A/N: Last chapter! It's so sad ...( Actually, it's a bit of a relief to be done with it, although I will miss it. I am thinking about writing an alternate ending to this story and already have a song in mind in case I wished to do it. In any case, for the last time in this story I say Usual disclaimer applies. Enjoy!

"It's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it,

So tell me"

Driving Ryan home wasn't top on Horatio's to-do list. Neither was driving home a drunk, sobbing Ryan, but when Ryan had called him at two o'clock in the morning, sobbing so hard that his speech was barely coherent, Horatio knew he couldn't say no. Hence he had driven over to the bar, put Ryan in the front seat with the help of the bartender, and then gotten in the car himself before driving over to Ryan's apartment.

Horatio had never been in Ryan's apartment. He had never been invited over, and wasn't the type of person to invite himself over. Therefore he was a little shocked at the apartment when he got the door open and practically dragged Ryan inside. The interior screamed of OCD. The rooms were arranged neatly and symmetrically, colors coordinated perfectly, and the entire house was far cleaner than any house Horatio had ever been in.

A few things, however, were out of place. For example, and old, exceptionally hideous sweater was balled up on Ryan's white leather couch, looking conspicuously out of place amidst the perfectly plump pillows. Next to it was a strange, stuffed bear, dressed in miniature clothing. A bunch of photos from Ryan's trip to Chicago were scattered on top of the coffee table in the living room, instead of being stacked neatly.

It didn't take a genius to realize that looking at these pictures had been what made Ryan so upset. Horatio sighed and shook his head before carefully carrying Ryan into the immaculate bedroom. Setting the sleeping man down on the bed, he glanced at Ryan's bed stand. A single photo sat there, unframed, simply propped up against the lamp. It was Ryan and Greg at the fountain at Navy Pier.

Horatio sighed again, then paused, suddenly thoughtful. Perhaps it was time he put a call in to a friend. A very old friend, who just happened to work at the Las Vegas Crime Lab.

Grissom answered the phone with his customary, "Grissom."

"Mr. Grissom," said a bemused voice on the other end.

Grissom smiled; he would've recognized that voice anywhere. "Horatio Crane. How are things treating you in Miami?"

"Well, they were going great until a certain lab-tech-turned-CSI of yours screwed things up."

Grissom's hear sank. "What did Greg do now?" he asked, fearing the answer.

"Tell me, Mr. Grissom, has Greg been acting strange of late?"

Grissom smiled again. "If you knew Greg, Horatio, you would know that he always acts strange."

"I mean, more so than usual. Perhaps seeming melancholy, or sad lately…"

Grissom's brow furrowed. "Now that you mention it, he has seemed quite depressed lately. Why?"

"Well, let's just say that he and one of my CSIs had a thing in Chicago, and now both seem to be heartbroken."

"Ah…" said Grissom, instantly understanding. "What can I help you do about it?"

"Well, Mr. Grissom, how would you like to do me and our CSIs a favor?"

A few days later, Ryan sat in the meeting room, morosely staring at the ceiling. Calleigh and Eric strolled in, each giving the other a concerned look before Calleigh asked tentatively, "Hey, Ryan, how are you?"

Ryan just shrugged. Horatio walked in then, a small, knowing smile hovering about his lips. "Eric, Calleigh, please sit down." They both sat, looking confused. "You might be wondering why I called you all in here. Well…I have some news. We have a new CSI joining our team."

"Great," snorted Ryan bad-temperedly. "Just what we need, some cocky, rookie CSI to have to work with."

"You know," said a familiar voice from the doorway, "I resemble that remark."

Ryan's jaw dropped open as he wordlessly mouthed, "Greg." And there Greg stood, looking slightly nervous. With his hair spiked, his jeans ratty, his shirt untucked and advertising some band Ryan had never heard, and his feet donning those stupid Converse sneakers, he was still the most beautiful man Ryan had ever seen.

Greg shifted nervously and said quietly, "Surprise. I'm here in Miami, and I plan to stay. I mean, if you want. Because if you want me to leave, I'll head back to Vegas or whatever. I'll understand. I mean…"

Ryan cut off his ramble. "You came all the way here for me? Just to be with me?"

Greg blushed slightly. "Yeah, I did. I…I love you. You're the most amazing person I've ever met in my life. And I thought about all the things I'd miss in Vegas, but nothing could compare to missing you. I…"

Once again he was cut off, this time by Ryan striding across the room and kissing him deeply. Greg kissed him back, putting his arms around Ryan's waist and drawing him in closer.

When they broke apart, Greg gave Ryan a shy grin. "So I guess you want me to stay?"

"Oh yeah," answered Ryan, grabbing Greg's hand and firmly intertwining their fingers. "You're mine, and you're not going anywhere."

"Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?"


A/N: So...happiness. For which I am very happy. Thanks to everyone who has followed this from chapter one. Thanks to all my reviewers, Shadowfax27, Dybdahl, urania-chan, LittleItaly, kate-kat-bar, Meismename, Nevair, nina, Parvatti, and conformityissuicide.