Title: Wish
Author: Kalimyre
Pairing: Gil/Greg
Rating: PG-13
Warning: mpreg
Note: Inspired by discussion on the Grissompregnant comm. Olawnsky's Syndrome was originally created by Knightmusic in her story In Search of a Reason. It's used here with her permission; thanks! Thanks also to Elmyraemilie for the great beta and head patting; she rocks like a giant rocking thing.
Summary: He took his time, glancing over at the developing test roughly once every three seconds. One minute, the package had said. One long, long minute.

***

Gil Grissom viewed trips to the doctor's office as a necessary evil; much like administrative meetings with the other shift supervisors, and paperwork. He did not want to be sitting in the small examination room, perched on the edge of the bed, swinging his feet. The cool, crisp sterility of the place didn't bother him, but the feeling of being too small for his surroundings did.

He found himself resting a hand over his belly again and frowned, placing it deliberately on the paper sheeting at his side. He began reciting an old, familiar list of insect phyla; the repetitive Latin was soothing.

He'd just reached Lepidoptera Palaephatidae when Doctor Fallon came in, sweeping briskly through the door, eyes on the open folder in his hands, white coat flowing out behind him. "Hello, Gil," he said, glancing up with a smile. "You're looking well."

Gil nodded and took the doctor's offered hand, shaking it perfunctorily. "Chris, good to see you again." Which it was, despite his general dislike of doctor visits. Chris Fallon had been his doctor for years, and Gil thought of him as a fellow professional and scientist, if not exactly a friend. It helped that the man carried an air of quiet authority and competence, with graying hair and a lined faced that spoke to long experience.

"I haven't seen you since before your ear surgery," Chris said, giving him a faintly reproving look over his glasses. "You should have had a follow-up appointment, you know."

"I did schedule one," Gil replied. "But I--"

"Had to work," Chris finished for him. "Of course you did."

Gil spread his hands and shrugged. "It happens."

"Hmm." Chris fixed him with a hard stare for a moment longer, then seemed to feel his point had been made and smiled, taking a seat. "So how is your hearing these days? I understand the surgery went well."

"It's fine," Gil said, with a dismissive flick of his fingers. "That's not why I'm here."

"So fill me in. What was enough to drag you down here?"

Gil looked down, not quite sure how to put it, and found his hand had once again snuck over to rest on his belly. He sighed and pulled it away, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. Better to just spit it out and get it over with, then. "I had unprotected sex six weeks ago," he said evenly.

Chris gave a slow blink, then nodded. "I see. Would you like me to test for STDs?"

Gil was shaking his head before the doctor finished speaking. "No, no, we're monogamous, and clean. That's not the issue here."

"Really?" Chris leaned back in his chair, smiling broadly. "I didn't know you had a partner, congratulations. How long?"

"Almost two years," Gil replied, after some rapid mental math.

"Well, good for you. I always thought you'd settle down eventually." Chris tilted his head to one side and pursed his lips, frowning slightly. "But if you're not concerned about disease, then what?"

Gil took a deep breath. "The Olawnsky's."

"You think you may have conceived?" Chris asked eagerly, leaning forward. "Have you had any symptoms?"

"Not exactly," Gil hedged. "Nothing specific. I've just felt... off, and I thought maybe..." He shrugged.

"Easy enough to find out," Chris said, opening a drawer and rummaging inside. "Ah, here we are." He handed Gil a slim, plastic packaged cylinder.

"A home pregnancy test?" Gil raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Will that work for me?"

"I see no reason why not. If you are pregnant, at six weeks you should have more than enough HCG in your blood to get a positive result."

Gil rolled the thing in his fingers, shifting uneasily on the bed. The divide between speculation and fact was suddenly very sharp and real. He'd known for years about his genetic fluke, his one in a million mutation that made this possible, but he'd never really thought about it happening.

"Bathroom's down the hall," Chris said, pointing. "It'll give you results in just a minute."

Gil nodded, and fiddled with the plastic wrapping. It felt so light and innocuous in his hands. Something cold fluttered through his chest and stomach; maybe fear, maybe anticipation. Maybe hope.

"Gil?" Chris asked gently. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Gil stood, slipping off the bed and giving the doctor a brief nod. "Be right back."

In the bathroom, he opened the package and read the instructions twice, although he was perfectly aware of how it worked. He went into the stall and completed the test quickly, glancing over his shoulder as if someone might catch him in such an absurd position. Then he put the plastic cap over the test paper and set the whole thing on the counter while he washed his hands.

He took his time, soaping carefully, glancing over at the developing test roughly once every three seconds. One minute, the package had said. One long, long minute.

Gil braced his hands against the counter and considered his reflection in the mirror. He was showing a bit of extra white around his eyes, his skin pale and full of deep lines in the unforgiving fluorescent lighting. Greg called his hair "silver, and sexy," but Gil only saw dull gray. He was pushing fifty, and he looked it. He had his career, he had Greg, his cozy home and his happy, settled personal life. A baby would change everything.

He splashed some water on his face, scrubbing his eyes, and took a deep breath. "Here we go," he murmured, and he picked up the test. The instructions had been clear; the result window would show either a plus or a minus.

Gil squinted at it for several seconds, as if looking harder might change the results, but they stayed the same--the test was negative. He put it down, blinked several times, and then picked it up again. Maybe it hadn't had time to develop all the way. Maybe it was too early in the pregnancy for it to work correctly. Maybe his unique situation made this test inaccurate.

But Gil knew none of that was true. And that was good, wasn't it? Because this was really not the time for a baby. He should be relieved. This meant no awkward explanations to everyone at work. No difficult and somewhat risky health problems. No disruption to his well organized life.

And that cold, hard ache in his guts was not disappointment. It wasn't.

Gil walked back to the exam room and handed the test to the doctor wordlessly. He sat back down on the bed, clasped his hands in his lap, and swung his legs. He had no urge at all to rest a hand on his belly.

"Ah." Chris sounded disappointed. He gave Gil a sympathetic smile. "Well, you can always try again. As you know, as your testosterone levels naturally decline, your reproductive system will tend more and more toward the female organs. This is really the ideal age for you to conceive, if you're trying."

Gil nodded. "It's for the best," he said. And it really was. Really.

"Did your partner know why you came here today?"

"No. Actually, he doesn't even know about the Olawnsky's syndrome."

The doctor's eyebrows shot up, and he frowned. "Gil... I don't want to tell you how to handle your personal relationships, but--"

"I should tell him," Gil said, nodding. "I know."

"Particularly if you want to keep trying to conceive. Do you?"

"I..." Gil spread his hands, and shrugged. "I'm not sure. I didn't think so."

"Well, from a purely scientific standpoint, I can't help hoping that you change your mind," Chris said. He leaned forward earnestly, resting his elbows on his knees, pressing his fingertips together. "You have a unique opportunity here--the Olawnsky's is rare enough in itself, and to have the complete set of uterus and ovaries, in healthy condition, is even rarer. You're in good health, and the balance of your hormones is ideal for both conceiving and carrying to term. I'm not saying there wouldn't be risks, but Gil, we're talking about being a part of medical history."

"Would you do it?" Gil asked. "If you could?"

Chris sighed and leaned back. "That's a hard question. It's a daunting thought, I admit it, but it's also a chance to do something truly amazing. Then again, I'm married, with children of my own. For you, this may be your only chance at fatherhood."

Gil opened his mouth, then shut it again, staring down at his lap. He swallowed the thick pressure that rose in his throat because he was not disappointed. This was for the best. Of course it was.

"I'm sorry," Chris said quietly. "I'm pressuring you unfairly. This is your decision, yours and your partner's. Talk it over with him, Gil. Give it some thought. There's no rush."

"Thank you," Gil replied, with a thin smile. He stood and shook the doctor's hand, then walked rapidly out of the office and into the bright desert day. Greg would be waiting for him at home, and Gil knew he could no longer avoid telling him everything.

~~~

Greg was on the couch when he walked in, bare feet propped on the coffee table, playing one of his video games. Gil glanced at the screen; it was the one with the improbably proportioned woman with the multitude of guns. He wasn't quite sure what the purpose was, but Greg seemed to like it.

"Hey," Greg said, pausing his game and putting the controller down. He grinned and patted the couch cushion beside him. "Done with your mysterious errands?"

"Yes." Gil sat down and Greg immediately looped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. Gil rested his forehead on Greg' shoulder afterward, rubbing his cheek over the worn cotton of Greg's tee shirt, and the smooth skin beneath. Greg still smelled like their bed, like sleep and clean sheets.

Greg stroked his back for a minute, then pulled back, angling his head to catch Gil's eye. "Everything okay?"

"Sure," Gil nodded. "But I need to talk to you."

"Okay," Greg said cautiously. "Does this have to do with where you went today?"

"To a certain degree." Gil shifted on the couch, leaning into Greg's side. He felt warm and solid, and there was no reproach in him for Gil's disappearing act earlier that day. He'd slipped out while Greg was still asleep, leaving a cryptic note that only said he had some things to take care of and would be back later. He wasn't sure why he shut Greg out that way, but he knew it did it more than he should.

Maybe he hadn't wanted to scare Greg with the possibility of a baby. Or get his hopes up; Gil thought that was, perhaps, worse. Then again, if Gil hadn't taken that test and wound up with a surprising stab of disappointment, one that still stung, if he was being honest--well, then he wouldn't have known how he really felt, would he?

Maybe there was something to that approach.

"Gil?" Greg nudged him, lifting his chin with two fingertips, giving him a concerned look.

"I went to the doctor today."

Greg blinked at him, and took a swift breath. "You... are you all right? What's wrong?"

"I have a very rare condition. It's called Olawnsky's syndrome, and it affects about point zero zero one percent of the male population," Gil recited. He'd learned everything he could about his condition when it had first been discovered years ago. The facts were dry and reliable, and he fell back on the science of it. "It's genetic. I've had it my whole life, although it wouldn't have presented until at least early adulthood. There isn't a lot known about the condition, since it's so rare and often goes undetected, but I've researched all the information available."

Greg touched his shoulder, then higher, his fingertips cool and shaking on Gil's cheek. "Is... are you... can they fix it? I mean, is there treatment?"

Gil shook his head, and Greg swallowed audibly, dipping his head. "Greg, it's all right," Gil said quickly. "It's not dangerous, it's just... complicated."

Greg let out a long, whooshing breath and slumped beside him. "Don't scare me like that!" He touched Gil's face again, smoothing a bit of hair from his forehead. "That wasn't nice," he said, but there was no rebuke in his voice, and he gave Gil a wavering smile.

"Sorry. It's really not life-threatening. Most men who have it never even realize they do."

"Okay, so... why the face?"

Gil raised an eyebrow. "Face?"

"Yeah, you came in here looking like someone stomped your favorite tarantula." Greg grinned, poking him playfully in the side. Gil couldn't help smiling back at him; Greg always bounced back so quickly.

An idea tickled in the back of Gil's head, a way to test the waters--to see how Greg really felt about a baby, the same way he'd found out how he felt about it himself. "The syndrome affects the development of my internal organs," Gil began carefully, watching Greg's reactions. "Specifically, I have more than most people. I have the full, normal set that any man is born with, but I also have an extra group of reproductive organs."

Greg stared at him for a moment, and then laughed, giving Gil an impulsive squeeze around his waist. "I always suspected you had some extra balls."

Gil smiled. "Not exactly."

Greg darted an uncertain look toward Gil's lap. "Um... well, if it was something else, I would've noticed by now. It's not like I haven't had a chance to do some pretty close inspections."

"They're on the inside," Gil said. "And they're female."

Greg shook his head slightly, and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He peered suspiciously at Gil's belly, touched it tentatively with one hand, and then jerked his fingers back. "What?"

"I have a complete set of female reproductive organs. Ovaries and uterus, fully functional." And Gil knew he really should take some pity on Greg, but he couldn't help a small smile at the completely flabbergasted expression on the young man's face. It wasn't often that Greg was speechless.

"Functional?" Greg squeaked. "You... you can..."

"Get pregnant, yes." Gil hesitated for a moment, and then decided to go for it. "In fact, I went to the doctor today because I suspected I already was."

Greg drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. "You... you're kidding me, right? This is your weird sense of humor, isn't it? That's what this is."

"I can show you the research on Olawnsky's if you want," Gil offered. "And I'm sure you remember my court date last month." The one he'd worn his new suit to--the suit that Greg had liked so much he'd pounced the moment Gil came in the door afterward. They were normally meticulous about condoms, for hygienic reasons if not worry about disease, but Greg had been in no mood to wait, and Gil had quickly been swept up in his zeal.

Greg nodded faintly. "You... um, are you...?" He waved one hand, blinking at Gil with wide, round eyes.

"Yes," Gil said evenly, and it didn't even feel like a lie. An experiment, maybe. Just to see what the response would be. "About six weeks along."

Greg stared at him, frozen for a long moment, and then he scuttled backward on the couch, nearly falling in his haste to stand. He looked at Gil unsteadily, and scrubbed his hands over his face. "You're... and I'm... and we, we're going to..."

"Have a baby," Gil said, remaining poised on the couch and watching Greg carefully.

"Right," Greg said with a sharp nod. "That. Baby. Right." He looked around, spotted his shoes in the hall, and stuffed his feet in them without bothering to untie them first. "I'm, uh..." he said, lingering by the door. "I have to... there's a thing, I have to... yeah." He opened the door and cast a brief, panicky look back over his shoulder. "I'll come back," he promised, and then he ducked his head and slipped out.

Gil sat very still for a few minutes, until it became clear that Greg was not just getting a moment of fresh air. Then he nodded to himself and laced his fingers together in his lap, staring at them. "Well," he muttered, "you wanted to know how he felt."

It wasn't fair, he supposed, to judge Greg like that. He'd just laid an awful lot on the man all at once. After all, when he'd first discovered that he had the physical capacity for pregnancy, he hadn't exactly been calm and rational about it. He'd had years to come to terms; Greg hadn't.

And really, what had he expected? Gil wasn't entirely sure he was ready for a baby; how could he expect Greg to be ready? Greg, who was twenty years his junior. Greg, who barely seemed like he'd finished growing up most of the time. Hell, Greg who was young enough to be his son, if he was being honest.

Besides, it wasn't like they'd be able to hide their relationship anymore, if Gil was actually pregnant. They'd been discreet at work because of their positions; Gil was Greg's supervisor, after all, although he was careful about having Catherine handle Greg's evaluations so there could be no appearance of unfair favoritism. He knew he was probably harder on Greg at work because of their relationship, rather than easier, but Greg took that in stride.

But if this came out, it would mean one of them changing shifts, possibly changing jobs. Greg had just become a fully certified CSI level one, and he'd worked so hard for it, wanted it for so long. How could Gil ask him to give that up? If they changed shifts, they'd barely see each other, and Gil had to admit that he had no intention of giving up his team. He valued his people; trusted them, relied on them, and didn't want to lose them.

He had, for some time, been thinking about changing his technical position, though. If he were a consultant, rather than an administrative supervisor, he could still work cases and have the authority that came with his experience and expertise, but not the direct control that made his relationship with Greg a conflict of interest. He'd explored that option more when he'd thought he might be pregnant, actually, and it looked viable--but it didn't really matter now.

Greg's reaction had been honest and instinctive--he'd run, and fast. Gil knew he'd been foolish to hope for anything else. He just had to accept that he couldn't have a baby and keep Greg at the same time. One or the other.

Gil wished he knew which one he wanted more.

~~~

Gil was sleeping when Greg came back. He'd been unable to sleep before his doctor's appointment that day, and he had the night off work, so he'd crawled into the bed he usually shared with Greg and tried not to think about it for a while. He wasn't sure what time it was when he woke, but the sky beyond his bedroom windows was dark, and the house was still and quiet.

Greg was perched on the edge of the bed, pale and indistinct in the weak light coming from the hall. His hand rested on Gil's abdomen, his fingers tracing lightly, slipping beneath his shirt and stroking delicate patterns on Gil's skin. His eyes were intent, fascinated, his lips barely parted in a tiny, awed smile.

"Greg?"

Greg lifted his gaze, but kept his hand where it was. "Hey," he said softly. "Didn't mean to wake you. How're you feeling?"

Gil started to sit up. "Greg, I'm not--"

"Oh, no you don't," Greg interrupted, pressing his shoulders back to the mattress. "You stay put." He grinned, bouncing up so quickly he rose a little on his toes. "Wait right here. I want to show you what I got."

Gil watched, bemused, as Greg darted out of the room and thumped down the hall, returning with a bulging plastic bag. He flipped the overhead light on and sat back down on the bed. Greg leaned in, brushing a fast, smiling kiss over Gil's lips, and then began pawing through the contents of the bag.

"I wasn't sure what we'd need, so I just got a lot of different things," Greg said, sorting the stuff into piles. "I might have gotten a little carried away," he added, with a sheepish look. He held up a book so Gil could see the front. "See, a baby name book! I didn't know if you already had a name in mind, so I thought, this way we have lots of choices. Because I know how you like to research and everything, and see, this tells us the history of the names and what they mean and how they developed and everything."

Gil shifted until he was propped up against the headboard and blinked dazedly at Greg. There were diapers and bottles on the bed, small, soft, brightly colored toys and a pair of tiny, tiny shoes, a knitted cap and a baby monitor, a ridiculously small tee shirt with some kind of rock band logo on it and a can of powdered formula. "Greg," he said, shaking his head. "Listen, this isn't necessary."

"Well, I figured Catherine would have a ton of stuff for us, because I just know she kept all of Lindsey's things, but what if we have a boy, right? I mean, given that there will be two XY genetic contributions the likelihood of having a boy is two out of three viable pregnancies." Greg held up the tee shirt, fitting it neatly over his hand. "They had a whole lot of these at the store. Man, you wouldn't believe how much baby stuff these stores have. Aisles and aisles of it, and I thought, we should go together because I don't know what you want, but I really had to get this one. I have this same shirt, only, you know, bigger. Wouldn't it be cool if we went out and I was wearing mine and the baby was wearing this?" He bounced a little on the mattress, and touched Gil's stomach again, gently. With that same tiny, awed smile.

"I thought you didn't want this," Gil said, careful to suppress the accusation that wanted to creep into his voice.

Greg ducked his head, and cast an embarrassed look up at Gil through his lashes. "Yeah, I kinda freaked out. I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "I know that was a crappy thing to do. I just... needed to get my head around this a little." He offered an apologetic smile. "But I'm here now."

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Gil asked. Because he knew Greg had a tendency to try too hard, sometimes, to want to please him and make him happy by saying what he wanted to hear. Gil was more inclined to trust Greg's initial reaction than some attempt to make up for it that was motivated by guilt or obligation.

"Gil..." Greg sighed and scooted up beside him, curling against his side. He nuzzled the side of Gil's throat, and breathed in, wriggling contentedly. "I knew, when we got together, I mean really, seriously, rest-of-our-lives together, that I would never have kids. It's down to anatomy, you know? And that was okay, because I had you, and that would be enough. But now, if I can have both... of course I want that." He smiled cheekily at Gil, and kissed him.

Gil kissed back hard, pulling Greg in, nibbling at his lower lip and threading a hand through his hair. He would never be able to find the right words to tell Greg how much he'd needed to hear what Greg had just said, how grateful he was, but maybe, if he kissed him well enough, Greg would know.

"Well," Greg said afterward, a tad breathlessly. "Someone's feeling his hormones."

Gil couldn't help a brief wince. He was going to have to let Greg down. "No, that's not it."

"So, just my incredible appeal, then?" Greg asked, with a saucy smile.

"I'm not pregnant," Gil blurted.

There was a beat, and then: "But... what? I thought..." Greg was blinking at him, shaking his head, and his hand had landed on Gil's belly again, holding tightly.

"I thought so, too," Gil said, and Greg's obvious disappointment and wide, unhappy eyes brought back the sting of his own all over again. "But when I took the test at the doctor's office, it was negative."

Greg's brows drew together, and he leaned back, crossing his arms. "Then why did you tell me you were?"

"I'm sorry," Gil said, wrapping a hand around Greg's wrist. He was looking like he might run again. "But I wanted to see... well, I wanted to see how you'd react if I were. Because I could have been."

"Why didn't you just ask me?" Greg sounded more hurt than angry, and Gil felt guilt settle in his belly like cold sludge.

"If you had asked me this morning if I wanted to have a baby, I would have said no," Gil told him, speaking slowly. He wanted to choose his words just right, and words never came easily. "It wasn't until I saw that negative result that I realized I did want this. I didn't want to admit it, but..." He spread his hands, unable to express just how he'd felt. The worry and the uncertainty had been there, but also anticipation and excitement and, yes, hope. And when it had turned out to be for nothing, he couldn't deny that it hurt; that he'd wanted that test to be positive.

Maybe Greg understood, or maybe he saw some of that on Gil's face, because he thawed slightly, taking Gil's hand in his and stroking a thumb over his palm. Gil met his eyes, and gave a small smile. "I'm sorry I lied to you. But I thought, this way we can both find out how you'd really feel about it."

"And scare the hell out of me in the process," Greg said, not without reproach, but he leaned close again, radiating warmth across the space between them.

"That too," Gil replied. "But you recovered well."

"Mmm. Maybe too well." Greg gestured at the pile of baby things on the bed with them. "I'm pretty sure the store clerk was laughing at me, by the way. You owe me one embarrassing shopping trip."

"I'll go with you next time," Gil promised. "That is, if you want to try again."

"What, shopping?"

"No, conception," Gil said dryly. "I do still have the syndrome, after all, and my doctor says now is the ideal time."

Greg gave him a bright, electric look. "Really? Like, now now or just generally now?"

"Well I think he meant it generally," Gil began, but couldn't finish because Greg was on top of him, kissing him amidst the bottles and tiny shoes and sweet smelling baby powder.

"There's no rush," Gil said, when Greg let him breathe long enough to speak.

Greg looked down at where they were pressed together, and shifted his hips experimentally. "Doesn't feel that way from here."

"I didn't mean--"

"Hush," Greg said, quieting him with another kiss. "I'm trying to make a baby here. You interested in joining me?"

And Gil kissed him, because that was answer enough.

~~~

Fin

***

Next story in series - Solace.