Measure of a Man

by PiaculumDeFatum

Songfic. Sandle. Though it takes violence and heartbreak, Sara eventually finds her man. Post Fannysmackin'.

A/N: Hi everybody! Welcome to another fic! Just a few words of introduction before we get started:

1. This is a songfic based on the song "Measure of a Man" by Clay Aiken.

2. I don't own the song. Or CSI: Crime Scene Investigation and its subsequent characters, location, plots, and quotes.

3. This fic loosely follows the events of episodes 704 (Fannysmackin') through 709 (Living Legend), with a flashback to just after 322 (Play With Fire) and quotes from 301 (Revenge is Best Served Cold) and 624 (Way to Go). Since this fic does follow events that have happened, some of the dialogue is from the specific episodes.

4. Flashbacks are in italics. Words in bold are the song lyrics.

5. The end of the fic hasn't happened yet. And most likely won't happen. It takes place after episode 709, which we obviously don't know about yet. No spoilers or anything, just my imagination.

6. Beta'd by...me. So all mistakes are mine. Boo.

7. This is SANDLE, and not necessarily favorable of GSR.

8. I'm pretty sure that's about it...I hope you enjoy! I had fun writing it, and I just hope you enjoy reading it.

"If one day you discover him
Broken down he's lost everything"

Greg Sanders lay still against the pavement, trying his hardest not to move. The paramedics had told him it was best to lie as still as possible, and he was attempting to do as they said. He felt the slow trickle of blood down his forehead and it took all he had in him to stop himself from trying to wipe it off. It had taken all his energy hours before when tears had streamed almost involuntarily from his eyes, after the beating had finished. Now he tasted the coppery salt of blood in his mouth, and felt the protest of bruises that had been previously calmed by the shock. He was going to ache soon, and badly, but for the moment he tried to quell his pain. He wanted the blackness—the blackness he welcomed for the relief it brought, for the emptiness and the feelinglessness that accompanied it.

He felt a whimper slip past his lips and he winced, hoping no one could hear him. He shifted, just slightly, and laid his head back against the pavement, wondering vaguely who was going to be assigned to his case. Unwillingly, he settled in for a long wait.

---

Sara Sidle had not waited for Grissom to assign someone to the case. As soon as the call had come in—"Officer Down, repeat, CSI Down"—Sara had simply picked up her case and told Grissom, "I'm going."

He hadn't bothered protesting, which was for the best; she was in no mood to argue with him over this. They had had their share of arguments lately, and she didn't need to add another to the list. Not now, not when Greg was somewhere bleeding and broken.

She got the scene faster than was humanly possible, taking side streets and alleys and breaking the speed limit. She didn't really know why; somewhere in her was the hollow realization that Greg needed her, and more than that, that she needed to be at his side.

"No cars, no fancy clothes to make him who he's not
The woman at his side is all that he has got"

When Sara saw him, her heart stopped. He lay there like a limp rag doll discarded on the floor by a wayward owner. She couldn't tell if he was breathing. Looking around, she saw the paramedics on the other two, but she didn't give a damn about the other two. She cared about Greg. Turning to Sophia, she asked angrily, "Why is there no paramedic on Greg?"

Sophia just looked at her, a patient understanding in her eyes, the kind of understanding that Sara didn't need to see. "He's been stabilized. Sara, he's going to be alright."

That knowledge, more than anything else, reassured her. She felt a weight lifted from her, a knot unwind in her stomach, and she felt herself vaguely wonder What if he hadn't have been alright?

---

Greg was drifting through time and space, the calm darkness enveloping him with the gentle warmth of a blanket. A scent drifted over him, a smell he knew as well as his own. A soft scent of quiet lavender with the hint of lemons that lingered from the decomp not too long ago. He felt the darkness leave, rolling back like waves from the shore, and once more her felt the ground against his back and the throb of his wounds.

But he smelled her, and somehow that was all worth it, knowing that she was there, even if it was only for her job, even if she didn't actually care about him, just knowing that she was there was enough.

He felt her hand brush his hair, sifting through the tangled locks dried with his blood. He wondered how his face looked to her, if she even recognized him behind the bruises and cuts. "Sara…" he whispered, breathing in her intoxicating smell.

He could feel her start. "I didn't think you could see me," he heard her say softly.

He cut her off before she could continue. "I can't," he said, softer than she, the pain making him grit his teeth. He decided to try for the glib banter he had once shared with her. "I know that Sidle Scent."

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment," she said, and he could hear the struggle in her voice as she attempted to hold on to her composure.

That broke him more than any of physical wounds possibly could. The fact that she sounded like she was going to cry, to cry over him, was enough to rip his heart into pieces. A hasty subject change was in order, and he quickly took it. "I scratched one of them," he whispered, showing her his hand. "And you should check my vest. I think the same guy spat on me."

He felt her shift, and he wondered if she knew how much it took from him to be this professional, to not break down right here in her arms. He continued as stolidly as he could, despite the pain. "One of their cars crashed into the Denali. I guarantee there's transfer on it." He laid his head back, wincing. He had done his part with this investigation. Now it was out of his hands.

---

Sara could hardly believe her ears as she knelt next to Greg. How could he care about such mundane things as transfer and DNA when there was something so much greater to be considered, like him.

He shifted next to her, and she focused on him, watching with saddened eyes. "You should process the scene now, me later," he whispered, the pain clouding his speech.

Sara's heart went out to him. Was that what they had come to, what their friendship had come to, that he automatically assumed she was here for the case and not him? He was her best friend, and someone else could handle the case. She didn't care right now what the repercussions were or what Grissom would think. All she cared about was Greg.

"I came here for you, Greg," she said quietly, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. She didn't care anymore what anyone thought so long as Greg knew that she was here for him, regardless.

Greg shifted and she noticed the look of pain that crossed his face. "Hey," she called to one of the paramedics. "Can we get him to the hospital? I'm going to need to process him."

One of the EMTs came up to her. "Sure, we'll get him loaded in this ambulance," said the paramedic, gesturing at the second ambulance that pulled up at the scene. "We need the first one to take that kid to the hospital. He's in bad shape."

Sara glanced over at the man on the stretcher as two EMTs went past. "That's the one that Greg hit," she said quietly to herself. She looked up at the paramedic. "Is he going to be alright?"

"It's touch and go," said the EMT, shaking his head. "He's in bad condition, and he may not make it."

Nodding once, Sara turned back to Greg. "Greg, we're going to take you to the hospital, alright?" She waited. Nothing. "Greg?"

The EMT knelt next to Greg. "Mr. Sanders?" he asked, shaking him gently. He looked at Sara. "He's unconscious."

"Is that bad?" asked Sara, taking Greg's uninjured hand. "Is he going to be alright?"

"He should be," said the paramedic. "It's the body's natural reaction to try and escape the pain. Chances are that he's fine, but we'll need to monitor him more closely just in case."

Sara nodded and stood, allowing the paramedics to take Greg. She followed him into the ambulance, ready to go with him wherever.

"Why do you ask him move heaven and earth
To prove his love has worth?
Would he walk on water
Would he run through fire
Would he stand before you
When it's down to the wire"

Sara was remembering another time at the hospital.

It was late by the time Sara got to the hospital. She had been wrapped up in her case, working hard, hard enough to try and forget, but she could not forget the look on Greg's face right before he passed out at the scene. Nothing would let her forget the image of his body hurtling through glass, the smell of burning plastic in her mouth.

And now here she was, in the parking lot of the hospital, to go see him. She didn't know what to say. There were so many things she wanted to say, but none seemed to even come close to saying how she felt.

She knew he liked her; he couldn't have made it any clearer. And somewhere deep inside of her, she knew that she could've liked him in another a time, in another place. Had she not been so screwed up, something might've been able to happen between them. She didn't know.

And now she was here, having just gotten rejected by her boss, by the man she had followed from San Francisco. Sara sighed and turned off her car.

She headed inside, nervously clutching her keys. Going up to the front desk, she asked politely, "Hi, ma'am, my name's Sara Sidle and I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I'm looking for a colleague of mine, Greg Sanders."

"Ah, yes," said the nurse, typing something into the computer. "Mr. Sanders is in room 219." She peered over he glasses at Sara. "You might want to hurry, Miss Sidle. Visiting hours are almost over."

Sara inclined her head at the nurse and took the elevator up to Greg's room. She stood outside the doorway for just a minute, watching the young lab tech as he slept. She crept into his room, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Sitting down next to him, she reached out gently and stroked his hair, fingering one of the soft spikes.

Greg shifted and groaned. "Sara?" he murmured, cracking an eyelid.

"Hey" she said, squeezing his hand, "How're you feeling, Greg?"

Greg shifted uncomfortably and avoided looking at Sara. "Ah, you know me," he said, half-smiling. "I'm always good. Besides," he added, smiling suggestively at Sara, "I'm always better when you're here."

Sara just grinned and shook her head. Looking down at him, she asked softly, "Are you really ok?"

Shrugging again, Greg said confidently, "Hey, I faced one of man's biggest fears, right? I've been through fire and back and I'm still here to tell the tale."

"Yeah, and you're damn lucky you are," muttered Sara fiercely. She avoided looking at him as she asked quietly, "Did Catherine come by yet?"

Greg swallowed hard. "Yeah. She's the one who blew me up." He shrugged again. "It's not such a big deal. Worse things have happened."

"Oh yeah?" asked Sara, raising an eyebrow. "Name one."

"Well, I could've been abducted by aliens who ate my inner organs for delicacies."

Sara shook her head and laughed. "Yeah, that might be worse." She shook her head again, still grinning. "So, are you going to go back to the lab?"

"I have to, don't I?" said Greg quietly, with no bitterness in his voice. "At least this is another reason why Grissom has to let me be a CSI."

Stroking his hair, Sara asked, "So, you definitely want to be a CSI then, still?"

"Of course," said Greg, sitting up straight, his eyes sparkling. "It's my dream. It's been my dream for a long time now. Nothing could change that…not even being blown up. If anything, that's only solidified it."

Sara smiled at him. "Well, good luck. You'll make a great CSI, Greg, I know it." She paused, then said slyly, "Maybe I'll even have to ask Grissom about a new position for me as well: mentor."

"You mean it?" asked Greg incredulously. "You'd really be my mentor and teach me everything I need to know?"

"Maybe not everything," said Sara, smiling slightly. "But yeah, I'd love to be able to help you out and teach all the right things to do."

Greg grinned contentedly and lay back against the bed, eyes suddenly drooping. "Sara?" he said softly.

She leaned in close to him, taking his hand. "Yeah, Greg? What is it?"

He smiled at her. "I'm glad we're friends," he whispered just before he drifted off to sleep.

She squeezed his hand, whispering back to him, "I'm glad we're friends, too, Greg. I'm glad we're friends, too."

Now she was with him, holding his hands in hers in a completely different situation, speeding towards the hospital. She looked down at Greg and squeezed his hands hard. "Hold on for me, Greg," she whispered. "Hold onto our friendship and never let go."

"Would he give his life up
To be all he can?
Is that, is that, is that
How you measure a man?"

Greg saw white. Pure, bright white light that stung his eyes like needles and burned his retinas. He tried to raise an arm to shield his eyes, but he felt so…heavy. Instead, he blinked rapidly, finally managing to croak, "Sara?"

Sara's pale and worried face appeared next to him. "Greg? Can you see me?"

He blinked, once, twice. "Kinda," he croaked, looking around. "It's weird, though…I think I can only see out of one eye."

Sara nodded slowly, a saddened look on her face. "Yeah, your…your right eye is still swollen shut."

Nodding once, Greg tried to smile. "Bet I'm a sight to look at, huh? Did they mess up my pretty face too badly?"

She didn't smile. "Greg, I need to…I need to collect some trace off of you, if that's alright."

Greg's smile faded, and, looking exhausted, he nodded slowly. "So it's all business with you today…alright, go ahead."

Sara stepped over to her kit and pulled on a pair of gloves. Looking back over at Greg, she pulled her camera out and walked over to him. "Ok, you know the routine, just try to hold as still as possible." She started with a few close-ups of his face, and Greg winced every time the flash went off.

As she took more pictures, Sara asked, "Did you see who did this to you?"

Greg shook his head slowly. "It was dark…too dark. And…it all happened so fast." He shrugged helplessly. "The only person I really saw was…was the kid I ran over."

Sara nodded slowly. "It's ok, Greg, that's good enough." Bending in close to Greg, Sara peered at his bruises. "Jesus," she whispered. "They beat you up really good."

Blinking once, Greg nodded slowly, closing his eyes, a few tears leaking from under his closed lids. Sara stopped and hugged him as gently as she could. "God, Greg, I'm sorry," she whispered, holding him as tightly as she could, considering his injuries. "This never should've happened to you."

Greg only allowed himself to cry for a few moments before he pulled away. "It's cool, I'm fine," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm fine."

Sara stroked his hair softly, trying hard not to cry herself. "Why?" she asked quietly, not looking at Greg. "Why would you do this to yourself? You could've run. You had a car. You could've kept right on driving."

"Sara," said Greg, smiling wistfully. "I couldn't have, and you know it. There's no way I could've. I would have never forgiven myself if I had walked away from that, regardless of what happened to me."

Sara bowed her head, trying to ignore the tears that now flowed freely down her cheeks. "I know," she whispered. "You wouldn't be who you are if you had left."

Greg nodded once, slowly, then whispered, "You should take everything back to the lab. They'll need to get the samples right away."

"Greg—" started Sara, but he cut her off.

"Look, Sara, just…just catch them for me, alright?" He met her eyes and grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. "Please. For me."

Sara looked him in the eyes and nodded fiercely. "We will," she whispered. "I promise."

Nodding again, Greg leaned back, his eyes closing slowly. "G'night, Sara," he whispered, still holding on to her hand.

"Greg, it's morning," Sara reminded him gently.

Cracking his one good eye open again, Greg yawned widely. "Feels like night," he said, voice muffled. "There again, I had a big day yesterday, so what do you expect, right?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "Of course you had a big day…you got beat up."

Greg waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, but I mean before that. I testified in court, and it was bad ass."

"Right," said Sara, nodding. "Catherine told me about that. The DA took you out to dinner afterwards…impressive."

Shrugging embarrassedly, Greg half-smiled. "Assistant DA, but yeah. She was nice and all, but not quite my type."

Sara raised one eyebrow. "And what, pray-tell, is your type?"

"Oh, you know," grinned Greg, eyes sparkling. "Smart, dark-haired, dark-eyed, really pretty, with this adorable gap-toothed smile…"

Sara slugged him gently on the arm. "Gregory Hojem Sanders, that's quite enough of that thought."

Grinning widely, Greg leaned back again and closed him eyes contentedly. "My mission is accomplished."

Simply shaking her head again, Sara leaned over and kissed him gently on the forehead. "Goodnight, Greg. I'll see you later, alright?"

"Later," murmured Greg, already dropping into the realms of sleep.

"If by chance all he had to give you
Was three words
Wrapped around your finger
Would that be deep enough
At the end of everyday
And how will you ever know
If a man is what he says?"

It was a few weeks after Demetrius James died, and Sara and Greg were working together in the lab on the missing boys case. Greg seemed distracted, not paying attention to what he was doing. Sara frowned and touched his arm gently. "Is everything ok, Greg? Your head's not in it today."

Greg shook his head slowly. "What? Oh, sorry." He quickly picked up the gas container and held it up to the light, squinting at it.

Sighing, Sara said quietly, "Greg, it's not the case I'm worried about. It's you…your heart doesn't seem to be in working anymore." Greg turned away from her, but not before she could see the sudden pain that flashed across them. She squeezed his arm gently. "Please, Greg. I want to help."

He turned back to her, all attempts at bravado gone. "The coroner's inquest is coming up in a few days and I…I don't know what the outcome will be."

"What?" exclaimed Sara. "It was self-defense, and everyone knows it. If the jury even considers ruling it as anything but justifiable, they're wrong."

Giving her a weak smile, he turned back to what he was working on. "I know, it's just…his family…" He turned to her, anguish filling his chocolate eyes. "He's dead, Sara, and he's dead because of me. No matter how you look at it, I killed him. And I have to live with that. Maybe…maybe I deserve what's coming to me."

"Don't…don't say that," said Sara softly, her eyes searching his. "It was not your fault, and you don't have to live with anything save the fact that you saved the life of Stanley Tanner."

Greg just shook his head. "Sara," he said suddenly. "Can I tell you something?"

She looked at him quizzically. "Sure you can, Greg. You know that you can tell me anything."

He took a deep breath. "Look, Sara, I know this is so not the right time, and I realize that nothing will come of this, but truth it, I could lose my job if the Coroner's inquest goes sour, so I have to tell you this before I lose my chance to."

Raising one eyebrow, Sara said, "Well, spit it out already, would you?"

He took another deep breath and gulped. "Sara, I love you. I have loved you for…years now. Ever since you came to the crime lab. And I know that you don't feel the same way about me, but if I never got the chance to tell you, then I would regret it for the rest of my life."

Sara just stared at him, pure shock written all over her face. "Greg, I…I don't know what to say. Thank you, I guess."

Greg snorted nervously. "Thank you? That's the best you can do?" He shot her a sideways glance and half-smile. "You don't have to say anything…I just don't want this to ruin our friendship."

Smiling at him awkwardly, Sara said too quickly, "Oh, don't worry, it won't."

Nodding slowly, Greg said off-handedly, "I mean, I know I'm not Grissom, and I know I don't have anything to offer you except my friendship, but…"

"That's all I want from you, Greg. Your friendship."

He nodded again. She nodded as well before turning back to what she was doing, her head spinning. Greg liked her? No, not just liked her, but loved her? She swallowed hard and shook her head once. Insane. Absolutely insane. She loved Grissom, right? And that trumped all, right?

Then why did she have this nagging urge to turn around and tell Greg that she loved him too?

She shook her head again. "Mind if I turn on some music?" she asked too brightly.

Greg didn't even look up. "Sure, go ahead, if you'd like."

Turning on the stereo, she went back to work, still trying to ignore the whirlwind of emotions she felt.

All of a sudden, she heard Grissom storm in. "Didn't we talk about this once before, Greg?" he snapped irritably at the younger man.

Greg just looked at him, doe eyes wide in some sort of numb fear. Sara cleared her throat, feeling the need to bail him out. "I'm the one who turned the music on."

Grissom acted as if he hadn't even heard her. Marching over to Greg, he asked snidely, "What have you found?"

Swallowing hard, Greg looked panicked for a brief second, and Sara was suddenly reminded of how nervous he used to be when he was first becoming a CSI. Of course, he had come a long way since then, and he gulped and said calmly, "A gas container. As the heat melted the plastic, it formed pockets, trapping the gasoline inside. And if Hodges can isolate any unique compounds from the gas, you know, like gas DNA."

Quirking an eyebrow at him, Grissom said loftily, "Gasoline comparisons are only credible if you have pure samples. Otherwise, there are too many variables."

Sara winced. Where did Grissom get off being know-it-all to Greg, when Greg had worked the DNA and trace labs for years? Greg probably knew more about this than Grissom did, and here was Gil Grissom being all high and mighty.

A muscle twitched in Greg's jaw. "I know that, Grissom. What I've extracted was never exposed directly to the fire. So, if we can identify either a dye, or a unique compound, and match to a particular station, then we might be able to prove whether Carl set the fire."

Grissom at least managed to attempt to look chagrined. Greg nodded, just the barest jerk of his head. "I'll get this to Hodges."

He looked over at Sara, face unreadable, before walking briskly out. Sara cleared her throat and frowned at him. "Greg's got the coroner's inquest coming up. He's been under a lot of stress. Maybe you could be a little nicer to him."

Grissom nodded, and suddenly, for seemingly the first time, Sara noticed how old he looked. "I just want to find these boys," he sighed.

"Okay," said Sara, trying to go back to being professional. "Carl Fisher apparently eats and drinks in the backseat of his car." She held up a plastic cup. "I found it in a seat pocket."

Grissom took it from her and looked at it. "Fruit punch?" he questioned.

"Or a mixer," said Sara, holding up the whiskey bottle cap. "Whiskey—I did not find the bottle."

Looking at her quizzically, Grissom asked slowly, "And…so?"

Smiling humorlessly, Sara gestured at the mushrooms. "Mushrooms, picked off a cheese pizza. I found it stuffed between the cushions in the backseat of the car."

She picked up the napkin and showed him. "If you're an adult, and you don't like mushrooms, you don't order them."

Grissom nodded slowly. "So there may have been a child in the backseat."

"There may have," agreed Sara. She paused and looked at him. "But we have other things to discuss besides the case."

Sighing, Grissom pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sara, I'd rather not get into it right now, please. This case is far too important."

She raised an eyebrow. "More important than us?"

He sighed again. "Sara, I told you when we started this that my job came first, and you agreed. What makes you think that would change?"

Sara's face hardened. "Maybe the fact that our relationship is at a completely different place than it was when we started 'this'. Maybe the fact that I'm looking to be something more than always second to your job. Maybe the fact that you're not the only one who has feelings for me. And maybe the fact that you're not the only one I have feelings for."

By the time Sara realized that the words were out of her mouth, Grissom's face had already shifted from confused to hurt to decidedly neutral. "This case," said Grissom slowly, choosing his words carefully, "is the most important thing on my mind at the moment. We will discuss this later."

Sara made to protest, then stopped, her face smoothing out. "Of course," she said coolly. "Heaven forbid I get in the way of your precious case." She started to leave, then turned back, tears glinting in her eyes. "Oh, and Grissom? Happy sixth-month Anniversary."

She turned on heel and stalked out, trying to keep her composure. As she walked by the Trace lab, she saw Greg talking with Hodges, and she had to resist the urge to run to him and cry in her arms. Instead, she hurried towards the door. She had far too much to think about and consider.

"Why do you ask him
Move Heaven and Earth
To prove his love has worth?

Would he walk on water
Would he run through fire
Would he stand before you
When it's down to the wire
Would he give his life up
To be all he can
Is that, is that, is that
How you measure a man?"

After the case was over, Sara went back to her apartment for the first time in a week. The previous nights, she had headed home with Grissom. Just the other day, she and Grissom had spent almost the entire morning discussing various religions, beliefs and ideologies. Now, she was back at her apartment, alone, more alone than she had been in a long time.

When she opened the door, she wrinkled her nose. She hadn't been gone long, but already the air seemed stale. Sighing, she pulled off her coat and tossed it on a chair before heading into the kitchen to pour herself a drink. A large drink.

She had just uncapped the bottled when her doorbell rang. Frowning, she set the bottle down and went to answer the door. She opened and saw Greg, leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets. "Hey," he said, face lighting up when he saw her.

"Greg," she said, not smiling. "How'd you know I would be here?"

His smile faded slightly. "Well, I heard your argument with Grissom at the lab, and I thought you might want someone to talk to."

"You heard that?" asked Sara, slightly abashed.

He half-grinned. "I think everyone heard that." He paused. "I also wanted to apologize. I know I kinda…sprung this on you today, and it's really not fair to you."

Sara smiled. "You have nothing to apologize for." She stepped back. "Come in. I was just about to have a drink. Would you like something?"

Greg frowned and followed Sara into the kitchen. "Are you sure a drink's a good idea right now?"

Shrugging, she poured herself a glass and then poured Greg one. Pushing it across the table, she met his eyes. "Maybe not. But it's no worse than wrapping myself in my blanket, sitting in the couch and watching chick flicks, is it?"

Holding up the amber liquid to the light, Greg just raised an eyebrow. "A different kind of poison, I guess." He held it up towards her. "Salut." He downed it with one gulp. "So," he said, setting the glass down on the counter for her to refill. "Just what did you and Grissom…ah…discuss at work today?"

Sara shrugged again and drank her own. "I feel…" She struggled to find the words for it. "Second-best, I guess you could say, to Grissom's work. At first, it wasn't so bad, but now…" She shook her head. "Now I don't know if this is what I want."

Greg took his refilled glass and downed it just as quickly. "So…" he said, trailing off. "Does this mean…I mean, do I…is there anyway that I…might have a chance?"

She sighed, her eyes sad. "Greg—" she started, but he cut her off.

"No, I know what you're going to say," said Greg, holding up his hand. "Just let me say this." He took a deep breath and exhaled. "Sara, I love you, and I'm not sorry that I told you that, especially with the impending inquest. What I am sorry for is the fact that you feel like you're second best." He reached out and cupped her face with one hand. "Sara, you should never have to feel like you're second best. You are second to none."

"I can't," whispered Sara, turning away, a tear trickling down her cheek. "Greg, I can't."

He didn't force her. Instead, he swallowed hard, nodded once, and stood. "Just tell me one thing," he said quietly, not looking at her. His eyes met hers. "Tell me that you still love Grissom."

She just looked at him, unable to speak. He nodded once, not triumphantly, but with a knowledge that he found impossible to bear. "That's what I thought," he whispered. "That's what I thought."

Then he was gone, Sara's door closing softly behind him, and Sara was alone again, somehow moreso than she had been before.

"He never gives up
Lets go of his dream
His world goes around
For his one true belief
Is that how you know
Is that what it means?"

All during the day of Greg's inquest, Sara couldn't find it in herself to pay total attention to the case at hand. After that day at the lab, she and Grissom had reached an unspoken agreement to take a break. She hadn't gone back to his apartment since.

And now, all she wanted was to be in that courtroom with Greg, lending all the support that he would surely need to get through this day.

Nick called her after his testimony, and he sounded defeated. "It…it was a slaughterhouse," he confessed to her. "Doc told me that they forced him to admit that the death was legally a homicide. The judge is definitely against Greg. It's bad."

"God," whispered Sara. "You don't really think they'll rule it as criminal, do you?"

She could almost hear him shrugging helplessly over the phone. "I don't know. Warrick and I are working on something at the crime scene that we hope will help him, but right now, there's not much we can do."

Sara sighed. "Right. Well, I'll let you get to it, then. Call me when the verdict gets in."

And he had called her, right in the middle of the courtroom. Called and said one word, but it contained all of Nick's relief and thankfulness. "Excusable."

Sara was in Grissom's office later, discussing the case with him. Since that day, they had been carefully cordial to each other. There was still something there, something they both felt, but it seemed only a remnant of a remnant, the shadow of a whisper. Either way, she had just finished explaining about the disposable cell phone when Greg appeared at the door.

Whether the attempt at bravado was for her benefit or Grissom's she didn't know, but she still saw right through it. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically. "Hey, boss, unless you need me for something, I'm gonna take off."

Grissom looked up at him, piercing blue eyes taking him in. "Yeah," he said. "And take off that suit, too."

Greg half-smiled in a weary sort of way, and started to leave. Grissom's voice called him back. "And Greg…you did a good job."

Now Greg actually smiled. Even if it wasn't his normal, megawatt smile, it was still an actual smile, something he hadn't done in a long time. "I'm glad you think so," he said as he left.

Sara turned back to Grissom. "Can I—?" she started, trailing off.

Grissom sighed softly, a wrinkle appearing in his forehead. "Go ahead," he said, just as softly. "He needs his friends right now, more than ever."

She nodded and turned to go, then paused. "Grissom…" she said, looking back at him. "You're his friend, too, you know."

He nodded, once. "I know, but I just got a 9-1-1 page from Archie. I'll talk to Greg later."

When she was about to leave again, he called her back. "Sara, it's Greg, isn't it? Greg's the one who likes you."

She didn't answer, only shrugging in a way that could be taken as either an affirmative or negative. "What…" started Grissom, pausing before continuing. "What do you see in him that I don't have?"

Sara almost smiled; his words were so similar to Greg's from years ago. "What's he got that I don't got?"

"Greg hasn't lost sight of what's important in his life," said Sara softly, her eyes taking on a faraway look. "Greg still understands the joy in just…living, and being alive, and following and achieving his dreams."

"But I'm not ready to say good-bye," said Grissom sharply, quoting her words from earlier that year."

"I'm sorry, Grissom," she said softly.

He nodded once. "I know," he said, looking away. "I knew that it couldn't last. I just thought I'd try to prove myself wrong." He half-smiled at her. "Go to Greg. Find him before he loses that life that he still has in him."

Nodding again, she left, heading straight from the lab to go find Greg. She didn't even pause to gather her stuff. Finding him seemed more important.

She found him in the middle of the parking lot, just staring at an empty parking space, a piece of paper in his hand. "Greg?" she asked gently, touching him lightly on the shoulder.

He turned to look at her and she noticed the tears that poured down his face. "Oh, Greg," she whispered, pulling him to her and holding him close as he sobbed.

When his tears had subsided, he whispered hollowly, "I'm being sued. The boy's family is suing me. Wrongful death." He looked at her, his hardened shell crumbling. "Sara, I don't know if I can win this one. And if I lose, I'll lose everything. My apartment, my car, everything. What will I do?"

"Hey," whispered Sara, wiping his cheeks. "Hey, look at me. Look at me." He did, slowly, tears still leaking from his eyes. "We will cross that bridge when we come to it."

Greg just blinked at her. "We?"

She smiled shyly at him, reaching out to take his hand. "Yes, we. Worse comes to worst, you can stay with me. They take your car and we'll carpool. But the one thing they can't take away from you is me, because I'm right here and I'm not leaving you."

He reached out slowly, as if in a dream, and touched her hair, gently running his fingers through it. "Why me?" he asked. "Why not Grissom?"

"Because you never lost sight of the things you've always cared about," she said simply. "Because no matter what, you've always been there for me. And that makes you more of a man than Grissom could ever be."

His mind seemed to be processing the information for a second before he asked, "So…you love me?"

She laughed. "Yes, Greg, I love you. As much as I've tried to hide it, I love you." She glared at him. "Now kiss me, you idiot, before I leave you standing here."

He kissed her then, fiercely, pulling her to him and almost crushing her with the kiss, "I don't think so," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. "You're not going anywhere."

"Would he walk on water
Would he run through fire
Would he stand before you
Will he be your anchor when the dark unfolds
Will he always love you the best that he knows?
Would he give his life up
To be all he can?"

The next few weeks that passed were like something out of a fairy tale. She and Greg spent as much time together as they could, trying to make up for the years they had been apart.

One day, shortly before Greg was scheduled to appear from the prelims of his lawsuit, and not too long after the Mickey Dunne case got over, Sara and Greg were walking back to their respective cars, just barely holding hands. Their relationship was so new still; Greg hadn't even spent the night with her yet.

Somehow, though, it felt as if they had been together for years. And true, they had known each other for years, but both had shared their most intimate secrets with each other in a span of days. Sara had never felt so…alive before.

As it was, they were walking and Greg mentioned off-handedly, "You know what I'm in the mood for? Some fajitas…and a some margaritas…"

Sara gave him a strange look. "Greg, sweetie, there's no Mexican place open at seven o'clock in the morning."

"I was thinking more along the lines of my place, and some homemade Mexican," said Greg, smiling at her.

She smiled as well. "Sounds good to me," she said, yawning.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind, and she felt the cold metal of a gun being pressed against he skull. "Sanders," shouted the man who had her in his grip.

Greg turned, shock and fear on his face. "What're you doing?" he yelled, staring at them.

Sara managed to swivel enough to see who he captor was. It was Demetrius James' brother, Aaron. He held a nine-millimeter to her head, and was staring at Greg with a look of deep hatred on his face. "How does it feel?" he asked, glaring at Greg. "How does it feel to know that someone you love is about to be taken away from you?" He paused, then screamed, "How does it feel?!"

"Look," said Greg, breathing heavily. "This isn't about her. Just let her go. This is about you and me, all right? Don't even bring her into this."

Aaron raised the gun and smashed her against the head with it. Sara staggered slightly, lights in front of her eyes. Greg made a strangled noise that sounded halfway between a sob and a yell. "You brought her into this," said Aaron, pointing the gun at Greg. "When you killed my brother, and got away with this. Someone has to pay. And why shouldn't it be the one you love," he asked, pointing the gun back at Sara. "The blood of your girlfriend for my brother."

"Please," whispered Greg, biting back a sob. "Shoot me, if you want. Kill me. I'm the one you want to hurt, not her. You don't even know her."

"And you didn't even know my brother!" screamed Aaron, pointing the gun back at Greg.

Greg took that moment to rush at him, wrestling the gun from him. It went off once, twice. Sara screamed Greg's name, hardly able to see what was happening through the lights that danced in front of her eyes.

She saw Greg go down, Aaron with him, and could only watch helplessly. Somehow, by some miracle, she managed to crawl to Greg's side. "Greg," she whispered, touching him. "Greg!"

He opened his eyes and blinked at her. "Sara," he whispered.

She looked down and saw the blood blossoming on his shirt. "Oh my God, you've been shot!" she sobbed, looking down at him, fingers fumbling with his shirt.

One of his hands captured hers. "It's fine, Sara, I only got grazed." He rolled his eyes over to where Aaron lay. "He wasn't so lucky. He shot himself, on accident." Greg looked back at her before reaching up and stroking her cheek gently. "My God, Sara, I thought I was going to lose you," he whispered. "I thought he was going to kill you. I don't know what I would've done."

Sara held his hand in hers. "Greg, I don't know what I would've done without you either. I thought he shot you. I thought for sure you were going to die and leave me all alone."

"Hey," said Greg, attempting a smile than ended up more like a grimace of pain. "I would never leave you alone, alright?" He paused before adding in softer tones, "I love you."

Sara looked around as people began pouring out of the crime lab, alerted by the gunshots. She looked back at Greg. "I love you, too," she whispered, laying her head on his chest. "I love you too."

That was how the rest of the CSIs found them, curled up, together for eternity, Sara and her man.

"Is that, is that, is that
How you measure a man?"