Title: The Unburdening

Author: subobscura

Pairing: Greg and Sara

Rating: T, for now, mentions of violence, adult language, adult themes

Spoilers: Up to and including "Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang"

Archive: Ask

Reviews: Always welcomed and appreciated.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be. I'm cool with that.

Preface:

Thanks to those of you who reviewed my last story, "Given Wings, We Will Fly"

I've been in a Sara and Greg mood lately, so this is the result of my thoughts on their relationship. I don't think either Sara or Greg are ready to stop bugging me yet, so I can't promise anything as this spring is pretty busy for me, but I would expect more installments. This story was inspired by an interview (sorry, I don't remember which one) where Eric Szmanda was discussing how he wanted to bring a more serious side to Greg.

Chapter 1: Nina Simone Sets the Stage

Sara walked out of the lab to take a break, breathe some of the fresh city air. The Engels case had been kicked to the curb on a technicality, and right now she wanted to scream. Children were far less safe tonight with that man back on the streets. Now it didn't even matter that they'd finally gotten the wife to roll on him. She sighed. There were some nights when she seriously considered packing it all in and going back to grad school.

She looked over to the parking lot, and was surprised to see Greg's cherry red 1988 Thunderbird sitting in a pool of sodium glare, with smoke curling out of one cracked window. She couldn't tell if anyone was in there, but decided she didn't want to deal with his wrath and peevishness if his car was on fire. Greg loved that car like a child, and even he had his limits. A bitchy Greg was equally annoying as a manic one.

Walking over, she could see now that a curly-haired someone was sitting in there talking animatedly on a cell phone held in his left hand, while his right emphasized his point by arcing a cigarette towards the windshield.

"No," Greg was saying. "No that's not what I meant and you know it. Amanda I-"

He was cut off. He listened intently for a moment, and then took a furious puff, blowing the smoke out in a harsh, straight stream through his teeth. "Fine. Fine whatever. I told you when we started dating that I work nights, that I wasn't going to change shifts or quit my job. Those were the rules. I don't know why you're so pissed. I'm the one who had a shitty day. Not like you care." He listened again. "You know what? Good. This sucks. You suck" He jerked the phone back from his ear. "Jesus! Amanda, what the he- Mandy?" He closed his phone. "Bitch," Sara heard him mutter. She couldn't help but grin at this. Greg wasn't always sweetness and light like everyone thought.

She watched as he threw his phone into the back seat and leaned back against the head rest. He closed his eyes and took a contemplative drag on the now-half-finished cigarette. Three more littered the ground by the door. Interesting. She never knew that Greg smoked. He must change his clothes or something.

She walked over to the passenger side, opened the door, and slid in. If Greg was surprised, he didn't show it. He turned his head, and slitted his eyes open to stare at her.

"Didn't know you smoked, Sanders," she said before closing the door with a bit of force. That one stuck a little.

"I don't," was his only reply.

She reached over, took the cigarette from his fingers, took a deep drag, and grinned at him like a shark before releasing the smoke in a long exhale, her pouty lips pursed as if to kiss. She handed the cigarette back to him and said, "Good. Me neither. Filthy habit and all that."

He grinned at her, but still made no effort to continue the conversation. Instead, he turned to his MP3 player and turned up the music a few notches. Radiohead. It figured. No better music to feel like beating your head against the wall.

"So," she said. "Another one bites the dust, huh?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Something like that."

She reached for his coffee cup and took a gulp, before gagging a little and swallowing heavily. "Hot!" She gasped for breath.

He laughed at her, and then said, "I make it extra hot for the ride home. Lasts longer that way before it goes cold."

"Well you could have warned me!"

"Well, you know better than to take things that don't belong to you Sidle. Here," he said reaching and taking the cup from her, brushing her fingers with his own. "Baby sips." He demonstrated then and she rolled her eyes. He just smirked at her again, then turned to the steering wheel and started playing drums along with the music.

"You're acting fairly calm for someone who just broke up," Sara remarked.

"I guess you're a good influence. No actually, she'll be calling in an hour all apologetic and all that jazz. I put up with it before, but this is just too much. She's starting to get really annoying in a not good way."

"There's a good way to be annoying?"

"You know what I mean. Anyway, I packed up all her crap today, and it's sitting by my front door. I was going to break up with her nicely, but she beat me to it." He shrugged. "It's no big deal. It happens. I knew she wasn't going to last long."

Before she could stop herself, Sara asked, "Why would you date someone if you already knew it wasn't going to work out? Isn't that leading them on?"

"I don't think so. She's seeing at least one other guy besides me. She forgets that I'm trained to see things like pubes. And despite appearances, blond is not my color, nor is it hers."

"Oh, Greg, gross. TMI. Way too much information. But sorry. It sucks to find out that way."

"I don't care, I'm a one woman kind of guy, but we weren't exclusive. It was fun while it lasted and she had this great pair of-"

"Greg!"

"Glasses. I was going to say glasses."

"Yeah right. Well, I'm glad to see you're not heartbroken."

He looked at her with an odd glint in his eye, before finishing the cigarette, and opening the door to crush it under his shoe. He turned back to face the steering wheel, and punched in the cigarette lighter.

"Only one woman could ever do that, and it's definitely not Amber or Mandy or whatever her name was."

"Who, if you don't mind my asking?"

Greg turned to look at her, before turning to face the street to watch flour billow up as it was being pumped into the underground tanks at the bakery.

"Why Lois O'Neill, Miss Kiss, Kiss, Bye, Bye of course," he said finally with a leer.

Sara sighed. She wasn't sure why she was relieved. She let out a giggle. "She was something, wasn't she?"

"I thought so. A lot of people did, I guess." He continued, "You know, I really am pissed that the Engels case was thrown out. That stupid rookie cop didn't Mirandize him until they got to the station. What a clusterfuck."

"People make mistakes, Greg."

He stared at her as if she had suddenly grown a second head.

"Okay, Okay. That was really asinine. You know I'm pissed too. Nicky is going apeshit."

"I know people make mistakes, Sara. Hell, I've made enough, and I've really paid the consequences for some of them. Not checking hot plates, peeing at a crime scene. But kids are going to get hurt, because some guy didn't know the fundamentals of his job. It kills me, totally slays me." He rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully.

"Greg, neither of those were truly your fault. Catherine didn't warn you about the chemical like she should have, and if nature had never called, you wouldn't know not to pee at a scene because you'd never asked. But it happens. Yeah, kids have to pay, and it's really terrible, but there's nothing we can do about it."

"I know that. I really do. It just doesn't make me feel any better."

"I'd be worried if it did." She took a sip, gentle this time, of his now warm-but-not-hot coffee, and smiled. "This is good, as usual. The Sumatra blend? Of course it is. You've taught me a discerning taste when it comes to the brew." She reached over and pressed some buttons on his tuner, hoping to find something easier on her ears. She paused when she came across something sultry and jazzy. "Nina Simone? I didn't know you liked to swing, Greg."

"Always." He smiled. "Seriously though, she was such a cool artist. She was a civil rights leader in her own way, through her songs. That's what I love about music, that it can really say something to the listener, in a way that words just can't." He swayed to her deep, velvet voice. "I love this song."

"What's it called?"

"Love me or leave me." He rolled his head to look her in the eyes then, before turning back and blowing a stream of smoke towards the window. "Grissom's going to hate me tonight. I'm already high on nicotine and caffeine."

"And how is that different from normal, Gregers?"

"Hey! I resemble that statement. I'll have you know I can be serious when the situation calls for it."

Sara sobered at that. That he could, be serious that is. Too serious. This previous case had brought out his lighthearted side that had been missing in action since she couldn't remember when. Maybe the explode-a-potty, but she thought he changed before that.

"I've missed you," she said at last.

"Well that's silly. I'm here every day."

"No, I mean. I've missed your humor. Your passion for the things you love. Your antics. Your crazy hair. What happened, Greg?"

He sighed. "Well, this conversation turned serious in a hurry. I don't know." He rubbed the back of his neck again. "I got blown up. I was in the hospital for a month and laid up for another three weeks. Then I had to go back to the last place in the world I wanted to be, the lab. It was making me crazy, Sara."

She was stunned. He had never been so open about his experiences after the lab explosion. Of course, she had never asked. Maybe he just needed someone, the right person, to talk to. "Tell me," was all she could think to say.

"I had second and third degree burns. It was so painful, the worst pain I've ever felt in my life, and I've had a lot of idiot-related injuries for comparison. It seared me, straight to my core, not just physically, but emotionally. A lot of the superfluous got burned away, I think."

She was saddened to hear his poetic description for his deep wounds.

"Then I had to go back to that damn lab. Full of glass and chemicals and sharp things. Grissom caught my hands shaking my first day back. I still had nerve damage that wasn't quite under control yet, but the truth is, I was scared shitless. I was checking things five and six times to make sure there were no chemical leaks, no gas leaks. I flipped out when someone violated safety procedures or left an open container out or something unlabelled. I wasn't a good boss, and I wasn't a nice person to be around anymore. Something had to give, I had to get out," he finished, his vehement tone sending chills up her spine.

"I'm sorry, Greg. I can speak for myself and I think the others when I say that we had no idea it had gotten that bad."

"I know"

"You could have come to us," her soft tone betraying her sadness.

"But that's just it. I couldn't. I wasn't really part of the team then. I was just the kooky DNA guy. We were friendly sure, but we weren't friends. I just wasn't comfortable talking about it, not to you, not to anyone."

She wanted to deny it, but she couldn't lie, not to Greg. "Well, I'm here now." She reached over and touched his shoulder.

"I know. I understand. I really do." He put his hand over hers. "Don't mind me. It's just coming up on that time of year, and it's on my mind."

"Don't apologize, Greg. You're a wonderful man. Sometimes, I don't think we deserve your generosity."

He looked away, embarrassed.

"We forget a lot about you, I think. Underestimate you. Overestimate you. None of us ever think about how you were the top ranking DNA specialist in one of the best labs in the country. About how you had a fleet of techs under your command, how you carried so much responsibility. You were just there, and we depended on you, and you were so young. You gave up so much to work with us. You've made such amazing sacrifices. And you're going to be just as good at your new job as you were at your old one. You may not feel like it, but you show amazing promise."

He sniffed and turned his head toward the window. He rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose harshly, before dropping his hands back to the wheel. "Thanks," he said, and cleared his throat.

"Are you crying," she asked amazed.

"No," he said, a little defensive. "Maybe. It's just," he paused. "It's just that I don't hear that a lot. I've never felt appreciated. I know I shouldn't expect praise for doing my job, but I know I did a damn good job. Still do, just in a different way. It feels good to be noticed."

She laughed and graced him with a smile. "Believe me, I know the feeling."

He smiled at her, and said, "Yeah, I guess you do."

She was touched that her words had such an effect on him. Not that she made him cry, but that he had trusted her enough to let her see that side of him. His sardonic mask that he had adopted these last few years slipped, and she had seen his soft vulnerability. He was so much the young, unsure man she had met six years ago that her breath caught, and she was startled into awareness of his fascinating complexities. She was drawn to him now, as to a beautiful painting. She wanted to gaze deeper, find the artists' hidden meanings, the subtext.

"Thanks for listening to me." He interrupted her thoughts. "I think I really needed to talk about that."

"Oh, Greg. Anytime. Always." And she knew it was true.

The flour cloud had enveloped the car now, and in the orange light, strange shadows were cast. It was as if the car and its occupants had slipped outside of time, while the world paused for breath. She turned to look at him, and there he was looking straight back at her, into her.

She turned to face him full on, and placed her hands on his shoulders. She wasn't sure what she was doing, didn't feel completely in control of her actions. He went still, let her lead this where she would.

She leaned forward, and giving it no further thought, she brushed her lips against his, once, twice, thrice. She leaned back to look into his eyes. They were black in the dim light. She turned her head again and this time applied her lips to his with more pressure. He was sweet, a little bitter from his coffee and sticky from his chapstick, and warm, oh so warm and alive and vital. He let out a sigh through his nose, and the hint of a whimper before he sank into her, raising his hands to her back. He was returning her kiss now. He ran his tongue along her lips, before giving her a small nip. She opened to his demand, and soon they were inside each other, exploring, touching, tasting. The kiss was soft, silky, interrupted by their breathing and the silence. She ran her hands up into his hair, letting the curls slip through her fingers. His hands moved up and down her sides, exploring with firm pressure, but not straying to where he had not yet been invited.

He pulled back from her, breathing heavily. He leaned his forehead against hers, then rubbed the bridge of her nose with the tip of his, before he kissed her one last gentle time. He leaned back, and looked into her eyes. He saw no regret there, no pity. Just happiness, a little shock, and a lot of desire. Joy bubbled up in him, and he grinned.

"Wow."

"Yeah," she replied.

"Was it as good for you as it was for me?"

"Probably better."

"Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"Go out with me. One time. Just to see what might happen. If I'm totally annoying, we can I don't know, pretend it never happened. I might die, but-"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

He whooped then, and she giggled. He reached into the back seat, and grabbed his fedora where it had landed when he had gotten into it with he'd-already-forgotten-bottle-blondies'-name. He plopped it on Sara's head, and she laughed her full belly laugh before giving him a dazzling smile. He started the car, listened to the purr for full effect. He gunned the engine twice before popping the clutch and shifting to reverse. The sun was coming up now, the lights in the parking lot shutting off.

"Where are we going, Greg?"

"I don't knows, Doll, but I'm sure glad you're my classy dame," he said in his best Frankie impression.

She laughed again, and they roared off, out of the parking lot and down the street.

A/N: Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Feedback is welcome and appreciated. I think you'll see more of these two in the future.