A/N: New chapter! Finally breaking from the mold of "You Kill Me," but now this chapter quotes from "Fannysmackin'" I would like to preface this chapter with a quote from from the CSI Magazine, from Jorja Fox (Sara): "Many, many moons later, if things really fell apart between Grissom and Sara, I do wonder if there would be a time for Greg and Sara. I think...she still holds a certain torch for him."

So there's still hope for Sandle, so we shouldn't be too hard on Greggo for still having a thing for Sara. Anyway, usual disclaimer applies. Please read and review!

Chapter 4

"It's got to be, easy to see
What everyone takes out of me
Knocking me down, dragging me out
How did you end up in that crowd?"

Greg spent his drive back to his apartment in silence. It was unusual for him to be so quiet; normally, he would be blasting music, singing along and playing the drums on his steering wheel. Tonight, however, he needed the quiet. He needed to be able to think.

After all, he had planning to do. As romantic as it might seem in his head to have him rush off to San Francisco and sweep Sara off her feet and make her come back to Vegas with him for their happily ever after, reality never seemed to happen that way. Therefore, he had to come up with a plan of attack.

To start with, he had to track Sara down. This would actually be easier than the other part. He had several contacts in the San Francisco PD, so it shouldn't be too hard to figure out where Sara was staying. As to what he would say when he finally caught up with her, well, that needed to be planned out as well. More than anything, Greg did not want to mess this up, not when he only had one chance and one shot to get Sara to come home.

This was the thought that occupied his mind as he drove through Las Vegas to his apartment. It was this thought that dominated his brain as he packed a few changes of clothes and readied himself to leave.

The thing was, he didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to casually broach, "I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you," in a conversation. Truthfully, there wasn't a good way to do it, but since he didn't have much choice, he had to come up with a way to make it sound suave and sophisticated while still sincere and full of all the love that he felt for her.

And it was no small task to try to put that love into words. He didn't want to tell her that he fell in love with her the first time he ever met her, when he was doing DNA for the Holly Gribbs case. He didn't want to tell her that every time he saw her fail after going after Grissom that he had wanted to take her in his arms and tell her that Grissom didn't deserve her anyway. He didn't want to tell her that when he told her that a real man wouldn't mind the smell of death, he was referring to himself. He didn't want to tell her that over the course of their mentorship, he had fallen more and more in love with her everyday, even as he tried to distance himself.

He didn't want to tell her any of that, because that sounded so desperate. And playing the part of the unrequited, pining lover would only win him sympathy, not her love in return. No, he had to find a moment that they shared, something that the two of them alone had felt.

And then, as he stood in his bathroom, smoothing his hair over the small scar hidden by his hairline, he had it. There was a moment that they had shared, a moment that had given him hope against all hope, even when Grissom and Sara had said that they were dating. It was just after he had been attacked, and he remembered it like it was yesterday.

Greg lay against the pavement, barely daring to breathe. It felt as if his entire body was just a mass of pain, and he somehow couldn't block it out. A sudden scent washed over him, one that he recognized from his dreams, and he felt a cool hand smoothing his hair. "Sara…" he whispered, barely able to get that simple name out without wincing.

"I didn't think you could see me," replied Sara, a certain surprise in her voice, tinged heavily with sadness. Greg didn't want to know what he looked like to Sara. If he looked half as bad as he felt, he had to be a sight.

He took a shuddering breath before managing, "I can't…but I know that Sidle scent." He hoped his humor wouldn't go unnoticed. He couldn't stand to hear the sadness and pain in her voice. She didn't say anything, but he could hear her breath catch as she sniffled softly, and that broke his heart even more. To think that he had made her cry…he quickly changed the subject. "I scratched one of them," he rasped.

It was enough to distract Sara, and she took his hand in hers, taking care not to touch his fingernails so as to not contaminate the evidence. Even in this moment, in all the pain he was in, Greg couldn't help but marvel at the fact that she was holding his hand. "And you should check my vest," he continued, trying not to lose his composure as she held onto his hand. "I think the same guy s-spit on me."

He hadn't meant to stutter, and inwardly, he winced at how stupid he sounded. He sounded broken and weak, and he didn't want to sound either. He wanted to prove that he could be strong, that he could stand up to this pain. Bravely, he added, "And one of their card crashed into the Denali. I guarantee there's transfer on it."

Again, she said nothing, but Greg would give anything to stay in this moment forever as her hand stroked his hair. A part of him had wanted to just give up and die earlier, right after he had been attacked, but the fact that he got to feel Sara Sidle stroke his hair made all the pain and all the suffering more than worth it. Still, it was getting harder to stay alert and to talk, so he forced out, "You should process the scene now. Me later."

"I came here for you, Greg."

In that simple moment, if Greg had ever convinced himself that he could one day get over Sara, he had just proven himself wrong. How could he ever get over her when she could say such things and make him believe in the possibility of them again? And it was so strange that he had let himself believe, and let himself hope, when the entire time, no matter what gentle words she said to him, she was still screwing the boss.

And to Greg, that had hurt worse than all the beatings he had taken that night. When it finally came out that Sara and Grissom were an item, Greg had been devastated. Hell, he still was. All that time, he had let himself believe that he and Sara really could be together at some point in time, but he had been proven drastically wrong. And worse, Sara hadn't told him.

She, who was supposed to be his best friend, couldn't find the time to tell him that she was sleeping with their boss. How did she think that felt to him, especially when she knew that he had feelings for her? It was as if she had switched roles, and instead of being the one comforting him after the attack, she was the one beating and kicking him. That was what it had felt like.

Yet still, no matter how betrayed he felt, or how much he wished he could finally give up on Sara, he couldn't. He put on a happy face for her and Grissom, even using his free time to help her on a case after she switched over to Swing shift. He had fulfilled the role of best friend to the best of his ability, never once letting on that he wished that she and he were the ones sharing an apartment with a dog named Bruno. It wasn't his place to impede upon her happiness.

But now that she was no longer happy, he was bound by no such rules. And he fully intended to make sure that she was as happy as she could be.

Greg took a deep breath before grabbing the duffel bag he had packed and heading out to his car. He should probably have gotten some sleep, but he had miles to go before he even got to California, and the thought of seeing Sara again would be enough to keep him driving for hours.