Thanks to: Leslie, for the best drunken voice mail ever!

Also, thanks to my husband for just being the funniest guy on the planet. This morning's conversation: "Next thing you know, you'll be wanting to head off to CSI-Con..." in an announcer's voice "brought to you by the makers of Phenolphthalein." Sorry, it was just really funny. He did this big announcer's voice, and he was just totally making fun of my CSI obsession, and…well, maybe it was a location thing. You just had to be there.

Side note: The mere mention of phenolphthalein makes me sick to my stomach. Organic chemistry lab, senior year of college. A relatively simple lab involving the use of phenolphthalein, as do a great many organic chem labs. Unfortunately, I made a minor miscalculation that wasn't discovered until the end of the experiment, and I had to start all over from scratch. So instead of being there for three hours, I was there for almost six. The poor lab tech and I seriously considered ordering pizza. Blecch. That was like the single worst experience of my college career.

"Oh, just admit it, Nicky…you know you like the kissing!" Sara teased. Nick rolled his eyes and Sara turned back to her fiancé. "Put it on, Griss. Let's see how it looks on you!"

Grissom obliged, slipping the watch onto his left wrist. Examining it, he finally grinned. "Thanks, guys," he said, pulling Sara close to his side. "Wanna watch me kiss Sara some more?" he joked.

"Ugh, no way, man," Warrick muttered, averting his eyes. "That's a little too in-your-face for yours truly."

"The man can handle decomps, but freaks out at a little PDA," Sara teased.

----------

The next few weeks passed quickly enough to make Sara's head spin. True to her word, Catherine handled most of the tedious details of the wedding, but as far as Sara was concerned, the whole thing was still too much. She had chosen her wedding dress, and the guys had bought her a lovely piece of jewelry, and that was about as much as she was inclined to take care of in the planning department.

Warrick had declared that he knew an excellent jazz trumpet player who could handle any of the musical details, and Sara had just rolled her eyes and waved her hand in assent.

Then came the BIG decisions—where to have the wedding, how many people to invite, and what kind of reception to have.

"Catherine, I'm getting a migraine," Sara whined when she was forced to sit down to make decisions.

"Oh, you are not—now just shut up and think for a second. Where do you want to get married?" Catherine asked for the eighteenth time.

"City Hall," Sara snarked.

"Quit being a baby. Make a decision or I'll make it for you."

Grissom chose this exact moment to peek out from behind his newspaper. "Uh…I might know a place."

Two decidedly feminine heads swiveled to face him, shocked expressions firmly in place.

Grissom blushed. "It's just this…park that I go to sometimes…when I need to think."

Catherine raised a finely sculpted eyebrow.

Grissom continued. "It's, uh, about an hour from here. I sort of discovered it by accident a couple of years ago. It's small, with lots of trees and a large duck pond. The landscaping is quite lovely. It would be a nice spot for a wedding."

Sara and Catherine looked at each other. Sara shrugged. "Whatever—it's fine with me, if that's what he wants."

Catherine shook her head slowly, not quite comprehending the fact that the groom had just chosen the location for the wedding. Finally, she scribbled something down on her paper, and said, "Ok, wedding location selected." She wrinkled her nose at the teeth-pulling and arm-twisting she would likely have to administer to get Sara to make a decision on the next topic. She took a deep breath and plunged in. "Moving on, Sara, let's talk dresses."

To Catherine's complete and utter shock, Sara smiled shyly. "I think I know what I want," she said quietly.

A wide-eyed Gil Grissom peeped around the edge of his newspaper, clearly surprised.

"Yes?" Catherine prompted. Grissom wore an intrigued look now.

"Uh, well…" Sara stammered, unsure of herself. "I think I would like something simple and elegant. I think strapless would be nice. In a nice soft ivory color. Maybe a tiny bit of beading, but very minimal. And I would like Grissom to wear a nice suit, rather than a tux."

Catherine raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised that Sara had taken it upon herself to even contemplate the wedding attire. "I think that sounds lovely, Sara," she encouraged. She made a few notes, then moved on. "Are you planning on having a bridal party?"

Sara's face blanked and she looked over at Grissom. They hadn't discussed it. "Um, I don't know. What do you think, Griss?"

"I don't care."

Sara huffed out an exasperated sigh. "Come on, work with me here. You know I'm not good at this stuff."

"Honey, I really don't care."

Sara looked at Catherine helplessly. Catherine spoke. "Well, why don't you each just have an honor attendant? A maid of honor and a best man. That way, it's not some huge deal, but you'll at least have people standing with you…" She looked at Sara expectantly. Sara, in turn, looked at Grissom, who simply shrugged.

"Fine with me" he said non-committally.

Sara rolled her eyes. Looking back at Catherine, she nodded. "Okay, let's do that."

Catherine nodded. "Okay, Sara, who are you going to ask to be your maid of honor?"

Sara looked at her as if she had two heads. "Uh, you, Cath. Who else would I ask? Greg?" She snorted.

Catherine put down her pen, her face blank. After a moment, she gave Sara a small smile and said, "Wow. That means a lot, Sara. Thanks."

Sara rolled her eyes and shrugged playfully. "Yeah, yeah." Getting all mushy wasn't her style.

Catherine regained her composure and looked over at Grissom, who was hiding behind his newspaper again. "Gil? Your best man?"

"Jim," he responded, not bothering to move his newspaper.

Sara smiled at this. Catherine said, "Have you asked him?"

"No, Catherine, I have not. I didn't even know I was having a best man until thirty seconds ago."

"Smartass," Catherine muttered under her breath, causing Sara to giggle. "Give him a call, willya? I need to know for sure that he's doing it."

Grissom sighed, deciding that his newspaper was a lost cause. He put it to the side and pulled his phone from his belt, all the while glaring at Catherine. He speed-dialed Jim and spoke while continuing to glare at his friend. "Uh, yeah, Jim. It's me. Listen, my wedding Nazi wants me to ask you a question. She needs to know right now at this very moment who I'll be having as my best man. Will you do it?" Grissom listened for a moment, then broke into a grin. "Thanks, Jim. I really appreciate it." He snapped his phone shut and looked over at Catherine. "He'll do it. Happy now?"

"Very," Catherine said.

----------

Catherine sat on the bench in the locker room, filled with dread. She was waiting for Sara to finish logging her evidence in so they could go shopping for a wedding dress. Catherine was fairly certain that this would be the most miserable day of her life. In fact, she was pretty sure that she'd rather take ten four year-olds shopping for an entire day than spend three hours shopping for bridal gowns with one thirty-three year-old Sara Sidle.

Just as Catherine was about to give up, Sara came bouncing into the locker room. "You ready?" she asked brightly.

Catherine raised her eyebrows. "What kind of happy-bug crawled up your ass?"

Sara smirked at Catherine. "Hey, can't I be excited about finding my wedding dress?"

Catherine shot her a skeptical look. "You haven't been excited about anything else pertaining to your wedding thus far. Why start now?"

"Hey, I'm excited about getting married," she returned. "I'm just not excited about all the little details. But come on, every little girl dreams about the perfect wedding dress. I guess I just decided to enjoy this part," she shrugged with a small grin.

----------

Four hours later, Catherine and Sara emerged from a small bridal boutique, plastic garment bag in hand. "I can't believe we got it offthe rack!" Catherine squealed in excitement.

Sara tried to look annoyed at Catherine's girlish antics but failed miserably. She gave in and grinned widely, agreeing with Catherine. "It was a pretty amazing buy," she admitted.

"Are you kidding me? It was phenomenal, fantastic, orgasm-inducing! Damn, I love a hot bargain," Catherine gushed. Switching subjects rapidly, she said, "Are you sure you like the dress I picked out for me?"

This time, Sara succeeded in looking annoyed. "For the last time, Catherine, I don't care what you wear. You're the one who has to live with it, and it's not like I'm going to force you to wear some hideous hot-pink number that would be a nightmare with your skin. Geez…" she finished.

Catherine laughed heartily. "Well, I think the navy blue will do nicely. I'm pretty sure everyone looks good in navy."

----------

The rest of the planning went surprisingly smoothly, as far as Catherine was concerned, until she found Sara shaking on the floor in the locker room two weeks before the wedding. "Sara!" she cried as she rushed over to where Sara was crouched by the showers. "Are you okay?"

Sara looked up at her with tears in her eyes. "Cath…" she whispered.

Catherine was panicking now. "Sara, do you need a doctor?"

Sara shook her head fiercely. "No!" she uttered. "I'm not sick."

"What is it, Honey? Talk to me. What's wrong? Did something happen between you and Gil?" 'Dear God, I don't want to have to kill him…'

Sara shook her head again, then held up a finger while she tried to catch her breath. After a moment, she had seemingly calmed a bit. Finally, she spoke. "I just suddenly got really scared, Cath. This is all so sudden and so…out of character for him."

Catherine's eyes widened. 'Tell me I'm not going to have to kill HER…She is NOT going to break this thing off…is she?'

Sara continued. "I love him so much," she hiccupped, "and I want to be with him so badly." Catherine's heart broke for her. "But why is he doing this? Is this some crazy mid-life crisis? It all happened so fucking fast! He is all I've ever wanted, but I'm starting to wonder what flipped the switch for him. After all those years of pushing me away, he switched gears so fast." Her voice broke pathetically. She looked up, helpless, at Catherine. "I guess I'm just second-guessing myself—and him. But Cath, I'd just die if I lost him now. I'd just die."

Catherine crouched down and gathered Sara into her arms, her maternal instincts kicking in full-force. "Shhh," she soothed, rocking Sara back and force. "Shh, it'll be okay, Sweetie. You're not going to lose him."

As she sat there rocking her friend, she wondered, 'Why is this woman so insecure?'