Sorry this took so long! My fabulous beta Happyharper13 and I worked really hard on it! It's kind of sad, but it will start getting happier from now on, I promise! Enjoy!

Sam was sitting in the passenger seat of Greg's car as he drove her home from the hospital.

Grissom had insisted she get checked out, but, other than some bruising, she was going to be fine. Physically, at least.

Grissom and the paramedics had broken up the awkwardness in the interrogation room, but Sam had not seen Flack since then. Greg had gone to the hospital with her, and although he had held her hand and talked intently with the doctor, he had hardly said two words to Sam.

Now, Greg was driving her home, but the silence remained. Sam wanted to say something -- anything --, but words wouldn't come. So, instead, she rested her head against the cool window glass, enjoying the sensation. The pain medication the doctors had given her made her a little woozy and nauseas, although she was sure a part of that was the intense feeling of dread she had.

The car slowed down, and Sam turned her head to glance out the window: they had finally arrived at her building. Greg parked and walked around to open the door for her. He offered her a hand to get out, but broke the physical contact as soon as she was standing.

Greg led the way to her apartment, staying close to her in case she got dizzy from the drugs flooding her system, but never touching her. He used his spare key to open the door, stepping back to let her enter first. He followed her in and went to the closet, hanging her jacket up, but leaving his own on. This simple action was like a kick in the stomach to Sam.

"Greg, I'm-" Sam started to speak, but Greg interrupted her.

"You need to get into bed," he said. His tone was flat, with no emotion. "Go change and I'll be in in a second."

Sam swallowed her words and headed into the bedroom where she and Greg had spent so many nights together. She went to her drawer, the sickening feeling getting worse when she saw his own sweatpants in her drawer and realized how much their lives had become one. She skipped over those, opting for a pair of fleece pajamas from college. She slowly climbed into the bed, taking her time partly because her body hurt, and partly because she had a feeling once she was settled, he was going to leave. Out of habit she settled on the left side of the bed.

Greg came into the room a minute later, bringing a water bottle from her fridge and the pain medication the doctor had given her with him. He placed it on the bedside table on the right side and sat down on the edge of the bed, his back to her. Sam slowly pulled her body into a sitting position and reached out, her hand resting on his back. He flinched when he felt her touch, but slowly turned toward her.

"Greg, I'm sorry. I should have told you before…" Sam knew she was talking extremely fast, but she needed to tell him, needed him to finally say something. "I knew Detective Flack from a summer internship I did in New York in college. I hadn't talked to him in five years when he showed up here."

"Knew him how?" Greg asked, looking away from her and absentmindedly tugging at a loose thread on the bedspread.

"We worked on the same case…" Sam started, her voice betraying her attempt to keep back the tears. "And we had a bit too much to drink one night…." Sam's voice failed her. She couldn't speak anymore. It turns out Greg didn't need to hear anymore either.

Greg's body jerked, and Sam reached out to him, tears starting to stream down her face. He quickly got up off the bed and headed to the window, placing his hands and forehead on it. Even from her spot on the bed, she could see how tensed up his shoulders were.

"Greg, please!" Sam was close to pleading for his understanding.

"Do you still have feelings for him?" Greg asked from his position across the room. She couldn't see his face when he asked the question; he kept his back turned to her, his shoulders hunched and his head down.

"No," Sam replied, but she knew it sounded weak. "I admit," Sam said this really fast, "having him here dragged up some old emotions, but it's not him I want -- it's you!"

"I wish I believed you," he paused, clenching his fists and tilting his head slightly back, as if he was trying to hold back tears. "But when you keep one thing from me, I can't help but wonder what else you are keeping from me…"

His voice made her heart break, he sounded so disappointed and sad. Sam hated herself for ever making him think, even for a second, that she could want anyone but him.

"Greg, please look at me!" Sam begged, still facing his hunched back. She was nearing hysterics.

"I can't," he replied, straightening up and running one hand through his hair. "I have to go."

And he turned and walked out of the bedroom.

A few seconds later, Sam heard the front door slam shut.

XXXXX

Sam hadn't moved from her bed since Greg had left. Forty-five minutes had gone by when she heard a knock at the door. Jumping up, she ran to the door and threw it open. It was Catherine.

"Hey, Sam, can I come in?"

Sam didn't say anything -- she just moved aside and let Catherine enter the apartment.

"Greg called me. He asked me if I could check on you -- make sure you are okay." Catherine paused. "Why is Greg asking me to check on you, rather than being here himself…?"

Suddenly it was all too much for Sam. The combination of pain medication, the realization that a man had tried to choke her to death, and the indescribable pain of watching the man she loved walk out on her, made the normally strong CSI crack.

Catherine led the young CSI to the couch and wrapped an arm around her. Sam spilled the whole story -- about how she hadn't told Greg about her history with Flack, about him finding out, and about her mixed-up feelings. Catherine made no attempt to talk. She just watched and comforted Sam as the younger woman let it all out. When Sam was finally done, Catherine nodded with understanding.

"We all make mistakes, Sam. You need to figure out what you want."

Sam interjected. "I know what I want. I want Greg. When that man was choking me, all I could think about was Greg, not Flack. Don's a good friend, but he's not the man I've fallen in love with…"

"Then you need to tell Greg that, and don't let up until he believes you," Catherine replied. She handed Sam another kleenex to wipe away the slowing tears.

Sam nodded. "I will. I need to tie things up with Don first though."

XXXX

He was standing under the big screen, watching the list of flight times scroll down, when he heard her approach. Two days had passed since the incident in the interrogation room and his calls to Sam had gone unanswered, up until this morning. He had been packing up his hotel room when he heard her call finally come in. Sam had asked to see him again, and now here she was, to see him off.

Sam walked up slowly, unsure of what to say or how he would react.

"How are you feeling?" He finally asked, breaking the silence.

Sam forced herself to look up into his eyes. She was surprised at what she felt: nothing. No spark of anything.

"I've been better," she replied.

"You're dating that guy, aren't you?"

Sam nodded. "I'm sorry if I led you on, Don."

Flack put up a hand to stop her. "You didn't. I guess it was just wishful thinking on my part." He paused. "He's a lucky guy," he finished.

Sam fought back tears. Flack stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.

"Go make it right, Sam," he whispered.

"Are we ok?" she asked.

"Yeah. Of course." Flack kissed her on the cheek and turned to leave. "If you ever return to New York, look me up. Okay?"

Sam smiled slightly. Flack turned and walked through the gate.

Sam watched him go.

She now had to head back to work, and make things better with Greg.

XXXX

Sam walked into the break room to find Greg pouring coffee. She stood in the doorway for a minute, watching him. Her heartbeat sped up and she wondered how she could ever, for even a second, have thought about being with someone else. He looked so perfect standing there. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him, kiss him, make love to him and fall asleep in his arms.

"Greg," she started. Her voice sounded much softer than she had planned.

Greg turned around slowly, knowing it was her.

"Greg -- I'm so sorry. Please -- I never meant to hurt you. He means nothing to me!" Tears were already streaming down her face.

"Sam, I can't do this right now. I have a lot of work to finish up before I leave."

Sam's heart stopped.

"YOU QUIT?!"

Greg sighed.

"Stop being so over-dramatic. I have an interview with a book publisher. I'm taking a few days off."

Sam took a step forward and reached for his hand. "Greg, I'm in love with you, please-" but Greg had yanked his hand back.

"Don't you dare tell me you love me as a weak attempt to make things right. If you loved me, you would have told me the truth about him. You wouldn't have hid things from me!"

His voice was raised. Sam had never heard Greg like this, and, for some reason, it angered her more.

"What?! So everything I've done for you -- the way I've stood by you -- it all counts for nothing?! Because I made one mistake?!"

She was in hysterics now, unable to control herself. Suddenly she noticed tears in his eyes too. This calmed her down.

"I can't do this right now Sam. Let's cool it and talk when I get back."

With that, Greg turned and left the room.