They face off. Tired eyes meet tired eyes and they transmit anger and sadness to each other, troubled brown against troubled brown. There's discomfort lingering in the air. Tension is thick and it's clearly visible in the look their giving each other as they stand on opposite ends of the hall.

Her hands are tucked in the back pockets of her jeans; her jaw is clenched shut, her mouth in a grim frown which makes her age years. She facing him fully, waiting for him to say something, waiting for him to welcome her back. She knows he won't. It's only wishful thinking, but she wants him to…she wants him to.

He, however, is frozen mid-stride. One hand is up in the air, stopped mid-swing as he saw her. The other is down by his side, holding a case file. His eyes are wide, and his jaw is working furiously, working to keep words shut behind his teeth. He's not facing her fully; only having just rounded the corner, he's facing her only three-quarters of the way. He isn't waiting for anything, except to watch her walk away again.

"Greg…"

That's enough. She isn't leaving, and he's quite happy with that, but she left before, when the crew needed her. That pisses him off. Still, she's his best friend, and he feels a marginal need to be civil to her through his anger.

"Glad you're back," he says stiffly and then he continues walking. He has to go passed her to get to the labs, and he tries to do so quickly. He doesn't want this to drag out. He wants to move passed her and pretend like she was never there. That way when she leaves again, it won't be quite as painful.

She has other plans, though. As he passes her she pulls her hand out of her pocket and grabs his arm, wrenching him around and forcing him to face her. There they are again. Closer, definitely, and staring; troubled brown against troubled brown. She can see the sharp breaths he taking. Keeping him calm, she bets. She wishes Greg would just say what's on his mind, because it would be easier for him to move on once he let go.

"I'm sorry I left."

His troubled brown eyes harden; narrow on her and he hisses, "A lot of people were."

She doesn't let herself be cowed. She never has. She's seen a lot, and she's dealt with worse than his anger. It hurts, but it doesn't change the fact that she's here now. She's here for him and the crew. "I had to, though. You have to understand…"

She's cut off, and she starts to feel her anger rise as well. She expected his anger, but she also expected him to let her talk. He jerks his arm away from her like a stubborn child not willing to listen to his mother's warning and he says, "I don't have to understand anything, Sara. I don't have to listen to anything you have to say." He backs away from her, gripping his case file tighter. "You left. I'm sure you have your reasons. And the great Sara Sidle doesn't have to explain to anyone."



Her lips purse and she glares hard at him. It's a look she's perfected and instantly she sees she hasn't lost her touch. He cows a little under the intensity of her stare. It's not something she takes pride in, but it's something that gets his attention.

"I left," she says venomously, "because I had to face my past, Greg. I was in a downward spiral and I had the courage to realize it. It wasn't as easy as it sounds and I would appreciate it if you at least to a moment to realize I was in pain too!"

They face off. He looks put out. His jaw still works furiously, and his hand still grips the case file tightly. The hardened look, though, had returned back to a resigned tired glaze and she could feel her own eyes doing the same. They're reversed. She's where he was and he's where she was in the hall. But the anger is gone and only sadness lingers, an emotion more easily over come with the right people around them.

"You could've at least…at least said goodbye."

He's gone then and she's left staring at empty space, imagining his outline and what she could say to him to make him understand. The anger had receded; that was a start, but how far behind was she. He was her best friend. She supposed she could have made a small effort to say goodbye, but then the goodbye never would have come. She knew that.

She also knew that she could never go on with her life with ghosts in her closet. They were clawing at her psyche and she needed to exercise them before they took over her. She needed out of the spiral she was in and she needed out of it before she destroyed the crew…her family. Greg included.

She just wishes he would get that.

leben

They face off. Tired brown eyes meet even more tired brown eyes. There's a sadness permeating in the small room, filling their nostrils and making their lips slow to let words through. They are sitting at the table in Nick's apartment, the meeting place they had been going to since the Diner is no longer a safe haven anymore. They're hunched over a cup of coffee, enjoying…in the most miniscule sense of the word, a forced break from Warrick's case.

Nick fingers the handle of his coffee mug, seemingly distracted and his jaw is relaxed. That in and of itself proves his exhaustion. His brow is furrowed together and his eyes are red and bloodshot with the amount of sleep he hasn't gotten.

Greg has his elbows on either side of his coffee mug, his head in his hands as he goes through his and the crews' entire life history, wondering if the Grim Reaper follows them with a sick smile twisting its face. It's been a while since he told Nick about his confrontation with Sara, and though he wishes Nick would say something; he's given up on the prospect. Nick's not going to be much of a conversationalist. Nick's not feeling up to being much of anything…but he wants him to be.

"Well…"



That's enough. He's talking against and Greg is ready to heave a deep sigh a relief. He realizes he isn't Nick's best friend, but they're close enough that he doesn't want to lose the man. He lost two friends with in the course of one year. Any more and that would be the end of everything.

"Well, what?" he asks almost eagerly when Nick tapers off. He has to get to Nick. He can't let Nick go and replay over and over what had gone wrong in their friendship too. He can't be left wondering what would have been if something had given between the two of them.

It looks like Nick has other plans though. He takes his sweet time in answering, his tired, tired eyes staring at him, through him, past him all together. They stare at each other, haven't stopped staring at each other. Greg can see the slow, almost painful breaths that Nick seems to be forcing himself to take. The older CSI seems to be forcing himself to live, and Greg wishes he could say something…anything to make breathe on his own again.

"Did you forgive her?"

His sad brown eyes soften with regret as he whispers, shamefully, "She left, Nick. I'm a little pissed off."

Nick nodded stiffly, as if he was restraining from yelling…again. He had gotten very good at raising his voice in the last forty-eight hours, but for this he managed to keep his voice in check. Greg needed to understand. "At least she came back. You have no idea what I would give to have Warrick be able to do the same."

He's ashamed now and he looks down into his mug. He hadn't looked at this through Nick's eyes. How badly it must hurt him to watch Greg be able to reunite with his best friend while he wouldn't be able to for quite some time. How angry it must make him to watch Greg deny Sara's return, when he would give his soul to have Warrick do the same. But still, there was the fact…"Warrick didn't have a choice though."

Nick's eyes go blank so quickly there must be a vacuum behind his eyes, sucking out the emotion. His face sets with pain as he stared a hole into the top of Greg's head. The look is so tangible Greg can see it, even though he's still staring at his empty mug.

"Explain to me how that makes it better, Greg," he asked sadly.

They face off. Greg looks back up and sees Nick's jaw flexing. He's trying not to yell at Greg. He's trying to refrain from throwing the younger CSI's stupidity in his face and Greg appreciates that. But it doesn't take the fact that Greg has just ruined his own friendship, when Nick has lost his. The irony of it stings Greg down to his core and he wants to take his foot from his mouth so badly…

"I suppose it doesn't."

Nick nods, and in his eyes relief, small and barely alive, sparks in the recesses of the dark sadness. Greg feels glad that he could help in that, even if it was through his stupidity. He reaches across the table and pats the Texan's arm, thankful for both the advice and the sign of life.



"I'll be right back," Greg says quietly as he stands from his seat. He pulls his hand away from Nick and starts for the front door.

However as he moves past Nick, the man's hand shoots out and grabs his arm, stopping him in his tracks much the same way Sara did earlier. He looks down curiously, wondering what he had done to suddenly warrant the Texan grabbing him in a reminiscently angry way. He doesn't expect the sad look to be completely overcome with worry as Nick says, "Just use the office."

It clicks immediately that Nick doesn't want him to go outside where he could easily be shot. It clicks that he's reliving Warrick all over again. It clicks that Nick still cares…he still cares and that's a great sign for the older CSI. Caring was what the man lived for.

He nods to Nick and moves into the small cramped office of Nick's apartment before pulling out his phone and dialing Sara's number. He waits and in the small moment in between the second and third ring, he wonders if she'll answer. He wasn't nice to her earlier, and it would make sense if she doesn't want to talk to him anymore. She had come back and apologized to him…and he had thrown it back in her face.

Idiot!

"Sidle." The sudden voice on the other end of the line startles him enough that he physically jumps.

"Hey, Sara…look, erm, I'm sorry about earlier," he says slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks out the office door and meets a wall, but imagines Nick sitting where he left him. "I was mad, and granted some of my anger was geared towards you, but most of it was geared toward Warrick's case. I, er, I didn't mean what I said."

"I understand, Greg. Don't apologize."

He nods as he sees Nick emerge from his small kitchen coming over to stand in front of the office door.

They face off as Greg finishes his call with Sara, promising to take her out for breakfast. They have to go to work, where brown with meet the Brown case, the reason for all the sadness.

A/N: This was going to be longer, have it be a complete circle within the crew…but I became obsessed with the recurring theme of 'brown'. I haven't watched the last season finale. I'm getting there. I've read about it, but have yet to see it. I don't know if Warrick's dead or not, so I tried to skirt around it while still mentioning it.

Also! I have insomnia! If there are blatant mistakes it is no one's fault…but the Sandman's.

Disclaimer: (last because I hate it) Despite my recent re-obsession with CSI, I don't own it.

InnocentGuilt