Author's Note: Okay, I know I just left you all hanging there, but I miscalculated how much time I would actually need to study for exams. But they are done now, and my focus is all on my writing. So thanks for being patient and I promise I will keep it moving from now on. The characters of CSI don't belong to me – but I am learning to accept that.

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When he looked back on it later, he didn't even recall doing it. Gil Grissom was not a man that lost his temper very often, and he certainly never lashed out in anger. But seeing Greg standing there, looking very much alive while Sara was in critical condition unleashed something inside of him. Add Greg's apology to the mix, and there was a recipe for disaster. Grissom lunged at Greg and grabbed the young man by the front of his shirt. He slammed him back against the wall with as much force as he could muster. The kid's head hit the wall with a painful smack. Grissom leaned his face in very close to Greg's, his eyes burning with a rage that no one had ever borne witness to.

"You're sorry?" The words were very low and hissing. They were dripping with venom and poisoned Greg down to his soul. It was like having a complete stranger say those words to him. He nodded meekly, unable to find words because he was so shocked at Grissom's demeanor.

The nod seemed to enrage Grissom more. His grip shifted from Greg's shirtfront to his upper arms, where he gripped them in a vice-like grip. Greg flinched as the pain coursed down his already aching arms.

"Let me tell you what I am sorry about," Grissom began, his voice shaking with rage. "I am sorry for the day that I ever hired a pathetic, idiotic, self-centered little bastard to work in my lab. I am sorry that I couldn't see what a loser you really are. You are untrustworthy and you are a disappointment."

"Grissom, I –"

"Shut up!" The words were punctuated by Grissom driving him back into the wall. Greg let out a low moan of pain as his already throbbing head bounced off the hard plaster.

"You shut up and listen to me Greg. If Sara dies, it will be your fault. You put her in there, and God help you if she doesn't pull through. Your stupidity is unbelievable. What were you thinking?! Were you thinking at all?! Your actions left her in a coma. And I will never, ever forgive you for that. You are not welcome here, you got that? I find you anywhere near her again and I will personally see to it that they never find you body. You make me sick."

Greg was silent as Grissom carried on his tirade. His face was expressionless, until a single tear slipped down his cheek. Warrick saw this and knew it was time to get Grissom to back off. The kid had had enough.

"Gil?" Grissom flinched as Warrick leaned in close to his ear. "That's enough. Let Greg go. Sara needs you. Go be with her."

Grissom hesitated for only a moment before releasing his grip on Greg's arms. He clenched and unclenched his fists, surprised at how cramped they were. He must have been holding the kid tighter than he thought. With one final, hateful glance in Greg's direction, he stalked off in search of Sara's room.

            Greg was unable to move. He stood rooted to the spot, fighting the urge to try and say something that would make things okay. He had never seen Grissom this angry. Grissom apparently had a great capacity for anger, and Greg had seen but a small part of it unleashed on him today. He looked cautiously around. The few people that were still in the waiting room were conspicuously ignoring him. Their eyes were fixed unseeingly on magazines, on the floor, on the ceiling. Catherine was looking at him with a mixture of pity and disgust. She looked like she wanted to say something, and then thought better of it. She quietly excused herself and went off in the direction Grissom had. Warrick put one hand on Greg's back and gently propelled him towards the door that led to a stairwell. They went down two flights before Greg's strength finally gave out on him and he sank to the stairs. Warrick leaned against the wall opposite Greg, with his arms crossed and looked at him. Greg rested his head on his arms and wished that he could simply disappear. He realized that Warrick was waiting for him to say something.

"He hates me". The words were said with a sad sense of defeat. Warrick immediately uncrossed his arms and sat down beside Greg.

"He doesn't hate you".

"You saw what he did back there.  He hates me."

Warrick rubbed a hand over his eyes, realizing just now how tired he was. "Greg, he is upset. We all are. And when people are faced with something as serious as this, they tend to overreact. Grissom will come around."

Greg shook his head. "You didn't see his eyes Warrick. I have never seen so much anger in someone's eyes before. It was like looking into the face of someone I've never even met."

Warrick didn't have a response to that. He sighed once and stood up to lean against the wall again. He studied Greg's face carefully. The cut on his forehead was raised and ugly. The stitches made him look like a monster from the old horror movies. There were dark shadows under his eyes. His eyes themselves were dull and had the look of someone who had just had the world turn on them. He was favoring both arms, and grimaced as he tried to move them. Jeez, between the car wreck and Grissom's attack, the kid had been put through the physical wringer in the last few hours.

"How's your head?" He looked at Greg with concern, trying to ascertain whether or not he should take him back in to see the doctor.

"What do you care?" The words were harsh.

"Hey! Right now, I think I am the only friend that you may have left, so you'd better watch your tone!"

The reprimand stung like a slap. "Oh yeah, I'm so sure that you are concerned about my personal well-being. That's why you let Grissom knock me around like a punching bag".

"Look, I'm sorry about not intervening. But he needed to let his anger out. You know how he is. He will just bottle it all up until he explodes."

Greg laughed a bitter laugh. "Sure Warrick. Keep justifying his actions. Make yourself feel better. Hey, if we all want to vent our frustrations and anger, how about you take a couple swings at me. That ought to help you release some tension."

Warrick closed the gap between them with two strides and was about to reach down and grab Greg, maybe shake some sense into him, when he saw the look of terror that crossed Greg's face. The kid was scared of him. He thought that Warrick genuinely wanted to hurt him. Warrick reeled back.

"I'm sorry". He was almost whispering. He was horrified by what he had almost done. By what Grissom had done. In spite of his actions, Greg still needed their support. He sat on the floor across from him.

"Greg what happened with you last night? You hardly ever drink to begin with. What would possess you to get behind the wheel of a car?"

Greg shook his head. "I can't tell you" was all he said.

"Greg, man, some on. You owe me – and everyone else – an explanation. So what was the problem?"

Greg's eyes were red rimmed and he looked like he was about to cry. "It doesn't matter. I screwed up, ok? My reasons for doing it are irrelevant. Let's just say that I ruined everything and leave it at that."

"Greg-"

"Please. Just don't ask me anymore. I don't want to talk about it. All I want to do is go home and go to bed. Now are you going to drive me, or do I need to call a cab?"

Warrick was troubled. He didn't like the idea of Greg bottling his guilt up like this. But he knew better than to push for an explanation. Greg needed some time to rest before Warrick could press for information.

"Of course I'll give you a ride. Come on, let's go."

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            He waited until he was sure that Greg was safely inside before leaving. He was about to go home and change his clothes when his phone rang.

"Warrick? It's Catherine. Can you go to the airport? Nick just arrived."