Author's Notes: I just can't get over how many reviews I get on CSI fics as compared to anime fics. Wow. Anyways, makes me want to update that much more! On with the fic!


CSI: - Party Fever
Chapter Three – Glamourous Grissom


Gil Grissom stood stiffly in front of the mirror, straightening his black bow tie. He checked the clock on the wall, noting he had to be going soon if he planned to arrive in time to the ball. He'd mulled carefully over the prospect of the party, over his decision to go stag. Others would be bringing dates no doubt. His brow furrowed as he remembered hearing snippets of Greg inviting Sara. He was rather sure she had accepted; why wouldn't she have?

Nervous as a teen about to go to prom he straightened the tie again, grabbing his keys and pushing open the townhouse door. The sun was nearly hidden behind the cityscape and the night had begun to cool off, for which he was thankful, wearing as much fine clothing as he was.

The annual Policemen's Ball was held every year in the early spring at one of the larger convention halls in the town. It was a party for all the law enforcement personnel in the city, from traffic cops to Sheriff Atwater, from meter maids to SWAT. The hall would no doubt be packed to its limit if attendance was indeed mandatory for everyone this year, but from what he'd heard from the detectives and cops he'd encountered in the field as of late, Grissom got the impression that the mandate was centered on the Crime Lab, though the reason eluded him. His team's nights were much better spent when they were put to work.

He steered the Denali into the multi-level parking garage opposite the large building all glitzed up for tonight's events and meandered throughout the flats, looking for a spot. After some ten minutes or so he found a spot at the uncovered top of the building where no one else seemed to want to park, perhaps for fear of rain, as the sky to the east did hold some foreboding clouds.

He instinctively checked his reflection once more in the rear view mirror before exiting the vehicle and locking it. The sounds of people already at the part wafted up from the building below and the smell of eminent rain was welcomed by Grissom, glad he didn't have to worry about the impending downpour washing away multitudes of evidence. He cleared his throat nervously and began trudging down the stone steps at the outer edge of the garage.

Upon entering the ball room, so elegantly decked out in bright white lights and fine white linens that his eyes threatened to water, he scanned the crowds of people. No sign of Sara. Perhaps she'd not arrived yet. He frowned slightly, realizing he hadn't missed her entering on Greg Sanders' arm, and then mentally shook himself for such thoughts.

His eye caught Catherine standing near one of the large bay windows in the room talking to Warrick. They both looked nice, he noticed, Catherine clad in an elegant blue dress which managed to be modest while showing off some features she'd coveted in her previous job, Warrick sporting a plain black tux and red cummerbund. They nodded to Grissom as he approached.

"Hey, you made it," Warrick's voice was edged with surprise and amusement. He lifted a glass of champagne to his lips gracefully to hide his wry smile.

"You look nice," Catherine seemed equally surprised and amused as she eyed him up and down several times, beaming, and "Nice tux."

"Hmmm . . ." Grissom responded, distracted as his eyes make another scan of the room's occupants.

"Doc Robbins and his wife are upstairs," Catherine motioned to the balcony that wrapped around the entire room packed with people, "Nick's out in the courtyard . . . courting," she rolled her eyes hugely and laughed, "but no sign of Brass, Sara, or Greg yet."

"Maybe they found better things to do than stand around in stiff clothes with people they barely know," Warrick pulled uncomfortably at his tie, obviously out of sorts about the evening.

"Well, I know Sara's coming," Catherine responded off-handedly, grabbing a glass of champagne from a nearby caterer and handing it to Grissom who nodded his thanks.

"Cite your source," Grissom tried to keep his tone disinterested.

Catherine smirked at him in response before gliding off to talk to someone or other from day shift.

'Speaking of dayshift,' Grissom felt the little hairs rise on the back of his neck, "Conrad," he bowed his head cordially as the man approached wearing a stiff suit and walking to match.

"Grissom," Ecklie sneered a bit, "Surprised to see you here."

"You know Grissom, he can't resist a party," Warrick interjected.

Ecklie glanced at the man before turning back to Grissom, "So, can you dance?"

"Are you asking me to dance, Conrad?" Grissom smiled boyishly, taking pleasure in the ghastly look the day shift supervisor gave him in return.

"Eh, of course you can't. Not better than me, anyways," Ecklie shuffled off leaving a brow-furrowed Grissom in his wake.

"Did Ecklie just challenge me to a dance off?" Grissom turned a puzzled look towards Warrick who shrugged, bemused.

"The man's got it in for you, Griss. Don't embarrass yourself," Warrick laughed a bit and gave his boss a friendly nod as he snuck off to join Catherine.

Grissom studied the champagne glass in his hand for a moment, watching the bubbles dance within before floating to the top. He'd just wanted to spend a quiet night alone with his bugs and books . . . but now he was going to have to out-dance Conrad Ecklie . . .

"Hey, Grissom, I hear you and Ecklie are gonna go at it on the dance floor!" Greg Sanders bounced up to him, half-laughing. He was dressed in a half-handsome half-garish light blue tuxedo and Grissom wondered sardonically why Greg had opted to leave the top hat, cane, and monocle behind this evening.

"Greg," Grissom was a bit surprised to see the young lab rat turned CSI alone, "Where's Sara?"

"Oh, I don't know, not here yet?" Greg shrugged his guess out.

"She isn't your date?" Grissom couldn't bite back the words, hoping Greg didn't wonder why he cared.

"Oh, no, but hey, at least I'm not the only one going stag," the younger man smiled at his boss, "Plenty of ladies around here looking for a dance partner and the Greggo is here for the taking."

"I'm sure they'll be so relieved you're here for them," Grissom smirked a bit, trying to keep his stomach from bouncing about so much. Sara wasn't going to be with Greg? Had she brought another date? That EMT? Perhaps she'd come alone . . .

Grissom pulled nervously at his bowtie, sipping from his champagne glass as he watched Greg wander off to 'woo' the female population of Las Vegas. As he glanced at the clock above the main entrance his eyes caught sight of someone just stepping in the entrance.

"Wow," Grissom half-gasped under his breath.


Author's Notes: Sorry that took so long! Hehe, I'm still sick, thanks for all the well wishes though. We're not really sure what I'm sick with anymore. Either way, I'll update ASAP and as always, if you have the time please review!