Chapter Seven: Worries

Greg found himself when he woke up the following morning. He blinked a few times in the dim light, fighting through a pounding headache as he glanced around the room. There was little he remembered from the night before, and he thought it over as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. Sara had been over the night before; he could tell that by the simple fact his room was clean. The bottles were gone, his trash emptied and his dresser drawers were closed.

He rubbed his forehead, sinking in his pillows that rested against the headboard. Sara had come over, they had talked for a while, watched movies on the television, had something to eat…but…did she sleep with him? Did Sara Sidle actually sleep with him?

Greg laughed softly. Impossible, he would have remembered something like that, and besides, if she did, she would still be here…would she? Greg summarized last night easily. Obviously he passed out, and Sara got him into bed…he only dreamed that she had stayed.

The thought disappointed him some, as he continued to rub his head. He would have to be more annoying next time…if there was a next time. Letting out a worried sigh Greg reached over, pulling the drawer open quickly. It was still there, untouched. Already he felt better, how in the world would he explain something like that to Sara.

Greg glanced up quickly, as he heard a whistle coming from the kitchen area. His brow furled as it grew louder, more persistent…it sounded almost like. "Tea kettle," Greg muttered quietly. Did he leave it on from last night?

He never even used it last night. His worry increased as the sound died, footsteps making their way across the floor. Someone was in his house.

He slid the drawer shut, moving quickly off the bed. Coming to a stop just outside his bedroom he laughed, shaking his head. Sara only gave him a smile, pulling out one of the chairs to the dining table.

"So was last night wasn't a dream," Greg murmured, resting his weight against the nearest wall.

Sara beckoned to him, motioning to the chair as she placed the cup down in front of the open space. "Hope you don't mind, I made myself some tea," she raised her own cup in show before taking a slow sip.

Greg watched her warily, easing himself down into the chair. She was smiling at him, even as she sipped her own drink, once again motioning for him to drink. "Water…" he made a face, tilting the cup to one side. "Whatever happened to coffee?"

"It's actually worse; you want to rehydrate your system."

He blinked. "How do you know…or do I even want to ask?"

She shook her head, placing her cup on the table. "Probably not." She was still smiling, even as he took his first few sips. Afterwards he set his cup back down, rubbing his forehead. "You ah, were rather talkative last night," Sara mentioned, blowing away the steam that drifted up from her own cup.

Greg looked up at her in surprise, raising an eyebrow. "Was I?"

"You said some very interesting things…"

Greg cleared his throat looking away as he asked the dreaded question. "What sort of things?"

There was no way…he couldn't possibly have…could he? He studied her face, watched for any indication. If Sara knew of his condition, of his intentions…would she be this calm? Her look was taunting, mischievous even as she sipped at her drink.

"Oh, you know, just things…things I'll gladly bring up when it's needed."

"Blackmail?" Greg asked incredulous, shaking his head. He would have never have thought…

"Such a dirty word," Sara grimaced, leaning back in her chair.

Shaking his head Greg groaned, moving his cup aside. "Is it physically possible for my head to hurt this much?" he wondered, rubbing it tenderly.

"Well, drinking does have it's downside," Sara replied, a smile gracing her face as she leaned back in her chair, watching the younger man's face wince with pain.

"I think I'm going to go straight back to being drunk," he muttered, "at least then I was having fun."

"Come on tough guy, suck it up…" she chided him softly, laughing as he glanced up at her. "It can't be that bad."

"You would know," Greg snorted, draining his cup. Somehow the taste of water just didn't satisfy him. He was aware of Sara watching him even before he looked up. "You are enjoying this way too much," he commented dryly.

"I've been drunk before Greg," Sara told him quietly, "I know what it's like…let's just say that it's a very different experience to watch someone else go through it. I'm not laughing at you; I'm laughing because I've been there before."

"Oh, so you're teasing me because you sympathize with me?" he wondered briefly, then he started to shake his head. "Never mind." He sat for a moment, quiet, but pursed his lips. "So…why did you stay?"

Sara shrugged, "I wanted to make sure you were okay," she told him quietly, a grin crossing her face, "Besides, you are so damn cute like this."

He laughed softly, "Have you ever thought about getting your head examined?"

She stood up then, collecting both of their cups as she wandered up towards the sink. Greg swallowed nervously, afraid that he had somehow upset her.

"Why do you assume that there's no possible way for me to be interested in you?" she asked suddenly, turning around to face him.

"I don't know," Greg muttered, dropping his voice. "Maybe because the last time I asked you out you completely forgot about it, or maybe it's because the last time I hit on you, you told me we were just friends."

"We are friends," Sara reminded him. "But that doesn't mean we can't be more."

Greg let out a heavy sigh, "Why the change? Why now?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "Why not?"

When he didn't answer Sara nodded in understanding. "You deserve to know, I'm just tired of waiting…"

"Grissom?"

She ran tongue over her lips, drawing in a long breath. "I thought it would have happened by now…I guess that just makes me pathetic and stupid." She was leaning against the counter, arms folded. Greg could tell she was using all her concentration to not start crying then and there.

More than anything, he wanted to take back what he had said, wanted it to go back to how it was before. True, more than anything he wanted to go out with Sara, wanted to hold her, to love her. But like this? At her darkest times? The woman had come to a realization that the man she loved would never be there for her. Was that really fair?

"Sara…" he shifted uncomfortably, trying to think logically, a difficult task at the moment.

"Don't," she shook her head, glancing sideways at him. "You don't have to apologize…I understand."

"I don't know what else to say," he told her quietly.

"Say yes…"

Greg blinked, glancing down at his hands, smiling slowly. After all, what could he lose? He looked back up at her, smiling softly. "Yes…"

He liked it here, it was quiet. With all the commotion earlier today Greg felt as though his head was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any moment. It was his first time talking with the press; Grissom felt it would be a good exercise for him. Despite how much he pleaded, and begged, Grissom hadn't heard any of it. Greg fumbled through his words, answering the questions in little of words as possible. It felt like he was at the stand in court, reviewing a case. It was the one part of the job he hated.

Okay, so maybe not hated, that was too strong of a word…he disliked it. But now it was all over, he didn't have to worry about it anymore…that didn't mean he was any less tense. The last few weeks had not been going well; Greg would be the first to admit.

He glanced up warily, as his phone rang…more like vibrated on the table. Reaching over he grasped it in his hands, checking the caller ID. He didn't take time to consider it, only shut the device off. Greg wasn't in the mood to talk; he was too preoccupied with other stuff at the moment.

Everyday tasks were starting to take a toll on him, things that should be simple; climbing the stairs, grocery shopping, carrying his clothes to the laundry mat downstairs…with each task he found himself out of breath sooner, often sweating as though the effort was great. Greg knew things were getting bad, he fumbled his fingers, tapping lightly on the table.

Only to make matters worse…he was late for work today. Greg could blame it on the alarm failing to go off, but he knew well enough that he had slept right through it. Not only that, he fell asleep once again, in the break room. The others thought it was a joke, teasing him relentlessly about knowing when to draw limits.

It hadn't stayed quiet for long, the relationship he and Sara were having. He didn't exactly hide it, nor did Sara. If anything, it was her fault the others knew. In the locker room one day before shift started, she had waltzed in, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed tenderly on the cheek. It was all for show, and she had played it well, adding on the comment that was louder than a whisper, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Thanks for last night."

There had been cheers, as well as jibes, and a full flushed Greg Sanders that had hurried out of there. It wasn't like him, he would often brag about his relationships, earlier on…but that was then. He was different now, and what he shared with Sara was important to him. It was a show, or a parade…and it certainly didn't help standings with his supervisor. Greg half wondered if that was the reason why Grissom made him talk with the reporters earlier on today. The man certainly knew how much he despised it.

"Greg?"

He glanced up cautiously as the brunette walked in, disbelief written over her face. Her hands were held out at her side as she shook her head. "I've been trying to call you."

Greg shrugged, glancing back down at the reports in his hands as he moved to pick up his cold cup of coffee. Catherine had asked him to look at the mug shots, an entire file cabinet of folders, in order to find a suspect. The description was bleak…a black male, in his twenties, mustache…and that was about it.

Sara meanwhile had picked up his phone, letting out a huff as she turned it on. "You are on call, but no one can call you when your cell phone is off."

"I'm busy," he said simply, tossing the one file aside as he picked up another.

"So am I," she replied in a quiet, yet deathly tone. Greg knew he was pressing his luck. "That didn't stop me from dropping everything to scour the lab for you."

When he didn't respond she pulled the file from his hands, this time catching his attention. "Come on Greg, quit fooling around. We have a 419 at the Mirage; we're the only ones free at the moment."

"I'm already working another case," Greg told her sharply, reaching out for the file she now held in her hands. "Find someone else."

"You only answer to Catherine when we don't have anything to give to you."

"Grissom put me under Catherine's charge," Greg replied, taking a file from the table when it was obvious Sara wouldn't return the one she had already taken. "Unless she says otherwise, you're out of luck."

"It was Grissom who told me to come find you," she warned him, pulling the second file from his hands. He was starting to get on her nerves, and not in a good way either.

"I didn't hear it from him."

Sara frowned, shaking her head. "You need a serious attitude adjustment. What is your problem?"

"You don't like it?" Greg wondered briefly. "Talk to Grissom about it."

She nodded, still astounded. "I'll make sure to do that."

Greg smiled only in slight triumph, knowing that he had long ago crossed the line. It wasn't a surprise that his phone, now on thanks to Sara, rang only a few minutes later. He didn't need to check the ID to see that it was Grissom, nor did he care. He was officially off the clock in five minutes.

Stacking the folders neatly he slipped the phone in his pocket, heading out to the locker room. If he was lucky he would be long gone before anyone came looking for him. He didn't need another fight, and that would be exactly what would happen.

His plan didn't work however, he spotted Grissom down the hallway, and too late he attempted to turn away from him. Greg only had to wait a few short seconds in the locker room before Grissom entered. There was concern on his face, which surprised him, Greg expected to find anger…that or the passive, deathly look his got once in a while when he became extremely angry.

"You want to talk?" he asked quietly, watching as the younger man worked his locker open.

"Not really," Greg answered mildly, doing his best to keep his voice level. Even so he knew that it was really a question.

Grissom studied him before answering. "You can't keep this up Greg."

"Keep what up?"

Grissom sighed, "You've missed the last two appointments with your doctor, you are coming in late, leaving early. You are becoming angry, losing your temper with others, ignoring direct orders…"

"Sara does not order me around," Greg stated bluntly, pulling on his jacket. "She is not my supervisor, you are."

"And I gave her an order, and I expect it to be followed. I can't run the night shift if you simply refuse to get along with the others…look, I know it's hard for you, you're going through a lot right now…"

"You know?" Greg questioned, taken aback. "What do you know? You dig into my personal life, you go behind my back, you study me as I'm some experiment…and you feel that you're in the right to judge me?"

"I didn't mean to offend you," Grissom replied quietly.

"It doesn't matter," Greg answered, slamming his locker for good effect. "My shift's over, you know well enough that I'm not allowed overtime."

"What, no challenge this time?"

Greg scowled, but continued to walk pass him. He didn't need this right now.

"Greg," Grissom called after him, letting out a heavy sigh. "I know about the gun."

It stopped him in his tracks, but he refused to turn around, refused to face him. Part of him was surprised that he hadn't said anything before.

"What are you planning?"

Grissom's voice was quiet, demanding. Greg swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. "That's none of your business."

"You are my employee, and my friend…I think it is."

"Are you doing this for me, or just to cover your back?" Greg asked, turning to face him. Grissom had raised an eyebrow, confusion spreading across his face. Keeping his voice low Greg moved closer to him. "So that if that I put a bullet through my head you can stand up there and say you did everything that you could? So that if you work my case you won't be bothered, so that you can have all the answers to the puzzle. Is that all I am to you? Another case, another victim…just another face matched to picture. Oh if only there was something you could have done different, then maybe we could have saved him."

He took a breath here, but his tone only became more and more serious as he went on. "I'm going to die Grissom, one way or another. Nothing is going to change that. I am going to die, whether I kill myself or my body does that for me it doesn't matter. If I want to put a bullet through my head then I will, that is my right, and you can't take it away from me."

"No," Grissom responded quietly. "I can't."

Greg backed off some, his chest heaving slightly. There were unshed tears in his eyes, but he wouldn't start to cry in front of his boss, he simply refused. Instead he turned, ready to leave, frozen in his tracks at Grissom's next words.

"But you won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because, you said if, and not when," Grissom told him. The young man only shook his head as he headed out of the room. If the situation were different Grissom wouldn't have hesitated in pulling him into his office, wouldn't have thought twice about reviewing the rules with him. Yet watching him leave now, Grissom knew that things had indeed become serious…

He could only hope that he was right.

TBC