Thanks goes out to Kegel for looking this over for me, and to Jenny who always puts up with no matter what.
Sorry for the long delays once again, it is never my intention to wait this long in-between posts, but sometimes the chapters just don't want to be written. Hopefully that will not be the case with the next one.
Chapter Seven: Downhill
As soon as he heard the opening and closing of the front door, Greg knew he was in for it. The bitter smell of alcohol was still on his lips even as he sucked greedily at the small peppermint, a faint hope of masking his reckless behavior. There was no doubt in his mind that Sara would query him on his whereabouts. Not only did he dodge out of work unexcused, but he hadn't answered his phone the entire morning, even going as far as to turn it off after the forty-eighth recorded call came in.
Sara, at first, seemed surprised to see him there, although with a little speculation she could have figured it out, seeing that his car was in the driveway, and that the door was unlocked when she came through.
Still, there was a look of wonderment on her face as she set her things down, moving closer to him as though to make sure he was real, and not just a figment of her imagination. After a long silent look crossed between the pair she seemed satisfied, moving back to put away the freshly bought groceries.
"You didn't come back to work," she commented dryly, breaking the strenuous tension between them. It was an obvious statement, one that they both knew already. Greg knew she was trying to make small talk, but he wanted no part of it. It was now he wished desperately that he had his own room. At least then he could block out all this nonsense, and it was nonsense.
The session with the therapist had continued to go downhill, to the point where Greg felt worse by the time he left than before he had gone in. It was a striking realization to learn that his sole dependency was to be there for Sara. He would never have thought to hate any form of relationship between him and Sara, but this situation could hardly be called that. He was her drug, and Sara was a heavy addict.
To make matters worse, Greg had ventured to bring up his family, only to learn the horrid truth that he had walked out on them. After disapproving of Sara none the less. According to his doctor's sources, Greg hadn't held contact with any of them for nearly ten years.
It was a crushing blow. It was one thing for his family to have abandoned him, then at the very least he could be angry. But the simple thought that he had all but left them, there was no one to blame but himself. Had he truly left them all behind for Sara?
His devotion was admirable, but disgusting. To know that he had all but thrown his life away for a woman was unnerving. Was he really this…pathetic? At one point in his life, or at least what he assumed was his life, Greg was more than willing to share a lifetime with Sara. But that was to be a part of her life…something that they could share together.
"Your doctor told me that you left the session early…there was plenty of time for you to come back in. We had a heavy workload without you."
"I thought the sessions were confidential," Greg muttered crisply, making sure to be loud enough for her to hear. There was little chance of that they were, seeing how Sara was not only his supervisor, but head of the entire nightshift as well. It was her job to ensure not only his well being, but the stability of the entire lab. He couldn't work in the field until his sessions were validated as being successful.
"To an extent," Sara replied in the same cold manner, closing the cupboard above her. It was to Greg's surprise to see her standing over him the next moment, a plate in her hand. Greg moved up quickly as she sat down next to him, offering up the fresh ham sandwich, which he turned down with the wave of his hand.
He couldn't eat, not even if he was hungry. Sara shot him a questioning look, but said nothing as she set the plate down on the end table. "Where were you?"
"Out," Greg replied simply, not caring to go into further detail. If Sara was upset about him missing work, what would she do upon finding out that he had gone to a bar? He had other problems to worry about though, sensing the almost immediate change in the atmosphere around her as she shifted, turning to face him.
"Out where?"
"Just out," Greg answered, his eyes fixed straight on the entertainment center before him. He had no obligations to Sara, had no reason nor want to discuss his every move with her. She wasn't his mother, and she certainly wasn't his wife. There was no way in hell he was going to let her interrogate him.
"Out at Jefferson?" Sara asked coldly then, moving to her feet in an abrupt motion. She gauged his perplexed expression quickly, before huffing. "I know you were out there, so don't even try to deny it."
"Does it matter?" Greg finally managed to respond, his mind sorting through the possible ways she could have known, and further more why she would even care about it all so much.
"You can compromise the entire case," she nearly shouted, her voice straining as she did so. It was Greg's turn to double back, but before he could even get a word of his own out she was already talking once again. Yelling would be more of an accurate description.
"I know you're upset about losing that case, we all are. And you would know that if you took a second of your precious time to pay attention to what's happening around you!"
"What are you talking about?" Greg cut in, astonishment crossing his face. The sudden outburst had caught him completely off guard, leaving him grasping for the edges in a vast reality that was spinning around faster than he could keep up. "What case?"
"Don't play stupid Greg," Sara chastised him angrily. "You left work early to go back to the primary scene. It's not under our jurisdiction anymore. If that officer hadn't reported you being there to us, and instead had gone straight to the FBI, you could be out of a job. Do you not realize how that could screw up our lifestyle?"
"Our lifestyle?" Greg repeated, his voice faltering as he wondered if that was all she really cared about.
"I can't support everything on just my paycheck," she pointed out callously, "And I refuse to move into an apartment. It's just not going to happen."
Greg frowned, coming close to pointing out that he had lived in apartments for most of his life, and that there was nothing wrong with them, but thought the better of it as her face grew tense, Sara obviously well beyond angry and into furious now.
"There will be no more going back there, no more short days off work, no coming in late and no leaving early unless I say otherwise, and you will keep your cell phone on you at all times and answer it the first time. Do you understand?"
Greg laughed, his small mockery catching in his throat. Exactly who did she think she was? He shook his head as he moved to his feet, knowing that asking would more or less be pointless. He no longer cared, he had simply had enough.
"Where are you going?" Sara's voice was a notch above where it had been last time, but Greg did not even dare to stop, or turn around.
"Out," he replied easily, the same response he had given her maybe fifteen minutes ago. Reaching the door he turned around, meeting her gaze. "I'm leaving."
"Fine," Sara nodded to him, her voice was crisp and solid. "Go, but don't expect to come back."
Greg was never really sure what provoked him into coming here. Aside from the fact he had only a twenty in his wallet, which more or less wiped out any chance of residing in a cheap motel, Catherine's place was the first that came to mind. Sure, he had tried other options, had almost gone to Nick's, but chickened out at the last moment when he remembered how the Texan had been irritated at him earlier for everything that was going on. Somehow it seemed as though he sided with Sara, and often. Greg decided to skip him all together.
Warrick was never one to really listen, or seem to listen, from Greg's point of view. The man could provide the support needed when asked, but it just felt awkward. Grissom was obviously out of the question as well. Still, he sat outside in his car for near an hour before working up the courage to go knock on the door.
He almost turned around, almost left, more determined to spend the rest of the morning cruising the town, and then finding a spot to crash for the day. But Greg also knew that temperatures would climb to the triple digits, perhaps beyond it today, and sleeping in his car would more or less be suicide. Under a tree or on a park bench was also out of question, as was work. No, he needed somewhere to stay.
The look on his face had to be close to the one on Warrick's when the door opened, the man obviously had just gotten up, still dressed in his nightwear. He leaned against the door, studying the younger CSI as if hoping to find a reason for being here. Greg was mentally cursing himself, just having finally put two and two together. Of course he and Catherine would be living together, they were engaged.
"I um…" Greg cleared his throat, trying to pull up a reasonable excuse as he looked away. What exactly was he going to say? He felt like little more than an idiot now, hands in his pocket as he shuffled from foot to foot. Warrick was still watching him, but it was Catherine's voice that caught his attention.
He glanced up in time to see her coming out into the entry way, tying the sash on her bathrobe. Her expression was one of concern, rather than surprise like the one on Warrick's face. "Greg? What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry," Greg drew in a breath, his eyes grazing across the morning skies. "I shouldn't have come here, I'll just go."
It was a lame response, but all he could manage to come up with. He was halfway across the driveway when Catherine caught up to him, her bare feet slapping against the concrete. Greg didn't hesitate when she tried to turn him around, only standing there looking like a scolded child as she took in his appearance.
"Greg?" she asked again, her voice now clearly worried as she watched him.
"It's nothing," he shrugged it off; forcing a smile so she wouldn't worry. "Sara and I had a few words…"
"And you need a place to stay?" Catherine finished off with a nod. Greg smiled sheepishly but tried to wave it off as no big deal.
"I can find somewhere else, it's not a problem. I forget that you and Warrick were…well, you and Warrick. I just didn't think."
"Greg," Catherine's voice was stern, mother like, the same tone he had always known whenever she became serious. "We have plenty of room for you here tonight, and trust me, I know how Sara can get sometimes."
It was an offering, a pleading almost, as she took a step back toward the house, one hand still resting on his shoulder. Warrick had already gone back inside, and without any further thought Greg finally agreed to come inside. After all, where else could he go?
TBC