A/N: Hi everyone, and welcome to another fantastic fanfic! A few things before we get started:

1) The fic takes place during and after "You Kill Me" from season 8 of CSI. Therefore, it contains spoilers up to that point. Don't read it you don't want it spoiled.

2) The italicized lines at the beginning of every chapter come from the song "Five Becomes Four" by Yellowcard. The five and four that this refers to is Grissom's team (not including Grissom, since he leads the team).

3) The rating is T for generally dark thoughts and some coarse language. I doubt this will change.

4) The "pairings" for this fic (if you want to call them that) are canon-GSR and unrequited Sandle. This is an extremely Greg-centric fic, and focuses a lot on his thoughts and feelings.

5) I don't own CSI, any subsequent characters and plots, or the Yellowcard song.

6) Chapter related things: this chapter contains dialogue from the episode "You Kill Me." You'll probably recognize them. There are very chapter that do this, since the fic takes off in a completely different direction after this chapter. So why did I include it? Well, as you'll see after reading the next chapter, Greg has many dark thoughts regarding Grissom's role in Sara's departure, and I wanted to give Grissom's side of things before bombarding you with Greg's.

7) (Last one, I promise!) Please read and review! All feedback is welcome! I should be updating within the week, so let me know what you think! Thanks!

Chapter 1

"Needed some time
So I could find
A little strength to redefine"

When Grissom saw Jim Brass coming at him, he wanted to turn around and walk the other way. It was nothing against Jim; Grissom simply wasn't sure if he was ready for the barrage of questions sure to follow Sara's sudden exit from Las Vegas. Still, there was no avoiding it, as Brass had already spotted Grissom and was hurrying in his direction. "Gil!" called Brass. "Are you going this way? Good, I am too."

Grissom forced a more pleasant onto his face as he and Jim walked together. Suddenly, he remembered something that he had been meaning to ask Brass about. "Ecklie's been on me to finish the monthly states, so I need a list of all the lab call-outs from dispatch as soon as you can," he informed Brass.

Nodding, Brass affirmed, "You'll have it by the end of shift tomorrow."

Grissom shot him a quick look. That was faster than Brass would normally have something like this done. He wondered vaguely what Brass was up to, but responded with a quick, "Thanks."

There was a brief pause before Brass said off-handedly, "So you've been pulling a lot of doubles this week."

Though there wasn't a question in that statement, Grissom felt obligated to answer. "Yeah, it's about all I do," he responded, hoping the humor would brush off what was sure to Brass's next question.

It didn't. "Have you been in touch with Sara?" asked Brass, his voice tinted with concern.

Grissom almost smiled at the predictability of the situation, but he thought better of it, opting for the easy answer and hoping that his unwillingness to talk about it would get Brass of his back. "We've talked a little."

If this information surprised Brass, he didn't show it. "So where's she at?" he asked instead.

"San Francisco, visiting her mother," Grissom answered. He knew that this was not exactly what Brass meant, but he wasn't willing to voluntarily give out private information regarding him and Sara.

"No, I mean—that's nice," started Brass, a hint of exasperation beginning to tint his voice. "No, but I meant where's she at emotionally? You know, with respect to the two of you."

There, Brass had gotten to the heart of the matter. Grissom almost smiled again. He was slightly touched by Brass's concern, but he also knew that he didn't want to have to explain this to every one of his coworkers. "I can't speak for her," he said instead, which was an honest answer.

"So speak for yourself," retorted Brass, his usual brash attitude returning, managing to overpower the comforting concern he had been trying to hard to display.

Inwardly, Grissom sighed. He didn't want to cause problems between him and his coworkers, but other than hanging a sign saying that he didn't want to be asked about Sara or his relationship with Sara, his only option was to brush off their concern. "I can't talk, I'm really busy," he said, quickening his pace to leave Brass behind.

To be completely honest, Grissom didn't know where Sara was, emotionally, in regards to him or in regards to anything else. He hadn't seen the signs pointing in the direction of her departure, and if that didn't clue him in to how oblivious he could be, nothing would. His conversation with Sara had been remarkably brief, entailing purely of her telling him three things: 1) She was ok. That had been a relief for Grissom, because in his mind, if she was willing to take as drastic measures as she did by leaving, she could easily take even more drastic measures. 2) She was in San Francisco. This did not come as a particular shock to Grissom. He figured it was the first place she would run to, especially since the "ghosts" that she claimed were haunting her all originated in the city she grew up in. And 3) She was not coming back. Again, Grissom had known this. Sara wasn't the kind of person who could go into something half-heartedly, with a clear exit route. No, she jumped in with all her heart and soul, and once her mind was made up, nothing and no one could convince her otherwise.

Grissom wished he could be so idealistic. But someone had to be the logical one, weighing all the opportunities and possible outcomes. And that had been him. That had always been him. Had this cautious attitude hurt him before? Yes, it had, but Sara herself had demonstrated that idealism hurt just as much as realism sometimes.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Grissom sat in his office, looking over his files. It had been a fairly quiet day in the lab, which he almost regretted. It would have been easier to dodge questions and concerns had there been a big case to work on. At the same time, that would mean that another person was dead, and everyone could be thankful that crime had taken the night off.

He was just about to start doing the paperwork for another case when Nick walked in There was something in Nick's walk, a certain hesitance to his steps, that instantly put Grissom on the alert. All Nick said at first was, "All right, Grissom. That's it for me. I'm out of here."

It had been said casually enough, but Grissom wasn't fooled. Still, he answered in a carefree attitude as well, hoping that it would be enough to fool Nick. "Have a nice day."

If it fooled Nick, he gave no indication of it. Instead, he lingered in the doorway, obviously making his mind up over whether or not he wanted to say something. Grissom was just about to tell him to spit it out when Nick said, slightly rushed, "Yeah, I'm going over to Frank's to grab something to eat. I'll probably be there for at least an hour if you want to…" This was the first place that Nick hesitated, but he added quickly, "If you want to join me."

Grissom was taken aback. This was not what he had expected, to be honest. He had expected some kind of heartfelt lamentation at the collapse of Grissom and Sara's relationship, perhaps a plea for Grissom to go after her, to step into the shoes of the country music hero who goes after his girl with his pick-up truck and trusty hound. Instead, Nick was offering something simpler and much harder for Grissom to say no to: friendship.

When Grissom didn't answer right away, Nick nodded and headed towards the door. He paused just before leaving and turned around to face Grissom. "You know, we don't have to talk about anything in particular. Just two guys having breakfast. I just don't think it's good for people to be alone too much." He started backing out of Grissom's office. "If you want to, cool. If not, cool. Whatever."

As Grissom watched him leave, he wanted to call after him, "I don't think it's good for people to be alone too much, either! But I didn't make the choice to be alone. I don't want to be alone. I don't know what I want."

Because that was the truth of the matter. Grissom didn't know what he wanted. The way he had pictured it, in ten years, he would be living in Vegas with Sara. They would be married. He doubted if they would have any children, because they would both be working at the crime lab still.

That dream had been shattered the moment Sara walked out the door. But it was what Grissom still wanted. He couldn't picture himself leaving the crime lab, not now and not anytime in the near future. And if Sara wasn't coming back to Vegas, then maybe she didn't fit into his dream anymore. Which was a shame, really, because it was Sara who had really taught him how to dream again.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Grissom stood outside the break room door, looking inside. He couldn't decide if he wanted to go inside, ignoring the lab techs that were currently in there, or spend the rest of his double shift without coffee. However, the idea of a Hodges-free shift won out in his mind over the thought of caffeine, and he turned to head back to his office.

Of course, nothing in life could be that simple, as it was Catherine's turn to pounce on him. "Oh, hey," she said, in the way that she had of projecting calm that barely hid the fact that she had been looking for him all shift in order to grill him about Sara and her whereabouts. "How are you?"

Though he knew the answer, Grissom asked, "Why?"

It came off more cutting and accusation-like than he had meant it, and Catherine clearly took offense. Or, at the very least, she took careful note of his reaction, filing it in her brain to use as evidence fir motive behind his actions, whatever they may be. "I can't ask how you're doing?" she asked, innocently enough.

Grissom sighed. While he was stressed and didn't necessarily want to deal with all of this, he also didn't want to completely alienate his friends. "I'm sorry," he said honestly. "I've just had a lot of…" He almost said "things on my mind," but then realized how that would sound, and quickly edited it. "Uh…I've been busy."

"Oh." Catherine's tone implied that she clearly thought he would be more forth coming with his information. "Well, maybe you should take a few days off, for once in your career. I mean, you've got enough stored up." This seemed like a friendly-enough suggestion, with no implication towards Sara, but then Catherine ruined it. "Go after her," she urged, a smile on her face.

He simply looked at her. Women could read anything in a look, and he hoped that she would be able to interpret the look that he was currently giving her correctly. "It's not what she wants," he said calmly, coming to that very realization as he said it.

Catherine simply raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you want?"

He already knew the answer before he formed it into words. "I want her to be happy."

Then he walked away.

He knew that he was right in what he said. He wanted Sara to be happy, and it was clear that she could not be happy here in Vegas, fitting in to Grissom's dream. So maybe he was right to let her go. She didn't want him chasing after her unless he was in the chase with his heart and soul. And that was something he never could be.

Sara had always been the one to chase. She had chased him from San Francisco to Vegas, at his request, yes, but also of her own volition. Grissom was not the type to chase. Did that make him a bad person? Possibly. But sometimes, nature had a way of working itself out, and Grissom had a sneaking suspicion that this was one of those times.