DISCLAIMER – Not mine. Belong to Anthony Zuiker, et al, CBS and Alliance Atlantis.

A/N – Wow, I never thought a Greg/Sara romance would be so well received. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks to all who reviewed. It's always appreciated.

Chapter 3

Thrilled with his accomplishment Greg left the lab. The special outing he had planned for Sara was ready to put into action. He drove to Sara's apartment jazzed that he'd been able to secure a trip to the Body Farm. He knew that Sara had been aching to go for as long as he could remember.

Bounding up the stairs he knocked on the door. He stood for a few minutes hopping from one foot to the other in anticipation. After five minutes with still no answer Greg started to worry. He knocked again, while taking his cell phone from his pocket and punched in her number. He heard the phone inside ringing, but nothing else.

He ran back down the stairs to double check her parking space. The Denali was sitting where it should be. He checked the hood, it was cold, indicating that she'd either taken a cab to where ever she was/went or that she'd not gone anywhere.

Running back up the stairs, while punching in her number again he listened to the shrill ring of the phone inside, but still there was no other sign of life. Finally he resorted to banging on the door and shouting her name. Finally there was movement from inside.

He was shocked at what he saw when the door opened. Sara's eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, her already pale face was now ghostly white. Her hair was stringy and lank.

"Sara?"

There was only a slight glimmer of recognition, and not a sound from her. Leaving the door open she stumbled back to her bedroom. Greg was nervous, but extremely worried, he'd never seen her look so trashed.

Looking around the room, he saw no evidence that she'd gotten trashed here, not a bottle in sight. He followed her to the bedroom and cautiously looked in on her.

She was spread-eagle on the bed with one arm flung over her eyes.

"Uh…Sara. You alright?"

"Fuck off Greg," she moaned.

He turned to leave then stopped. Something was wrong. He was her friend if nothing else and be damned if he was just going to leave her like this. Stopping in the kitchen he grabbed a glass and filled it with water. On his way through to the bedroom he checked the bathroom for any painkillers. He grabbed a bottle of aspirin and entered Sara's bedroom.

Sitting on the edge of the bed he shook her shoulder gently. "Hey Sara? C'mon wake up."

She shook off his hand and slapped it away. "Greggo? I told you to fuck off," she said eyes still closed.

"No," he stated simply.

Sara risked opening her eyes a little. "No?"

"No," he repeated. "There's obviously something wrong and I'm not leaving you like this."

She opened her eyes fully and spat out a laugh. "My knight in shining armour," she said sarcastically.

The barb hurt, but he knew it wasn't really her that was speaking. He shook out a couple of aspirin. "Here, drink this and take these."

She tried to push him away, but he sat fast and held it out to her. It was a good ten minutes before she finally took the tablets and water from him.

Shoving the glass back into his hand she said, "There, happy? Now, would you please piss off!"

"No," he said softly. "I'm not leaving until you're sobered up or until you tell me what's wrong."

Sara lay back down. "Well Greggo, you got a long wait ahead of you, cause I'm going to sleep now. When I get up, I expect you NOT to be here."

Greg knew the conversation was over. He struggled with the decision of wether to go or stay. On one hand he was her friend, and he felt a duty to stay until he was sure she was okay. It was something he would have done for Nick or Warrick, or any of his other friends. And then there was the fact that their friendship wasn't as strong as the one she had with Grissom. But he was pretty certain that Nick and Warrick's company would have been just as unwelcome.

Fuck it, he thought and wandered into her small lounge-room. The few shelves housed a collection of forensic journals and books. No wonder she's so good at her job. It really is her whole life.

Perusing the selection he chose a text on facial reconstruction. He put on the coffee maker, wrinkling his nose at Sara's choice of coffee. Never mind, he thought. She'd be happy with instant when she wakes up.

Skimming the text while waiting for the coffee to filter, his mind wandered as to what would have caused Sara to go on a bender like that. He hoped that there would be a time when Sara would confide in him. He sat in the lounge reading the text and drinking the mediocre coffee.

He wasn't sure what time it was when a noise from the kitchen woke him. As he stepped into the small kitchen, Sara said, "I thought I told you to get out?"

"Yeah, you did."

"So?" she said taking a sip of coffee. "Why're you still here?"

Pouring himself a fresh cup he said, "Because I don't leave friends by themselves when it's obvious they need someone looking out for them."

Sara closed her eyes. Her hands were wrapped around the coffee mug for warmth and she was leaning heavily against the counter top. She sighed deeply before talking, "Thanks for staying Greg. I'm fine now. Please leave."

Wanting to protest, but knowing it would only irritate her, Greg nodded and left in silence. When the door finally closed Sara finally broke down and let her tears fall.

She pulled herself together enough to go to the bathroom and run a shower. Stripping, she stepped under the hot spray. She was hoping that it would wash away the memories, or even just wash them out a little. She stayed until the water started running cold.

Dragging herself to the bedroom she slowly dressed for work. What did it matter what time she got there? There was always evidence to sort, analyse, and log in. It was a never-ending cycle. Besides, there was no way she was going to get back to sleep, and she really didn't want to hang around until it was time to go to work.

Popping a few more aspirins, she grabbed her travel mug and filled it with coffee, before stepping out.