Disclaimer: Me owns nothing.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews.


Chapter 3

Greg did not know how long he had been sitting there, before he finally laid down, falling into a light slumber. His sleep was dreamless this time and it was only the ringing of the doorbell that woke him up again.

He opened his eyes, noticing that the sun was already rising outside, filling his bedroom with a soft light that made the fears and happenings of the last night seem unreal and far away. He closed his eyes again, disregarding the ringing, delving into his own thoughts.

It rang again and Greg still ignored it. He refused to get up, although he knew that he could not stay so forever, but for now he was doing fine with it, or as fine as one could expect in his situation, losing himself in memories of Sara.

The coldness of her body – it reminded him how cold her hands had often been. How he had taken her hands in his then, as he could not help rubbing them to warm them up, Sara laughing at it.

A third ringing made him feel irritated. Could they not leave him alone?

He sat up slowly, taking in the soft light that was coming from outside. He wondered how long it was actually ago that… he had found Sara. From all he could tell it could be days ago… or had it had happened just last night?

He buried his head under his pillow. If it had not been for Grissom's confirmation Greg would have known nothing. He did not know. As if he wanted to know.

He wondered why he had those remembrances of shared moments with Sara. The memories seemed far too real to be only a part of his nightmares.

His memory was a mess, his head still hurting as if something wanted to get out of it with force and the only clear thought that floated between everything was that Sara was gone.

When the bell rang yet another time, Greg jumped finally up. He hoped to bring it behind him quickly, knowing he could not avoid it in the long run. He staggered slightly, the dizziness not gone yet.

He made his way to the door of his apartment, pulling it open quickly, then stopping dead, starring outside.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost," Sara said slightly amused, a smile playing on her lips.

Greg, lost for words, struggling against the temptation to just hug her tightly, simply stepped back to let her in.

She walked inside and he closed the door before following her. She turned around, looking at him.

Greg starred at her for a short moment, before he suddenly turned around and hasted into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. His head felt as if it was going to explode, a new wave of dizziness washing over him.

Greg just made it to the toilet in time before he had to throw up. Tears were coming up now and when the puking ended he leaned against the bathing tube, crying now, unlike he had done during all the hours before.

Sara was knocking at the door of the bathroom for at least the second time.

She was out there and Greg was utterly lost. What was up with him?

She was out there.

What had Grissom been talking about?

Sara was out there.

It.Was.Only.A.Nightmare. Greg breathed out slowly.

Now she knocked another time. Soon she would treat to break open the door. Greg was sure that she was very well able to do that, and then he would be mincemeat.

He was almost ready to open the door, even ready to let her beat the living daylights out of him. Maybe he would get a clear head then; maybe he would know then what was up with him.

Sara called him from outside, but the tone of her voice surprised him. It was not angry or commanding as he had expected, but worried, anxious even. And that was what made him stand up and open the door slowly.

Sara stepped back a little, looking relieved for a short moment.

Greg was drawn between avoiding her gaze and the urgency to look at her. It had only been a nightmare, he told himself quietly again.

"What is it, Greg?" Sara asked now, frowning and Greg knew that he could not tell her. He did not want her to laugh at him because he had dreamt about them being together. He did not want to alarm her because of his nightmares of her being murdered.

"Nothing," he said, causing Sara's look to change into a clearly unbelieving one, one that told you to better tell her the truth.

Greg walked over to the small window in his kitchen, starring outside, still feeling Sara's gaze on him.

"Are you sure that you are okay?" she insisted to know.

"Why not?" he returned quietly.

"Greg," Sara sounded still worried. She was suddenly next to him, very close next to him, and made Greg wonder even more.

"Don't you remember what has happened?" Sara continued.

Greg felt chilly. What has happened. Grissom. He had said the same words. Greg shook his head in a desperate attempt to remember what everyone was talking about.

He turned around to Sara whose gaze seemed to pierce through him, though it softened when she saw his face.

"Please tell me what happened," he asked her on the risk of sounding as if he had lost his mind.

"And you will tell me what scared you, won't you?" Sara demanded softly, making Greg wonder if it had been so obvious.

He nodded silently.

"You should've gone to the hospital. I mean if you can't even remember-."

"Sara," Greg interrupted her, pleading.

She nodded. "Okay." She sat down on the next chair.

"When we were to work a scene yesterday, there was a violent storm," Sara began. "Do you remember that?" she wanted to know.

Oddly enough, Greg could recall the warnings they had received before leaving for the scene. He nodded and Sara continued. "There was a more than fragile house at the scene. The storm brought down some tiles and one of them crashed on you when we were just entering."

"Oh," Greg only said, though having now an explanation why his head was still aching as if it had been split into two.

Sara resumed her report and now that she was telling him everything, pictures seemed to come back into his head.

He remembered the hard wind, was even able to recollect how the hood of Sara's rain jacket had been wafting behind her when they had made their way from the car to the entrance of the house.

Then Sara leaning over him, looking down worried.

Her voice brought him back to the present.

"… so you refused to go to the hospital and I drove you home," she ended, having now only a small hint of 'I told you so.' in her tone.

Greg rubbed his head. It was a lot clearer now, the aching still there though.

Sara jumped up worriedly. "I'll drive you to the hospital," she said urgently at his doing.

"No," Greg held up his hands. "It's okay. I just… I just had a very bad night… and I think I own Grissom an excuse."

Sara looked at him questioningly, but let it go then, to his relief.

He knew that he had to tell her sooner or later of his fears and of his nightmares. She would insist upon it. And Greg had to admit that she was probably much too sober-minded to be frightened by a nightmare. There would be a time when he would have to tell her, but it was not now.

She came close to him once again, laying her arms around his back, giving him a short kiss that was clearly not the first one. She looked at him soberly.

"This is a dream," Greg said unbelieving.

"Felt more like a nightmare to me," Sara remarked quietly.

End