I know I haven't posted anything lately, and I'm regretfully sorry about that. It's been so busy and hectic I haven't really had the time.

This will also be the last update until July. I know it's short notice, but I'll be out of state and nowhere close to a computer or the internet. No promises on how soon after that I'll be able to get anything up.

Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks goes out to Jenny and Kegel for looking over this chapter for me.

Chapter Four: Heavenly Worries

He was chewing on the end of his pencil, watching the young man quizzically as he paced back and forth. It wasn't a good sign. Greg was supposed to be the nervous one, not the doctor. He ignored it however, coming to a stop in front of the open window, the light, cool breeze hitting him in the face. For a brief moment he felt free, he felt content. Then the man spoke up once more.

"Let me get this straight," Doctor Brewer said in hesitation, "You mean to tell me that you believe that you are dead?"

Greg let out a snort, hardly turning around to him as he answered. "We both know that thought is inconceivable," he pointed out, "as I am currently standing here and discussing this with you."

"So all of which you just told me is mere fabrication then?" Brewer tried to confirm, frowning as Greg shook his head.

Moving back over to the couch Greg sat himself down, staring the other man in the eye. He wasn't afraid, ashamed, or concerned even. Mostly he was irate, he didn't want to be here, but as he full well knew, arguing with Sara wasn't going to change anything.

"It's all I remember. Then I'm here."

"You were shot…and killed….and you wonder why you're here?" Brewers frowned, shifting his chair.

"I told you, that is what I last remembered," Greg corrected him. "But obviously I am not hurt, and I'm not six feet under a pile of dirt. The only conclusion that is left is that I am, in fact, alive. But please, explain to me why none of this makes sense."

"I would consider the fact that something has happened to you, emotionally or physically, that has cut part of your life out. Memory loss in association with trauma isn't uncommon."

"Maybe," Greg agreed as he nodded, "but how then do I know the date, the time…the crime lab, the people I've worked with for the past five, six years. Would I not forget all that as well?"

"Emotions can trigger certain blocks for certain things. You remembered that which is closest to you, what means the most. You've just forgotten events, places…things you wouldn't necessarily associate with feelings. Not directly, of course."

"And in place I created a whole other past, one that I know…or at least think I know, that I have lived in for my entire life. How would you explain that?"

"If the want is powerful enough, then yes. It's possible that you're subconscious mind has created a world that you believe exists. It's not unheard of, but it's not something you see very often."

"How many times have you seen this?" Greg wondered lightly.

Dr. Brewer smiled at him prior to jotting a few notes down. "You would be the first case."

"Wonderful," Greg muttered bitterly. "I'm a case now."

"It's nothing personal," the man started to assure him, but Greg was quick in cutting him off.

"How would it make you feel, for someone to classify you as 'a case'?"

"It's just a classification," Brewer stated firmly. "Are you afraid of being classified, maybe perhaps it's something you deal with a lot in your life."

When Greg raised an eyebrow at this statement he continued on a slight different path.

"Are you…afraid of being classified by your co-workers, your friends? Sara maybe? You two have quite a history together; it would be easy to see where the fear would come from."

"History?" he blinked, eyeing the doctor. "What history?"

It was then Brewer sighed, which wasn't anything new. For a short while it seemed as if it was all the man knew how to do. "Sara explained briefly that you were dealing with some memory issues, which is some of the reason why you are here now. Therefore she gave me permission to relinquish some of her files from past sessions, ones that you attended with her. She was hoping it would help."

Greg shifted on the couch, thankful that it was at least comfortable. He doubted that he would be able to stand the sessions otherwise. At first he was going to speak, but the doctor cut him off, and Greg hadn't the motivation to try and stop him.

"Let's start with basics. When did you meet Sara Sidle?"

"Six years ago," Greg started, silently adding 'almost' before continuing. "Grissom, our supervisor, called her out to work a case from the SFPD, and she just sort of…never went back," he chuckled quietly, remembering how eager the brunette had been when finding out about the job offer in Vegas.

"And what was their relationship then?"

Greg had to choke back a laugh at the last comment, replacing it with a smile. "Student Teacher then."

"As opposed to now?" Dr. Brewer wondered casually, once again scribbling on his notepad.

"If you're trying to suggest they are in some sort of a relationship, I would suggest otherwise. I mean I don't follow them home or anything, but Grissom is not a relationship type of a person. He's always been…distant, I guess you could say."

"And we are speaking as though Grissom is still alive then?" his doctor asked then, glancing up as the younger man was frowning.

"Obviously," Greg scoffed, wondering how this man ever got his degree in psychology.

"You are aware that Grissom has been…"

"Dead for years," he did cut in this time, shaking his head. "Or at least everyone says so."

"You disagree?"

"I tend to disagree with everyone as of late," Greg put in, watching the therapist nod. "Now…tell me of this…history Sara and I have? I found some picture the other day that show us together when we were younger…like teenagers almost. I'm not saying that I'm old, but I haven't known her that long."

"You meet Sara when you were nineteen," Brewer started, judging Greg's reaction. "You were in college, attending a beach party. Sara and her current boyfriend were there as well, and getting into it with him. You stepped in and he backed off; Sara stayed with you for the rest of the night, for solace as much as her own protection. After that you two were inseparable."

He blinked, "You know all of this?"

Brewer smiled, returning a nod. "She talks a lot."

"So…inseparable…what does that mean? Relationship…"

"Friendship," he cut in, "Strictly friendship. With Sara's past, it's hard for her to trust. But she confided in you a lot, and you've helped her through many stages of her life. The both of you graduated the same year from Berkeley, and you worked out of the San Francisco Crime Lab for several months before moving here. Sara had gotten an offer for a supervisor role of the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and she had asked to you to come."

Greg sat back, eying him cautiously; unsure of if he was the one that was supposed to be evaluated at the moment. He knew that it was no longer a joke; everything was taking its own course, an entire elaborate history hanging over his head to disprove each and every word, thought, and notion. He was slowly losing every battle, and Greg was starting to run out of excuses.

He had returned home shortly after that. Nick had given him the ride, and Greg thanked him briefly, the only words he had exchanged with the Texan. Dr. Brewer wanted to see him several more times, over a course of a couple of weeks before coming to a direct conclusion. According to Nick, the man was doing him a favor, just because the doctor knew him so well.

Whatever the cause, Greg wasn't about to argue. He'd much rather live in this strange version of his life than to be locked up in an institution, or to have pills forced down his throat daily.

Sara was still working, would be for several more hours, and if he knew Sara as well as he was hoping he did, she would be working well past that. It gave him ample time to think, to sort out his overburdened mind. It was sad to think that his only worries before had been his rent payment, and avoiding a crazy neighbor from time to time.

He showered, changed, and crawled under the covers, not bothering to eat, and hardly caring that he was hungry. He felt more alone than ever, a hard concept to grasp, knowing that there was no one that understood his predicament. Did he continue to believe in his false past, or did he simply forget it, and move on to new things?

"Just hold on…"

Greg blinked, frowning as he listened closely. He had heard a voice…he was certain of it…but from whom? Sitting up he glanced around the empty room, swallowing as the dark shadows played against the wall. Maybe he was going crazy…

Sara appeared in the doorway then, phone in her hand as she slipped in quietly. She gave him an apologetic smile, dropping her things on the nightstand as she walked by. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep," he responded meagerly, lying back down as she entered the bathroom. Only a few minutes had gone by before she reemerged, walking around the room to the other side of the bed, pulling the covers back. Greg rolled up on his side, facing the wall, trying to lose himself in his thoughts once again.

When her hand brushed against his back he didn't pull away, simply closing his eyes as she curled up against him, her warm breath on his neck as she wrapped an arm around his waist. "How did the session go?"

Greg wanted to scoff, wanted to ask what was wrong with her. She was pretending as though seeing a shrink was a perfectly habitual matter, as though the last forty-eight hours had been nothing. Still he couldn't bring himself to answer like that, so instead he offered up a shrug. "Fine."

Her fingers rubbed his shoulder for a brief moment, before running down his back, lightly tracing his spine. "Just fine?"

"What do you want me to say?" Greg wondered, his skin tingling at her administrations. Sure…it still felt weird to have Sara next to him, comforting him…touching him intimately. He let out a breath as her hand moved lower.

"Whatever's on your mind," was her response, even as she nibbled at his ear. Greg rolled on his back then, but it didn't cease any of her intended motions. Her hand now rested on his lower stomach, rubbing his skin tenderly. "You seem to be doing better…but I won't know that for sure unless you tell me."

"I'm good," he nodded, knowing that there was no need to worry her. He saw her smile, grateful that she had bought his lie even as she leaned down, pressing a kiss against his waiting lips.

At first he resisted, part of him wondering if it was right, or even fair to take advantage of the situation, before realizing that it had been Sara who had initiated the contact. He felt her laugh as he responded, her hushed giggle nearly breaking the silence around him as he cupped her cheek first, before running his fingers through her russet hair, holding her close.

Her fingers were playing on his stomach again, moving lower as they stroked the bare skin, sliding under the waistband of his sweats. Greg broke the kiss, drawing in a deep breath as he turned his head away. He wasn't caught in a dream anymore…he was in a heavenly bliss.

TBC