Title: Billy
By: Chapin CSI
Pairing: Gil/Greg
Rating: PG
Note: Ok, I know nothing about kids, so maybe I'm the last person who should be writing a story about Gil and Greg adopting a kid. Yet here I am, presenting this first story about Billy, the little boy they adopted in Guatemala. The story of that adoption is still in the works, (knowing me, that story probably won't be ready till next year!). Meanwhile, here's a little moment in their lives…
Warning: I don't speak English and it shows in my stories; luckily, my readers are very forgiving. Thanks!
Summary: Years after adopting a baby boy, Greg worries about Gil's relationship with Billy.

***

"Rrrrrrh -"

The murmur was persistent, but Greg Sanders didn't notice it. He was sitting in the kitchen, his attention entirely focused on the lap top open in front of him. He was looking at it with something close to a scowl. He'd almost finished writing a report but there were a couple of pesky paragraphs still giving him trouble. He probably should have deleted them the minute he realized they didn't make sense, but he'd resisted; he thought all they needed was a little rewrite. Now, it seemed like his only option was to start the whole thing over.

It was so damn frustrating. Greg couldn't understand why he, who found it so easy to talk to people, had such a hard time turning his thoughts into written words. It always had been like this.

He sat back and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, he didn't look at his lap top but at the open window. Outside, the day loomed sunny and clear –a perfect day for anyone whose idea of happiness was to sit in the yard with a book and a tall glass of iced tea. Or maybe lemonade.

Gil thought days like these were made for yard work; in fact, right now, he was out there, pulling weeds and watering pots. No report-writing for Gil Grissom; oh, no, Greg thought morosely. Grissom composed the best reports Greg had ever read, and he wrote them amazingly fast.

On the other hand, Grissom had a difficult time talking. An extremely difficult time. Not that he did not talk; he just needed a little coaxing.

Greg smiled. Coaxing Gil could be such fun -

'Stop,' he told himself firmly. This wasn't the right time to be thinking of Grissom –although it was precisely because of Grissom that Greg fussed so much over his reports. As the boss' life partner, Greg felt duty bound to do a better job than the rest -not only to make Gil proud, but also to silence anyone who might think he got a special treatment from the boss.

Hence, the need to write a perfect report.

Greg looked down at the screen again and this time he didn't hesitate; he deleted the paragraphs. He'd start from zero.

With a sigh, he picked his notes again.

"Bom, bom, rrrrh-"

This time, Greg noticed the mumbling noise behind him. His brow relaxed as if by magic. Forgetting about the report, and smiling in anticipation of the scene he was about to witness, he glanced over his shoulder.

A little boy was kneeling on a rug, just a few feet away. Unaware of Greg's scrutiny, he continued playing with his wooden toy car, his lips pursed as he made those bom bom, rrrrrh sounds. He made the car roll down the black border of the rug -an imaginary road.

There were other toy cars lined nearby, including a couple of new trucks from Mattel; but the boy's attention was solely focused on the car in his hand, one of a half-dozen cars made of wood that Greg had recently given him.

Greg smiled indulgently. Those wooden cars and trucks had been lovingly handcrafted for him by Papa Olaf, more than twenty-five years ago. Greg didn't really appreciate them at the time, (and why would he, with more sophisticated toys to choose from?) but he'd kept them as a memento from his beloved grandfather.

If someone had told him that one day there would be a little boy who would cherish those toys above others, he wouldn't have believed it.

That this little boy would be his own son was just as unimaginable.

Billy. His son.

He and Gil had adopted the boy during a trip to Central America. He was almost three years old now; a bit tiny for his age but a far cry from the sickly child he'd been back then. He'd turned into a lively boy who charmed everybody –even Ecklie, who'd been unable to keep his 'no kids in the lab' rule during a recent visit. By the end of the shift he, too, was playing with the child.

"Uurrrrrmmmm -" Billy growled. He pushed the truck until it reached the sleeping form of Truddie, their Lab dog. "Oh, a big mountain," Billy said, and he carefully made the trailer climb Truddie's leg.

Truddie, already used to the child's games, didn't even wake up.

Suddenly, a shadow blocked the light coming through the window, and both Billy and Greg looked up.

Grissom was standing there, a huge grin gracing his sweaty face.

"Hey, Billy," he said, "You wanna lend me hand?"

The boy's luminous brown eyes lit up.

"Sure!" he said. Then, without missing a beat, he raised both hands and added, "Which one do you want?"

It was one of the standard jokes in the house.

"I'm going to need both," Gil said good-naturedly. "It's time to clean the earthworms' home."

And at the mention of the word 'earthworms' both Billy and Greg looked at each other and said, with perfect timing, 'EARTHWORMS? EEEEW!' But Billy rose from his comfortable place on the rug, willing to help.

Grissom's smile widened.

"Go put on your rubber boots."

"Yes, Gil," Billy said, clumsily trotting to his room.

"And your rubber gloves!" Gil called out.

"Yes, Gil!"

Greg followed Billy's retreating form with his eyes, and then he glanced back at Grissom. He didn't say anything because it was a subject he and Gil had discussed a few times before, but it still bothered him, the fact that Billy never called Gil, 'daddy.' Billy loved Gil and he trusted him, yet for some reason, his attitude remained that of a pupil towards a beloved teacher. Respectful. A bit distant.

Sometimes it was as if Billy were in awe of Gil…

Gil, on the other hand, didn't mind not being called 'daddy'. The last time Greg had broached the subject, Gil had shrugged, 'Hey, he can call me Lumbricus Rubellus if he wants.'

Now, Greg merely smiled at Gil.

"So. Earthworms, huh? Couldn't you bond with your son over something less messy?"

"Hey, earthworms are clean creatures," Gil said indignantly. Then he smiled mischievously, "I've heard they're also tasty and nutritious."

"Eeew."

Gil smiled back.

"Billy loves to get down and dirty," he said. "And he's learning all the names of the plants and the insects in the back yard -"

Listening to him, it suddenly occurred to Greg that Gil sometimes treated Billy like a pupil. He was always talking about teaching Bill something. Spanish. Baseball and football.

It was ok, Greg supposed. Someone had to teach Billy sports, anyway. Still… Sometimes he worried. After all, Gil had never really wanted kids; the only reason he went along with the adoption was because Billy's life was at risk.

It had been an imposition.

From the start, Greg had done everything possible to help man and child to bond. He'd even toyed with the idea of calling the child Gilbert, only to get a resounding 'no way,' from Grissom, who didn't exactly hate his name, but said that it was an 'old person's name.' So, in the end Greg settled for William in the hopes that somehow it would get Bill and Gil closer.

Now, listening to Gil chatter about Billy's work in the yard, there was no doubt in his mind that Gil had grown to love Billy…

"Tell Billy I'll be waiting," Gil said after a moment. As he stepped into the yard, he called out, "You can help us, if you want."

"Gee, thanks," Greg muttered sarcastically. Yard work was not his thing.

Moments later, Billy entered the kitchen, his rubber boots making a funny sucking noise on the linoleum. His arms were thrust forward, the rubber gloves held in his hands like a heavy offering. He still hadn't mastered the art of putting his fingers in the corresponding spaces, and he needed help from Greg.

Once he had his gloves on, Billy trotted to the door, only to stop abruptly.

"What's wrong?" Greg asked.

"Forgot," Billy said, and he turned around and rushed to Greg. "I'm gonna be outside, daddy," he said, and then he pulled at Greg's sleeve until the young man was leaning sideways. Billy tiptoed and kissed Greg on the cheek. "I'm gonna help Daddy Gil!"

"Have fun," Greg said. He smiled as Billy made his way outside. Such a sweet kid, he probably felt he was deserting one dad for the other.

Greg turned to his computer, more determined than ever to finish the report so he could join his guys –if only to watch. But before he could start, he suddenly realized that once again, Billy had referred to Gil as 'Daddy Gil'.

Why he wouldn't call Gil 'daddy' to his face was something Greg couldn't understand...

But it didn't matter. Judging by the laughs already coming from the yard, they got along just fine; and that was all that mattered.

--

Greg was deeply focused on his report again, when suddenly, Gil rushed inside.

"Hey," Greg smiled, "That was -" he didn't finish what he was going to say because Grissom looked like he'd just seen a ghost.

"Call Dr. Morris," he said tightly, and then he turned to the cabinet where they kept emergency medical supplies.

Greg's heart sank. Dr. Morris was Billy's Pediatrician. He immediately picked his phone and punched a number.

"What happened?"

"Bee sting," Gil said cryptically before rushing outside.

Greg began to breathe more easily. It wasn't that bad, he told himself; Billy wasn't allergic to bee stings -

But on the other hand, Billy had been a sickly baby, prone to other type of allergies. He'd recovered since then, but…

But you never know.

As Greg followed Gil outside, he prepared himself to see the worst.

Once again, relief flooded his veins: It didn't look so bad.

Billy was sitting on a deck chair, holding his arm close to his body. He was obviously in pain - his face was very red and his lips were pressed together -but he wasn't crying.

This was one of Billy's traits, one that had remained despite two years living with caring parents. He never cried.

It made them wonder about Billy's life before the adoption. They didn't know much, but it was obvious that the child had been neglected. From his behavior, one could assume he'd learned very early that complaining or showing pain would only lead to some sort of punishment, and so he'd always hold back.

He was a stoic little boy.

Greg's first impulse was to rush to Billy and fuss, but Grissom got in the way. The older man hunched down in front of Billy and said something soothing to the boy, who trustingly held out his arm for examination.

Greg was looking at all this when finally, Dr. Morris answered the call.

"A bee sting," Dr. Morris said after Greg explained. "Tell me, is he having difficulty to breathe?"

"No, he's not," Greg said, looking over Gil's shoulder. As he described Billy's appearance, Greg was struck by how quietly and efficiently Gil worked. For once, he was thankful that Gil saw Billy as a pupil; it allowed him to work on the child's wound in a detached manner. "Gil is scrapping the sting with the tip of a pocket knife," he added.

"Yes," Dr. Morris said, "That's the best course to take. Otherwise, the sting would release more venom." After a moment, he added, "Tell Gil to put some antiseptic on it -"

But Gil had already reached for the bottle of antiseptic and a cotton ball. His hand shook a little as he opened the bottle.

"I saw the bee," Gil said suddenly. He looked at Greg for the first time since they'd come outside. "I saw it and didn't do anything. I should have been more careful. I -" But he couldn't speak and hold Greg's gaze at the same time. He looked down again. "I could have done something to prevent this," he finished quietly.

Greg wanted to comfort him, but Dr. Morris was still giving him instructions on the phone. All he could do was watch as Gil reached for Billy's arm and gently held it.

"This is going to sting, Billy," Gil said softly. He paused for a moment, and then he gently swabbed the wound with the cotton ball.

Billy flinched and tried to disengage his arm, but Gil held on to it.

"I know," Gil whispered soothingly, "It hurts. I -I'm so sorry -"

Something in Gil's voice made Billy look up. His eyes widened.

Greg thought Billy's reaction was due to the pain, but when he glanced at Gil's face, his own eyes widened too.

A tear was rolling down Grissom's cheek.

Grissom was looking down at the purple wound on Billy's arm.

"I'm sorry…" he kept saying. "I'm so sorry…"

Greg tried to say something comforting, but Billy reacted first. Transfixed by the sight of his dad crying, he reached out and touched Gil's face. Clumsily, he wiped a tear. There were more, but he didn't touch those. He probably couldn't see them anymore, because by now his own eyes were filling with tears.

Billy's body shook with the first sob.

"Daddy," he whispered. "Daddy, don't be sad."

Gil looked up into the child's eyes.

Looking at them, Greg had forgotten all about Dr. Morris. He jumped when the doctor's voice suddenly broke through.

"Greg? Are you still there?" He sounded worried. "What's the matter? How is Billy doing?"

Greg watched as father and son flung their arms around each other.

He smiled.

"They're gonna be fine," he said softly.

The end

***