Author's Note: This was one of my older fics, and I decided to spruce it up and finish it. It took me forever to actually get it uploaded, but better late than never, right?

Three chapters. Angst/Tragedy/Drama. Nick/Greg. Nick's POV. Slash.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned. As a fangirl, I wish I did … but yeah, as if that will ever happen.

Acknowledgements: Thanks goes out to Amanda for being bored one night and making me think about continuing on with this story. Oh, and she proofread it, too.

I'd also like to thank Natasha for reading this over and giving suggestions. As always, this is a huge help.

Summary: A going away party for Greg leaves Nick feeling horrible, and he tries to nurse his hurt with alcohol. With his judgment impaired, Nick makes a decision that could kill.

It Began with a Party and Ended with a Funeral
Chapter One

Nick couldn't breathe. He couldn't speak, he couldn't move. When was the last time he had felt this earth shattering, heart numbing, blind panic? He couldn't recall. This would be the last time he would see Greg, the last chance he would have … if he wanted to take it.

"I'm going back to California."

Didn't Greg see the complete devastation on Nick's face? Couldn't he tell that he had just broken Nick's heart? Not just broken it, Greg had decimated it.

"I think it's time for a change. I need to get out of the city."

When you needed change, you got different wallpaper. You didn't just sell your apartment, quit your job and go running back to California. For God's sake, get a goldfish if you wanted change. Just don't leave.

"Shh, here he comes!" Wendy hissed, turning off the lights.

Thrust out of his memories, Nick came back to reality, his pupils dilating wildly to see in the gloom. The crowded room became eerily silent as footsteps echoed down the hall. The feet stopped outside the door, and the owner pushed it inwards. Greg entered, his hand reaching to flick on the light when …

"SURPRISE!" everyone, except Nick, screamed.

The light was turned on and a pandemonium of cheers and hollers went up as Greg stood there, his face almost comical because of the look of utter shock on it. Then he beamed at everyone.

"You guys shouldn't have!" he said loudly, laughing. Grissom walked up to him and clapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder.

"Well we did, Greg. We wanted you to know that you will be missed."

Everyone murmured in response as Greg's eyes glistened.

"Well I'm going to miss you all as well," he said to the crowd.

Nick heard all the words as if he was underwater. Had Greg looked directly at him when he had said he was going to be missing everyone?

"Well come on Greg, it's cake time!" Catherine chuckled, pulling him by the hand towards the cake on the break room table. It was in the shape of a black guitar.

"It looks almost too good to eat," Greg noted, "but oh well."

More laughter.

Greg and Catherine began to cut the cake into slices, not even noticing that Nick was still standing in his original position, over by the counter. Finally Warrick looked up, his vibrant green eyes narrowed.

"Nick, you coming to get a piece?"

Mechanically Nick walked over, grasping the paper plate Henry had given him. A large piece of the chocolate cake was put onto the awaiting plate. Nick gazed down at the rich icing and felt his stomach churn.

The going away party lasted for almost two hours, everyone reminiscing about the great times they had with Greg. Of course, no one mentioned the lab explosion or Demetrius James. That would definitely kill the party.

"You remember the time I had to lecture your ass at a crime scene when you weren't organized?" Warrick asked, laughing at the memory.

"Yeah, well, learning is a lifelong thing. I'm always taking in information, I'm like a …"

"Greg, please don't steal my line again," Grissom said sternly, but a smile danced in his eyes.

"I remember how you used to always play loud, screamo music in your lab," Catherine recalled.

Greg shrugged. "At least I don't listen to Dolly Parton in my car."

"I do not listen to Dolly Parton!" Catherine exclaimed, her face going red.

"That's not what Warrick said."

Catherine whirled around, smacking Warrick on the shoulder, but Warrick was laughing too hard to care.

"I remember how you contaminated a crime scene and broke the case all in one go," Grissom remarked.

Greg groaned. "You had to bring up that proficiency test, didn't you?"

The party ended on a good note as everyone wished Greg good luck on his future endeavors then left, throwing out the garbage on the way. Sighing, Greg put the cake in the fridge then turned to leave. He was halfway across the room when he realized he wasn't alone.

"Nick? What are you doing?"

Nick shrugged, the plate still in his hand. Greg strode over to him, his head cocked to one side. He stopped in front of the older man, confusion evident in his eyes.

"Is something wrong, Nick?" Greg asked, his voice low, comforting.

Nick actually had to struggle to hold in the words that were bursting to be set free. The words ached and longed to be out in the open, but the recurring fear of rejection wouldn't let them. Nick kept them trapped and hidden.

Greg only blinked, then glanced at the clock on the wall. It was getting late, and he had a long drive to California.

"'Kay then, well, I guess I'm… going to go, then," Greg said, a yawn breaking up the sentence.

He was about to hug Nick, then thought better of it. He offered up his hand, and Nick shook it. Then Greg was gone.

It could have been hours, or maybe minutes later when Nick threw out the piece of cake and got into his vehicle, not really knowing where he was going to go. Without noticing, he had driven to a bar close to The Strip. It was secluded and dark, just the way Nick wanted it. He yearned to get Greg out of his mind … and the only way he could think of doing that would be with alcohol.

Nick wasn't a heavy drinker and he always drank responsibly, but now … something seemed to have snapped in his mind. He didn't think of his job, his life or anyone else's for that matter. The only thing in his brain was touching Greg for the last time. Who knew when he'd be back?

Drink after drink came and time crawled by, almost as if time itself was dying a slow and agonizing death.

After some time, Nick dizzily got to his feet, pulling out his car keys. He should have called a cab. He should have called a friend. He should have done something different. He shouldn't have driven, but he didn't think of that at the time. Nick had achieved what he had wanted—he wasn't thinking at all anymore.

The last thing Nick could remember was unlocking his car after a few tries and sliding into the driver's seat. He could recall turning the engine on and he could hear the other cars driving by him. What he didn't remember was putting the car in gear then driving.

Maybe it was for the better. That way, he wouldn't remember seeing the large black truck slamming into the driver's side of his car after he had run a red light … that was if he survived.

And as the officer told Nick's next of kin, the odds looked grim.