A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed and to Em for the beta again (remaining mistakes are mine). This is the last chapter of my longest fic so far lol. As Em has lobbied for it ;-) , I'm considering a continuation of this fic. This wouldn't be started before well into next year though, as there's another big writing project that needs to be done first.

I hope you enjoy! :)

Greg stared at the flames that were making their way through the room, smoke filling the cabin already to a greater extent. He moved his arms hastily, trying to keep the panic down. He knew he didn't have a chance if he did not manage to free himself. The bonds did not want to give in though. Greg looked around the room once again, trying to come up with an idea. He was glad Charlie had at least removed the blindfold earlier. It was a nightmarish idea to imagine sitting there and knowing the flames were coming closer but not even able to see them, or any way out.

His present situation wasn't much better though, knowing that the door was locked, while the smoke that was floating through the room started to irritate his throat. Parts of burned curtain were now falling to the ground and Greg was worried the floor would quickly start burning as well.

Making a decision, he moved forward arduously. Still dizzy, he finally reached the window opposite the one Charlie had set fire to, a table with two chairs standing right under it. Greg needed a moment to steady himself, but then he moved backwards onto the table, sliding closer to the window carefully, having a good look at the flames at the other side of the room. Greg still wished the bonds on his arms would loosen, as this would make his task so much easier, but at least he was able to see what he was doing, an advantage he had not had when Charlie had left for the first time earlier that day.

Greg sat with his back to the window now and turned around, still carefully, as he would not be able to grab a hold of anything, if he should fall backwards from the table. Leaning back, he smashed his feet against the window. The first blow was not enough, but the next cracked the pane and the third shattered it. Greg cried out as glass splinters cut into his legs, though most of the force was caught by his shoes.

He worked on the pane some more, kicking and removing more of the glass shards with his still bound feet. The contrast of the cold air he could feel outside to the heat inside told him only more clearly that he needed to hurry. He wasn't keen on moving through the broken window though, unwilling to cut himself any further, but knew he didn't have much of a choice. Once he deemed the hole in the pane to be large enough, he dropped outside with a swift move, landing on his feet, the broken glass that was lying on the ground outside crunching under his shoes.

He sat down, careful to avoid the glass, trying to catch his breath, as the fresh night air filled his lungs. He could have cried out in relief.

After he had been sitting there for a few minutes, he moved towards the glass on the ground, trying to pick up a single shard. He managed to get a hold of one and worked vigilantly to rip the rope that bound his hands. He struggled with it for a few minutes, the sliver of glass cutting into his flesh as he cut through the rest of his bonds.

Moving his tired and aching arms forward, he freed his legs as well. He looked back into the cabin and saw that the inside was fully filled with smoke now. He doubted he would have stayed alive in there for very much longer. Greg shivered, not knowing if it was because of his thoughts or because the coldness of the night was getting to him.

After a few moments he came to his senses and decided he needed to move away from the burning and probably soon collapsing cabin. He got to his feet, wishing he could have remained sitting there, so wobbly did his legs feel.

He walked a few steps slowly, wondering where to go. He didn't have his phone anymore, Charlie having taken it with him. He didn't know how far away the next house was. What he knew was the direction he would have to go, if he wanted to get closer to the city, the lights lighting up the sky enough to be visible even from out here. It was probably his best alternative, although he didn't feel up to any lengthy trip.

Despite the dizziness and the wobbly feeling in his legs, the bump on his head, the small cuts on his legs and the larger ones on his hands, and the slightly nauseating feeling that still lingered from the drug, he had to admit that he was not too bad off. It could have been much worse, that was the simple truth. He didn't put anything past Charlie at this point anymore. The man might have argued that the fire would have killed Greg, but then he would have argued in a similar way if he had simply shot Greg, probably reasoning that it wasn't him, but the bullet that killed Greg.

A fair distance away from the cabin now, Greg paused to look around. He wondered if people were looking for him. He was sure it was past midnight, so the lab would have noticed that he had not turned up for shift. Of course he didn't think this would be enough to prompt a search. If Sara had indeed encountered Charlie earlier that day, the incident should have alerted the department. Charlie had even claimed he had told Sara about his actions, but Greg still was not sure about the truth of this statement.

He hoped that Sara was alright. Judging from Charlie's behavior and demands, he could tell that she was at least well enough to prompt Charlie to want to worsen her condition. By this logic, she was probably fine, but Greg wondered what she really knew about his situation.

Charlie's claims that she didn't care were ridiculous, that Greg could tell even in his most pessimistic thoughts. He could imagine any kind of negative feelings Sara would have towards him, but he was sure she would still care at least a little if something happened to him.

Marching on, the coldness got to him more and more. He realized that it was a whole different thing to be outside without any additional clothing if one had to walk, as opposed to drive comfortably in a car. Looking ahead to the city lights, he saw that he had still miles to go.

Step after step, he started to wonder if he did not deserve this after all. He had drawn so many people into the whole Charlie disaster. Maybe that was why they did not care anymore. Maybe they figured Greg could deal with Charlie on his own, as they were once such great buddies. Perhaps that was why nobody was looking for him, and why Sara had not told them what Charlie had said, why she had not cared enough about it. Maybe she had told the team, but they had decided that it was Greg's problem, not theirs. Greg was not quite sure that he could blame them.

He shivered, holding his arms pressed tightly around his torso, having lost feeling of his steps by now, his legs moving almost automatically. He was walking alongside a dark road now, staying clear of it though, unwilling to have a car crash into him as the next highlight of the night. He wanted his warm bed. He wanted something to drink and eat, unable to remember the last time he had tasted any food. He wanted to sit down and rest, but kept walking because resting would not get him back to the city any faster. He was so sunken in gloomy thoughts, that he did not notice the lights at first, and when he did, they had moved past him so fast, that he could only see the tail lights of the cars when he looked up.

His mind took a few moments to register what he had seen, but then the fact dawned on him that it had been police cars. Pondering what this meant for his situation, he kept standing nailed to the spot, still offside the road. Then another car came along the street quickly, the lights blinding Greg.

He looked after this car as well. Maybe they were looking for him after all, or maybe the fire at the cabin had been noticed and the police was about to check it out. In any way, Greg figured that it was the best thing now to make his way back to the cabin, hoping to catch any of the police officers here. Maybe they could give him a ride or call at least somebody who could. Greg turned and walked the way back he had come along earlier.

Sara was still staring into the flames, when she heard her name being called from the front of the house.

They were worrying about her. Sara wondered if they thought she would be stupid enough to make her way inside the cabin after all. She could not exclude that she would have done so, if she had seen at least a small chance that Greg was still alive. Seeing the whole cabin in flames though, she knew this wasn't the case. Charlie had accomplished his last feat.

Sara brought her hand to her mouth, unsure if she felt like vomiting or crying out, as a sob escaped her, just as her name was called again. Steadying herself, she turned and moved ahead, walking back to the front of the building dejectedly, trying to stop the tears. She knew she wouldn't be able to keep herself from crying, she didn't even want to, but she didn't want to do it on front of the others. She could let it run freely once she was alone again.

“Sara,” she heard Nick calling again and stepping out behind some trees, she saw her friend smiling at her. She was aghast at his expression for a moment, before she looked behind him and saw Brass handing Greg a bottle of water that the younger man opened greedily.

“Look who's here,” Nick said, beaming and Sara just stared at the scene in front of her. Greg glanced at her, then took a gulp from the water bottle, before he walked over to her and Nick slowly.

“Where did you come from?” Sara asked, blurting, cursing herself silently afterwards.

She really could have come up with something else than a pushy, insensitive question that had to show everybody just how much she cared.

“I was on my way back to the city when I saw you coming,” Greg answered, while she looked over him, taking in his exhausted appearance and the bruises and cuts on his arms and hands.

She nodded. “You're bleeding.”

Greg glanced at his hands. “Not really anymore.” He appeared somewhat distant to her. He also seemed to avoid looking her in the eyes, causing a sting in Sara.

“You should have somebody looking at those cuts,” Nick intervened.

“Uh, it's okay. Don't worry about it,” he shrugged. “I just need a ride, if it isn't a problem.”

“I think Brass is going to want to talk to you first.” Nick nodded towards the detective who was talking to the police officers.

Greg nodded. “Yeah, I already told him... some things, and he said he'd want to talk to me later.” He turned to where Brass was standing.

“He can come with us,” Sara said suddenly. Nick lifted his eyebrows and Sara realized that she seemed to be talking more to Nick than to Greg.

She didn't understand the distance that she felt between Greg and her. She was glad, very glad that he was alright, comparatively at least. If he hadn't been... she didn't know how she could have lived with the knowledge that they had been too late because she hadn't acted quickly enough... had simply not used information she had had early enough...

Maybe Greg thought so, too. Maybe he knew that Charlie had told her what had happened, maybe even that Sara had simply walked off.

Nick looked at Greg. “Sure,” he nodded to Sara's suggestion.

Greg nodded as well and they made their way to the car in silence that was only interrupted by the sounds and shouts of the fire department that was trying to extinguish the fire that was still feeding on the remains of the cabin and threatened to jump over to the woods.

Nick was driving again and Greg had taken the passenger seat, so Sara sat in the back and listened to the words Nick and Greg were exchanging. Greg was tired of course, so the conversation was not very animated. Still, even for the explainable exhaustion Greg seemed to be overly quiet with Nick and with her even more so.

Feeling guilty, Sara realized only now that she had no idea what had happened. They had not had time to talk about it yet, and neither had they wanted to push Greg, both Nick and Sara still too shocked and relieved at the same time. But it meant they didn't really know anything. And Sara urgently wanted to know things, wanted to know what Greg... knew, what he thought, how he felt.

When they arrived back at the lab, Grissom met them at the entrance, and they motioned Greg into the break room. Brass ushered Sara and Nick out though to ask Greg some more questions, having questioned him very briefly at the cabin. Sara knew that Charlie had fled, was apparently on the way to Mexico. Brass had already initiated a search.

Sara returned to the break room just after Brass had finished. Giving her a small smile he walked out, while Sara slipped into the room, carrying a first aid box.

Greg stood up, glanced at her and seemed to sway between staying and going.

“We need to take care of your hands.” Sara approached him.

Greg leaned against the table, looking at the cuts. “You don't need to bother yourself. They're not even bleeding anymore.”

“They need to be cleaned,” she insisted and set the box next to him on the table. She opened it, but didn't move to start the task. “I'm so sorry.”

“I'm fine. Don't worry.”

Sara said nothing, but stared at the contents of the first aid kit, wondering how she could look Greg into the eyes.

“I'm sorry for drawing you all into this mess...” he said.

Sara looked at him quickly, her expression sharp. “Greg...”

“I can understand that you didn't want to have anything to do with it anymore...”

Sara shook her head, taking his left hand and starting to clean the cuts that were spread all over it.

“Charlie told me,” she said quietly, while she was working. Maybe she said it right at this moment, because she knew it was unlikely that Greg would walk off while she was busy cleaning his wounds. “But I didn't believe him.”

“He wanted you to come with him?” Greg questioned, wincing.

Sara nodded, letting go of his hand and taking gauze bandage out of the box.

“I'm glad you didn't believe him.”

Sara bit on her lip, pretending to focus on applying the bandage, but really suppressing her tears.

“If you had believed him... you would have done what he said, wouldn't you? He would have killed you.” Greg said the last sentence very quietly, while Sara fixed the bandage.

“He almost killed you.”

Greg held up his right hand as Sara proceeded to clean and bandage the cuts on it as well, her hands shaking now. She didn't know what else to say, her throat being tight. She took hold of his hand; it felt good to have it in hers, working carefully to help him, being still able to do that. But she couldn't forget the fear; it was still too close.

“Keep still,” she said, when he winced and drew his hand back slightly. She looked up and saw that Greg was watching her closely. She smiled a small smile at him, if only to reassure herself.

Greg took her hand now, leaning forward to kiss her. Sara hesitated in surprise, but responded, laying the gauze away for now, wrapping her arms around him. She smiled again and Greg returned the expression.

“I...” she started. “-don't...” She didn't really know what she wanted to say, apart from that she didn't know what to do, or say, or feel.

“Sara?”

She didn't know if they were going into the right direction, if she was doing the right thing. So far everything had been so complicated, so difficult...

“It's complicated,” she said, and it sounded lame to her ears.

Greg nodded. “I know.”

Sara drew back, taking the bandage again, intend on finishing her task. She wrapped the material around his hand.

“I think I like complicated,” he added.

Sara nodded, finishing the last bandage.

The End