Title: An Act Of Faith
Author: Joanne Collins
Email: ladyjoanne@hwy.com.au
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Greg/Sara/Warrick
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, they belong to Jerry Bruckheimer, CBS and Alliance Atlantis.
Summary: When you have no memory, every act is an act of faith. It's all you have to go on.
Author's Notes: Written for the [info]badcliche ficathon for [info]obsidian_rai Hope you like it. I am so sorry it's a few days late, I've been sick. More notes at end of story.
Cliché: Amnesia.

*************************************


He'd been told he had been in an accident. His car had slammed into a guardrail and he was lucky to have survived the impact with a head injury and a few bruises.

Except the only reason he knew his name was Greg Sanders was that it was on his ID. His mind was an almost complete blank. Oh, he could remember how to talk, and walk - and he had been told that he was lucky he'd worn his seatbelt or that might not be the case - and the sort of vague memories of childhood that he knew were common. He just couldn't remember the last several years. He'd even been surprised to find he was in Las Vegas - he'd thought for some reason he was in California.

So now he was sitting in a hospital bed, having allowed the nurses to take his phone and call the numbers on speed dial, trying to find out if he had a family, friends or a lover here. He could remember his parents were in California still, but had asked for them not to be informed unless no one in Vegas answered the calls. He figured that if they were there and he was here, the people here might have a better idea of where he was in his life.

It had been when he'd caught himself checking out an orderly's ass that he'd figured that he was bi - he'd checked out enough nurses to know that women were a big part of his sexual interest. That hadn't caused him any distress, so he'd figured he was at least out to himself. He felt it was best to keep that to himself until he figured more out, either by talking or by things coming back, whichever happened first. He had the suspicion that if he was out to himself, he wasn't out to the world.

He groaned as he moved, the skin pulling over one of his bruises. Picking up his wallet, he looked at it again. Not much in it, beyond credit cards, a little cash, medical insurance - he'd been pleased to discover he was an organ donor, even though he was glad that hadn't been necessary. And two pictures.

They puzzled him a little. Both group shots, and from the stuff he remembered and the fact that they appeared to have been taken in a lab, they seemed some kind of staff thing. Maybe for a promotion, and someone had brought a camera, he didn't know. But he did know he was in them both. So they were clearly people he knew, and probably worked with.

The older guy, salt and pepper hair. Eyes to get lost in, but there was something about him. Greg - he was starting to think of himself that way - thought he might have had a crush on him at some point, but either he was straight or Greg never got up the courage to say anything, and if there was ever an opportunity, it passed by. The word that came to Greg's mind was unattainable.

Next to him, the gorgeous redhead. Tall, thin, a bit older than Greg thought he usually liked but smoking. He thought he could have made an exception to the older thing for her, somehow. But again, there was something that tells him no. Though after figuring out how much he liked to flirt, he knew he'd flirted with her.

Next there was the guy with the smile. Dark hair, and something that screamed cowboy, even though there's nothing obvious. Greg thought it might be some knowledge that was locked up telling him that. His eyes seemed bright and sparkling, and if he were into guys, Greg thought they might have made an attempt at dating, and if not, Greg thought they had probably spent a few nights together over pizza and beer and video games. Maybe even if he was and things didn't work out.

The other woman, and Greg thought she looked like exactly his type. Brunette, and even from the pictures he could tell she was feisty and uncompromising - though again he thought he might know that and not know he knew it. But there was a shell there and Greg didn't think he could shatter it. Though he could well have been in the process of trying. He didn't know, but he thought she was the most likely of the two women to be closer to him. Or for him to feel closer to.

Last, but definitely not least, the other guy. He didn't even think of him as the black guy, just another hot guy. Because he really, really was. Tall, built - even in clothes, Greg could see that - dark, deep eyes. Oh, yeah. If *he* wasn't straight - and hell, probably if he was - he'd at least starred in some very explicit fantasies of Greg's, if not more. He was just... Greg felt something just looking at him.

So it was definitely the sexy brunette or the hot black guy, and that was presuming anything was actually going on. Because all Greg knew is that they both made him wish there was, just from their pictures.

For the fiftieth time since he woke up, Greg put his wallet away again, and closed his eyes. He was drifting to sleep when he heard a knock at his door. It was his doctor.

"How am I doing, Doc?" he asked.

"Better than you should be," the doctor answered. "If we can get someone to drive you home and stay with you, you can go home."

"How are the calls going?" Greg asked, he hoped someone would be along soon.

"Two answers, both on their way, Warrick Brown and Sara Sidle," the doctor replied.

The names didn't mean a thing to Greg, and he must have shown that on his face.

"It could be that you'll remember everything tomorrow," he said to Greg. "Or you could never remember. The brain is a very complex organ, and we can't always predict how it will react."

"You already said that," Greg muttered. "It's not like I lost my mind, just my memory," he said, a little bitterness creeping into his tone.

"Because there isn't anything else to say. You have to go home, be among familiar things," the doctor said. "Make an appointment for each week. See a shrink if it will help."

"No," Greg said. "Not yet, anyway," he added at the look he got from the doctor. "If it gets too much, sure, but right now I'm adjusting to this, you know."

"All right," he nodded. "I can order it, you know. I will if it seems necessary."

"If I'm fighting you, I want you to order it," Greg replied. "I'm not that opposed. Just want some time to gather what I can, before I start thinking in that direction."

"That's fine," the doctor replied. "I'll make sure you have an appointment schedule at the desk. And do feel free to call my service if you need anything"

"Thanks," Greg said. "I will."

The doctor left and Greg closed his eyes again. Who was he? What was he going home to? Who was he going home to? The thoughts ran through his head until he stopped thinking and sank into a light sleep.

He wasn't sure what woke him up, but he opened his eyes and saw the brunette who he'd thought was hot standing in the doorway. "Sara?" he asked, remembering the name the doctor had mentioned.

"Do you remember me?" she asked, moving into the room.

"No," Greg said. "The doctor said Sara Sidle and Warrick something were the ones who were coming, and I figure you couldn't be Warrick. I recognise you from a picture in my wallet."

"Yeah, I am Sara," she replied. "What happened, Sanders?"

"Uh, I'm the one with amnesia," he replied. "But they said my car hit a guardrail. Think it was a good thing I had my belt on."

"Yeah," she said, a little gruffly. "Would've missed you round the lab."

That didn't sound too romantic, Greg thought. But she seemed the kind who hid her feelings.

"Were we close?" he asked.

"The whole shift is close," she answered. "Closest thing a lot of us have to family." She didn't say it about herself, but she didn't need to.

"Thanks for coming," he said. "Wonder if Warrick'll show up soon."

"He's here," a voice said from the door.

Greg looked up from where he'd somehow taken hold of Sara's hand. The hot black guy. Of course. Couldn't be the salt and pepper guy, or even the smile guy. The other person he'd found attractive. He had a feeling his luck generally ran this way.

"Hi," Greg said.

"You have to stop doing stuff like this, Sanders," Warrick said.

"Oh, come on, Warrick, this is the first time, at least I hope it is," Sara replied.

"I sure don't know," Greg said, a little resentful for some reason that Sara had jumped in.

"Maybe we should get you out of here," Warrick said, and Greg almost laughed at the obvious peacemaking gesture.

"Sure," Greg replied, going along with him. "Just let me get into the chair. They said I had to use it until we get to the car." His tone was less than impressed with that idea, as was the rest of him.

The trip along the seemingly endless hospital corridors was silent, and Greg was relieved, he hadn't wanted to answer more questions. A quick stop at the nurses' desk to pick up his appointment schedule and a prescription of painkillers, and the next thing Greg knew, they were at the car. Or the truck. Or the whatever it was called. "Nice..." he said, reaching out to touch the softly gleaming paint of the SUV.

"It's not bad," Warrick said, with a note of pride in ownership. He opened the door and helped Greg in, then helped Sara in, who let Greg lean his head in her lap. Though Warrick had smiled at that, he hadn't said anything, and Greg thought if he brought it up, it could seem weird. He wasn't sure it didn't feel weird to keep wondering if anything had happened between them. And he knew them meant himself and Warrick as much as it meant himself and Sara.

Greg closed his eyes for much of the trip, enjoying the feel of Sara's softness beneath his head. The rest of the night was a blur of unfamiliar, and the odd flash of familiarity, as he ended up in his bed, buried in several blankets, with Sara staying with him.

The next night, it was Warrick, and they talked for as long as Warrick would let Greg talk.

Eventually, over several nights, including a visit from the guy with the smile, who turned out to be called Nick, and the pretty redhead, Catherine, which was followed by a very strange visit from the salt and pepper guy, who turned out to be their boss, Gil Grissom, Greg pieced together a picture of his life.

He was a lab tech with the police department. He'd been single to the best of everyone's knowledge. He was greatly missed - he liked hearing that - at the lab. And his careful questions had revealed that either he had never said anything about any feelings for Sara and Warrick he might have had, or he hadn't known before the accident.

Greg could handle that. He just had to figure out what he wanted now. And what Sara or Warrick wanted now. At least it helped occupy his mind. He was still on pretty strict bed rest, only leaving to go to his doctor appointments, and Warrick or Sara always arranged to be there for that. It was a relief when the doctor said he could get up occasionally, and the visit after that, he asked, hesitantly, when he could have sex again. He was told he'd know if and when he could handle it, and that a wet dream would be a good indicator.

He woke up a few weeks later with sticky sheets and throbbing body. Throbbing in the good way. A few days after that, he jerked off with no ill effects he could feel, and he figured that if he had the partner, he could initiate sex. It was the lack of a partner that was the problem. He'd fantasised about both Sara and Warrick as he stroked himself, and he honestly couldn't remember what it was that had got him off in the end.

He was having dinner - or breakfast for her - with Sara, a regular occurrence, when he'd finally got up the nerve to just kiss her. He figured she was more than capable of taking care of herself. He was so busy anticipating her pushing him away that he almost didn't realise she was kissing him back until she moaned against his lips. He smiled and continued the kiss, taking it slow. He could feel the surprise in her touch. It was clearly not enough for her to ask him to stop, though. The kiss went on for what seemed like hours, just kissing, lips touching, sliding over each other, parting, allowing each other's tongues to play, but no move to more, not yet. It was warm and wonderful and Greg thought he had found everything he could ever want.

Until his cock was so hard he couldn't ignore it any longer. He pulled back, slowly, almost regretting leaving the kiss. "Wow," he murmured, smiling.

"Sanders, you are full of surprises," Sara said, her voice low and arousal clear in every word. "If you want this to stop, say so," she said. "Cause I sure don't want it to."

"Me either," Greg replied, and he leaned in for another kiss, this one taking almost as long as the first, though it felt more urgent. They pulled apart again, and he grinned.

"Think we'd better take this to the bedroom. I don't think I'm recovered enough for table sex," he said.

"You are okay to do more?" she asked, as if suddenly reminded of his health.

"Yes," he replied. "Doc told me that I'd know, and... I took matters into my own hand a few days ago, and I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"Okay," she smiled, slow and sexy, before standing up. "Let's go, then."

He held her arm, still a little unsteady on his feet, though he teased her and said that it was the effect she had on him. She laughed at that, but the laughter stopped when they kissed again, Greg pressing Sara against the wall.

"God, you're beautiful," he breathed in her ear. "Wanted this since I woke up... wanted you when I saw your picture..."

"Yeah?" she groaned. "Wanted you for a long time. Never said anything. Don't know why." She shivered when Greg cupped her breasts through her t-shirt. He could feel she wasn't wearing a bra and he swallowed her groan when his fingers brushed over her nipples. He left her lips to kiss down her neck. He was thinking of creative things when she pulled at his hair and looked down at him as he looked up. "Sanders, if you don't get me naked soon, I'm going to kill you. I'm so damn wet you can probably feel it through my pants. Oh... oh, god..." the last groaned as Greg decided to test what she said, and found it true. He pressed her wet jeans into her, and laughed when she called him a tease. But he didn't want her to be too frustrated, so he pulled her t-shirt off and looked at her breasts, then took one in his mouth, nipping lightly at the nipple. "God, some things you didn't forget," she gasped out. "Oh... yesss..." she hissed when he finally relented and unzipped her jeans, letting her kick them off, and pulled down the soaked panties underneath.

"Beautiful," he whispered, just looking at her, naked, skin glowing in the dim light. "Sara..." he murmured, watching her as he took his shirt off. "Wanted you so long," and he knows this, knows this didn't just start when he saw her picture. He takes his sweats off, shaking his head a little at the tent in them before he eases them down over his cock, revealing that he wasn't wearing anything under them.

"Commando?" she grinned, and he was going to answer until she wrapped her fingers around him and stroked. That was when Greg's brain short circuited and all he could think was that he wanted her, now, forget the past, forget the future, he just wanted to be inside her. His fingers stroked down her body, over the coarse curls between her legs, feeling her, wet and swollen.

"God, Sara..." he moaned and stroked her clit, feeling her shudder and moan as he did. "Need you, want you, lo-" but he stopped the last one, knowing, somehow, that it would be wrong, this soon.

"Come on Greg," she said, leading him to the king size bed, hand still around his cock, stroking and squeezing. "I want you to fuck me..." She let him go, and lay on the bed, legs spread, offering herself to him.

He was going to be gentle, romantic, but this wasn't about that. It was about want and need and giving her what she asked for, what she wanted as much as he did. He leaned over her, his cock pressing against her, and she moved, taking him inside her, wet and warm and he almost came at that, at her aggression and want, at her taking what she wanted. Counting backwards, he managed to stop his eyes rolling back in his head, and move inside her, thrusting, one hand going between them to stroke her clit again, loving the moan she made when he did that, and the other moan when he moved his cock inside her, hitting what must have been her g-spot, and he aimed for that spot, again and again, fucking her hard and fast, but gentle. It felt so amazingly good, and he arched back when her hand moved over his ass, her fingers stroking his cleft, a moan escaping when a finger breached him and he could feel her moving inside him. "Oh... oh, god..." he moaned, almost incoherent, and when her finger found and stroked his prostate, he jerked inside her and came, feeling her walls contract around him as he pulsed inside her.

Gasping, he collapsed beside her, holding her in his arms, stroking her hair, knowing this was... almost everything he wanted. He felt bad that even now, just after what was the most amazing sex he's ever had, he was still thinking of Warrick. Out of guilt, he closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. This wasn't the safe, acceptable option. He loved Sara, he knew that. Warrick probably wasn't into guys. But he couldn't stop thinking about him.

For a moment, as he looked up, his eyes opening, he thought Warrick standing at his bedroom door was a guilt-induced hallucination. Until he spoke.

"Guess I'm interrupting," Warrick said. "Sorry, man, when you weren't in the living room, I thought something had happened. Guess it did."

"Oh, stop acting like a noble martyr and join us," Sara said impatiently. "Like you wouldn't have done the same if it was you."

"What?" Greg says, looking between them.

"You're not as good at hiding as you think you are," Sara replied, getting comfortable. "We figured out you wanted us both when you called our names out in your sleep."

Greg didn't answer, he let the blush he could feel creeping over his skin speak for him.

"So we figured we'd let you be the one to tell us," Warrick said. "And thought, maybe, if you were interested, that we could all... try this."

"Were you two... I mean, this isn't about me and..." Greg trailed off. "The accident?"

"Not exactly," Warrick said. "The accident made us both realise that we cared about you more than we thought, but it's not why we're here."

"Okay," Greg said, thinking. "How about we try this, and see how it goes. But if things get weird, in any way and at any time, we let each other know?"

"Sounds good to me," Warrick said, and Sara nodded.

"Okay," Greg said. "Then get over here, Warrick. I've been wanting to taste you for weeks."

Warrick smiled, slow and wide, and took his shirt off as he moved to the bed, then unbuttoned his pants and let them fall, pushing his boxers down too. He was half-hard, and Greg gasped a little at how big he was. Though Greg reached out for Warrick's cock, his hands were gently pushed away and Warrick bent down to kiss him. Greg pushed up a little to meet him and they kissed endlessly, moaning and touching and Greg wished he could get hard again, but he knew, after coming as hard as he had with Sara, it was unlikely he'd get hard again tonight.

But it didn't matter. He knew it would happen again, for all of them. So he kissed Warrick and played with his nipples and whispered words of love and affection - though avoiding love with him too - soaking up the feeling of Warrick's skin and mouth and hands on him.

Impatient, he pulled Warrick onto the bed, Sara grinning and moving up to rest against the headboard, watching them intently. Greg could feel her eyes on them as he stroked Warrick's cock, feeling it fill and harden completely. He licked and sucked on Warrick's nipples, biting gently and soothing them with his tongue until they were hot and swollen. Only then did he kiss his way down Warrick's body, all gleaming dark skin and heat, until he was licking the base of his cock, then up the shaft, slow, kitten-like movements of his tongue, smiling as Warrick groaned and cursed and said affectionate words as he did. Greg teased by licking all over Warrick's cock except for the head, but when Warrick thrust his hips slightly, he closed his mouth over the head and licked up all the pre-come he could, and deciding that he was addicted to the taste two seconds after the first lick.

He opened his mouth wider, loving the feel of Warrick's cock against his tongue, his lips massaging as he took him in further. Oh, he'd definitely done this before, his throat opening so he could take Warrick all the way in. He liked that Warrick wasn't thrusting, letting him do the work. He massaged Warrick's throbbing cock with his lips and throat, and swallowed him down, over and over, moving a hand up to stroke and massage Warrick's balls, doing everything he could to make Warrick feel good.

Which he was doing, if Warrick's moans and words were anything to go by. Endless sucking and licking and massaging and it was almost a surprise when Warrick came, Greg moving back at the first pulse so he could taste him, catching everything in his mouth, and swallowing, then moving up Warrick's body as he swallowed, looking into his eyes and smiling.

It was the groan from Sara that got both Warrick and Greg's attention away from each other. She was pressed against the headboard, a hand between her legs, touching herself, and as they looked at her, she came, shuddering and moaning. "That was so hot," she gasped as she caught her breath.

"Wait until next time," Warrick said, and Greg grinned.

He knew there was a lot for them to work through, including his amnesia, but he knew they'd work through it together.

Finis


*************************************

Author's Notes: This isn't how it was supposed to turn out. I was going to have Greg have an encounter each with Sara and Warrick, then make two ambiguous calls, one "I want to be with you", the other "I don't want to be with you, but I love you." The characters had other ideas. But I think I like their ideas better. I can tell you Greg does ;-)