The bright sunbeams shined through the open windows and streamed directly onto Sara's face. As she threw up a hand to block out the sunlight, it suddenly dawned on her that the windows in her bedroom faced opposite the sun. This was not her bedroom. She sat up and immediately regretted doing so when her head started spinning. The sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. On the bedside table was a mug of coffee and a bottle of Tylenol; obviously, both were meant for her. As she sipped the warm coffee, she couldn't help but wonder what the hell had happened the night before. She put down the now empty cup and began walking to the door. She opened the door slowly and peeked out, to see Greg standing by the counter, reading a magazine and eating a bowl of cereal. She shut the door quietly and hurried back into the room. Memories of the night before flooded her brain-her fight with Grissom, the bar, meeting up with Greg- she remembered parts of everything. Sara collapsed back onto the bed with a groan. How could this happen? She yanked the covers over her head in hopes to drown out the world. It was her fault that it happened; she had initiated it. Why did it have to be Greg? Why could she have not picked a stranger or someone she didn't know? Her thoughts were interrupted with the sound of the door opening. Someone, she assumed Greg, sat down beside her on the bed. "Sara, you've got to wake up, its almost noon", he whispered as he shook her lightly. She turned over and smiled at him; immediately, he knew something was wrong. She didn't' give him one of those unforgettable grins of hers, but instead, a very forced smile. "Greg," she sighed, and then continued with the four words no one ever wants to hear. "We need to talk."  Greg slowly nodded. He knew this was coming.

          "Last night was…an accident. We were drunk and it shouldn't have happened. I'm so sorry and I hope we can both forget about it and never mention last night to anyone." She tried to deliver this speech even thought it felt as if her head was in a blender.

          Greg looked at her strangely; she was embarrassed by what she had done. Embarrassed that it was he she slept with. Greg wanted desperately to say something, anything to make her change her mind. "Maybe it wasn't an accident. I mean, maybe it was meant to happen. Maybe this is something that we both need to make happen."

          Sara sighed and stood up, ignoring her buckling knees. "Greg, I can't talk about this now. I've got to go." And she walked out of his room, heading for the front door. He followed her out of his apartment and down to the street, catching up with her as she hailed a cab.

          "Just give me a chance!" He yelled, his voice full of emotion, as she shut the door. Now where had Sara heard that before?

          Greg sighed in defeat and walked slowly back up to his apartment. Once inside, he collapsed onto the couch. He couldn't believe the events of the night before. Everything that he had been hoping for was hopeless now. Now it wasn't a wanting of what he couldn't have, it was wanting what he had, but lost.

He checked his watch. 6:00. He would have to face Sara in an hour. He let her know how he felt, he tried to approach her, and she didn't care, she turned away. Greg knew that Sara regarded the night before as one of the biggest mistakes of her life, and that killed him. He knew that last night would blow any chance he ever had with her, and yet he went through with it anyway, giving in to an urge that he had no control over. Always thinking that he truly cared for Sara, he now realized that if he really cared for her, then he wouldn't have let last night go down the way it did. He didn't deserve Sara; she was too perfect, too good for him. She didn't know about all the skeletons in his closet, no one did. If they ever found out they would hate him, treat him with the disgust he deserved.

Greg walked through the lab, hiding his head in shame. He felt as if everyone he met knew what he had done, how he betrayed Sara, tossed aside every emotion, every chance. It wasn't as if he could blame it on the alcohol, he was drunk, but not that drunk. He knew it was wrong the second he touched her. She was forbidden, and he had broken the rules.

As Catherine entered Greg's lab, she noticed the atmosphere of the room had completely changed. Instead of the usual headbanging tunes of Marilyn Manson, Black Flag, or some other various metal act, the stereo volume was uncharacteristically low and a quiet acoustic song filled the lab. Greg was silently working in a dark corner of the lab, slowly nodding his head in tune with the music. Catherine cleared her throat to catch his attention before she started speaking with him.

"Greg, Grissom and I need these samples ASAP. They're from the Hertlein home. You know, the case where their sixteen year old daughter Elizabeth was raped and murdered."

"I'm on it." Catherine sighed. She thought she had a guess as to what was wrong with Greg.

"Listen, I know everyone is a little somber around here today, but she left on her own accord and there was nothing we could do to stop her. It won't be the same around here without her, but we can't let the cases suffer because we're all down."

"What are you talking about?" For the first time since Catherine entered the lab, Greg was actually interested in what she had to say.

"Sara leaving, of course. Yesterday was her last day. Didn't you know that?"

No, no he didn't know that. Sara's final memory of him was going to be what happened last night, how he took advantage of her, lost her trust. He had no way to take back what he had done now; he was never going to see her again.

Greg couldn't even remember the rest of the shift. The one thing in his life that was worth living for was gone. He had nothing, just a wasted life. A life filled with nothing but regret and brief moments of happiness that eventually led back to regret. Greg guessed the real question was if those small, rare moments of pure joy were worth living for.

His family was gone; the closest thing he had to one was the people he worked with. He guessed Grissom would be the father figure- the father that ignored everything you did well and only remembered the times you fucked up. He was the cold, distant father who was never there, but when he was, once in awhile, he made them feel as if they belonged in the world. Because he never complimented anyone, when he showed anyone even the smallest token of gratitude, they felt like the king of the world. He thought he had everyone on the team all figured out. Catherine was the take control one, Nick was the suck up, Warrick was the one who didn't care, Sara was the overachiever, and Greg? Well, Grissom saw him as the goof off, the screw up, the one whose one sole purpose in life was to annoy the hell out of everyone else. He was the chicken, the one who lost his lunch at crime scenes.

Catherine was the mother figure- the mother that was bossy, indignant, uncaring, well, at least until her child was in some sort of emotional stress or having a problem. Then she would care. She would listen to their problems and give them suggestions on how to fix them. If they were hurt or in the hospital, then Catherine would be the one to visit them. She would nurture them and make it seem like she actually cared. But deep down, she was as cold and uncaring as Grissom.

Nick was the twin brother, the one he did everything with. The one he got drunk with on the weekends, the one he could joke around the lab with. Nick was everyone's favorite child, so caring and trustworthy, and yet so oblivious. He couldn't even see the issues his best friend was going through. He was completely blind.

Warrick let you know he didn't care, and people loved him for that one reason. He could tell it like it is and didn't have to worry about hurting anyone's feelings. He was like the favorite cousin in that aspect. He had come a long way from what he grew up in. Warrick had a lot of life experience and was the only one on the entire team who observed people. He watched and listened; he always knew what was going on.

And then there was Sara. Sara left, she deserted them all. She didn't even have the slightest inkling towards his feelings and he had tried his hardest to express them to her. She was blinder than Nick, more distant than Grissom, colder than Catherine. And yet he was in love with her.

He was trapped in the endless cycle of pain, one that he had been spiraling around in since he was still a child. He desperately needed to know that he was still a human, that his thoughts and emotions mattered. Greg hadn't felt normal in a very, very long time. He hated everything about himself. He was completely disgusted with what he had become- a lying, greedy, selfish, lonely, backstabbing, son of a bitch that had absolutely nothing to live for. He had no reason to live. So he wouldn't.

 
I let myself fall into a lie
I let my walls come down
I let myself smile and feel alive
I let my walls come down
No matter how I try I don't know why
You push so far away
You wrapped your hands tight around my heart
And squeezed it full of pain 
 
With this knife I'll cut out the part of me 
The part that cares for you
With this knife I'll cut out the heart of me
The heart that cares for you
 
I can't believe the way you took me down
I never saw the pain
Coming in a million broken miles
Like poison in my veins
 
The hate and the fear
The nightmares that wake me up
In the tears
The nightmares and the hate…

The television in the corner of his living room blared out the basketball game that was on-Dallas Mavericks against Los Angeles Lakers. Because of the thunderstorm that was hitting Vegas, the picture was fading in and out.

"Three point shot made by Nowitzki and the Mavericks increase their lead to twelve"

"…Has been an unbelievable season for the Dallas All-Star…"

"…Could lead his team to the finals…"

"…League MVP…"

He finished writing on the small, wrinkled, white sheet of paper, put the cap back on the pen he was writing with, and stuck the note in his pocket. He then pulled a steak knife out of the rack in the corner of his kitchen and began to stab himself repeatedly in the stomach. Feeling no emotion, he kept stabbing away at his own flesh as small streams of blood began to trickle down his stomach and chest, staining his hands.

"…A collision between Nowitzki and Shaq…"

"Oh my God, Nowitzki's down…"

"…There's blood all over the court…"

"…Can see the bone sticking out of his leg…"

"…His career is ruined…"

Fourteen stabs later, Greg removed the knife and fell to his knees.

"…So much blood…"

AN: THIS IS NOT THE END UNLESS YOU WANT IT TO BE. REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW! AT LEAST FIVE REVIEWS TO CONTINUE! WAS THIS CHAPTER COMPLETE BULLSHIT? LET ME KNOW! FLAMES ARE WELCOME!

Also, I want to apologize to my friend Elizabeth, for making her the murder victim in this story. Elizabeth, if you ever read this, then I'm so sorry!