Author's Notes: Sorry for the extended absence of this story, I had the hardest time writing this last chapter. However, I did manage to complete it, and the saga is now complete. Now, if real life would stop interfering, I may actually be able to update my other stories, as well as finished a few shorts I'm working on.

Special thanks to Emmithar for her brilliance and encouragement when I was hating my writing, lacking creativity, and drowning in the reality of the world around me.

This also goes out to my pal, Sam, who I know is reading this and will tease me endlessly tomorrow because of it. Yes, it has a happy ending, sometimes stories do have happy endings. Chin up, sometimes real life can have a fairy tale ending too.

Thank you to everyone who read this story, and for everyone who has replied. You guys really are the best, I'm glad you enjoyed reading this. Hopefully you'll like my ending! You guys really are the best group of readers out there!

Please, as always, let me know what you think.

Jenny

Chapter Twelve:

She wasn't sure when he arrived, or even if he was the one to take her out of the shower and get her dressed. She wasn't sure if he had been the one who placed the white bandages on her bleeding arms, if he had slid her a Zoloft or given her a sleeping pill. She didn't even know when, or if, Catherine had left, or if anyone else had came at all.

All she knew was that when she woke up, she was laying in her bed, wearing her favorite pajamas, with bandaged arms. More importantly, she was laying in bed with an arm wrapped tightly around her and a brown and blonde streaked head laying on the pillow next to hers.

As she took a deep breath, intoxicated by the smell of his aftershave, the warmth of his breath, the feel of his arms around her waist, all she could think of was how this had been the first period of sleep in weeks that contained no nightmares.

She was reluctant to move, although she needed to use the restroom terribly. She knew that once she moved, he would wake up, then the questions would start. What she wanted to do was lay here in his arms all day, protected from the world, comforted by his presence, and hide from all of her personal demons. If only those demons weren't inside of her, only if he could protect her from them forever.

The pressure of her bladder was too much to handle, and she gently extracted herself from his grasp, relieved to see the movement hadn't caused him to even stir. She stepped into her bathroom, disgusted by what she saw. Her towel was strewn on the floor, covered in smears of blood, along with two bath sponges that were also covered in blood. The mirror was shattered, the broken pieces still covering the floor and the sink.

Deciding to clean up later, she hurriedly used the bathroom and slipped back into bed, resuming her place in Greg's warm embrace and shutting her eyes once more. Even if she couldn't fall back asleep, she could at least enjoy having him there.

She never would have thought Greg Sanders would be the one to make her feel this way, safe and comforted. From the day she had met him, he had been the one to make her laugh at his corny jokes and roll her eyes at his suggestive comments. He was the silly, upbeat, crazy lab tech who everyone enjoyed, whether they admitted it or not.

She supposed it had always been there, that she was just unable to see it until now. She had felt the attraction when they first started working together, but then he was more of a hyperactive kid, he had grown up a lot over the last few years, especially over the last few months. She never thought it would work, or that it would be anything more serious than flirting, but apparently she was wrong. Greg was actually the first person in her life that she could trust, that wouldn't leave her, that wouldn't betray her.

She wasn't about to tell him she felt this way, those feelings had destroyed her relationship with Grissom, and she couldn't stand it if she lost Greg as well. For now, it would have to be her own little secret.

Nestling herself closer to Greg, she easily managed to fall back asleep.

Several hours later, Greg's eyes snapped open as his breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding wildly.

He gently turned his head to the other side, to see if he had disturbed Sara's rest, letting out a sigh of relief as he watched her chest rise slowly in and out, obviously unaffected by the nightmare that had sent an awful jolt of fear through his body.

He was absolutely certain that he would never forget the events that had taken place the previous night, and was fairly convinced that it would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. He had never felt so frightened, so useless, and it was an experience he never wanted to go through again.

Catherine had called him in a panic, telling him that Sara had locked herself in the bathroom an hour earlier and she now couldn't get the younger woman to respond. She then went on to tell him about the gun and Sara's breakdown. Before she could finish recounting the events of the night, Greg had rushed out of the lab and to his car, speeding towards Sara's house.

He arrived to find Catherine in tears, the tension and grief thickening the air of the apartment. He had knocked several times on the bathroom door, pleading with Sara to talk to him, to acknowledge his presence, while Catherine finished relaying the events that had taken place.

Overwhelmed with fear and the consequential adrenaline, Greg had burst through the bathroom door, only to find his best friend sitting nude on the bathroom floor, her skin flushed red, gripping glass from her shattered mirror tightly in her hand. Her arms were covered in lacerations, many of which were still sending small streams of dark red blood down her arm. She seemed unaware of his presence, staring at a spot on the wall which such determination and stillness that Greg was sure he had lost her. After he spent a great deal of time prying the shards of glass from her hands, she finally seemed to realize someone else was in the room with her.

Once their eyes met, she had crumbled into sobs, clinging to him as tightly as she could, her tears seeping through his shirt, her breath hot against his neck. He had instructed Catherine to find some towels to stop the bleeding on her arms, as well as some clothes for Sara to wear. In the meantime, all he could do was hold the sobbing, shivering, broken women in his arms and pray that everything would turn out alright.

Over the next few hours, she had told him all of the secrets she had been keeping from him, from her suicidal thoughts to the awful nightmares she had about murdering her own children. Several hours later, exhausted, yet relieved to have her conscience cleared, she had fallen asleep in his arms.

Sleep hadn't come as easily to Greg. Every time he drifted off, he was plagued with his own nightmares, of arriving too late, of finding Sara with her wrists slit, a bullet in her head. His own heart wept for the torment she had been going through for months now, completely alone, the images she described alone sending chills down his spine.

Any person, plagued with what she had been dealing with, would have reacted the same. He was proud that she felt comfortable enough to open up to him, proud that she was strong enough to not go through with any of those thoughts that had crossed her mind. He had once stated that Sara was the strongest woman he had ever known, and now he was pleased to see she had not let him down.

He couldn't deny that he enjoyed waking up entangled in her arms, laying in her bed, her brown hair tickling the side of his neck, her steady heartbeat pounding in his ears. He relaxed a bit, the nightmare fading as he began to savor the experience.

As soon as he realized he was, in fact, committing the entire experience of waking up in bed with Sara to memory, he felt disgusted with himself. After all she had gone through, they had gone through, how could he be enjoying this morning? What kind of sick pervert did that make him? What kind of friend? Groaning, he pulling himself off of Sara's shoulder and rested his head against the pillow. Filled with shame, he wanted to just leave, but he knew that if he left, it would hurt Sara, which was the last thing he wanted to happen.

It wouldn't hurt her, however, if they woke up a few feet apart. As Greg tried to keep his mind off of the pajama-clad woman beside him, he was extremely aware of her hand, searching for him as she let out a soft whimper.

Not wanting to be one to disappoint, he resumed his position, holding her hand in his own, beginning to wonder if his feelings of comfort were indeed, one sided. All he could be sure of, at this point, was that he wouldn't mind waking up next to Sara Sidle every day.

The events of the previous night, nor the fact that they woke up early in the afternoon, their bodies tangled together, were not mentioned as the two friends tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy.

The closest they had come was over lunch, when Greg had asked Sara how she was feeling, and Sara had replied that she was doing much better. Somehow, through silent communication, they had agreed to leave the difficult subjects of the last 24 hours alone until a later time.

The silent pact she shared with Greg, however, was not shared with the rest of the lab. Grissom had been quick to tell her he was surprised to see her present, and that if she needed some time off, she should take it.

Catherine had bombarded her with questions about how she was feeling, if she had thought about counseling, if Greg had been any help, if she needed anything...She only let up when she noticed Sara's demeanor changed from slightly nervous to slightly angry, paired with Greg's stern glare, obviously signaling for her to shut up.

Warrick had been the only tactful one, giving her a tight squeeze on her shoulder and a friendly smile as he walked towards the locker room. Feeling the need to get away from her more obvious coworkers, she followed Warrick, leaving only Greg, Grissom, and Catherine in the break room to discuss what had happened.

"She seems to be doing a lot better today." Catherine observed, "Whatever you did last night seems to be working."

Greg looked down, and Grissom inhaled sharply, "What exactly was it that you did?"

"We talked." Greg said quietly, not wanting to betray Sara's confidence, "There has been several things bothering her, and I let her vent to me about them, she cried for a bit, and I tried my best to help her understand that there are some things in life that she can't control."

Grissom looked at Greg expectantly, "Well?"

"Well, what?" Greg asked sharply, "I'm not going to tell you what she told me, that's between Sara and myself. If she wanted you to know, she would have told you herself."

"We're just worried about her." Catherine said softly, placing her hand on Greg's arm to try and soothe the anger she could see building in his eyes, "We want to make sure she's on the path to recovery. If Ecklie gets wind of this, it's going to be bad for Sara's career."

Greg shook his head, "I can't tell you what she told me, she trusted me with private information. I think she's going to be okay, though. I'm going to try to get her to talk to a counselor, but I'm not going to push her before she's ready to make that step, because I don't want to do anything to push her farther away. I'm not going to be your spy. If you want to ask her something, ask her."

"I did, and she got angry with me." Catherine retorted, "We just want to help."

Greg sighed, "Helping right now would be to let her have some space."

"We gave her space, and she nearly tried to kill herself." Grissom said in an eerily cool voice, "If you think we're just going to stand by and lose one of our own, then you're insane."

Greg's eyes narrowed, his patience growing steadily thinner, "Look, you do what you want, but I'm not going to take part in it. I trust Sara, I think I'm making progress. I won't be your spy, and I won't be your puppet. I care about Sara, I don't want to see her get hurt. Spreading her secrets will only hurt her in the end. The best thing for you to do right now is to just be her friend and let her come to you."

"What has made you the resident psychology expert?" Catherine retorted, "She was having a nervous breakdown last night, you saw her, and now you're going to pretend everything is fine?"

Greg shook his head, "Everything is not fine, but if you'd bother to actually hold a conversation with her, you'd see she's trying to get better. Sometimes you don't need extensive therapy, you just need a friend." Shooting his two superiors a stern glare, he turned around, "If you'll excuse me, I've got somewhere else to be."

Sara sat down on the bench beside Warrick, sighing heavily as some of the tension she didn't even know she had, began to melt away.

"They don't know better, they just want to help." Warrick offered, hanging up one shirt in his locker and putting on a different one, "Just let what they tell you go in one ear and out the other."

Sara groaned, "It's not that easy, Warrick. I owe it to Catherine, at least, to tell her something. It's just, every time I try to think of something to say, I remember how screwed up I was last night, and how embarrassing it is!"

"Everyone has things they want to pretend never happened. The truth is, it did happen, and she did witness it. Pretending everything is okay won't cover up what she saw, and it will just drive her to dig deeper. Be honest with her, answer her questions, and she'll leave you alone. By putting her off, you're just showing her you have something to hide." Warrick said gently, slipping his boots on, "As crazy as she acts sometimes, she really cares about you. We all do."

"I know," Sara murmured, "And I appreciate it. It's just...I don't know. With Greg, today, it was different. We talked last night, and today we just put it behind us and moved on. I just want to start over again with everyone."

Warrick shrugged, "Then tell that to Catherine. At least you'd be giving her a glimpse as to how you plan on handling this. Besides, with Greg, it's different."

"Different, how?" Sara asked, handing Warrick his CSI jacket, which had fallen to the floor.

Warrick smiled, shutting his locker door and turning to her, "It's always different when you're with the person you really care about."

"What are you talking about?" Sara asked, alarmed. Was she really that transparent?

Warrick shook his head, "Don't play dumb with me, girl. It's written all over your face," Seeing her apprehensive look, he added, "Don't worry, it's all over his, too."

He walked out of the locker room, and Sara sank back onto the bench her body tingling as his words sank in. It was apparent on her face and his face, which could only mean that Greg had some sort of feelings for her as well.

She couldn't decide if she should feel happy or slightly sick with worry, so she settled on a mix of the two, drawing her knees to her chest as she contemplated what would happen if Greg did feel the same sort of affection for her as she did for him.

She looked up when she heard footsteps enter the locker room, hastily wiping tears that had filled her eyes.

"Hey." Greg said softly, sitting next to her on the bench and giving her a soft smile, "You ready to go catch some bad guys?"

"You bet," Sara responded, "What do we have tonight?"

Greg looked down sheepishly, "I didn't stay around long enough to find out. Ready to face the others again?"

"Yeah, I'll have to eventually, anyway, and it's easier to do it with my best friend beside me." Sara replied, standing and stretching, "Do you think Grissom's going to have us work together tonight?"

Greg shrugged, "I'm not sure. I hope so, I'd rather work with you than anyone else," Seeing Sara's uneasy look, he added, "you aren't so strict with on-the-job humor."

"You mean, I don't fuss if you start acting goofy at a crime scene? It's not my place." Sara replied, rolling her eyes, "Grissom, on the other hand, is your boss. It's not advisable to play around in front of him."

Greg wrapped an arm around her purposefully bumping into her, "Honestly? It's great to work with friends. That's why I enjoy working with you."

"And here I was, thinking it was my infinite knowledge." Sara retorted, jabbing him in the side, "Seriously, though, I never thanked you for all that you've done for me."

Greg stopped walking, causing Sara to nearly trip over him as she realized he wasn't moving anymore. Brushing a strand of hair from her face with his thumb, he chose his words carefully, "You don't have to thank me. I'm just glad I was able to help you. I really care for you, Sara."

"I really care for you too." Sara replied softly, her cheeks burning slightly as his thumb lingered for a moment, "I'm really glad you were there for me, it means a lot to me."

Greg smiled nervously at her, leaving his thumb on her cheek, his other fingers gently resting on the base of her neck, "There's no other place I'd rather be."

Sara's lips curved into a slight smile, causing Greg's heart to race and his breathing to slightly accelerate. He had never had this many intense emotions running through his body at one time, feelings he couldn't quite explain or name, feelings that left him breathless and excited.

Before he could weigh the consequences of his actions, he leaned in and met her lips in a soft kiss. The kiss grew deeper, his hand moving to the back of her head as he savored each and every moment. After all, if he had misread her signals, this may be the last chance he ever got to make physical contact with Sara.

They pulled apart after a few moments, both breathless and flushed, an awkward silence filling the air around them. Greg let his hands fall to his sides, nervously toying with the hem of his shirt, "Are you okay? With this, I mean? With us?" He asked quickly, forcing out the words in one quick breath, knowing that if he didn't ask now, he would never be able to summon up the courage again.

He wasn't sure if he had been right in taking that sudden action, it wasn't something that he would normally do, but in the moment it had just felt right. She hadn't reacted badly, she seemed to respond to the kiss. She hadn't slapped him across the face and told him to go to hell. It had to have been a good move, right? He felt like an idiot, waiting nervously for an answer like a young teenager would wait for a response from his prom invite.

Her answer though, surprised him more than his actions just moments earlier had done.

"Yeah," She said softly, reaching out to take his hand, "Yeah, I think I am."

The End