Thanks go out to Kegel for betaing this, and to Jenny for always putting up with me, not matter how much I whine about I can't write, and then convincing me that I can. So if don't like the chapter you can just blame her (hehe, just kidding)

Anyways, I'm off to hide…for now…maybe longer….-slinks away-

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Chapter Eleven: Unforgivable Actions

There wasn't anything said between them for the rest of the night. At least nothing more than what was needed. The silence was unnerving to Greg, who had often sought for something to occupy any still moments. If the change was noticeable, no one commented on it. It wasn't surprising that Sara hadn't picked up on it, she was simply refusing to acknowledge his mere existence; but even Brass who took the time to notice some of the smaller details had chosen to remain quiet.

Sara's anger ran deeper than just her silence. Upon returning to the lab, she had instructed Greg to take over, citing that he could easily handle it with his lack of attendance the previous week. He couldn't manage to find his own anger at her unfair directions. Instead he found relief in the quietness of the lab, using the time to sort through his thoughts.

Nick's threats still rang clear in his mind. Though it worried him, Greg couldn't help to think what would happen if he did leave the crime lab. He obviously wasn't happy here, and perhaps he had never been. Was it possible then to be even unhappier if he did leave? His mind raced at the idea, taking in Doc Robbin's words from earlier. Should he just give in, accept the fact that things were never going to be the same again and continue on, or should he keep trying to fight for what he was certain was true?

By the time he actually got around to finishing his job, which was no more than logging the evidence in, Swings had already begun. Greg knew it had taken him longer than normal to finish the procedural step, but he hadn't been aware of how slow he actually had been working.

He kept his head down in the halls as he darted back to the locker room, more than ready to depart. His shift would start again in just a few hours, it would give him enough time to catch a bit of sleep. It was sleep he desperately needed as well. With the troublesome thoughts weighing him down he was far more exhausted mentally than physically, but that on top of the lack of sleep didn't bode well for him.

In front of his locker he rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a yawn as he fiddled with the combination, frowning as it would not open. He shook his head tiredly, grimacing as he swore he could feel his brains sloshing inside of his weary head. He was so exhausted that he could probably sleep on the floor and be comfortable.

"You're here early."

Greg only glanced his way, raising an eyebrow before turning back to his locker, trying to remember the combination, trying to remember if he was doing it right or not.

"Or very late," Warrick continued, finally catching the drift as he came up behind him. With a short laugh the older man shook his head. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to open my locker," Greg muttered, letting out a curse as the small device once again failed to open. At this rate his shift would start before he got it open. This of course wasn't anything new, not exactly anyways. His lock had been sticking for quite some time, just not this bad. He had talked to Grissom about it, the man promising to find a new lock for him. Of course Grissom wasn't around, so a lot of good that did. Plus the fact that his stubborn lock was the only thing that refused to change.

"I'm no expert when it comes to lockers and all," Warrick started up behind him, drawing a long sigh from Greg. "But it might work if you actually tried opening your own."

Of course. He hadn't even stopped to think about it, had actually forgotten that his locker was no longer his locker, but someone else's. He now had one closer to the front, with a new combination as well. With embarrassment burning in his cheeks he gave the other man a short nod, promptly moving up several steps. Greg had it open within the first try.

"Thanks," he mumbled quietly, easing himself down on the bench. He was almost too tired to care that he felt like an idiot, but it was hard with the other man always watching. Greg tried to hurry himself along a bit, without really appearing to do so as he reached in for his regular shoes.

"Catherine and I just finished our shift, we're headed out to get something to eat, you want to come along?"

The offer was tempting, as his stomach started to gurgle in response. Greg couldn't remember the last real meal he had, relying only on a handful of snacks to keep him going. Even so he shook his head, one hand on the locker door as he shut it.

"Thanks, but I should be heading home," he replied meekly. As he turned to leave he heard Warrick start again, and Greg paused, turning back to face him.

"Whatever Nick told you, don't let it get you down. He's mostly just talk, he likes to sound big, but he's pretty easy going, as long as you don't get him going."

Greg had wanted to point out that Nick was already angry with him, but decided to keep quiet. The last thing he needed was to start spreading rumors about his head supervisor. He wasn't quite sure yet if a change of scenery was something he actually wanted.

"If you ever need a place, our house is always open. That goes for both you and Sara," Warrick continued, offering up a small shrug.

Greg returned it with a smile, feeling at least somewhat grateful that someone was trying to understand. He wouldn't be surprised to find out that it had been Catherine to demand the man to do the offering, expecting it from her more than anyone else. "That means a lot," he told him quietly. "It really does."

Warrick just nodded, collecting his own stuff as he made his way out of the room. Greg was not too far behind him. He didn't want to go home, afraid almost to know what things would be like if he did. Then again what choice did he really have? Nick was watching him like a hawk, and unless he proved himself to Sara who knew of the consequences that would follow.

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Sara was asleep when he arrived home. Or at least she seemed to be. The lights were off in the kitchen, only the hallway light let out a dim glow as he kicked off his shoes, draping his coat over the back of the easy chair. She was resting on her side, facing toward the window as he climbed into bed, resting his head on the pillows right behind her.

As he moved closer he was able to smell the sweet fruit scent of her shampoo, and he inhaled deeply, gently reaching out to run his fingers through her hair, wanting so much for things to be how he had always dreamed them to be. He could imagine it as well, imagine lying here, holding her close. The problem was that a relationship did not work only one way. He could try and love Sara, but if she did not give him the same effort back, what then? There was a strong line between love, and need. And Sara seemed to be leaning more on the side of need than anything else.

His wandering fingers stilled as she shifted, rolling to face him. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she hadn't had any sleep, the red puffiness an indicator that she had been crying instead. Greg felt himself tense, fingers curling into his palm as he drew back a little, uncertain of what she was going to say, if anything.

The silence was straining, and Sara was avoiding his gaze, looking blankly at the wall instead. He waited a few moments longer before reaching out, cupping her hand in his. She responded to that, pulling her own hand away at the sudden contact. She obviously was still angry at him, and Greg was close to giving up. Twenty-four hours ago she was babbling like an idiot, stumbling over her words as she apologized. Now she was angry because he hadn't accepted it. At every turn he did something wrong, and the stress was starting to amount.

"Sara…"

"Don't," she was quick to cut him off, shaking her head as she rolled onto her back. "Don't be saying things you don't mean."

"I am sorry," Greg said, not really sure why he was apologizing, it just felt right. "I don't like it when we fight."

At least that much was true. Fighting was his last resort; he would often pull away from a heated argument, more than ready to end the confrontation. But he also hated seeing Sara depressed like this. What made it even worse was the fact he was the cause of this depression, intentionally or not.

"Everything I do just isn't enough," Sara whispered quietly, eyes drifting back towards him. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

Letting out a patient sigh he moved closer to her, grateful that she did not try to draw away this time as he touched her, running his fingers down her arm. It did not take long before she was curled up against him, head buried against his chest as he rubbed her back in soothing circles.

"We just hit a bump in the road; things will get back to normal before long…"

He muttered the phrase with little to no hope. After all, what was normal? Greg could feel her nod under his hold, and he rested his head against hers, closing his eyes. This…he could stay like this forever. He would be willing to hold her close like this forever, even if it was the most he ever got out of their so-called relationship.

"I'm sorry I left you with all the work," she mumbled, her voice muffled by his t-shirt. "I just needed some time alone…"

At that Greg could have scoffed. There were plenty of things she could have done to help and still be on her own at the same time. She chose, however, the one thing that did nothing to help. It was selfish, yes, but Greg didn't want to point it out, fearing the start of yet another quarrel. He honestly couldn't handle it if another one happened.

The soft lips on his caught him off guard, and he barely had time to respond before they pulled away. Sara had moved closer to him, her eyes closed as she drifted off into sleep, her silent words echoing throughout the darkness.

"I love you."

Greg didn't know if Sara knew what love truly was, but accepted it as a peace offering before he too fell into a dreamless sleep.

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It was the stomping that first woke him. Not the yelling, not the slamming of doors, not even the throwing of things around. When he was exhausted he slept, and soundly. But the vibrations of each pounding footstep woke him quickly, and though he knew something was amiss his jumbled mind couldn't quite pick up what exactly.

He could hear Sara muttering under her breath as she came into the room, opening a few of the dresser drawers before slamming them shut once again. Greg winced, his head already pounding as he resorted to hiding under the pillows, a faint attempt to block out some of the noise. It worked, but only for a short time.

With a groan he pushed himself up some, glaring as the brunette came back into the room, carrying another armload of clothes. After opening and forcibly closing the third drawer Greg had a fairly good idea that she was not in the best of moods. But neither was he.

"Sara, please, I'm trying to sleep," he complained groggily, rubbing his now-sensitive head.

"Well, someone has to do the work around here," Sara grumbled, moving to her feet. "Besides, we have to leave for work in an hour anyways."

"That's an hour I'd like to sleep," Greg pointed out in return, pulling the covers up around his chin. Sara knew he had far less sleep than she did, so why then was she making this so difficult?

"Go ahead then," Sara told him, her voice on the edge of sweet and onto a dangerous level. "You can't even take care of your stuff, why the hell would you help around the house then?"

"Just leave it," Greg grumbled, acclimated to just leaving things where they dropped. After all, he was always able to find whatever he needed, when he needed it. So what then, was the big deal?

"Just leave it?" Sara repeated. Greg cracked one eye open, watching her as she stood just in front of him, hands on her hips. "Just leave it? Our house, our home, our future together, you just want me to forget about it?"

"A few dirty clothes isn't going to change anything," Greg protested, mildly irritated. Working tonight was going to be a nightmare. He was exhausted as it was, and his stress level was already climbing. He longed for the previous night when all was said in quiet hushed tones.

"Do you even care?" Sara asked skeptically, her voice fading for a moment. "Or is all you've ever told me just a bunch of lies?"

There wasn't a better irony than that there. It was Sara who had been feeding him the false promises, the fictitious leads, the deceiving hopes. Every time he felt as though things were getting better, as though he might have a chance at what he had hoped would be happy life, Sara brought him back to the cold hard reality. The question still remained, did he really care?

"You don't care about me…about us," Sara continued after his indecisive pause, her head shaking sadly. "You've always been jealous that I've been the better one…you've always wanted what I have…"

"Sara, that's insane," Greg started, irritated that she was now trying to make him the bad guy in all of this.

"It's true, isn't it? That's the only reason you've stayed with me so long…you think that if you just take what you know, and get rid of me that you'll benefit from it all?"

She wasn't making much sense now, one hand resting on the wall as she muttered to herself more than to anyone else. With a dreaded sigh Greg sat up on the side of the bed, knowing now that he wasn't going to be getting anymore sleep. He watched her curiously now, no longer having the motivation to argue with her, to inform her she was wrong. She wasn't going to listen, so why even waste his breath?

"It would be easy," she muttered softly. "You're the only one qualified to fill my spot, and you know the only reason I still work there is because you've encouraged me. Now you're here, doing everything you can to make me feel like I have no other choice but to resign…why would you do that?"

He only shook his head, rubbing his eyes wearily as he moved to his feet. If she was as she had always been, all she needed was some time alone. Somehow his being there just seemed to influence her mood swings all the more. As he moved though she pressed her back against the wall, one hand falling to her hip where her firearm was secured.

"Stay away," she warned, the simple threat drawing Greg to a stop. He raised an eyebrow, indicating that he was taking her warning seriously, but still curious as to why. Sara fumbled with her gun, finally managing to pull it free.

"Murder will get you life," Greg told her tensely, now feeling the slightest bit of fear. She wouldn't actually….he shook his head. Of course not.

"It wouldn't be murder, it'd be self-defense," she told him quietly.

"I'm not threatening you," Greg pointed out. "Sara…I wouldn't hurt you. Ever…even though lately I've felt more and more like it. You wouldn't hurt anyone either…it's not like you."

She was listening, hands still shaking as she gripped the gun awkwardly. Greg drew in a breath, trying to find the right words. "The Sara I know is kind, and deeply forgiving. She can forgive everyone but herself, why I don't know. She has nothing to regret…"

"It's all lies," she muttered quietly, shaking her head. "Nothing but lies…"

In a sudden change of pace she turned the gun on herself, pressing the barrel against her head as she turned away. Greg had never moved so quickly in his life, not that he remembered at least. His hand wrapped around the barrel at the same time she pulled the trigger, the stray bullet embedding itself into the ceiling. Sara let out a strangled cry as he wrestled the gun from her grasp, the brunette dropping to the floor in a weeping heap.

It wasn't until then he noticed he was shaking, and the only thought that was racing through his head was how long did they have before their neighbors called them in. They lived in a decent neighborhood, a gunshot would not pass over lightly for most.

Letting out a heavy sigh he rested his forehead against the plastered wall, gun still hanging from his one hand. This was way too insane. This was not the life he wanted, this wasn't what he had asked for. There had to be an off button somewhere, had to be a way to change things around, turn time backwards. He couldn't live like this, couldn't keep wondering when and if certain things were going to happen. He hated not being trusted, hated being treated like dirt.

Greg took a few deep breaths, calming his racing heart as he glanced down at the hysterical woman who he was supposed to love. How was he supposed to be involved in a life he had no part of? What was he supposed to do, supposed to say? His first thoughts were to get her somewhere, and fast, before she decided to do something irrational, something she, or he, would definitely regret.

But where? His therapist? Or should he go to someone higher, like the mental institution? Of course Nick would personally slaughter him if he did, so perhaps he should take her straight to the Texan, after all he so desperately wanted to be involved in her life, why not give him an early preview?

He didn't expect the gun to be wrenched from his hands, and he reached for it, surprised to find himself eye level with Sara as she pulled away from him, now more determined to finish what she had started. His fingers wrapped around hers, refusing to let go even as she demanded that he did. With his other arm he pinned her against the wall, nearly ceasing her struggles in the process.

Not to be outdone she kicked out at him, prompting him to sidestep quickly, nearly losing his balance. His hand slipped off the gun as he braced himself in order to keep from hurting her, but it wasn't until then that he realized his fatal mistake as the gun fired three separate times.

The last thing he remembered was the hollow sound of gunfire, and the sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized exactly what had just happened.

TBC