Been a long time, I know. Sorry for the wait, as well as any grammar and spelling errors. All of them belong to me :)

Chapter Ten: Invasion

He had to be out of his mind. This was the one, signal solitary thought that raced through his mind. The only sad part about it was the fact it had taken him this long to realize it. His suitcase was half packed, filled with clothes, toiletries, and other essentials, and he had wandering around wondering what else he needed to take with him. Only to realize he didn't want to leave.

Sara…was a part of his life. No…she was more than that; she was his life. Greg swallowed bitterly as he sat down on the edge of the bed. How many times had they argued before? How many more times had they failed to even agree? Sara hadn't walked out on him; what reason did he have to do the same to her? It was more than confusing. Greg fell against the bed, resting his arms on his head as he buried his face into the comforter that was spread over the top, his mind racing with more questions than answers.

What had happened? Who had done it? Why were they adamant of having him take the fall? Was he really the one to blame?

Greg knew that he wasn't at fault, at least not in the aspect of talking to anyone. While it was true someone could have stolen the evidence, Greg knew just as well as everyone else that was not only unlikely, but a feat that just didn't make sense. After all…there was much more valuable stuff to take. Why was this case so important? The truth had been resting in the back of his mind, and it came to light even though he hadn't wanted it too. There was no motive.

Now he could see why everyone would speculate that it was him. The papers, the reports, everything was missing. Was it possible that he had left them behind somewhere? No…no it wasn't possible, he couldn't have…could he? Rolling over provided a whole new perspective of staring at the ceiling, but he hardly cared. His mind was still racing with the thoughts, the comments he had heard. In his heart he still felt as though Sara should have trusted him, should have given him the benefit of the doubt. Would he not do the same for her?

He glanced back at the suitcase, part of him wanting to finish packing, while another part wanted to dump everything on the floor for his own foolishness. What would he prove by leaving? How could he leave the only woman he had ever loved? The cold hard truth was that he couldn't. But Sara's lack of confidence in him threw him clear out in left field, a place he had never been. Who could he talk to, if not her?

Greg didn't have any real friends outside of the crime lab. Sure, there were at least a dozen people he could have called, but he hardly doubted his hairdresser would want to listen to the drama that had lately become his life. On top of that, with the little bit of bad luck that he had, someone would find out, and then he would be in even greater trouble, and trouble was the last thing he needed. He was already dreading returning to work; Greg was fairly certain Grissom wasn't too thrilled about having to baby-sit him. Grissom had done so much for him already.

He found himself remembering what Brass had said. The accusations had hurt, and deeply. At the time he had convinced himself it wasn't true, and he half forgotten about everything. But in light of recent events they had begun to stir, brewing in the back of his mind. Was he really a problem?

It was true that Sara had been getting sick a lot lately, but at the same time things had been going good…at least better than they had been. However, it wasn't just the comments about Sara that had bothered him. He wondered if everyone found him to be as burdensome as Brass had mentioned, or if the detective had been exaggerating.

Greg knew no one would admit it to his face, but just because they never said anything didn't mean they didn't feel the same way. The past few years had been dark and dismal, and Sara had been there to pull him through when he needed her the most; but was he drowning her by continuing to stay?

The question that bothered him more however was this. Would she even care if he was gone?

It was the by far the hardest thing she had ever done. Every instinct, every muscle, every bone in her body screamed at her to go after him. Her decision had been made long ago however, and she stood by it. Even the smallest fraction of emotion could ruin her plan. Greg would be okay, he always had been before. Why then, would this be any different for him?

Her heart ached for him, even as she hid her emotions behind a blank face. Work became meaningless, all blurring into one jumbled mess. She never had planned on using the altercation between Greg and the media to entice the planned breakup, but it was the opportunity she had been looking for. A way to start a fight that would slowly pull them apart. It was the best, for the both of them. Now, if only she could believe it.

She hated the thought of losing him, and was scared of being alone; but there was something that scared her even more. Driving him to the point of breaking, fearing that he too, would become like her father. She couldn't bear to see him like that, and she didn't want to see it happen. She didn't want to fear him, ever, and she didn't want to be the reason of that fear.

Too many times on cases she seen couples pushed to the brink, and had see the end results. The last thing she wanted was to be another statistic, ending up in a book or computer log that other people read, and shook their heads at. It was no place for her, her unborn child and certainly no place for someone like Greg.

The rest of the night her head was buried in paperwork. She kept herself busy, unwilling to let her mind wander. She couldn't allow herself to change her mind, couldn't go back on her silent agreement. Yet as the minutes passed by, Sara couldn't help but think.

It was unfair of her to use that accusation against Greg. She knew well enough that Greg wouldn't have gone to the media. He avoided them like the plague, and from time to time Sara would have to be the one to chase off loitering reporters, and interviewers. Sara could also count the number of times Greg had screwed up a case on one hand. Though he wasn't as tedious as she was, he was pretty darn close. She had a hard time believing he would just 'misplace' the entire case file.

Her heart went out to him, knowing how he must feel, but understanding why she could not help. Any support she offered him would only confuse him, and prolong what would eventually come to be. The last thing she wanted was to encourage false assumptions and spur on hope. But did that mean she couldn't help at all?

So much had been going on; the lab had been increasingly busy. It was possible for anyone to slip in and out without so much of a second glance. They had it happen before, where people on the inside had been working for those on the outside. The files, though locked up, were not under constant supervision, and keys were easy enough to find.

The slight buzzing startled her, but she calmed herself quickly as pulled free the pager. Raising an eyebrow, she glanced over across the hallway to where Archie was waving her over. The case…he must have found a lead on the surveillance, Sara realized dimly.

It was in the early hours of the morning, when the lab was at its quietest; the hallways were empty and overhead the lights were dimmed. She knew that in a few short hours that it would be busy once again, as new cases rolled in, and a new team of investigators would take charge. Sara mildly wondered what would await her, if she chose to go home. Would Greg still be there, or had he held true to his word?

"Tell me you found a lead," she announced, entering the room. Truthfully, she hadn't really paid any attention to the current case at all, too wrapped up in her own thoughts and fears. However, she knew the others were grasping for leads, even the slightest one at all.

"Not really, but I did find this."

She frowned, watching the screen in front of her. Archie had replayed it a few times before she shook her head. "What am I supposed to be seeing?"

"It's Greg."

It could have been the hormones, but Sara wasn't too sure as she growled under her breath. "I can see who it is. The question is why are we watching him?"

"Check his hands out, what do you see?"

She moved closer, staring at the screen, before nodding. Now she could see it. "It's the case file…so he did have, and he did log it in."

"He had it," Archie confirmed, "But the camera doesn't show inside of the room. There's no telling what he did after he entered. All we know is that he walked into the room with the files, and left a few minutes after without them."

"So you think he's helping someone?" Sara asked, surprise and unwanted accusation in her voice.

"No, but I'm telling you what anyone else would. We have no proof…but we do have this."

She watched, intently now, as he speed up the screen. Nearly an hour ahead, and the film slowed. On the screen a hooded figure walked down the hallway, pausing outside the door to glance around the area, before slipping inside. Five minutes passed, and the hooded figure reemerged, a stack of files clutched in his hand.

"No identification," Sara muttered sadly, realizing now the suspect had never once looked remotely towards a camera.

"I've checked all the other cameras, no luck. It's like he disappeared. Not only that, but I can't get a clear shot at the files in his hand. He stuffed it in a larger envelope, probably to avoid detection."

"Archie…someone can't just disappear."

The man nodded, "I've already paged Grissom, he's out at a scene, but promised to check it out when he gets back. I just thought you might like to know."

Sara nodded, straightening up. It was as though a heavy burden had been lifted, and her heart beat freely once more as she thanked him and left. No sooner had she stepped out in the hallway that the claustrophobic feeling returned when she realized she wouldn't be able to tell Greg. Not if she wanted to save him.

If he had been in a clear state of mind, he probable would have left. He was angry, frustrated, hurt and even more so, tired. The very thought of moving out, and trying to find a place to stay whether it be a hotel or small apartment exhausted him even more. He had glanced at the clock, knowing full well Sara wouldn't be home for a few hours yet. It would be not only wiser, but safer, to head out fully rested. Reluctantly, he had set his suitcase on the floor, set his alarm, and went to sleep.

He slept, surprisingly well, taking everything into account. His dreams were riddled with clues and dark, chilling bits of past and present happenings. But even they were not enough to wake him. When he did open his eyes, he found himself surrounded in a muggy fog-like state, and he lay for a moment, trying to figure out where he was, and even more so, what had woken him.

It was still dark out, and he had only slept a couple of hours, both his body and mind thoroughly exhausted from the recent emotional tolls, but even his semi-conscious state, he knew something was wrong. Sara wouldn't be home for another hour yet, maybe even longer with his dismissal. But it was easy to hear, without a doubt, that someone was walking around in the kitchen. The quiet footsteps, the shuffling of papers…someone was in the apartment.

He pushed himself off the bed, getting his feet under him. Still unsure of his footing he held onto the wall, the adrenaline pumping through his veins offsetting the exhaustion that had once settled in his body. After a few shaky breaths he convinced himself that perhaps it was Sara…after all, Grissom had sent her home early once. He could have done it again.

But it was unlikely. He remembered the break-ins that happened earlier in the week. Could remember how Jessie had been stabbed…how she had died. The killer had a knife…and Greg had nothing. He clenched his hands into fists, opening them again shortly after. Could he win with sheer strength if he had too? Slowly he moved closer to the bedroom door, inching it open with the palm of his hand.

The beam of the flashlight swept across the floor, over the countertops as the invader continued to shuffle through the papers that were now spread across the counter. He couldn't see who it was, not with a first glance as the person was shroud in darkness, but Greg could tell for sure that it was not Sara.

Instinctively, he reached for his phone, drawing in a sharp breath as he realized it was no longer on him. It was by his clock, on the nightstand; he had taken it off before falling asleep. He let out a curse, quickly realizing his mistake, but to late to silence himself, or move back into the safety of the room. He had been found.

TBC