s shoulder. “You coming in now?”

“Yeah,” and Nick turned to face Greg in the near-darkness. “Listen, I – thank you.”

“What for?” Greg said matter-of-factly, raising one of Nick’s hands to place a kiss in the centre of its palm. “Come on, it’s getting cold out here,” he went on, and he kept hold of Nick’s hand as the two of them walked back into the house.

*************

The noise of the TV was clearly audible when they stepped into the kitchen, and Nick made his way towards the hallway with Greg close behind him; he moved over the threshold of the den, ready to ask whether anyone wanted something to drink, but the words stuck in his throat.

Greg’s father was sprawled in one of the big leather armchairs, his head tilted back and his eyes closed as a low rasping noise emerged from his lips. A foot or so away, Bill sat at one end of the couch, also asleep but with one arm round Daisy who was curled against his side; her eyes were fixed on whatever was on the TV, but in the dim light from the nearby lamp Nick could make out trails of moisture on his niece’s cheeks.

Nick remained motionless, a lump in his throat as he thought about fences that were being mended now only to be torn down again who knew when – then a hand came to rest on his shoulder, squeezing gently, and a kiss was planted on the back of his neck.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Greg said quietly, and the slight unsteadiness in the words said that he was thinking the same thing Nick had been. “I think our daughter needs rescuing from her grandmothers.”


********

November 15th, 8:55 a.m..

Nick woke to the smell of coffee and a metallic banging noise in the kitchen, and a smile touched his lips – because even though his eyes were still closed, he could picture exactly what was going on several yards down the hall. Greg would be fixing breakfast, covering every square inch of counter space with crumbs and spills, while Emily would be indulging in her current favourite pastime – emptying the one cupboard that didn’t have a child lock, and then banging a ladle against one of the saucepans.

“Emily, you want orange juice?”

“No!” and this made Nick chuckle softly, because although his daughter knew several words now this was the one she used most frequently. “No, no, no…”

“Let’s take our breakfast and go see Nicky, kiddo.”

“No!” but moments later two sets of footsteps were heading towards the bedroom; Emily made it first, moving swiftly to Nick’s side of the bed and grinning with her face inches away from his.

“Nick! Nick!”

“There’s my girl,” Nick said, his smile matching hers, and he leaned down to lift Emily up onto the bed. “Did you help Greg make breakfast?”

“No!”

“Well, at least she’s being honest,” Greg said as he placed a heavily-laden tray on the night stand on his side of the bed. Once he had climbed beneath the covers again, he reached for a mug of coffee and passed it to Nick before setting a plate within everyone’s reach – and the moment this had been done, Emily grabbed a piece of toast and started cramming it into her mouth.

“What are we going to do today?” Nick asked, once he’d half-emptied his coffee; it was a Saturday, and since neither he nor Greg had to be back at work again till Monday evening they had the rare pleasure of an uninterrupted weekend ahead of them.

“This one needs a new pair of sneakers,” Greg said, nodding down at Emily, who was reaching for a second piece of toast even though the first one was still swelling her cheeks to hamster-like proportions. “No you don’t,” he said with a smile, catching hold of her wrist. “Swallow that one first,” and as his words were met with an aggravated squeal the phone rang next to the bed. “No, I got it,” he said when Nick moved to set his coffee down, and he reached for the receiver. “Hello?” he said, and his smile disappeared instantly. “He’s right here, Jillian, one second.” He held the receiver out wordlessly, and as Nick took it he felt ice creeping into the suddenly hollow space in his chest.

“Mom?”

*********

“Where are my keys?”

“I’ve called a cab,” Greg said as Nick rummaged through his pockets with shaking hands. “Nick, stop,” and he reached out to take Nick’s hands between his own. “You’re not driving, okay? Don’t worry about it,” and the silence that followed was broken when the buzzer sounded next to the front door. “Come on, Em,” Greg said, bending down to pick her up. “Let’s go.”

“Bit!” Emily shouted, wriggling in Greg’s arms as she was borne towards the door. “Bit!”

“Oh, Jesus,” Nick said faintly, feeling as though everything was caving in around him. “I don’t know where it is, G, let’s just -”

“It’s over there,” Greg said, raising his voice when Emily began to cry, and he nodded towards the couch. Feeling as though his legs were going to give way at any moment, Nick moved to retrieve the tattered cloth diaper without which Emily would never leave the apartment; he held it out in a shaking hand, and Emily grabbed it before pressing it against her mouth as the sobs were cut off as if by magic.

The buzzer rang again, and Greg moved swiftly into the hall. “Yeah, we’re on our way down,” he said into the intercom, and he opened the front door with his free hand. Hoisting the bags, Nick followed in his wake, and once the apartment had been locked the three of them headed for the elevator; Greg pressed the button to summon it, and then he and Nick looked at each other in silence.

And before Greg could think of anything to say or do that would make everything hurt any less for either of them, the elevator doors pinged open.

**********

Dallas, 5:40 p.m.

“Nick?”

“He had to go see grandpa Bill,” Greg said, stroking Emily’s hair; he was rewarded with a smile, and then his daughter went back to the plastic blocks that had been occupying her attention.

Nick’s mother had made breakfast that morning, but when she’d gone upstairs to tell her husband it was ready she hadn’t been able to wake him; he hadn’t woken since, although he was still breathing, and now he lay in a hospital bed surrounded by everyone who’d been able to respond to Jillian’s panicked phone call.

Three of Nick’s sisters had managed to make it, two of them accompanied by their husbands, and a fourth would be landing in Dallas within the hour; Nick’s brother was in Saudi Arabia on a business trip, and wasn’t going to be able to catch a flight until the following morning. “You can’t take that child in there,” an officious nurse had told Nick and Greg half an hour previously; so Greg was sitting in the relatives’ room down the hall, staring at year-old copies of “Time” and “Newsweek” while Emily busied herself with the meagre contents of the toy box, and the words on the pages of the tattered magazines were eclipsed by a memory of Jillian’s blank, emotionless face as she sat by the head of her husband’s bed.

*********

9:15 p.m.

“Fader vår, du som er i himmelen.
La ditt navn holdes hellig.
La ditt rike komme.”

It was dark outside now, and the hospital had quietened down, because anyone who didn’t need to be there once night fell had gone home several hours since. Emily lay asleep on the floor, her beloved “bit” clutched in one hand, and all Greg could do was watch her and wait for news. He’d never wanted to be with Nick as much as he did right now, and the fact that there was only a hallway separating the two of them was hurting him more than he would have believed it could - and then, from some distant memory, he’d found the words his mother had used every night when she’d tucked him into bed.

“La din vilje skje på jorden som i himmelen.
Gi oss i dag vårt daglige brød.
Forlat oss vår skyld,
som vi òg forlater våre skyldnere.”

He recited the familiar words with tears stinging behind his eyes, and a lump in his throat made it difficult to speak – because as bad as Nick’s kidnapping had been, this was far worse. Nick had been rescued, they’d both come through it – but it wasn’t like that now. Nothing was going to bring Bill back, and how could he possibly know what to do to help Nick through this?

“Greg?”

“Yes?” He turned towards the door, blinking furiously and there was the nurse who’d smiled at Emily earlier that evening and offered to heat her bottle - but she wasn’t smiling now, and Greg felt the blood draining slowly from his limbs. “Is he – has he gone?”

“No,” was the answer as the nurse came into the room, close enough for Greg to be able to make out the W. Harvey on her name tag. “But I think you ought to go in there now.”

“I can’t,” he said, looking down at his daughter who was mercifully oblivious to what was going on. “They won’t let me -”

“I’ll watch her,” the nurse said, reaching out as though she were going to place a hand on his arm, but then she seemed to think better of it – and Greg was glad, because if this stranger had touched him he would have started crying and never stopped. “She’ll be fine,” she told him. “Go on,” and by some superhuman effort Greg pulled himself up from his chair.

Moving slowly, as though he feared he would fall over, he made his way out of the room and walked the few yards that brought him to a door with a label bearing the number 7; once he had taken a deep breath, he pushed the door open and walked into the room.

Closing the distance between himself and the group assembled round the bed, he placed his hands on Nick’s shoulders; Nick’s right hand came up to cover Greg’s left, and he turned his head briefly to look at Greg before redirecting his gaze towards the figure in the bed.

Greg thought of how Bill had been – god, it wasn’t even a month, was it? – when everyone had been at the ranch for Emily’s birthday; his face had been lined with pain, the slightest movement had left him exhausted and irritable, but deep down he’d still been Bill. You and my son feed her too much sugar, he’d told Greg when Emily had put up a fuss about going to bed the night of her party. If she’d grown up in this house she’d never have been allowed a piece of cake that size - but there had been gruff affection in the words nonetheless…

…but looking at the motionless, gaunt form in the bed, Greg knew there was almost nothing of Bill Stokes in there now. It was a mere husk, the pain dulled by the drugs Bill had refused for as long as he could, the constant beeping of a monitor the only sign that Nick’s father was still hanging on somehow; and seeing this, Greg resumed his prayer so quietly that the noise of the machine drowned the words out.

“Led oss ikke inn i fristelse,
men frels oss fra det onde.
For riket er ditt,
og makten og æren i evighet

Amen.”

“Daddy?” Janet said, her voice wavering, and in the same instant the beeping changed to a continuous drone. “Daddy, no -” and she sagged against her husband, shaking with sobs. The door opened and a doctor who Greg had seen in the corridor earlier slipped into the room; moments later the machine was switched off, and the droning noise was replaced by the sound of quiet weeping.

“G?”

“Right here,” he said, in a voice that sounded nothing like his, and without another word he leaned down to wrap his arms round Nick; as he did so, his eyes wandered to Jillian, who had clasped one of her husband’s hands and pressed it to her lips.

Greg thought back to the terrible night when Nick had been hauled from the Plexiglas box he’d been buried in…when he’d looked round the door of that room at Desert Palms and seen Nick’s injured face against the stark white hospital pillow…when he’d seen Nick’s eyes open and had been so relieved he’d thought his heart would stop. What if I’d lost him? he asked himself. What if it had been me sitting holding his hand the way Jillian’s holding Bill’s now? - and because the idea was more painful than he could comprehend, Greg pressed his face against the back of Nick’s shoulder and wept.

Not only for Nick, but for himself too.

************

Dallas, November 24th, 11:15 p.m.

“We should be downstairs,” Greg said tentatively from the bedroom doorway. “The car -”

“I can’t get my tie done up,” Nick muttered, staring into the wardrobe mirror and making another attempt at something he’d done a thousand times but which eluded him now. “Damn it -”

“Here,” Greg said, moving into the room. “Let me,” and within a matter of seconds the tie was resting neatly against Nick’s shirt. “See?”

“How many times have I done that before court?”

“Listen,” Greg said gently, placing a hand each side of Nick’s face to lift his head up. “You’ll be fine - you will,” he went on, and he let his lips touch Nick’s for a few seconds. A few more hours and it’ll be over, he wanted to say, but he stopped himself – because he knew that what they were about to face was only the beginning, and that he’d have to find the strength from somewhere to get them both through it. “Come on, you,” he said, bending towards Emily who was playing on the bedroom floor. “We’re going to go for a ride in the car.”

********

12:30 p.m.

The church was packed, and folding chairs had supplemented the pews; there was a single wreath resting on the coffin, along with a photo of Bill in his judicial robes, and Nick had been unable to take his eyes off it since he and Greg had sat down in one of the front pews. Emily, awed into silence by all the dark clothing and by the fact that nobody was smiling, had fallen asleep in Greg’s arms twenty minutes after the service had started; Greg had been afraid to put her down in case she woke up, and so he held her in the crook of one arm while he followed the service sheet over Nick’s shoulder.

“-Hear and answer prayers devoutest,
Break, O Lord, each binding chain,
Dash the gates of death asunder,
Quell the devil and his train;
Bring the souls which Thou hast ransomed
Evermore in joy to reign.”
The hymn ended, and the congregation sat down as a single unit; the minister threw an enquiring glance towards the front pew, and Nick summoned every bit of strength he could in order to rise to his feet. He took the handful of steps that brought him to the lectern, and once he had stepped behind it he sucked in a deep breath as he looked down at the words on the sheet of paper.
“You’ll be fine – you will.” And with Greg’s words still inside his head, Nick began to read aloud.
“Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
I am I, and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name,
speak to me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference in your tone,
wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me and if you want to, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was,
let it be spoken without effect,
without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was;
there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you,
for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just around the corner.
All is well.”

His vision blurring, he looked up from the lectern at the crowded church; then his eyes came to rest on Greg, looking back at him from the front pew with one arm round Emily, and Nick knew he would be fine. Not right away, and maybe never completely, because the gap left by his father’s passing was impossibly large – but he had Greg, and he had their daughter, and as long as he had them he had everything he’d ever wanted.

He had his own family, and life would go on.