A/N: I'm trying to get all of the chapters up before I leave for Belgium, and I think I'll be good. Still, this is the fastest I think I've ever posted a story. Anyway, this chapter has a bit of foul language in it, though, really, it's nothing you haven't heard before. Usual disclaimer applies. Please read and review!

Chapter 8

"The story goes, nobody knows
What it was like when you were through
Someone who cared out in the air
It went and crashed down anywhere"

Sara was livid; Greg didn't think he'd ever seen her this angry. Her eyes were narrowed and they burned with intensity and fury. She gripped the front of his car, her knuckles white from the strain. Greg sat up slowly in his seat, trying to smile weakly. "Hey Sara," he said, wincing at how stupid he sounded.

"What the hell are you doing here, Greg?" hissed Sara, her eyes suspiciously bright. "Why are you in San Francisco, and, more importantly, why are you at my hotel, obviously waiting for me?'

Greg shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to maintain his disarming smile while inside, his stomach was doing somersaults. "Um, coincidence?" he suggesting, not sounding the least bit convincing, even to himself.

Sara's expression flickered slightly, and she whispered, "There's no such thing as a coincidence." She closed her eyes briefly, pain washing over her face as her words echoed the ones Grissom had repeated to each of them countless times.

Greg's own expression turned worried, and he started to open his door, clearly concerned. It was obvious that Sara did not want to be reminded of Grissom. "Sara?" he asked softly, his voice full of the worry that he felt.

She looked over at him, her expression changing the instant she saw him start to get out of the car. "Stop," she hissed, wrapping her arms around her torso, as if for support. "Stay in your car, Greg. Stay in your car, and get the hell out of here."

Eyes hardening, Greg instantly disobeyed, opening his car door all the way and stepping outside. "Don't think that I'm just going to obey you," he snapped. Her abrasive attitude was beginning to wear off on him, and it was souring his mood quickly. "I'm not longer your little field mouse bending to your every whim and wish."

"Obviously not," Sara retorted, her eyes dark. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here in the first place." Pausing, her mouth twisted sardonically. "Though, of course, you never could take a hint, could you?"

Greg's blood boiled at that, and his visibly bristled, the muscles in his arms and back tightening. "Don't say things like that," he said through clenched teeth, his eyes darkening in rage. "Not now, not just because you want to get rid of me. Don't say things that I know you don't mean."

"Don't I?" asked Sara airily, her smile victorious, knowing that she had hit a nerve.

Glaring at her, Greg took a few deep breaths, trying to get his anger in check. "No, you don't mean them," he said finally, his eyes cooling to their normal chocolate. "I know you don't mean them, no matter what you may say otherwise. If you had really meant them, you wouldn't be standing here right now; you would've already driven away."

Sara glared back at him, though a lot of the fight seemed to leave her. She slumped against his car, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "I still don't know how it's come to this," she muttered out loud. Then, after a deep breath, she turned to Greg, her features smoothing into an unconcerned look. "Why did you come here, Greg? What were you hoping to accomplish?"

"That's obvious," Greg said calmly, leaning against his car as well. "I came here for you." Though his words echoed the ones she said to him barely a year ago as he lay bleeding against the pavement, Sara made no sign that she recognized them. Sighing, Greg continued, "I came here for you, to convince you to come back to Vegas."

A myriad of emotions flashed across Sara's face, though she settled for a blank, emotionless look. "You're wasting your time, then," she said, her voice unnaturally untroubled. "I'm not coming back to Vegas, and there's nothing you can do to convince me otherwise."

Greg didn't even blink. "Well, I figured it couldn't hurt to try." He paused for a second, unsure if he should continue, then he added softly, "Besides, I didn't get to say good-bye."

She didn't look at him. "Yeah, sorry about that," she said indifferently. "I wanted to get out of there pretty quickly, so I didn't really have time for good-byes."

"Bullshit," breathed Greg, his brown eyes hardening. "You didn't want to say good-bye because you didn't want us to have the opportunity to convince you to stay. Because that's what would've happened, isn't it?" he pressed, leaning forward as he spoke. "If you would've come to say good-bye, we would've convinced you not to leave. So don't pretend that none of us merited a good-bye, because I know we did, and I know it's hurting you that you didn't get to say good-bye. You didn't say good-bye to me, to Warrick, to Nicky…"

"Stop it," she said suddenly, cutting him off as misery took over her features. "Stop it, Greg," she repeated, her voice breaking. "Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I made this choice lightly?"

Greg's eyes narrowed in anger. "Easy for you?" he repeated incredulously. "Easy for you? Do you think it's easy for me, for anyone back home? I'm not the one who abandoned everyone without warning."

Sara slapped him. The sound rang across the empty parking lot. "Fuck you," she said, her voice trembling and her eyes blazing with fury. "I didn't abandon anyone. I had to leave."

"But you could've said goodbye," said Greg, unfazed by the slap. He looked her deep in the eyes. "You still could've said good-bye."

She turned away, but not before Greg thought he saw her eyes fill with tears. "You shouldn't have come," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "I left, and I left all you behind for a reason. I can't have you around, Greg. In fact, I don't want you around. Why do you think I left?"

Greg's heart seemed to stop. "You don't want me around?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. "What do you mean by that?"

Sara's face reflected the pain she obviously felt, but her voice and her eyes hardened. "What do you think I mean by that? I don't want you here, Greg. Not anymore, not ever. You never should've come here."

Though his heart broke with her words, Greg drew himself up to his full height, towering over her. He took a moment to collect his thoughts. Finally, he looked Sara straight in the eyes and growled, "Well, that's just too fucking bad, Sara, because guess what? I'm your best friend, and this is what friends do. We hunt each other down when one is trying to run away from her life. And guess what else? I'm not going anywhere."

A muscle twitched in Sara's jaw and she pushed Greg away from her. "Fine," she snapped, her voice full of venom. "Stay in San Francisco as long as you want. Just stay the hell away from me."

She stalked away from him, clearly heading back to her car. "You can't just run away again," Greg called after her. "I'll just find you again, and you know I will. When you're ready to talk, I'll be here."

Though she ignored him, Greg knew that she had heard. She got in her car and drove away without looking back. Sighing deeply, Greg ran a hand through his hair, then winced as he felt how greasy it was. He still needed a shower, and he still needed a good night's sleep. He sighed again, then turned and headed back to the front desk. Sara was going to have to come back again sometime, even if just to get her stuff, and when she came back, Greg would be waiting.