A/N: And now Greg!

How Do You Mend A Broken Heart?

Chapter 4

Greg Sanders pressed the door bell again. He had given Sara time to sleep—and even if she was sleeping he wanted to wake her up. For days, he had watched and mostly avoided making eye contact with her because he knew she was miserable and certainly did not seem to want to talk about her marriage or her husband—or anything else that had happened. Then Nick mentioned he had taken her hang-gliding.

He had fruit smoothies from Sara's favorite place and a recent movie. He rang the doorbell again. Through the frosted glass, he saw a shadowed figure coming to the door.

"Greg!" Sara's delight easily showed on her face. "Thank goodness it's you."

"Were you expecting someone else?"

Sara laughed. "Finn took me to breakfast." She opened the door and motioned him inside. "I'm happy to see you."

Handing her the smoothie, he said, "First—I'm sorry, Sara. For everything. I haven't been a very good friend lately. I should have helped you with Basderic instead of you going after him alone. And—and about Grissom—you should have told me weeks ago. What are friends for?"

She took the smoothie and gave him a pat on the back. "Come in, friend." The sound she made was supposed to be a laugh but was more of a grump. "You are more than welcome to listen to my silence."

Greg handed her the movie. "Just out and Denzel!"

With a smoothie in one hand, accepting the movie with the other, she motioned toward a chair. "Is this good?"

"I haven't watched it—everyone says it's great!" He sat down as did Sara. While she read the back of the movie case, both drank the smoothies.

Sara finally said, "Sounds good—I don't think it will be shown on any flights!" She laughed, "And this is the best smoothie in town."

"Frozen bananas—that's what makes them so good. No ice, just fruit." Greg make slurping sounds with his straw as he reached the bottom of the cup. "You want me to put the movie on?"

"I should water my plants first, so come out back with me."

Greg followed. He marveled at the clean, orderly house that Sara kept—always. She and Grissom had celebrated the purchase of the house with a small party and he had seen it change with Sara's decorating style into a beautiful home. She had done the same with the yard, growing plants suited for the desert, adding a small vegetable garden near the patio. These were the plants she watered using a recycling system of rain and laundry water.

"How did you figure this out?" He asked as she connected a hose to a large container. He knew Grissom had not been home long enough to do the installation.

"Saw it in Costa Rica when I was there where water conservation is a must—even in a rainforest! So instead of letting usable water run into the sewer, I found a guy who re-worked the downspouts and plumbing for the washer." She proudly pointed to her lush garden. "And the vegetables love it!" She handed a second bucket to him for filling.

Greg helped her fill the bucket. "Where is Grissom, Sara?"

"Same place he's been—Peru—for over two years." She stood, lifting a bucket, and headed to the garden. "He loves it there—more butterflies than Costa Rica, more rainforest, more untouched land, fewer people." Carefully, she poured water around the plants.

Greg passed her the second bucket and went to refill the empty one, doing this several times until the soil was soaked around each plant. He watched as Sara kneeled in the garden and continued watering, removing dead leaves, and examining plants, finally raking her hands over several plants which released a sweet, delicate aroma—something familiar.

"What is that?" He asked.

"Basil—the pesto you've eaten," Sara answered. She raked her hand across another plant. "Rosemary," quickly, she glanced at Greg. "I wore rosemary the day we married," her hand circled her head. She smiled, "Even Gil had a sprig on his shirt."

Surprised that she mentioned her wedding, Greg crouched down and stacked the two buckets together. He knew the wistful, reflective way she spoke meant she would say more; he remained sitting on his heels.

And she continued, "We were happy, Greg. Even after I came back to Vegas and the lab, we were happy. Even with the flying back and forth—I know we were happy." She bent to removed several leaves from another plant. "Even when he went to Peru—he wanted to work there and that was fine. He was so excited—he would call and tell me everything! We saw each other at least once a month." She sighed and her hand moved back to row of fragrant rosemary.

Softly, Greg asked, "What happened?"

Quickly, her mouth formed a downward turn; her eyes filled with sudden tears. Her voice trembled. "I said I didn't want to sleep alone—I—I wanted Gil to come home—just for a while—for a few weeks." She shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before she touched the rosemary again. "Once I thought I'd have a little girl and name her Rosemary."

Her words came as such a surprise to Greg that he momentarily lost his balance. The buckets clattered as he tried to regain balance and he ended up with his butt on the ground and one foot in the air.

Sara laughed, gracefully rising, and offering him her hand. "Let's go watch that movie. Didn't mean to startle you with—with a dream that won't happen."

Greg managed to stumble to his feet, knowing his face had gone pink with astonishment at her disclosure.

Quietly, Sara said, "Does it really surprise you that much? Almost every woman wants children—I just waited too long." She kept his hand in hers, wrapping her fingers around his as they walked toward the house.

Greg did not know what to say realizing he had never given a thought to the possibility that Sara wanted children. And he could not bring himself to ask the question that came to his mind—was this what had happened—the cause? As he followed her into the house, he knew without doubt that Sara and Grissom would be good parents. Puzzled, he recalled Sara's words "waited too long"—and that confused him even more.

Sara squeezed his hand; he heard a soft laugh. She said, "Gil and I had a lot of fun trying—but we ran out of time. You've heard of a woman's biological clock—well, mine seems to have shut down about the time we got married."

"Is this the reason? For—for what's happened?" Greg asked. He said it before he thought and immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry—I—I should not have asked that."

She shook her head, saying "No—no, we had moved on—that was the big reason I came back. Found out nothing was working as it should," she gave a cheerless laugh. "Sort of ironic, isn't it? We were so careful." She laughed again as she turned on the faucet and washed her hands. "You don't want to hear all of that female stuff. Let's watch the movie."

Greg followed her to the sink. He asked, "What's Grissom doing—in Peru?"

As they dried hands, Sara smiled. "He is having such a great experience, Greg!" A sudden genuine smile crossed her face. "Let me show you—it really is fascinating."

Greg was surprised that she spoke with such pride and apparent pleasure.

Waving her hand, he trailed behind her as she headed to the room he knew was Grissom's office. There was no doubt the room had been decorated for the entomologist who seldom used the desk. Framed insects decorated the walls; models and other things Greg had seen for years in his former supervisor's office sat on shelves. He knew Sara had used the dining room as she tracked Basderic so she would not disturb her husband's office.

She powered up the computer and while waiting, she sat a box on the desk. "Gil sends a box every month." Removing padding before pulling small containers out of the box, Sara opened a box and held it for Greg to see a small beetle. "He's finding insects the world has never seen—no photographs published before his!" She opened another box. Inside was an iridescent butterfly no larger than her fingernail. "The ones he sends home are ones already identified—one day he watched a rare butterfly for hours knowing it was dying but so excited that he got to see its last hours!"

Greg noticed she had said "home" and obviously Grissom was still sending her boxes of bugs. She turned to the computer and pulled up a website for a research institute in Peru. Several clicks got to thumbnails of photographs; he managed to read the name of the institute. Sara showed him photographs of dozens of insects.

"It is a rare privilege to be asked to work with this research station because it is so remote," she said as she clicked through more photographs. "He—his work with the anthropology group—when they were working on the Moche graves—got so much recognition." Her voice struggled to say something more.

Softly, Greg said, "I know you're proud of him."

She nodded. "Yeah, I am." Several minutes of silence followed before she spoke again. "The area is so remote—he—he has—cell phones don't work very well." She cleared her throat. "In December when I flew down, I didn't get to see him."

"What?" Greg knew she was gone for two weeks and had returned with gifts for everyone in the lab.

"The river was too high to navigate with the boats they use. The roads were washed out." She sighed. "I stayed—hoping, I guess, for a miracle. For Gil to get there." She looked at Greg. "The research center is a half-day boat ride and then another day's drive on a road that's barely a road."

"I'm sure he was—was trying—disappointed—he couldn't get there."

Sara scoffed, "Yeah, and before I left he sent me a text telling me he wanted to 'set me free'—what do you think that means?"

Greg had no answer, finally saying "Let's watch that movie."

They watched the movie without much conversation and then only comments that related to what was on the screen. Greg could not concentrate; he had learned where Grissom was and what he was doing. He knew Sara loved her husband and Grissom was sending boxes of insects to her. And Sara wanted children. He had no clue what 'set me free' meant—why would Grissom say that to the woman he loved?

As he was leaving, he said, "You know I love you, Sara." She smiled. "And I'll do anything for you—but you have to let me in. You have to talk to me."

Unexpectedly, she hugged him, whispering, "Thank you, Greg." She smiled as she waved good-bye.

Driving away, Greg tried to put Sara's comments in context and realized he knew little more now than he had known days ago. But he pressed Nick's number; two heads would be better than one when solving a mystery.

A/N: Thank you for reading and your comments/reviews! More to come...two more people attempt to mend Sara's broken heart. We think one will be a surprise to most readers! Thanks so much!