Author's Notes: Wow, this story still exists! Who knew? Lol. This one goes out to Emmithar, who constantly reminds me that this story does, indeed, exist somewhere on my hard drive, and for driving me to write (usually in the same breath that she tells me to stop working so hard and get some sleep). Usually she serves not only as my muse, but my beta as well, but tonight I was too impatient to wait. So, SURPRISE EMMITHAR!...and to the rest of you, I apologize in advance for my inevitable mistakes.

I also have to give a shoutout of sorts to Kegel, who sent me the funniest email the other day and got this story stuck in my mind. Without those two girls, I'd be...well...not writing nearly as much, if at all.

Also to everyone who is still reading, and who is thoughtful enough to review...they really keep me going, and with the right amount of persuasion, I'll continue soon. :D. No, that's not a bribe...-shifty eyes-...

Jenny

Chapter Six:

Just when he thought he was getting his life back in control, Greg found himself earnestly wishing he had never met Angelle Orgeron. He had thought he could trust her, she was the only one he had been able to turn to after he and Sara had drifted apart, and it turns out his trust had been based on a lie. A gigantic lie that seemed to get more and more complex the deeper he dug.

At first, he had been too upset to even think about her. Sara was recovering from her injuries, he had stayed the night with her, and they had spent a long time talking about their past. They weren't back together, by any means, but at least they were starting to build their friendship back piece by broken piece. She was released after two days, and being the stubborn woman she was, she insisted he go back to his apartment instead of trailing her home.

There was no denying he had been disappointed, he had hoped they were on the path of rekindling their past chemistry. He couldn't help but remember the car accident that caused them to bond, as he cared for her in his home during, and after, her recovery. It seemed like ancient history now, but in light of their current predicament, he had almost assumed they would use this opportunity to grow closer. Instead, she had let Catherine take her back to her empty apartment, leaving Greg to deal with the one thing he had been avoiding for days.

He slid his key into the lock, taking a deep breath before turning the latch. With any luck, she'd be sleeping or shopping, not waiting in the shadows like a cat about to pounce.

Greg could feel the change the moment he walked into the apartment, although he couldn't see with the heavy drapes pulled shut. Fumbling for the light switch, he fought a chill that ran down his spine. Angelle enjoyed keeping the apartment dark, maybe the total blackness meant she wasn't home. The lights flickered on, casting a dim light against the dingy yellow walls.

The keys fell from his hands as his breath caught in his throat. The entire apartment was empty, wiped clean of any trace that he used to live there. Taking a step back, he glanced at the number on the door. This was definitely his apartment, so where was all of his stuff?

In a slight panic, he flung open the bedroom door, groaning when he realized not even a poster was left on his wall. The door stoppers were even missing from the molding. He wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry, how ironic was this? He had told her to get out...but he hadn't meant with all of his stuff. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, sighing heavily as he laid his keys on the counter. Well, at least he had a place to live. Furniture was replaceable, and if everything was gone, that meant Angelle was gone with it. His Papa Olaf had always reminded him that in every bad deed, something good was hidden. This was proving to be no different. While he felt horrible that he had been stupid enough to trust Angelle, even after being told countless times that she was a deceitful tramp, he couldn't help but see this as a hidden opportunity to edge his way back into Sara's life.

He pulled out his cell phone, scrolling through his call list until he found the number for his bank. The least he could do was get some shopping in before the furniture stores closed. He waited for the automated system to pick up, then hastily dialed his account number and pin number. As the flat, female voice spoke his account balance into his ear, his legs began to shake, sending him sliding to the floor as he pressed "one" to repeat his account information.

There was no way.

It couldn't be.

But as the same stoic female voice repeated the same bleak words, Greg felt his stomach sink. Things were now shifting from bad to worse. Redecorating his apartment was one thing...but doing it with absolutely no money? That would prove to be a bit harder.

A knock on the door brought him from his thoughts, but he remained on the floor, still deep in shock. What else could go wrong?

"Mr. Sanders? Miss Ogeron? This is Blake Hastley." The voice called through the door, "Are you home?"

Greg moaned softly, leaning his head back against the counter. Today was the 10th, the last day to pay the rent, and he sincerely doubted that Angelle had been kind enough to pay it before walking out on him. With a wry smile, he briefly wondered what Ecklie would do if he asked for an advance on his paycheck.

"Mr. Sanders? Miss Ogeron? I know you're in there, I heard one of you come in!" Blake shouted, ending it with a hacking cough, as a result of years of heavy smoking, "If you don't have my money for me by 8 pm, you can start moving out tomorrow morning."

Listening as Blake stomped down to his own apartment, Greg couldn't help but laugh. What was he going to do? What could he do? It's not as if his landlord would understand the trouble with his manipulative ex-roommate, he had been against them getting an apartment together to begin with, deeming their cohabitation "living in sin". And even if he could get the money for rent, what good would an apartment do him without a bed? Clothing? Blankets? He had officially reached the bottom.

Forcing himself off the floor, he move towards the fridge. With any luck, she had at least left him a beer, at the very least, a soda. He flung open the door, cursing lightly as he noticed the lone bottle of water sitting on the top shelf. Shaking his head bitterly, he grabbed the bottle, taking a swig and making a face as he noticed the strong lemon flavoring. It would stand to reason that he'd get stuck with a bottle of flavored water, possibly his least favorite beverage--right below urine on his list of pleasurable beverages.

Grabbing his keys with a resigned sigh, he took one look at his empty apartment and walked towards the doorway. Maybe he still had a chance to turn this into something positive.

--

Sara sank onto her couch, a frown creasing her forehead as she stared at the yellow slip of paper she had been discharged with. Even after two days to mull over the news, she still couldn't believe it. It had been a long month since she and Nick had gotten into the blow-out fight that had ended their relationship, and while she had never really loved him, she still hated the way things had turned out. Especially now that there was someone else involved.

She let her hand drop to her abdomen, whispering softly, "I swear I won't screw this up for you."

She couldn't really say the signs weren't there, but at the time she had attributed them to stress, never once thinking of the reproductive possibilities of her irritability and fatigue. She couldn't deny that this only complicated matters further.

She and Greg had spent a lot of time reacquainting themselves during her hospital stay, and she had to admit that they were definitely on their way to rebuilding some sort of shadow of the life they had once shared together. Sure, they were a long way from dating, but she was finally starting to feel like she could relax a bit with someone she had once considered her soul mate.

Sara knew she had hurt him when she refused to let him bring her home, but she couldn't risk him finding out about the baby, not right now, not when their newfound friendship was still so fragile. They had both changed so much, she was still testing the waters, so to speak, making sure she wouldn't accidentally do or say something to set him off. Day by day it was getting easier, but they still had so far to go.

A knock on the door tore her from her thoughts, and in a moment of panic, she shoved the discharge slip into the couch cushion before moving towards the door.

"Greg!" She exclaimed softly as she opened the door, "What's wrong? You look awful, are you okay?"

Greg nodded, following Sara into her apartment with a frown, "I, uh, need a place to stay for a few days...until payday, at least."

"Angelle didn't move out?" Sara asked softly, knowing Angelle still remained a taboo subject for both of them, "I thought--"

"Oh, she moved out." Greg replied with a bitter laugh, "She moved out with every dime from my bank account and every...well, everything that I own...owned." He sank onto the couch, rubbing his temples fiercely, "She took everything from the apartment...she left, like, one lightbulb and that's it. I have no idea where she is, I don't even know where to look. Rent was due by today, and I have no money to pay it, nor do I have the desire to keep living in the projects. I just need a place to crash until payday, then I'll think of something."

Sara sat beside him, rubbing his arm gently, "Oh, Greg, of course. Stay as long as you need, you're always welcome here, you know that."

"I...I don't know what to do." Greg admitted in a shaky voice, "I feel like the world's stupidest person. How could I have not seen what she was? What she was capable of? She lied to me, used me, then tossed me to the curb like last week's trash! When did I become so gullible?"

Sara wrapped her good arm around him, laying her head on his shoulder, "You aren't stupid, and you aren't gullible. You thought you could trust her, she made you think you could trust her. She's a professional, Greg, remember that report Catherine had ran? It was legit."

"Why didn't I listen to you? I should have known better..."

"Of course you should have," Sara teased softly, "But when you really care about someone, you tend to ignore their faults. That doesn't make you a fool, it makes you human. You are a great guy, Greg, and she took advantage of that. You aren't to blame, she is."

They sat in silence for a moment before Sara whispered, "Did you call the police?"

"And tell them what? My roommate, whom I had given complete access to my records, stole all of my money and possessions? Do you know the clearance rate for theft? What is it, 13 percent?" Greg questioned, "It won't do any good anyway, she's probably long gone by now, having a good laugh at my expense."

Sara sighed, resting her head on his shoulder once more as she tried to think of the right thing to say. As much as she wanted to rub it in that she had warned him, she knew it was pointless, he already felt bad enough about being duped, to remind him that she had predicted this would only be rubbing salt in an open wound.

She squeezed his hand, murmuring softly, "You're shaking."

"I'm angry." Greg retorted, "I want to get my hands on that little tramp, and--"

Sara shook her head, squeezing his hand gently, "Criminal Intent, Greg...don't even say it."

"You were thinking it too."

"Well, of course, but I'm not going to say it and incriminate myself, am I?" Sara retorted, glancing at Greg's pale face, "Greg, you don't look well."

"It's been a long day." Greg replied softly, his eyes growing heavy. He had been fighting a cold, perhaps a flu bug, since recovering from pneumonia months ago, and he had been certain it was going away...now, he discovered it was only an illusion, as the night progressed, the weaker he felt. "I just need a good, long nap."

Sara nodded, standing and motioning towards the hallway, "I'll get you set up in my room."

"No, no, you're recovering from surgery, you need to sleep in your bed. I'm fine on the couch." Greg insisted weakly, coughing softly, "I'm already putting you out enough by being here--"

Sara shook her head firmly, "Nonsense, you go lay down in my room, and I'll take the couch. Really, I prefer the couch. You aren't putting me out at all."

She extended her hand to Greg, motioning for him to rise, "Come on, you need your rest, you've been through a lot."

"Says the one who just got home from the hospital."

"That's just a few stitches and broken bones...you need some mental rest, sweetie." Sara replied gently, "Don't fight with me, just let me take care of you."

Greg rose, nodding weakly as he followed her into the hallway, "Thanks Sara, you've been--"

He stopped, his hand moving to his forehead as he leaned against the wall, his face paling rapidly.

"Are you okay?" Sara questioned, grabbing his arm, "Greg? What's wrong?"

Nothing could have prepared her to catch the man as he collapsed into her arms, his body limp and his skin ice cold, sending them both toppling to the floor with a thud.

TBC