Thanks goes out to Jenny and Kegel for looking over this for me. Glad to see so much interest in this, it's been quite fun to write. ;)
Chapter Three: Surprises
He hadn't slept that night, hadn't been able to. Greg spent most of his time exploring the house. Two bathrooms, a guest room, a study. Everything was decorated lavishly; everything was neat, clean, and fine-trimmed. It wouldn't surprise him to find every button of every jacket in the household fully intact either. Greg had a hard time believing that this was his place…his house.
The entryway was decorated with pictures, as were the halls. Most of them were of him and Sara. They looked younger in those pictures, and Greg had taken them in mind, wondering exactly then what was going on. The longer he stayed here, the more he felt as though something was missing. Something seemed out of place, and it wasn't the situation either. Something was definitely wrong.
It was sometime near that morning when exhaustion finally took its toll on him, and Greg eased himself down onto the bed. He wasn't even sure where his pajamas would be, if he even had any, and finally decided on his undershirt and boxers. It was much easier than trying to tear everything apart anyways.
He dropped his pants and shirt on the floor near the bed, mostly out of habit as he crawled under the covers, relaxing into the soft comfort. It hadn't taken him long then to fall asleep, weary of the night's events even though he had hardly done anything. Greg was trying to convince himself that he would wake up in the morning, find himself in his own bed, at his own place. Later on he and the others would have a good laugh over it as they shared coffee in the break room. It was the last feasible thought he had.
Then there was the hand, as the bed shifted next to him. The feel of someone's breath against his neck, ever so quiet. It woke him up quickly. Quick enough that he sat upright, coming too close to the edge, his motion propelling him backwards and onto the ground, dragging half the covers with him.
"Greg?" Sara's worried voice covered the air as she sat up, watching as he stumbled to his feet, his legs tangled in the mess that was now on the floor. "What's wrong, are you okay?"
"What are you doing?" he cried briefly, suddenly feeling very naked in just his undergarments. Quickly he reached down, wrapping one of the sheets around his lower body. Part of him had always fantasized what it would be like to sleep with Sara. He didn't mean that in a grotesque, kinky way. Greg admitted honestly that he had a thing for Sara; he cared for her more than he realized, but this…this just wasn't right. After all, who exactly had given her permission to come into his house, and just slip into his bed?
"Going to sleep," Sara snapped angrily. "What exactly are you doing?"
"You're sleeping," Greg questioned, "in my bed?"
She let out a groan, rubbing her head. "I know you're still angry about the suspension," she told him quietly. "There's not a lot I can do about it. Nick wanted to give you longer; especially after the stunt you pulled today."
Greg blinked, standing there simply confused. "Nick?"
"Yes," Sara nodded as she frowned. "Nick Stokes, head of the crime lab. Don't sit there and claim you don't know."
"I…" Greg cleared his throat. Did he hear her right? Nick…the head of the crime lab? How was that possible? How was any of this possible? "I…I have to go to the bathroom," he stuttered.
Sara watched him silently, blinking after a moment. "So…go then."
"Right," Greg nodded quietly, swallowing his breath as he quickly dodged out of the room, the sheet still trailing behind him. He dropped it once inside, locking the door behind him as he sank to the ground, his head in his hands.
He couldn't handle this. It was as though he had stepped into another dimension. Sara was his supervisor; Nick was the head of the lab. Grissom was dead…and he and Sara were hitting it off? What ever happened to casual dating?
He rubbed the back of his neck, jumping when Sara knocked on the door, calling out to him. She wanted to know if he was okay, and Greg laughed bitterly, banging his head against the cabinet for good measure. Was he okay? Sure…he didn't know where he was, or what was going on, but he was okay. He was splendid in fact. Greg was sorely convinced that nothing could get worse from here.
"Greg…" her voice was soft, withdrawn as she talked to him through the door. "I know that you're upset with me. What else did you expect me to do? You messed up, and I know you didn't mean to. It was just something that happened."
During this time he remained quiet, not saying anything back, his hands tightly clasped between his knees. He was expecting a confession, not a lecture.
"You would have done the same to me. I know that you were upset when you didn't get the supervisor position. The both of us were really close, I was just a little better. I'm not trying to put you down…its hard working like this, I can understand that Greg."
He only blinked, taking in what she had said. Had he actually worked for a supervisor role? It surprised him, honestly. Greg never considered being the lead in anything, not that he doubted his leadership skills, it was just a position he didn't want. He didn't want the burden, the responsibility. Heck, he had a hard enough time following orders, what would happen if he was the one giving them?
"We'll work out our differences; just don't shut me out okay? Come on, open the door, let me in…"
Greg swallowed, leaning his head back against the cabinet. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't just sit in here forever and sulk, but at the same time could he go out there and pretend that nothing was wrong? Something obviously was, and at this point Greg honestly didn't care if it was him or not, as long as it was resolved.
He heard Sara beg him some more; yes, Sara Sidle was begging. If he hadn't of been in such a sourly depressed mood he might have enjoyed it. But the worry, the fear, and the sorrow were slowly weighing down on him. Yes…he was sad. Regretful.
To think of it, there was no real reason he should be sad. He had a beautiful house, a beautiful girl that was on the other side of the bathroom door whispering to him, calling him baby, the same girl he had wanted more than ever to be with. What more could he honestly want?
Swallowing painfully he let his head drop into his hands, contemplating his predicament. It occurred to him then what he really wanted. He wanted his life back.
He was sleeping; or at least he was supposed to be. Greg was somewhat afraid that if he even dared to crack open an eyelid, Sara would personally shove an entire bottle of Excedrin down his throat. He had spent the rest of the morning in the bathroom, fully ignoring Sara who stood just on the outside of the door.
She had tried every tactic possible in getting him to open the door. From begging to downright threats of busting the piece open. Greg hardly paid any attention, doing his best not to doze off even after she had left, and the house grew quiet. Even still, he waited another full hour, possibly more before venturing from the small room, leaving the sheets piled on the floor.
Sara was sleeping then on her…their bed. Greg shook his head as he crept into the room, over to where his clothes were still spread out onto the floor. It would be easier to just change into his old stuff, rather than search the two dressers in the room for what was his. He left just as quietly.
It was warm outside, and still only in the mid-afternoon. Greg stayed on the sidewalk, taking note of his surroundings as he went by. He wasn't sure where he was going, he had no real place in mind, at least not now. What he needed more than anything was the fresh air, time to clear his head.
Maybe…just maybe he had been shot…long ago…and was unable to fill in the blanks from then to now. As soon as he thought of the notion he shook it off. That, of course, was nonsense. The doctor had evaluated him right there. Greg knew the current date, current time, current year. It was the same as it had been that morning, yesterday…when everything made sense. Some time later he found himself at a park; he recognized it enough, the crime lab had processed more than one case here over the many years. He sat himself down on one of the swings, remaining there until Sara had shown up in her car.
Greg hadn't argued then, only getting into the car without a word. Sara hadn't been thrilled to learn he had been awake this entire time. In fact she had warned him that if he didn't get some rest after returning home, she would personally make sure he had his sleep.
Sara wasn't one to make threats lightly; Greg knew that well enough. This was how he found himself on the couch, feigning sleep. Sara had been, for the most part of the day, cleaning. She had done laundry, dusting, sorting mail even. It made him nervous. Sara was never this organized, never this…orderly.
He never did actually fall asleep, but stayed in that position for Sara's sake, and her sake alone. She seemed stressed…worried. Greg couldn't help but wonder if all her worry was over him. It would be misplaced, he would think. Greg had enough to worry about to keep him busy for over a lifetime. He honestly did not need anyone harping over him on top of it all.
Nick had stopped by. Sara let him in, quietly thanking him as he handed her a key. The Texan had taken time to drive Greg's car back. It had been left at the lab, after all they had taken one vehicle to the hospital, and then it was straight home from there.
"How is he?"
He heard Sara sigh in response. "Different…I don't know why he's acting like this."
"Do you think he's purposely doing it?" Nick wondered, following her into the kitchen. Greg risked opening an eye to watch the pair as they talked quietly.
"I don't know," Sara remarked, leaning against the counter, her arms folded. "He didn't sleep at all last night, I'm convinced that if he gets some sort of rest he'll be okay. If not…I'll take him in to see someone tomorrow."
"You think he's crazy?"
Greg snorted at this, before quickly silencing himself, remembering then he was supposed to be asleep. The others were watching him, he knew it, could feel it. A long couple of minutes passed before they started talking once again, convinced now that he was indeed asleep.
"You don't have to be crazy," Sara reminded Nick, "Sometimes you just need someone to talk to."
"And you think that just talking with some stranger is going to help him?"
"Do you have any other suggestions?" Sara asked him coldly.
Nick cleared his throat. "Not really…"
So that was it then. He would be seeing a shrink. Greg knew he wouldn't be able to talk his way out of it either. Then again there was slight comfort there. After all if he was crazy, then at least one thing would make sense.
TBC