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Undertow

(2)

The sun seemed to prickle his skin as the light changed in the air, dust glittering as it fell to the ground moving weightlessly in space surrounding him. He pulled his exhausted body up attempting to face the day as it refused to stop. The night before appeared in his mind like fragmented glass as the pain behind his eyes reaching excruciating levels. His shaking fingers grasped the pill bottle on the night stand, the tablets rattling inside of the battle. It was only slight, but the noise seemed to fill his head, thundering through his system. The pill went down like sand paper the water in the glass tasted stale but he didn't care- it would have to do.

It would all help him to feel better- it would help him to get out of his head- think through what he had done, and what had happened from a clearer place. He had been suffering from headaches from so long that the aching in behind his eyes was a constant companion. The pain blinding him to reality and it was as if he drifted through his days in a dream.

In that moment he became aware of every fibre around him- forcing his mind to focus on one thing; the night before. When he closed his eyes and focused hard enough he could still hear the final breaths she had taken distilling through the air till it met its final resting place. As he glanced down at his hands he was expecting for them to be different- after all they had killed someone; they had killed a woman he claimed to love.

Perhaps it had just been a dream- a nightmare- something his subconscious had conjured up to taunt to him about the feelings of resent he had found himself faced with whenever they were together. After all of these years she still was oblivious to his advances, to his feelings for her and it was staring to wear thing. Maybe all of the feelings he had tried his best to suppress had appeared in a fantasy his mind had created.

With a deep breath he revelled in the feeling of calm that flooded over him as the painkillers sunk in, taking effect quickly numbing his body to feeling. There was an easy way to find out what really had happened the night before. Greg lifted his phone up scrolling to Sara's number with a sigh attempting to figure out whether he really wanted to know what he had done. He hit the button, the dial tone ringing in his ear waiting for her to answer but instead her answer machine message resounded.

"Hi Sara, its Greg, can you call me back when you get this message" He ended the call pausing to think of reasons why she wouldn't have answered. Maybe she as asleep, or her phone was on silent, and she hadn't heard it.

Or she couldn't answer her phone because she was dead.

Greg pulled himself up realising that it would be suspicious if he didn't go to work. People would be turning to him to find out what had happened to Sara. They would wonder why they had both disappeared at the same time and only one of them had reappeared. The guilt caused a lump to build up in his throat but he realised that all there was left to do now was to save himself- it was too late for Sara. He had covered all of the bases, taken all of the evidence that would have pointed to him.

As the hot water cascaded over his body he attempted to imagine what would happened if they had found him out. How all of his friends would have look at him if they knew what he had done. Sara was after all one of them. It had been a mistake. He hadn't wanted to hurt her. He hadn't intended to kill her. Greg had listened to the pleadings of the guilty enough times to know how it would sound if they found out. But he was being honest. What he had done was different.

As he stood in his drive studying his car he was convinced there was some kind of mark upon it, something that would give him away. Opening the boot he checked for stray hairs, scraps of the bin liners he had used to move the evidence but there was nothing. It was clean. With a wary sigh he climbed into the driver side attempting to prepare himself for all of the interaction that was to come.

The lab was filled with a steady buzz but Greg kept his eyes on the floor as he made his way to the break room wanting nothing more than to blend into the background. He carefully cast his eyes over the furniture hoping to find Sara reading, drinking coffee or chatting to someone around him but instead there was no one.

"Hey Greg- have you seen Sara?" The mention of her name in Nick's Southern drawl made his heart stop for a moment as his mind scrambled for an answer to such a simple question. He had learnt a thing or two about lying while doing this job- include detail, but not too much, be confident in what you're saying and look the other person in the eye if you can.

"No" Greg turned to face Nick stating with a shrug. He hoped that his friend hadn't noticed his delayed reaction and the way his voice had faltered for a second. Nick simply just nodded disappearing into the hall way once again leaving him alone. Greg retrieved his phone from his pocket once again calling Sara's number but still she didn't answer.

As he watched the people passing by the room caught up in their everyday lives the world seemed to spin faster than it had done before. He could see Hodges and Morgan talking in the hall, the other lab techs working or procrastinating- every bit of work they did there to reveal all of the horrible things people had done to each somewhere in his dusty hell of a city and there he stood.

He'd killed someone he loved. And instead of doing the right thing and stepping up he was covering it up like the people he put away would do. Didn't the pride himself to be better than that?

Didn't Sara deserve better than that?

With a deep breath Greg made his way to the precinct finding Brass sitting behind his desk his eyes focused on paperwork. He nervously cleared his throat making his presence known as he moved towards the older man.

"What can I help you with Greg?" Brass asked looking up from the file placed across his desk.

"I need to make a confession" He said breathlessly.

"Go ahead" The detective smiled humouring him.

"I killed Sara..." Greg paused before restating the truth in a louder voice. "I murdered her..."