Rating: PG

Disclaimer: You all know the drill.

Summary: Blah blah blah GSR, oh and a little Sara/Greg friendship.

A/N: No Beta, Meh. All mistakes are mine. Thanks so much for all your wonderful reviews! You make me want to write, which is a good thing. Thanks for not flaming me after that horribly agonizing last chapter. This might be the last of regular updates. I've been spoiling you guys with updates for three straight days! I might get a new chapter up Monday or Tuesday night. So enjoy! R and R if you want to live.

"Nothing's lost forever. In this world, there's a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we've left behind, and dreaming ahead. At least I think that's so."

–Harper Pitt, Angels in America.

Sara sped home, winding between cars on the busy streets. At this point she didn't care if she got pulled over, she didn't care if she got into an accident, she didn't care about anything. She just wanted to get home. Tears still fell from her eyes, but they came slower this time. Her chest heaved up and down and she found it hard to breath. She turned suddenly into her parking lot and a few cars honked their horns at her, she didn't hear them. Sighing as she turned off the engine, Sara rested her head on the steering wheel before getting out of the car.

The walk up to her second floor apartment seemed endless and her body ached. She reached in her purse for her keys and struggled to open her door, her hands were still shaking. Sara pushed her door open and a gust of cool wind blew, she shivered. Her apartment was dark except for the dull light coming from the rising sun. She threw her purse on the couch and unhooked her gun from her belt. She stared at it for a few seconds, remembering just minutes before and threw it down with her purse.

She scanned her living room and stopped when her eyes spied a healthy green plant sitting on her kitchen counter. Her hands formed a fist and her blood filled with rage, her eyes with tears. She screamed as she paced over to it and threw the plant from its place, her hands flying threw the air and the plant flying with them. The sound of shattering plaster and flying dirt echoed through her apartment and she collapsed on the floor with silent sobs.

"Why…" she mumbled between tears.

"Why…" she said again staring at the scattered dirt and plant on her carpet.

There on the floor Sara slipped in and out of consciousness, getting whatever sleep she could. Her body was exhausted from the tremendous emotion that it had ensued and she needed to sleep.

A few hours later Sara gasped as she awoke suddenly from her sleep. She breathed heavily as she looked at the orange glow of the sunset in the confines of her apartment. Looking at the clock on the wall she sighed, it was almost time to get to the lab. She braced the wall as she rose, turning around and reaching for the phone. She dialed the lab.

"This is Sara Sidle." Sara paused.

"I'm afraid I won't be coming into work today."

"Can you please let the appropriate people know…"

"Thank you."

Sara hung up. She couldn't even bear to say his name. Tell Grissom I'm not coming in. Tell him that I am in my depressing apartment with my pitiful self. Sitting here, alone.

"That's what he would want to hear." Sara said to herself.

"Dr. Grissom!" the receptionist yelled.

Grissom whipped around to find the redhead receptionist smiling at him.

"Sara Sidle called in just a few minutes ago…." She started.

His heart sank at the sound of her name.

"She won't be coming into work tonight."

He didn't have to ask why.

"Thanks." He said before he wandered his way to his office.

He didn't think he could have handled Sara being here. Grissom did not even think he could handle Sophia tonight. He slipped unnoticed into his office and shut the door. His mind was still in a haze and he tried his best to stay focused on Sara. Today was going to be a long dragged out day full of questions and void of answers. Grissom's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," Grissom said rubbing his sore shoulder.

"Good evening." Sophia said waltzing in.

"How are we tonight?" She asked, seemingly ignoring what went on last night.

Grissom groaned.

"I'm fine. You?"

"Never been better." Sophia said with a smirk and a tilt of her head.

"Can you give me a few minutes?" Grissom asked.

"Sure thing…boss." She winked and closed to door behind her as she exited Grissom's office.

Grissom took of his glasses and rubbed his eyes. All he wanted to do was go to Sara's house, breakdown her door and make her understand. But the last time he tried to make her understand he got a gun in his face, he knew that it was too soon. He didn't know what was going on with his body just like Sara, he wanted to tell Sara that he longed for her, that he ached for her. But that was too much for him to even admit to himself.

Sara's attention was shattered by a knock on the door. She put her Forensic Journal down and walked slowly to the door, her stomach inching higher and higher into her throat at each step. She looked in the peephole and breathed a sigh of relief. She opened the door to find Greg in her doorway holding a Styrofoam container and a package of crackers. She smiled.

"I brought you some soup." He said.

"Who said I was sick?"

"Grissom said you wouldn't be coming in tonight so I just figured." He said.

Her eyes welded up with tears at his name.

"How did you find out where I live?" Sara laughed, trying to shake off the tears.

Greg shrugged.

"Are you going to invite me in or shall you consume this soup in your doorway?"

"No of course, come in." Sara said, leading Greg into her apartment.

"So what's up?" He asked handing the soup to Sara.

"Nothing much." She said, putting the soup on the counter.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the lab?" Sara asked.

"It's lunch time on a slow case day." He responded with a smile.

Greg looked around Sara's apartment, something any person does when they are in a new surrounding. His eyes caught sight of the broken plant pot on the floor, brown soil surrounding it. Every time Sara had gone to clean it up she couldn't bring herself to pick up the pieces without breaking down. The broken pieces were all that were left of her shattered life. Greg glanced at Sara with a raised brow; her face was turned to the floor.

"What happened?"

"It fell." Sara said childlike.

"Across the room?" He asked questioningly.

"Yeah." Sara mumbled under her breath.

"What really is going on here?" Greg asked firmly.

"It's nothing." Sara said, turning around to grab the dustpan and broom.

Greg walked in front of Sara as she walked towards the broken pot on the floor. He grabbed the broom from her hands and threw it on the floor.

"Sara, please, what is going on?" Greg pleaded.

She fought back the tears that threatened and looked at Greg. He gave her a loving smile, something she always expected from Greg. She felt a lone tear fall down her cheek and trace a path down her neck and onto her shirt.

"It's ok Sara, you can tell me. I'm your friend." He said lovingly, taking Sara's trembling hand. He pulled Sara into an embrace and she sobbed quietly into his shoulder.

"Oh god Greg, I love him so much." She cried out.

"Oh god. My heart aches for him." She wept, her sobs turning into convulsions as her emotions took hold of her yet again.

Greg squeezed her tighter and laid his head on hers. He stroked her hair to calm her.

"Shhh…it's going to be ok." Greg reassured her.

Her sobs quieted and she rose from his shoulder, eyes red and cheeks wet.

"It's going to be ok." Greg said again.

Sara smiled weakly.

"I need to lie down," she said, stumbling to the couch.

"Ok take it easy," he said, leading her to the couch.

"Sara," he said, holding her trembling hand and wiping the tears from her face. "I'm here for you. I've got your back, just like you had mine." He smiled.

Sara smiled and nodded as she sat back on the couch. She closed her eyes and let sleep overcome her, drowning away her tears for now. Greg watched as she slipped into sleep and pulled a blanket from the love seat to lie on her. He dreaded seeing Sara so beat up, first her outburst at Ecklie, something involving Grissom and another secret that he knew she was keeping from him. Whether hehad the right to know ornot, that wasn't clear.She was falling out of his grasp and everyone else's; she was falling apart.

Greg sighed as he got up and grabbed the broom and dustpan. He carefully brushed each pottery fragment into the dustpan. The once whole pottery now small pieces that could never be mended. Tiny wounds that can never be healed. The broken pieces were all that were left of her shattered life.

TBC :sobs: