Righty-oh, after listening to "Roses" by Seether this idea popped into my head. And then I saw a picture on DeviantArt which just added fuel to the fire.

Set at the start of Season 10- What if Greg hadn't been as pleased to see Sara?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Unnoticed Beginnings: Hate

Sara sat on her sofa in silence knowing that in a few moments he was going to tear through the door like a raging like a summer storm. A tear ran down her cheek before she had a chance to blink it away. Just like she had predicted the door swung open and he tore into the apartment with a look of pure vehemence.

Earlier that day she had seen him for the first time in almost two years. It was then she realised that something was wrong. Instead of being pleased to see an old friend after so long he seemed to treat her like a stranger- distancing himself from the tales of Paris she was sharing and barely reacted to her gift. He refused to meet her eye and when she went to speak to him simply just walked away. But she could see it. The anger. The intensity brewing waiting to be let out. She'd seen his car follow not far behind her. He would be there any moment ready to let it all out- whatever it was he'd been bottling up.

He found her in the living room and before she could say a word he was roughly pulling her up by the arm so they were eye to eye. She looked at him with helplessness that made him shiver. A part of him wanted to stop all of this but it had been far too long and he just couldn't hold back.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he shouted pulling her towards him with such force that Sara almost fell. His expression was one of anguish. Sara remained silent as his iron grip held on to her and his nails dugs into her arm.

"Greg, please..." she pleaded finally not being able to stop the tears from escaping down her cheeks. She looked Greg in the eye but as she searched his face in order to understand she soon realised that the man in front of her wasn't the same person she had always known. He was looking at her in a cold almost analytical way. This was not the same man that brightened her day with his jokes, the man that she turned to when it felt like her world was falling apart.

"What Sara?" he baited her. "Do you want me to pretend that I'm happy? That everything's fine?" Greg laughed humourlessly he pushed her away from him finally letting go of her arm. His expression was now of disgust.

"Greg, don't do this." Sara attempted again to calm him down but it wasn't working.

"Why not Sara? Do you not want to know how I feel?" He shouted.

This was it. The flood gates were about to open there was no going back now. Every single word he wished he had spoken was now turning into reality- into actual sound. The last ten years lingering constantly in his memory. He looked at the woman in front of him a sense of fury moving like liquid fire through his blood stream.

"I'm done with this." He indicated to himself and then Sara. "I've had enough of waiting around. I'm over being strung along by you. One minute you're into this and the next you're bailing on me. And all for him."

"Greg, I'm sorry...I never meant to lead you on-" She started but he'd already cut her off.

"I'm sure you didn't." He spat at her bitterly. "It was just something that happened...it was an accident..." He took a step closer to her for emphasis and muttered in her ear. "Or was it because you actually wanted it?"

"Greg, stop it." Sara demanded stepping away from him. A twisted smirk played on his features a change from the frown that he had previously been wearing but Sara noted it was still unsettling.

"No offence Sara but I bet he isn't any good in the sack- maybe you needed a distraction something to fantasise about." he hypothesised with a grim smile. "You've thought about it haven't you? Imagined what it would be like...I can give you a demonstration if you want." He whispered the last part stretching his arm out running his fingertips along her bare arm.

"Just leave Greg. Go." Sara said her breath getting caught in her chest at the skin contact.

"Fine...I'll go..." his raised his arms in a defensive way. "But before I do...please...tell me what you see in him? Because I cannot understand it Sara."

"Greg, please can you just go." She kept her eyes focused on the ground not wanting to look him in the eye.

He turned around and began walking towards the door only to slow down after a few steps and turn to Sara.

"I never said congratulations...I hope you two are very happy together..." He said bitterly finally making his way out of the door slamming it shut causing Sara to jump slightly.

He threw himself into the driver's seat of his car his heart beating with relentless persistency against his chest. As he sat there attempting to calm down he wondered why he felt so bad for having said the truth. A part of him resented Sara- for what she had done and for the way she had treated him. But he knew that he would not be able to ignore the part of him that just wanted to pull her into his arms and never let go. And the latter part of him was dominating his mood in that moment. Turning on the engine of his car Greg pulled away from Sara's house his heart sinking slightly.

He needed a drink. He needed something to take the edge off.

Greg found himself in the same bar he used to go to back when he'd found out about Sara and Grissom a place he'd go hoping to forget how much it hurt. A place that became his refuge after Sara left and all he had left of here were memories and photos.

Amy, a bar maid he had found himself making friends with could tell that Sara was back in town from the run down look on Greg's face as he walked into the bar. She had listened to his drunk ramblings about a woman that just didn't seem to see. Amy had heard his opinion of Sara go from believing her to be ideal to almost odium. She noticed how his hazel eyes were darker, almost as if shadowed by sorrow, when he'd been thinking about her. She hadn't noticed it in a while but as he'd walked in that night she could tell Sara was most defiantly haunting Greg's memories.

"Sara problems?" Amy asked sympathetically. A shot of bourbon had been placed down ready for him at his favourite seat.

Greg frowned taking a sip from the fiery liquid that had become his salvation in recent times.

"Isn't it always?"