"Just walk beside me and be my friend."

Albert Camus

…

Sara had shaken off Metcalf's nasty comments, and had made it through the rest of the shift with a few deep breaths and more than a few quietly encouraging words from Greg. They were correct on first glance, the fire had been due to faulty gas lines and illegal pyrotechnics, and Brass took care of the owner, as well as promising to lay into Metcalf about the line between harassment and cruelty, and where he had overstepped it with Sara in the hall. They had both agreed when Grissom suggested they go home, it was nearing the end of the shift as it were, and Greg was still exhausted from his treacherous week of double shifts, and Sara wore a weary expression that said she had had enough.

Within the hour, Greg found himself passed out on his own bed, too tired to draw the black out curtains shut around the window, instead burying his face childishly in his pillow. His body pleaded for sleep, but his mind had begun to spin a strand of worried thoughts that he couldn't ignore. Sara had almost asked him to come over. Almost. She had decided, he figured, somewhere in her determined, stubborn mind, that she needed to work through the events of their shift on her own. Which was fine with him, he hadn't really slept in his own bed since taking Sara and Lauren home after Nick had died. Okay, so it obviously wasn't sitting completely at ease with him, he was worrying about her enough keep himself awake, despite the fluffy bedding and warm blankets.

Greg groaned, and rolled over onto his back, wincing at the bright sunshine incinerating its way through his eyelids. He only ever wanted Sara to be happy, and finally she had been. Now that her domestic contentment had shattered into a thousand pieces, lost to the wind like her goodbye to Nick's casket after the funeral, Greg had lost his ground. He used to know where he stood when it came to the Sidle-Stokes relationship, and where he fit in as the quirky uncle in their family. Now, he wasn't so sure. One minute she was pushing him away, afraid to let him in, sobbing out and accusing him of trying to slip into Nick's place, and the next, she was gripping his shoulders and drying her tears on his tee shirt, letting him hold her steady, kissing him. He kicked the blanket off his feet; vaguely frustrated that Nevada had the nerve to be a sweltering temperature that day. She was devastated, he understood that, he had lost a friend as well.

He knew she wanted him to go to his own home, get his own rest, worry about his own health, she had said so herself, in not as many words. Actually, she hadn't said anything, just kissed his cheek, and slipped out to the parking lot, climbing into her own Denali, and turning onto South Rancho Drive, heading toward her own house. He had waited until she had pulled out before making his way to his own Denali, and making his way to his apartment, where he had bypassed the kitchen, and headed straight for his bed, dropping sneakers, his button down shirt, and his jeans on his way.

Now he lay wide awake, unable to chase Sara from his thoughts. In the movies, this was the opportunity for the best friend to become more. He's supposed to take her hand, and tell her that everything is going to be okay, that he had promised Nick that he would always take care of her and Lauren, that he intended on making good of that promise. This was where she would kiss him, and he would throw decency to the wind and kiss her back.

Of course, this wasn't some movie, and Nick had died too quickly for Greg to make such an oath, and he hadn't kissed her back. He had lost his chance, and instead of lamenting over his own lost happiness, he found his stomach churning with the uneasiness of his conscious, slamming him with a brand of guilt that tasted a lot like self-loathing. He hadn't kissed her back, she had surprised him, and he felt like Nick was just around the corner, waiting to walk in on him and his would-be wife. Of course, Nick was around every corner in that damn house. He was slowly coming to the conclusion he would always be Sara's second choice, and he was slowly wondering if he wanted to spend the rest of his life in someone else's shadow, even if that someone else was his good friend, and he was dead.

That sick feeling returned swiftly, and Greg sighed heavily as he realized he was making Nick's death into a soap opera drama centering around himself, and he never wanted that. The only option was to be a passive support for Sara to lean on only when she needed to lean. And she left the lab standing on her own two feet. It had been almost a month. Maybe, maybe she didn't need him anymore.

Another hour found Greg in a light sleep, his mind finally having succumbed to the weariness his body was feeling. He didn't hear the soft rapping on his door at first, but it roused him from his troubled sleep in a few minutes. He groaned softly as he rubbed at his eyes, tumbling out of bed and making his way to the door, not bothering to take a glance through the peep hole before swinging the door open on it's hinges.

Sara with messy wild curls around her face, and tear stained paths down her cheeks, in one of Nick's baseball jerseys and sweats was not what he thought would be on the other side of the door. He blinked, reaching to rub the sleep from his eyes, and leaned against the doorjamb, making no motion to let her in. She stood before him, a hand wrapped around her stomach, her other hand tangling her curls even further.

He was a sight. She had seen him little over two hours ago, but seeing him now, half asleep in his boxers and tee shirt, calmed her fears and put her instantly at ease. She was about to open her mouth to explain herself when he threw her a lopsided grin and backed away from the doorjamb, yawning and holding the door open for her.

"You don't have to stay out in the hallway, Sara." He watched the tension and anxiety fall off her shoulders, and she crossed the threshold into his apartment feeling better already, and turned to face him as he turned to close the door behind her. Her eyes swept over the gentle muscles that moved only just under his shirt, and she tried to ignore the swell of guilt in her chest. This was a bad soap opera, and she was caught in the middle of all the drama.

"I'm sorry for waking you, I-"

"It's fine." He smiled warmly at her, running a hand through his sleep-disheveled hair. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just. I just- the house was so quiet." She had been to his apartment hundreds of times, when she had argued with Nick while she was pregnant with Lauren, when he tried to teach her how to cook, the countless cases they had poured over at his kitchen table in his year under her wing. Standing in the middle of his little living room now, however, she felt like she was wading in uncharted waters. Maybe it was just the pregnancy hormones.

"It's quiet over here too, Sara." He took a step toward her, reaching out to push a stray curl behind her ear. "What do you need, Sara?" He stood before her, unwavering in his kind expression, his soft voice, completely unfazed by his underwear, focused entirely on her. She watched his eyes flicker to her lip as she let out a shaky breath, before staring at the floor, embarrassed.

"I couldn't sleep." His worried expression turned to an amused smile, and he shifted his weight, placing his hands along the waistband of his boxers, resting on his hips.

"So you drove all the way over here?"

"I couldn't take the pills that grief shrink gave me." Greg nodded, trying not to cry himself. Playing second fiddle to Nick was one thing, but being second choice after a bottle of sleeping pills was a whole new level of pathetic he wasn't sinking to. "I'm sorry, I-I don't know what I was thinking. I'll go." She made to step around him, but he held his hand out, stopping her with a gentle touch.

"Lauren at school?" He scanned her weary features as she nodded, placing a hand over his on her stomach. He turned toward her, and pressed a kiss to her temple lightly, before stepping away from her and making his way down the hallway to his bedroom. "There are blankets and an extra pillow in the old toy chest." He gestured tiredly over at a worn little chest in the corner of the living room, with a few words in Norwegian painted in what she recognized as his mother's delicate script. She looked from the chest to his retreating back. "If you want the bed you'll have to share it with me." She watched him walk into the bedroom, leaving the door ajar.

Her move, she could choose whichever piece of furniture she felt more comfortable with. He slid back into his bedding, settling down against the pillow. He wouldn't take advantage of her if she happened to slip into bed; he suspected it was the absence of the even breathing of a sleeping body beside her that was keeping her up at night. He smiled to himself, as he relaxed into his covers. This was just like an episode of 'The Odd Couple." Felix couldn't sleep for days because his watch with a ticking second hand had broken, and Oscar ultimately 'sang' him to sleep, simulating the ticking of the clock. Sara couldn't sleep because Nick wasn't sleeping beside her. If she decided to crawl into bed, rest her curly head on the pillow beside him, he would do his best to breathe a lullaby.

Sara stood for a moment where Greg had left her, thankful that he left the sleeping options open to her. He had offered her the couch, and the linens in his childhood keepsake toy chest, in case she would feel better out here in his cozy little living room. But he had left the bedroom door ajar. She was welcome to curl up into bed beside him if she wanted, the choice was hers. It was safe on the couch, she had slept there before. But the bed had a warm, sleeping body in it, and the need for that comfort outweighed the risk of the implications. She sighed heavily, not quite sure how this was going to work. Six weeks ago, she was curling up to Nick. In love with Nick. Ready to marry Nick. Raising her family with Nick. Having another baby with Nick.

But Nick was gone.

She needed sleep, this chronic restless hour and a half of sleep each night thing was just not working for her. Or the baby. She frowned, ignoring the gentle tear that welled in her eye. She was out of ideas. She tried the warm milk bit that Nick's mom had suggested when she was pregnant with Lauren, but that failed miserably, as had the Rachmaninoff pieces. By the time she had gotten to 674 sheep, she grabbed her keys and made her way to Greg's. Sara wasn't stupid, she hadn't been able to sleep right by herself, after six years of sleeping beside Nick. She missed his warm body, touching hers, his arm thrown casually around her waist, his soft, even breathing against her skin.

She hated herself, almost, for having the urge to use Greg for his breathing, and his body heat, but she was losing her sanity, one sleepless day at a time. She loved him, really. Her best friend, her partner in crime fighting, her gentle support in the face of tragedy. She smiled faintly as she realized that Greg understood all of this. It was why he left the door ajar. He knew she needed him, and he was okay with all the details. She imagined he would have told Nick not to worry about his family, that he would take care of them, had he had the chance.

Glancing around the homey little living room, she came to the conclusion that the only way she was going to get any sleep while Lauren was at school was if she climbed into bed, and curled up to Greg's side. She put a hand to her abdomen, remembering her second little piece of Nick. They both needed rest. She made her way to the bedroom door, and cracking it a few inches wider, slipping in, letting her eyes fall on Greg's sleeping form.

He had nestled himself into the blankets, the top of the covers lying across the small of his back, as he lay on his stomach, one arm curled under the pillow, one beside him on the mattress. She leaned back against the door, causing it to softly click shut behind her. She made her way to the other side of the bed, and folded back the covers gently, climbing in beside him. He felt the mattress dip only just under her weight, and he cracked open an eye, giving her a reassuring half smile.

"I promise not to feel you up." He mumbled into the pillow, holding out his hand to her. She smiled back at him, relaxing at his sleepy joke, tangling her fingers in his, and laying her head down on the other pillow.

"Thank you, Greg." He groaned an incoherent response, and tugged at her hand gently. She shifted closer to him, leaving a marginal six or seven inches between them. Greg lay his hand on her stomach lightly, and she covered it with one of her own, softly touching his knuckles. They lay in companionable silence for several minutes, Greg falling back to sleep, and Sara listening to as his breathing became even.

Finally, a few minutes later, her grip on his hand that rested on her stomach loosened as she relaxed, falling into a much needed, somewhat peaceful sleep. Greg waited until he was certain she was finally sleeping before reaching behind him to the alarm clock and switching it on, already set to be on time to pick Lauren up from school that afternoon. He watched her sleep for a few minutes, comforted in her calm expression. A small smile graced his features, as he realized he had finally gotten Sara Sidle into his bed. This was definitely not what he had in mind all those years ago when he had let his imagination have free rein over his fantasies, but he was a different man now, their friendship was more complicated than that.

If this was what she needed, then he was glad she had come to him.

………

A/N: sorry this took so long. Much thinking involved. More to come.