A/N: The beginning of the end, my friends. Usual disclaimer; I also don't own Marilyn Manson or Evita. Read on...

Chapter 41- For Good

"I've heard it said that people come into our lives
For a reason bringing something we must learn
And we are led to those who help us most to grow
If we let them, and we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today because I knew you

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes the sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed
For good

It well may be that we will never meet again
In this lifetime, so let me say before we part
So much of me is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
Know you have rewritten mine by being my friend

Like a ship blown from its mooringBy a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a sky bird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
I do believe I have been changed for the better
And because I knew you
Because I knew you
Because I knew you
I have been changed
For good"

For Good from Wicked

It was late October and Greg sat in Dr. Martinez's office, lounging in a chair while waiting for his latest test results. Sara sat next to him, immersed in some gossip magazine or another.

Dr. Martinez walked in, examining Greg's file. "Hey, what's up, Doc?" asked Greg cheerfully.

She gave him a look as she set his file down and settled in her chair. "You know very well what's up, Greg," she said sternly. "I thought I told you to come in the moment you thought something was up."

He shrugged, looking embarrassed. "I've been busy," he muttered, concentrating on a spot on the floor.

Sara looked between him and the doctor and said, almost nervously, "Um, well, I'm glad Greg knows what's going on, but I don't, so…"

Dr. Martinez sighed deeply and leaned forward, folding her hands on her desk. "Sara, Greg's t-cell count has dropped back down to the single digits. At this rate, I'd give him a week, tops." Sara gasped aloud but Greg didn't look surprised by the news, still staring fixedly at the floor. "Now," continued Dr. Martinez, "there are a few options. We could put him back in the hospital, in the sterile environment…"

Greg began to shake his head, but Sara cut him off, asking, "How much time would it buy him?"

"It could give him anywhere from a day to a week longer," replied Dr. Martinez.

"No," said Greg calmly, leaving back in his chair. "I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to go through that again. It's not worth it."

"Greg, you have to!" protested Sara. "It could give you up to a week longer to live. You can't not do that!"

"A week longer, sure," agreed Greg. "But a week without being with you and the girls? A week alone without being able to say good-bye properly? What kind of week would that be? It wouldn't be a week worth living." He looked at her seriously. "Please, Sara, please. I want it this way. I'm dying. I've been dying for a long time, a very long time, and this is just time for it all to end. But let it end on my terms, surrounded by the people I love."

"Are you asking for my permission to allow you to die? Is that what you're asking? 'Cause I can't do that. I won't. I will not give you permission to die."

"I'm not asking your permission," said Greg calmly, but with steel in his voice. "I'm asking for you to understand and respect my decision, even if you don't agree with it. Please, Sara," he pleaded gently, dark eyes searching hers. "Let me go home. Let me be at home with you when I die. Please."

"Greg, you realize that one you leave here today, you'll be going home to die," interjected Dr. Martinez concernedly.

Greg closed his eyes briefly. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, I'm going home to die. It's time. I'm so tired of fighting. Please, just let me go in peace."

"Fine," whispered Sara, taking one of his hands in hers as the tears streamed down her face. "If you're sure it's what you want."

"Thank you," he said, relief evident in both his face and his voice. "Thank you for understanding."

Dr. Martinez nodded slowly, though she looked at Greg sadly. "I'll get you the forms you need to fill out," she said quietly, getting up and leaving.

Greg looked at Sara and smiled through his tears. "Call everyone, will you?" he asked. "Tell them to meet us at the house. It's time to say good-bye."

It was a very somber group that met Greg and Sara at their house. Catherine was already crying, and even Warrick's eyes were wet with tears. Sara and Grissom helped Greg from the car, and then he stood there, looking calmly at all of them. "Alright," he said, quirking one eyebrow at them. "Now, I'm not gonna go lie down in my bed so you all can say good-bye to me like I'm a freakin' invalid. I'm just gonna go sit into the living room and chill, and you guys can duke it out to see who gets to say good-bye first."

He started to shuffle up to the house but then lost his balance and almost fell over. As Sara rushed to help him, for the first time, the rest of the team could see how weak he'd gotten. As Sara helped him into the house, everyone else turned to each other. "I don't want to go first," whispered Catherine. "I don't think I can do it yet. I need to think of what to say." She looked at everyone for conformation and they all nodded. Grissom squeezed her arm wordlessly.

Warrick cleared his throat. "I'll go," he volunteered quietly. "I just wanna get it over with."

Nick patted him on the back and Warrick headed into the house. He knocked on the living room door. "Hey, man, can I come in?" he asked, poking his head around the doorway.

True to his word, Greg was indeed in the living room on the couch, though he wasn't quite "chilling." Instead, he was lying down, eyes closed and breathing shallow. When he heard Warrick, he opened is eyes and sat up. "Sure, 'Rick, come on down. You're the first contestant on 'Say Good-Bye to Greg!' Just for playing, we'll give you five free minutes to say whatever you want."

"No jokes, man, ok?" said Warrick, slumping into an armchair next to the couch. "I don't think I can stand them right now."

"You can't stand them?" asked Greg, raising an eyebrow and chuckling dryly. "Believe me, man, laughter may be the only thing I have left. Without it, this would be so goddamn depressing."

"Greg, you're dying," said Warrick. "In case you didn't notice, it doesn't get much more depressing than this."

"Which is exactly why we need some humor to lighten the situation," said Greg. When Warrick didn't respond, he sighed almost dejectedly. "Alright, have it your way. No humor." He paused and looked at Warrick seriously. "When I'm gone, you and Nick have to take care of Sara and the girls. Make sure Freya grows up knowing that I love her. Make sure she doesn't forget her daddy." He closed his eyes briefly and then smiled gently. "Bye, 'Rick."

"That's all?" asked Warrick, raising both eyebrows. "That's all I get? Nothing else? You have nothing else to say to me?"

"Well, you forbade humor, and that threw half my schpeel out the window," said Greg with a shrug. "I dunno, man, what do you want me to say?"

Warrick was silent for a moment, then sighed deeply. "I dunno…I just dunno." He looked at Greg and half-smiled. "We're bros, man, alright? And you had better remember that. Til the end of time."

He held out his fist and Greg hit it gently with his own. "Bros, man," repeated Greg, smiling sadly. "Forever and always."

Nick hovered at the doorway to the living room, debating with himself whether or not to go in. Grissom had offered to go before him, but Nick had told him that he deserved to say good-bye to Greg last. Now Nick stood there, knowing he should go in and say good-bye, and yet not wanting to.

Suddenly, Greg's voice broke through the reverie of his thoughts. "Hey, Nick, are you gonna stand out there all day, or what?" Greg's voice sounded amused, although it did nothing to mask the tiredness or pain behind it.

Mentally cursing, Nick coughed slightly and said, "Uh, yeah, I'm coming, sorry." He went in and gave Greg a tight smile. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

Greg shrugged and yawned. "Oh, you know, my lungs are coughing themselves up, my immune system is shot, my entire body is shutting down, and I'm in the worst pain I've ever been in in my life, but other than that, things are going swell." He paused, then winced. "Sorry, that sounded bitchy. If it weren't for the fact that I'm about to kick the bucket, I'd recommend you leave and come back when I'm in a better mood."

"I wish I could leave and not have to say good-bye," said Nick sadly, settling into the armchair and staring broodingly into space. He sighed and looked back at Greg. "I don't want to say good-bye, G."

"I don't want to say good-bye either," whispered Greg. 'I don't want to say good-bye to any of you. Hell, I don't want to die. But I'm going to, and soon, and there are still things I need to say."

"Well, then, speak," said Nick with a small half-smile. "By all means, speak. God knows I've never been able to stop you before."

Greg didn't smile, though the serious expression on his face softened. "Well, firstly, I want to thank you. Thank you for being my friend. You've taught me so much, Nicky, more than you even know, and I just hope I've been able to teach you something in return."

"You have, Greggo," whispered Nick. "Believe me, you have. Hell, you even taught me to appreciate Marilyn Manson."

"And you taught me that maybe country music isn't the devil incarnate," said Greg reluctantly, sighing and rolling his eyes dramatically. He smiled at Nick. "Bye, Nick."

"Bye, Greg," whispered Nick, tears beginning to fill his eyes.

"Don't cry for me," said Greg worriedly. He paused and then a grin spread over his face and he continued, "For I am ordinary, unimportant." He looked expectantly at Nick, who gave him a blank look in return. Greg sighed and added helpfully, "And undeserving of such attention…" Nick still looked beyond confused. Greg rolled his eyes and sang loudly, "Don't cry for me, Argentina, for I am ordinary, unimportant, and undeserving of such attention, unless we all are, I think we all are, so share my glory, so share my coffin." Nick gaped at him, open-mouthed. Greg gave Nick a look. "Didn't you ever see Evita?"

"Hell no!" said Nick, laughing. "What the hell do you think I am, a girl?"

"Hey, I saw it, and I am most definitely in possession of a y-chromosome," said Greg defensively.

"Yeah, but you're weird…and you've gotta admit, you're a bit…er…a bit…" stammered Nick, trailing off.

"I'm a bit what?" asked Greg, raising one eyebrow at Nick.

"Er…well, a bit feminine," said Nick in a rush.

"Feminine? You're calling me feminine on my deathbed?" exclaimed Greg. "What the hell is wrong with you, man? I will not stand here and take this insult!"

"Well, it's a good thing you're not standing, isn't it?" said Nick mildly.

"Hey, which one of us is married, huh?" asked Greg with a smirk. They fell into comfortable silence until Greg said, "I'll miss this…just dicking around with you like this…it's one of the things I'll miss the most…"

"Hell, Greg, the thing I'll miss most is you," said Nick quietly. "You've changed me, for better or for worse, I dunno, but you've changed me for good."

"You've changed me, too," said Greg, smiling at him. "And I promise, a part of me will always be with you, just like a part of you will always be with me." He started fake crying theatrically and sniffled overdramatically, "I love you, Nicky."

Nick chuckled appreciatively. "I love you, too, Greggo," he said, shaking his head in gentle reproach of his theatrics. He leaned over and gave him a hug "I'm gonna go, now, cuz I know Catherine is probably itchin' to come in and say good-bye. So, I'll see you around, man, ok?"

Greg reached out and caught Nick's arm as he turned away. "Bye, Nick," he said seriously.

Nick smiled at him. "Bye, Greg," he whispered, grasping his hand tightly. "Good-bye."