Another late chapter, so no R2R. I know you've been waiting for this for a while, and I apologize for the wait, real life can get hectic sometimes. Just a note to let you know I wasn't having writer's block, this story is still happening the same way I had originally planned, just the same concept of not having enough time or motivation to write.

Thanks again to all my reviewers that are still reading my stuff after all this time, you guys are the greatest.

Chapter Fifteen: The Trouble with Assumption

She hadn't meant to say it, not in that manner at least. She had ran the scenario in her head over and over again, searching for an alternate ending. If Greg hadn't pressured her, if she had only talked to him in the first place, if she had gotten help the first time.

Sara closed her eyes as she came to a stop, her relentless pacing over for a brief moment of time since he had left. The night hadn't gotten any better either. Greg had left quickly, the look on his face being a cross between pain and confusion, and now he wasn't answering his phone.

To make matters worse Michael had called twice. Both times he had been stammering apologizes, his broken words echoing through her apartment. Not too long after a pair of cops had shown up at her door, querying about her state. She had assured them that she was fine, but by the looks on their faces, they didn't believe her. Still, she managed to have them leave, and though she knew she should be worrying about more important matters, she couldn't get the look on Greg's face out of her mind.

After all this time as well, she thought she was protecting him, and now it seemed as though she had done more harm than good. Pressing the button once again she pressed the phone against her ear.

After the third ring his voice mail picked up, and she let out a frustrated sigh. "Greg," she started, coming to a stop in order to regain her voice. "Greg, please, give me a call. I have to talk to you…"

She considered going on, repeating what she had already said in the last twenty some calls. At this point she was close to calling the lab, hoping that maybe he had gone back to work. But there was no need to worry everyone else, right?

"Just call me, okay?" she repeated into the phone, before ending the call. Sure, she could explain it all, leave it on his voice mail. He may listen to it, but in order for him to understand it, she needed to explain it to him…in person.

If he would even allow it, that was. Greg was just as stubborn as she was, it was, as Catherine called it, a perfect match. She hadn't believed her then, but as the years passed, she began to see what she had meant.

Sara sat down on the edge of her couch, her hands clasped in front of her. After all, Greg was a reasonable person, he wouldn't do anything…drastic, would he? Sara nearly laughed at the idea, shaking her head. Why was she even thinking something like that? Then again, he did seem pretty upset…

Sara opened her cell phone, highlighting his number once again. Three long rings, then more silence. She closed her eyes, groaning in slight frustration. Of course, that didn't mean anything, yet at the same time it could mean everything.

Not even bothering to leave a message, Sara grabbed her purse off the counter as she walked by, closing the door behind her.

Grissom rolled his eyes as he replaced the books back on the shelf. "Catherine," he stated quietly, "I don't care if Greg's drunk, I don't care that he was even drinking on company time. He's supposed to be on medical leave, so if he wants to spend that time getting drunk, that's up to him. That's not what I need to talk to him about."

Catherine looked up at him, settling down on the edge of his desk. "Then you wouldn't mind me being in here, would you? If it's nothing serious, then I can stay. Greg's not in the best of conditions right now, he needs the support he can get."

He turned to face her, crossing his arms, one hand still holding a single book. "Catherine, if it wasn't personal, then I would talk to him out in the hallway. This is something we both need to go over, alone."

"Does it have to be done tonight?" she wondered, absentmindedly flipping through the open book on his desk.

"Catherine," Grissom's voice was stern this time, as he pointed to the open door. "Please, the sooner we start, the sooner we can be over with this."

He turned back around, focusing his attention on cleaning his area, all the while listening for one to leave, and the other to enter. He half expected Catherine to argue, to point out other options. It was surprise to him when she did actually leave without so much as another word.

A few prolonged minutes passed by before Greg had shuffled in, pausing just short of the entrance. Without turning around Grissom prompted him to close the door, and take a seat. Shelving his last book, Grissom turned to face him for the first time, somewhat taken aback by his appearance.

Although he was certain Greg drank on occasion, he had never seen him drunk, not like this at least. It was clear he was somewhat sober, no doubt in his mind that Catherine had slipped him some coffee on the ride over, a sensible explanation to why a ten minute drive had somehow stretched into a full hour.

Greg wasn't even meeting his gaze as sat down, and for the first time, Grissom found himself unable to say anything. A part of him seriously considered doing this tomorrow, when he was feeling better. Yet he knew that wasn't a likely option, in Greg's case the sooner they cleared things up, the better.

"How are you feeling?"

It was a stupid question, one that deserved an equally stupid answer. Grissom wasn't even certain why he had asked it in the first place, he knew Greg wasn't seeking out pity, and Grissom wasn't the first person who would give it either.

Greg shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the top of the desk. Grissom wasn't sure if his belated response was due to his inability to think clearly, or just plain nervousness. "I've had better days," he said quietly.

Letting out a breath of air, Grissom removed his glasses, leaning against the desk. It was best to get this over with quickly.

"Where were you last night?"

Greg blinked as he looked up, frowning. "Last night…I was here, or do you not remember?"

"After you left Greg," Grissom returned his frown. Drunk or not Greg was still quite himself, that was if you excluded the depressing look that covered his face.

"After I left…" Greg paused for a moment, clearing his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I went by Sara's place, let her know she got her job back, stayed there for a while, went home to take a shower, came back to work. Why?"

"What time did you get there?"

Greg was frowning all the while Grissom was taking down notes. The icy pit he had earlier had vanished, only to return now. "I don't know for sure," he admitted, "Fifteen minutes after I left here would be my best guess. Why, what's wrong?"

"We received a complaint of a fight that apparently took place, it turned out to be Sara's place. The woman that called it in is a resident that's next door to her place. Minutes after the fight happened there was an unidentified male attempting to get back inside, threatening to break the door down. That match has come back to you."

There was a stunned silence, but it didn't surprise Grissom. He felt uneasy presenting this to Greg, but he had little choice. At the time, it still had not been entered into records. The police he had sent over earlier tonight had already called back, informing him that Sara had denied anything taking place, but voicing their own concerns as well. He needed to hear straight out what had happened, from his own view point.

"I was over there," Greg admitted, "But nothing happened. I mean, her place was a mess before…" Greg came to a stop then, growing quiet.

"Before what?" Grissom prompted him lightly, looking up at him.

Greg shook his head slowly. "I can't say."

Grissom raised an eyebrow, putting his pen down. "Why is that?"

"I promised Sara I wouldn't say anything."

"That's not going to help anything," Grissom stated with a tired sigh. "You need to tell me in your own words what happened that night."

"I can't," Greg repeated, slumping further into his chair, "a promise is a promise."

"Then I can't help you," Grissom told him softly.

Greg's eyes flicked up momentarily, before dropping. Grissom shifted in his chair, folding his hands together. "You do realize that by not talking, I can't clear you from the list of suspects."

Letting out a heavy sigh Greg nodded slowly. "I know," he replied, his voice barely audible.

"You know how serious this is?" Grissom continued, making sure that he had Greg's full attention. "Not only could you be facing possible jail time, but that if any evidence shows that you were involved in any of this, you will no longer have a job, whether or not you were at fault."

Greg nodded again, but this time he did not say anything. His depressed look only seemed to become more so as he looked back up at him.

"Okay," Grissom returned his nod. "You're on probation until we get things sorted out. After that, I don't know."

Greg stood slowly, his hands shoved into his pockets as he left the room. Pausing by the doorway he turned back to Grissom, one hand resting on the handle. "If it helps, I didn't do anything."

"I know Greg," Grissom's voice was confident as he looked up towards the younger man. "But that's not going to convince the judges."

He wanted to say more, wanted to comfort him somehow, but that wasn't his place. He was never good at finding the right thing to say when someone needed it the most.

Talking with Greg hadn't gone as well as he hoped, and in turn had only worried him more. There was something he wasn't willing to tell, and if Greg wasn't willing to talk, it would be even harder trying to get it out of Sara.

At any rate, it wouldn't be any easier on Greg. He had already dug himself a deeper hole than Grissom thought possible. Now came the task of trying to get him out.

TBC