Author's Note: This is a scene I've been toying with for a few weeks; I'm just not sure how to write it. I don't normally like to villlify Grissom, but I needed a bad guy that could lash out and hurt Sara. We all know Ecklie is a jerk, but I don't think he would have the same power over Sara that Grissom does. Let me know what you think. Let me know if you all want more chapters (I could easily see this becoming a Snicker).

Nick's POV:

They walked into the diner looking as if someone just died; the reality was that something, not someone, died. Greg looked exhausted, and Sara looked like she had stopped sleeping all together. They only agreed to join us for breakfast after a lot of prompting . . . for old times sake is what I told Greg in the wee hours of the morning; Catherine had called Warrick and me to let us know they would be late. Apparently, Grissom had gone on a tirade about Sara's overtime. Catherine was witness to the spectacle only because she went to her office early this morning to work on some paperwork. I guess spending the extra time to teach Greg correctly and thoroughly had become a crime. Catherine said that Grissom spent most of his free time trying to find the weakest link in his team . . . a suitable scapegoat to blame for the break up of the team. I guess Sara had become his scapegoat.

They sat down in our booth silently. I wondered if asking them out to breakfast was some colossal mistake. Sara looked as if she was on the verge of tears; Greg looked like he might just lash out at the first moving target. They were my closest friends, but I almost couldn't recognize them. Catherine said that nightshift had become a dangerous place to work. When I asked why, Catherine said that Grissom was doing extensive case reviews on Sara. Catherine said that for some reason Grissom laid all the blame on Sara; she said it was his way of falling out of love with her . . . and his way of solving some of the problems that Ecklie had brought to the surface. Grissom had become tough as nails; he was rough on all his CSIs. Grissom was slowing evolving into a man that I no longer idealized as I did only a month ago.

"Hey," Warrick said. I wasn't sure if they even wanted to be greeted; I didn't dare ask how they were doing. From the looks on their faces, it was apparent that all was not well.

"Hey," Greg replied with a half-hearted smile. Greg squeezed Sara's arm; she looked up, but she couldn't smile. There was a look of complete despair on her face. It was an expression only befitting a funeral. She got out of the booth abruptly and walked outside.

"What's up with Sara?" Warrick asked. I didn't know what I should have said; I felt guilty for being satisfied with my job and my new supervisor. The night shift hadn't been broken up; it had been decimated.

"Two week suspension. It's all bullshit," Greg replied as he shook his head.

"Why?" I asked.

"Overtime . . . Grissom couldn't read her handwriting on a one a case file from two years ago . . . she was ten minutes late today . . . general hatred for Sara," Greg replied, "I should go make sure she's okay."

"Didn't Catherine only get two weeks for blowing up the DNA lab?" I asked. Greg nodded and Warrick lowered his head. The punishment didn't seem to fit all the crimes that Greg had listed off. I wondered if our team was that co-dependent. Without all the pieces, everything had fallen apart.

Greg disappeared outside after Sara. I watched him put his arms around her; I stared in amazement. I knew Grissom had made her cry before, but those times were all on a personal level. Today, he had taken a swing at her from a professional level. That was something that I would have considered unheard of, but I guess things changed. No one ever promised us that these changes would come easy; they were surely coming easier for Warrick and me than Sara and Greg.

"Do you just want to get going? I don't think either of them really want to be here," Warrick suggested.

"Why were we the lucky ones?" I asked. Warrick shook his head again.

"Catherine never really liked Greg or Sara. Ecklie gave Catherine what she wanted because it was the easiest way to get to Grissom," Warrick replied.

"Sara's not feeling too well. I think I'm going to drive her home . . . sorry about breakfast," Greg said. I hadn't even heard him approach the table.

"Is she going to be okay?" I asked.

"She hasn't been okay for over a month . . . you know . . . ever since Grissom put her on probation after what happened this summer," Greg replied. I don't think he could have possibly danced around that question anymore than he did. Sara didn't tell a soul about her drinking; she didn't tell a soul about her almost DUI. Grissom was the one that broke the news in the form of an impromptu memo about not drinking while driving government vehicles. Grissom never wrote memos before. I didn't understand why he would want to hurt her of all people; it didn't make sense.

"Are you going to be okay, man?" Warrick asked.

"Yeah, you know . . . I have a week to think about my own misjudgments. Sorry if you guys have to pull overtime to compensate for us," Greg replied. He looked even more sullen than he did ten seconds earlier.

"What the hell happened?" I asked.

"I accidentally wrote in Norwegian on two of the DNA samples I collected last night. I did it without thinking, but you know Grissom," Greg replied, "I should go. Sara's close to losing it out in the parking lot. She said she wanted to have her breakdown at home."

"You should talk to Ecklie," Warrick commented.

"I hope that we aren't around long enough to have to talk to him," Greg commented. He was still standing at the end of the booth. He didn't look like he could move even if he wanted to.

"What?" I asked.

"Sara and I are thinking about going back to San Francisco. We both started our careers there . . . we both have family there. We put in for transfers to almost every open position; where ever we end up can't possibly be as bad as here," Greg commented.

"Are you sure?" I asked. That was a stinging loss that I hadn't expected this morning; working a different shift from them was no thing, but losing them altogether was something completely different. I had been close to Greg; I was as close to Sara as she would ever let people get to her. We had watched each other grow as people and professionals. There was a bond there that couldn't be broken by simply working a different shift, but I knew they would probably disappear from Las Vegas. I might see them at professional conferences, but that would probably be it.

"I can't do this anymore . . . Sara can't do this anymore. She's a mess . . . she can't think . . . she second guesses herself constantly. He's made her a nervous wreck," Greg said. He put emphasis on he's made her a nervous wreck; there was no doubt that he was referring to Grissom.

"Is she going to be okay alone?" Warrick asked. Warrick was still looking down at the table; it was hard to look at Greg and Sara knowing that their worlds were crashing down around them.

"I'll take her car keys before I leave," Greg said in a tone that indicated that he just might have done that before.

"I have tomorrow off. Why don't you go home . . . I'll take Sara home and watch her for a few hours," I offered Greg. He nodded. Warrick and I got up; I tossed some bills on the table to cover our coffee. Sara was leaning up against her Tahoe; her sunglasses were on, but I could tell that she was hurting. Her lip quivered every time she looked at Warrick and me; she was jealous . . . she was ashamed of being jealous of her friends.

"I'm going to take you home. Greg said he needs to rest," I said as I stood in front of her. Sara nodded before she all but fell into my arms; she was trying to talk but I couldn't make out a word that she was saying. Sara was crying far too hard for her to be able to communicate; her tears clearly and loudly communicated for her. It scared me; I had never seen Sara lose her composure to this extent. I wrapped my arms around her; she felt smaller than I remembered. Sara looked a lot more tired than I remembered. Warrick said that he'd call to check in later; Warrick and I could move Sara's Tahoe later this afternoon. Warrick told Sara he was sorry. I felt the same way; part of me was sorry that I had Catherine as a supervisor. Catherine might be tough, but she was never tough on me.

So much had changed only on one month's time. It didn't seem fair.