My soundtrack: "Strange and Beautiful (I'll Put a Spell on You)" by Aqualung

Chapter Two: About Time

Present day

Sara was not okay. She could feel herself spiraling back down into that murky abyss she visited so often. Helpless to halt her fall, all she could do was wait and hope this one wasn't as bad as the last.

Most of Sara's friends and coworkers believed her when she told them she was fine.

Most, but not Greg. Greg saw right through her fake smiles and her mechanical motions. He said nothing to her concerning this, but more times than before Sara caught him watching her carefully during their conversations. When they worked cases together Greg stayed closer to her, choosing not to split up during scene sweeps and interrogations. Sara wondered if she was exuding some sort of aura that told him she needed him close by.

After shift one morning, Greg and Sara met at their Frank's for coffee and pancakes. They invited the rest of the team, but everyone either had commitments or were too exhausted to not head straight home. Greg and Sara were exhausted too, but the idea of heading home, facing the silence was even less appealing than the fatigue they felt.

As they conversed between mouthfuls of food, Sara carefully avoided speaking her husband's name, and Greg followed her lead. She seemed to be in good spirits; almost cheerful, and the last thing he wanted to do was bring her down. Yes, being a CSI made Sara emotionally tired, but Grissom…that man made it impossible for her to get any sleep. They may have been married, but Sara had never felt more distance between them. Sara loathed that sensation of drifting apart after a relationship so passionate, so fierce, that it consumed her. She hated that she forgot how to just be Sara.

After breakfast Greg and Sara walked back to the parking garage. Meandered, truly, because what should have been a three-minute walk turned into ten. He walked Sara to her car first, trying to delay the inevitable trip to his lonely apartment and his lonely bed. A minute of silence commenced as Sara leaned against her car, seemingly deep in thought.

Greg stood, hands in pockets, peering at Sara to try to see through her walls. She was really worrying him. Sara looked at times recently like she wanted to give up, and that scared Greg because if Sara couldn't do this job then how on earth was he supposed to?

After more silence than Greg could bare, he spoke her name softly.

She glanced up at him. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?" Greg suspected she had something to say, and he wanted more than anything for her to say it. Even if all she needed to do was vent to him about Grissom, about the job, he would have gladly listened if it meant relieving some of the weight from her shoulders. However, he didn't want to press her too hard. Greg already suspected that Sara was nearing the point of a break-down, and if pushed, she was likely to shut down even more.

"Yeah, I am," Sara responded with a grateful but guarded smile. There was another hesitation. Greg just watched Sara patiently as she thought. "Listen, Greg. This has been fun."

Any disappointment that may have visible in his expression he quickly replaced with a small, lopsided grin. "It has."

She wrung her hands, stared at the ground. "Do you maybe want to—" Sara was cut off by the ringing of her cellphone. She removed it from her pocket, glanced at the screen, then looked up at Greg and shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry, I have to get this. See you at work tonight."

Sara gave a quick wave and parting smile, got into her car, pressed a button on the phone to answer it, then drove away. He waved back, though she wasn't looking. Scuffing his shoes on the cement in frustration, Greg turned and headed to the floor that his own car was parked on.

After arriving at her apartment, Sara only tossed and turned in her bed. She couldn't calm the storm of thoughts racing through her mind. What was between her and Grissom had always been rocky, but when it was good, she wouldn't trade it for the world. However, the good times lately were shadowed greatly by his absence and obliviousness. In fact, Grissom had only called her this morning to tell her he was leading a symposium in Argentina on the behavior and survival of the Brazilian wandering spider and wouldn't be able to contact her for a few more days.

She had always liked Greg. When it became more, she could not say. At times before she married Grissom, she considered dating him. However, Greg was younger than the men she usually dated (when she had time to date, that was) and his immaturity shone brightly.

Lately since she returned to work at the Las Vegas crime lab, she had noticed a change in Greg. His time in the field, his recent experiences; something had matured him. He still flirted and he still cracked jokes, but he no longer did so at every opportunity he got. It seemed he learned to censor himself; even his hair had become censored, and behind every laugh, every jest, his eyes were serious—sometimes sad.

Recently Sara found herself feeling attracted to Greg. The attraction was not any specific type. Just a bunch of fragments of his everyday actions and the words he spoke to her, all coming together to a perfect mixture of rugged and adorable that left her feeling drawn to the same time, guilt tugged at Sara's heart every time she felt these things toward Greg. Gil had no idea, and Sara still cared for him greatly.

Finally, she resigned the idea of sleep, turned on the bedside table lamp, and picked up a book.

Sara invited Greg to her place a few days later, and he agreed. This wasn't any new for them—they often hung out as friends throughout the years. Sometimes they went to her place, sometimes to his, and often they went to nightclubs or bars together. She disguised her need for human conversation and contact under the façade of having accidentally accumulated too much microwave popcorn and had free OnDemand credits because she was such a loyal customer.

The two were halfway through a delightfully dreadful horror movie about mutant hedgehogs that grew to substantial sizes and acquired a taste for human meat. Each CSI sat on opposite ends of the sofa, sharing a large bowl of popcorn which sat on the cushion between them, which had already been refilled once. Two half-empty glasses of Merlot sat in front of them—also their second. Sara's legs were folded under her, feeling very comfortable thanks to the wine and the pajamas she'd changed into just after they arrived. Still in the clothes he wore to work, Greg was leaning far back onto the cushions with his feet propped on the coffee table. He looked tired, half-lidded eyes straining to stay open to see how the movie ended.

"This is why I'm a vegetarian," Sara commented, not taking her eyes from the screen.

Greg exhaled sharply. "What are you talking about? This plot is highly improbable at best."

Sara grinned at him, "That's what you say now, but wait until the hedgehogs mutate. They'll be less likely to eat me than you."

He laughed, rubbed a hand across his face at her logic. Their eyes met fleetingly, Sara suddenly looked very serious, and Greg cleared his throat. "Well, uh…who eats hedgehogs, anyway?"

Realizing they both stopped reaching for popcorn more than five minutes ago, Sara moved the nearly empty bowl to the coffee table. She took another long sip of her wine and found herself moving to where the popcorn had been: into the center of the sofa, and much nearer to Greg.

If he noticed or minded, he said nothing. His eyes only darted to her briefly before returning to the television. After a moment, she slid even closer to him, leaned over, and laid her head onto his shoulder. She felt Greg tense ever-so-slightly beneath her, and quickly lifted her head, searching his eyes for any sign she should back off.

It had been a long time since she drank alcohol, and coupled with the deficiency of sleep, the strong red wine was hitting her harder than it normally would have. Her thoughts kept drifting to what Grissom would think, but when Sara saw the look in Greg's eyes it was difficult to ponder anything else. There was conflict there, but more prominent was the need and desire.

Sara leaned even closer to Greg, and he closed his eyes before they both quickly closed the gap between them. Their lips met, tentatively at first, but the kiss swiftly became more enthusiastic as they both realized that the other was still a willing participant.

Sara's right hand traveled to the side of Greg's face, lightly resting there. His own hand moved to rest lightly on her forearm, then he began to trail small kisses from her lips to her cheek, down to her jawline and finally to her neck, where he lingered and nuzzled her there.

In this moment, it felt as if this kind of contact was nothing new to them.

Goosebumps covered her flesh as Sara leaned her head to the side to give him better access, and her hand traveled down to the back of his neck, then to his shoulder. Greg nibbled lightly across her throat. She uncontrollably dug her fingertips into his thin t-shirt, leaving shallow red scratches on the skin below. Greg's reaction was to moan softly against her.

Sara's house phone began to ring, and she tried ignoring it but when the machine picked up it was impossible.

"Sara, it's Gil. Give me a call when you get this, okay? We haven't talked—really talked—in a while and I…I miss you."

Sara pulled her hands away from Greg, and he quickly backed off and stood up. He put his head in his hands and growled in frustration once the voicemail had ended. "What are we doing, Sara?"

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't…be sorry." He stood and paced across the living room, running a hand through his hair worriedly. Finally, Greg changed direction and headed to the front door. "I should go."

Sara jumped up. "Greg, wait! Please don't go."

"And why shouldn't I?" he inquired, although he did stop in his tracks, hand posed to turn the doorknob.

As she approached him, Greg turned to face her. Sara had seen him angry a handful of times, especially when certain cases struck too close to home, but this was different. His face clearly displayed the emotional turmoil he was experiencing. His brows furrowed; lips pressed together tightly. His normally soft brown eyes were narrow and unreadable. She wondered what he could see in her own expression.

Sara wanted desperately to say something, but she had no way of putting her thoughts into words. She sighed in defeat and simply held up her hands with a frustrated shrug.

Suddenly Greg closed the small space between them and grabbed both of her hands in his own. He squeezed them urgently. "I know you're married, and I never would never want to get in the way of you and Grissom, but it just feels like now or never. If I don't say this now, I don't think I'll ever have the courage to—"

"Greg don't—" she tried to interject.

"Please, don't interrupt me. I'm going to say this, then I'll leave you be. Sara, I love you. I'm pretty sure I've loved you since I first met you. And I know how cliche that sounds but it's just true when it comes to how I feel about you." Greg stared at her, searching her expression for any type of answer; any reaction at all.

Sara suddenly felt angry, and she had only a vague understanding of why. "Why would you tell me this now?" she questioned him, her voice rising in volume. Sara pulled her hands from his, and now it was her turn to run a hand through her hair.

Greg scoffed, growing defensive at Sara's outburst. "Oh, I don't know Sara. Maybe it was the making out and groping that made me feel like it might be the right time?"

Sara frowned. She turned and paced once across the living room, stopping in front of him once more. "We weren't…groping. And I'm happily married," she held up her ring hand as if this proved her satisfaction in her relationship with Grissom.

"Are you, though?" he countered without pause.

Sara exhaled in disbelief. "You need to leave," she pointed at the door behind him.

He threw his hands up in resignation, "Fine. I'm gone."

When the door closed behind him, Sara leaned against it, suddenly short of breath.

Just after leaving, Greg drove around Sara's block several times. He strongly debated going back and knocking on her door but had no idea what he would say.

'Sara, I lied. I didn't mean any of it.'

But he was over being that guy; the one that bottled everything up. At least when it came to his feeling for Sara. The internal dialogue whirled in his head. He realized he'd just run a stop sign when a horn honked. He drove the next few blocks glancing around nervously, looking for but never seeing those red and blues light up. Greg knew he should not even be driving right now—he was too distracted and perhaps a bit tipsy from the Merlot.

Nothing he could tell Sara would reverse the damage that he inflicted today. Considering how upset Sara appeared, even if Greg thought it might work now might not be the best time to try. He finally decided to leave it be for now; give them both some time to cool down. He relieved at least that burden from his shoulders, and what happened from here on out was just meant to be.

The rest of his trip home Greg navigated with an overabundance of caution. Once there, he chased sleep until an alarm woke him for work.