Who in the hell does he think he is? Greg thought irritably to himself. I don't even work here anymore. He can't boss me around like that…can he?

Greg was going to tell Grissom exactly what he could do with his dictatorial attitude when Sara's eyes stopped him. Her eyes pleaded with Greg to hold his tongue and at least hear Grissom out. He sighed inwardly. She so wanted him to try and make some sort of amends with Grissom that he couldn't just ignore Grissom's demand for Greg to join him in his office.

Well you came this far, he reasoned with himself. The least you can do is humor Sara and talk to the man.

He left the room, though not before making a dramatic eye roll that told everyone exactly what he thought of Grissom's little scene moments earlier. He walked into Grissom's office, mentally bracing himself for the tirade that he was sure would come. Grissom was sitting with his back to Greg, staring intently at some of the many specimens that lined his orderly shelves. Greg wondered if Grissom was composing the riot act that he wanted to read to Greg. Or maybe he was trying to figure out how to have a semi-rational conversation with the younger man without excessive use of expletives. The silence unnerved Greg; it threw him off his game. He had thought that he was prepared to challenge Grissom, no matter what words of anger were flung round the tiny room. But the longer Grissom was quiet, the less sure of himself Greg was. It was of like standing at home plate, with a full count, and waiting for the pitcher to release the ball. The seconds' pass by like an eternity, and the longer he waited, the more nervous he got. He knew what he had to do, but as the seconds crept past, the less certain he was of his ability to do it. Greg prayed that when Grissom finally pitched to him that he wouldn't strike out. This was not the time to sit and wait for his pitch. Greg was determined to swing for the fences, or strike out trying

Maybe he's waiting for me to say something, he mused to himself. I had a whole year to think about what I would say – so why can't I say a word?

All these thoughts raced through his head as Grissom continued to sit there in silence, with his back turned. Greg was growing more tense and annoyed by the second. He had been summoned here, in no uncertain terms, and now Grissom was just going to sit here and not say a word? What on earth could he possibly be thinking about so intently? He had to have something to say, anything to say. Greg almost would have preferred it if the older man had shouted at him, raised his hand to him, or done something. Anything. Anything that would have made the awkward, uncomfortable and oppressive silence dissipate into the night. The silence stung more wildly then any slap. It was as if Grissom was simply trying to prove a point. He was trying to show Greg how easily he had been erased from their lives. He could continue to ignore Greg as easily in his presence as he had done in his absence. Greg hadn't thought it possible for Grissom to hurt him any worse then he already had, but the proof sat there in front of him, in deafening silence. Greg wasn't sure how much more of this unspoken punishment he could take.

"Greg. My office. NOW"

What the hell am I doing? Grissom asked himself as his harsh command to Greg reached his ears. He isn't part of this world anymore. He can refuse to come in here – can't he?

Grissom was going to turn and speak to Greg with a little more civility, but the memory of Sara's eyes stopped him. Her eyes pleaded with him to make Greg stay and try to right the wrongs that had been done. He sighed inwardly. She so wanted him to make amends with Greg that he knew he had to maintain at least some modicum of self-assuredness.

He's come this far, he reasoned with himself. The least you can do is humor Sara and talk to the man.

He continued down the hall without a backward glance so that everyone would know that he meant business. He waited in his office, mentally bracing himself for the angry words that he was sure would come. Grissom stared at the shelves without seeing any of the specimens that sat perched there. Though he heard Greg enter, he didn't turn around, nor did he speak. He was trying to compose the eloquent speech that would wipe the slate clean and erase the hurt feelings. He was trying to figure out how to have a semi-rational conversation without saying something that Greg could misconstrue as negative. The silence didn't register with Grissom; he was almost unaware of it. The silence of the room was paralleled by the cacophony of noise inside his own mind. It was like standing on the pitcher's mound, with a full count, facing the most intimidating of batter's. His mind mentally ran through his repertoire of pitches trying to find just the one that would get him out of this situation with the most minimal damage. He couldn't just let pitch to Greg without thinking through every possible scenario. He knew he couldn't stand it if the ball got knocked out of the park. This was a game that he simply could not afford to lose.

I called him in here, he reminded himself. I had a whole year to think about what I would say – so why can't I say a word?

All these thoughts raced through Grissom's head as he continued to sit there in silence, with his back turned. He grew more stressed and worried by the second. He had summoned Greg in here and he had yet to speak another word to him. He had to say something, anything. He almost would have preferred if the younger man had cursed at him, thrown a punch at him or done something. Anything. Anything that would have made this loud, ugly and stifling silence disappear into the night. As he became more acutely aware of the silence, the more agonizing it became. The silence in the room troubled him more then any crime scene. It was as if Greg was a case the Grissom simply did not know how to solve. There were no easy answers and Grissom wasn't even sure that he had all the facts and evidence straight. This terrified him. He always found an answer. This time he had only questions. He wanted to prove that the team cared about Greg as much in his absence as they had in his presence. He hadn't thought it possible to hurt anymore now then he had when this entire situation exploded in front of him. But the proof was behind him, only feet away. It may as well have been miles, because Grissom knew that the Greg who had left was a distant memory. And he now had to try and find that once familiar friend in the stranger who sat behind him.

Grissom at last turned to speak.

There was a bitter sense of déjà vu when he saw that Greg had once again left without a word.

Sara saw Greg leave and hurried to follow him. She caught up with him in the parking lot where she found him lighting up a cigarette.

"Since when do you smoke?" she asked, slightly breathless after giving chase through most of the building.

"Since about a year ago" he replied sharply. "And spare me the lecture on the dangers it poses to my health. I'm in no mood to have the riot act read to me"

She rubbed his arm sympathetically. "Grissom really gave it to you, huh?"

He shook his head and looked at her with wounded eyes. "He just sat there. Never said a word. Turned his back to me and didn't even try to talk to me. I knew he was angry, but I thought he would at least speak to me."

She thought for a moment. "Things will get better," she offered tepidly by way of consolation.

"How can they get better if he is giving me the silent treatment?"

"Maybe he didn't know what to say"

He laughed a bitter, sardonic laugh. "Yeah, right. Gil Grissom, man of a million words couldn't think of something to say? Nice try Sara, but I don't buy it. If this is the way things are going to be, maybe I should just try and catch the next plane out of here."

She grabbed the cigarette from his hand, took a long drag, and exhaled slowly. "Give me a month Greg. That's all I ask. Thirty little days, then you can stay or you can go. But promise me a month"

He took the cigarette back from her. "Fine. Just call it 'my life as an infomercial'. If after thirty days I'm not completely satisfied, I'm returning everything for a full emotional refund".

He ground the cigarette out under his heel and they shook on it.

The month passed in a whirlwind of voices and emotions. Every time Greg tried to sift through the conversations all he could recall were small fragments of what he had said…

First with Catherine –

Maybe I wasn't thinking completely clearly when I left. Or maybe I was finally seeing things for the way they really were. Prove me wrong Catherine. Tell me that everything was okay in the weeks or months before I left. You can't, can you? Because you saw it too. You saw tension between us. Maybe I just felt it stronger then you guys did. Of course I'm sorry that I didn't say good-bye. No, of course I wish that I hadn't left right when things were so bad. I just didn't feel like I had much choice. I know I should have called. Come on Cath, you know I didn't mean to hurt you. I don't know if I'll stay. Cath, please…please don't cry…

Then with Warrick –

I should have talked to you at least. I mean, you were the only one who was on my side from the get-go. Oh come off it Warrick, they were not on my side. Well, maybe I didn't make it easy for people but I was scared, ok? I have never been in that situation before and I panicked. I mean, sure, I guess things look a little different now but I still don't think I overreacted. Yes, I do believe that leaving was the best thing I could have done. Oh come on Warrick, please don't say that. I didn't think it was easy to just throw what I had here away. No, I mean it. It killed me, it really did. Warrick, please…please don't be angry…

And finally Nick-

I was hurt, man. That's all I can say. I mean, I thought of you as my best friend and I felt so betrayed by you. Well I know the situation was difficult. Yeah, I guess I see the position you were in, but that doesn't… I suppose if it had been reversed I probably would have acted the same way you did. I never meant to hurt you Nick, I really didn't. You're right, I should have told you in person that I was leaving. And I should have called. Nick, that's not fair. I didn't just throw our friendship away like a piece of trash. Of course I don't think that you are that easy to dispose of. I want to make things right. Nick, please…please don't walk away…

The one person's voice that he could never find in the disjointed recollections was Grissom's. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find it. They still had yet to speak. Greg knew that if something didn't give, he would have to leave again. He refused to stay as a silent outcast in Grissom's life. He was sitting in the break room waiting for Sara so that they could go grab some breakfast. It was a strange feeling every time he entered the lab – it had once been his safe haven, his place of refuge. Now he felt like an interloper who kept trying to force his way into a world of which he was not meant to be a part of. He was reading "If I Forget Thee, Jerusalem" and was deeply engrossed in the dense text. He did not hear Grissom enter. When he glanced up he nearly jumped out of his skin to see his former boss standing only two feet away and staring intently at him with a slightly bemused look on his face.

"I didn't know you read Faulkner" was all he said.

What you don't know about me could fill a warehouse Greg thought.

Aloud he said, "What can I say? I am just an enigma wrapped up in a riddle"

"You certainly are" said Grissom. He looked very serious. "I know there are a lot of things that need to be said, but this isn't the time or the place. But if you are still willing to listen, I am ready to talk. What do you say?"

"Well I've waited a year to listen to what you had to say so what's a few more hours?" Greg saw the glimmer of hurt in Grissom's eyes and hastily added, " I mean, of course this isn't the time or place anyway, so even if we wanted to talk we couldn't. So yeah, how about tomorrow when you're done work? I'll meet you here."

Grissom gave a sad half-smile. "I'll see you then.

He turned to go. Greg had just returned to his book when Grissom spoke again.

"Would you consider coming back for good?" The words tumbled from his mouth quickly, before he lost the nerve to ask them.

Greg paused for a long second.

"I used to think I'd stay forever" he said sadly as he walked out the door.