Disclaimer: Again, CSI is not mine. The lines aren't mine. Everything in between them is.

Rating, Beta Props, etc. – See Chapter 1.

A/N: Did I mention this is fun? God, angst is so much fun. And this is so much easier than writing from Grissom's POV all the time. Hope you are having fun. I am. Have I mentioned that?

First and last lines of the YTDAW Improv challenge were provided, and are italicized. I blew the 2,000 limit though. Microsoft Word says 2, 356 words. Sorry about that.

"I don't want to know," Brass sighed.

"He signed it for them. Three weeks ago." Catherine said, stirring her coffee slowly, watching the non-dairy creamer attempt to dissolve in the lukewarm liquid.

"I told you, I don't want to know. I don't want to hear about it, or think about it, or do anything about it."

"Jim, he hides in that office. He goes on cases alone. He won't talk to anyone. He's like a shell of himself. We need to do something." Catherine stared at her coffee. The powdery crap wasn't dissolving. Greg hid the half-n-half somewhere, maybe in his old fridge in the DNA lab. She'd have to check there later. She rose, taking the cup and dumping it into the small sink in the kitchen. "Blech." She turned to Brass, leaning against the counter. "He respects you. He trusts you. You should talk to him."

Brass sighed, deflating to half his size.

"That was a helluva sigh," Catherine said with mild humor.

"This is a helluva thing, Cath. Are you sure that she and Warrick aren't dating?"

"I'm almost positive. I asked her point-blank and she said 'no'."

"They're friendlier than they were before," Jim said.

"Well, that's to be expected. They spend more of their free time together now." Oops, that might have sounded a little snippy.

Jim raised an eyebrow at her but thankfully let it go. "You're sure they aren't an item."

"Why don't you ask him, if you don't believe me?"

"Ask who what?" Warrick said as he walked into the kitchen. He'd overheard a little when he was approaching, and suspected this was about him and Sara. Grissom hadn't been the same since that Monday, and the guilt was gnawing away at Warrick's conscience. He'd botched a trace analysis last week because of it. Stress was not good for Warrick. Maybe Catherine and Brass were going to do something about Grissom.

"Ask you," Catherine stated simply, her blue eyes afire. "If you and Sara are…" She paused for a moment. "…together."

The surprise on Warrick's face was clear. Of all people, Catherine suspected that he and Sara were involved. This was disappointing, perhaps she didn't know him as well as he assumed.

"No, Cath," he said softly, his eyes gazing intently into hers, "we're not."

"Oh. Well." She was a little flustered, and Warrick mentally grinned. Gotcha, babe. He loved doing that to her. "So there Jim," she said, all composed and professional, "there's your answer."

"You should stop by and hear us sometime, Catherine. If shift is slow, or you're on break." Warrick purred softly. "Thursday nights, The Black Velvet Lounge. We'll play something special for you." And with a soft gaze towards her, he walked out of the kitchen, and back to work.

Jim Brass chuckled softly into his coffee mug. Catherine shot him a dark look. "What?"

"Nothing… nothing at all," he said innocently.

"It better be nothing, is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"For that, you are handling Grissom on your own. I was going to help, but that's it. You're flying solo. Serves you right, 'ma'am-ing' me."

Brass sighed again. Someday he'd learn. Obviously, that day wasn't today.

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"Just don't let me know you're there, okay? Sit in the back, or somewhere that I can't see you. You'll freak me out."

"Aw c'mon Sar," Nick teased, "you don't suffer from stage fright, do you?"

"No," she said defensively, "I don't. At least not in front of strangers. You guys are a different story."

"We'll sit in the back," Greg agreed. "We won't scare you." Greg's newly developed loyalty to Sara was obvious to everyone, including Sara herself. She was flattered by his attention, but she didn't want to lead him on. With work, and especially with her second 'job', she really didn't have time for a relationship.

That didn't stop her subconscious from haunting her dreams with images of a shadowed Grissom, standing just beyond the lights at the club, staring at her with eyes she couldn't see, eyes she could only feel. And she felt their intensity, their desire. Too many times to count, she'd had dreams of him being one of the many men in her audience, lusting for her like they all did. Too many times in her dreams he would be backstage, waiting for her, taking her there behind the curtain. It took her a couple of weeks to get the dream about the piano out of her head. That'll teach her to watch 'Pretty Woman' on a rainy afternoon.

"Thank you, Greg," she replied in a friendly tone. "And you," she said to Nick, "you leave Warrick alone."

"What? You always assume the worst. Did I say I was going to do anything?"

"No, but I know you. No Mag-lite in his eyes, or mine for that matter. Nothing. This is important to us."

"I know," Nick said, a little hurt by her words.

"Oh, knock it off. You know what I meant." Sara nudged her shoulder against his. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings.

Nick grinned evilly. "So the whoopee cushion on the piano bench is okay, right?"

"Nick!"

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Jim Brass sat in his friend's office, noticing the deep lines creasing his friend's face. Catherine was right. Gil looked like shit.

"So, the Klinefelter case wrapped up smoothly. Good work on that." Jim was trying, desperately, to get Grissom to say something to him. He'd been here for five minutes, and the most he'd gotten out of the guy was "'Yes', 'No', and 'Mmm-hmm'". None were very useful for initiating a conversation.

"Mmm," Grissom mmm'ed.

"Gil. We need to talk."

Grissom sighed, removing his glass. "What," he said with a hard stare.

"You're a wreck. You hide in this office, you talk to no one, and you look like death warmed over."

"Catherine put you up to this."

Jim couldn't fault the guy for his brains. Grissom was nobody's fool. "She's worried," he said honestly. "So am I. So is your team."

"Doubtful."

"Depression doesn't become you, Gil."

"I'm not depressed. I'm realistic."

Time to drag the elephant out of the corner. "They aren't together."

Grissom's head lifted slightly. This encouraged Brass to continue. "Catherine asked both Sara and Warrick directly about it, on different occasions. They both state that they aren't involved." Jim lowered his voice a little. "I can assure you that Warrick isn't after Sara. He's got a serious thing for Cath, and he isn't hiding it from her either. I think it makes her nervous."

This lifted Grissom's head back up to a relatively normal position. He said nothing, but his eyes asked, 'you're sure?'

"Oh yeah. He invited her to come to their club. Said they'd play something special for her. It was damn obvious, and she knew it and so did I. Made her all flustered. It was kind of funny." Brass smirked. It was downright hysterical. He'd never thought he'd see the day when Miss In-Control Catherine was stumped. But Warrick had thrown her for a loop in under five minutes.

"You saw this," Grissom said, finally sounding like a human being instead of a corpse. "Unbiased opinion."

"Oh yeah. There's no doubt. He's hot for Catherine."

Grissom scowled, and Jim noticed a flicker of animation in him. "He tricked me."

"What?"

"Warrick. He tricked me. He let me think they were involved."

"Huh?" Brass said, stumped.

"With the forms, those damned, stupid forms."

Brass was beyond confused. "You're going to have to put it in reverse a bit and fill me in if you want me to follow along with this conversation."

Grissom stared off into space; Brass had seen this before. Grissom was off in la-la land, and he'd be back in a few. Jim leaned back in the office chair and waited. This might be good.

"He asked me to sign the form," Grissom muttered in monotone. "I said no. He countered, I still said no. He said 'why', I told him. He said it was personal. I told him it wasn't. And then he'd started in about her…" His voice trailed off.

Jim sat and looked at Grissom patiently, waiting for him to continue. Oh, this is gonna be sooo good.

Grissom stared off into space again for a while, until he suddenly sat up straight in his chair, realizing something. Either that or one of his bugs just bit him in the ass. Brass sighed. Damn. Well, at least he's animated again.

"Jim, it's Thursday, right?"

"Yup, been Thursday all day. Although in about an hour, a miracle happens and it's magically Friday. Why?"

"You'll have to excuse me, Jim," Grissom said distractedly. "I need to be somewhere."

"Gil, don't you dare," Brass warned. But Grissom left without another word, leaving Brass alone in the office, staring out to the hallway and debating whether or not to chase after his friend.

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Sara peeked out from behind the stale-smelling red wool curtain. Warrick was hovering nervously behind her, and Pete was off in the corner, catching a quick drag before their last set of the evening began.

"Do you see them?" Warrick whispered softly in her ear, making her jump. She was freaking. She kept wiping her hands nervously along the side of her black satin dress.

"Yes. Dear God, there they are."

"Relax, Sara. They're only here for an hour, tops. You can do this."

"Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod."

"What?"

"Grissom's here."

Warrick gently pushed her aside as he peered beyond the stage into the crowd. He spotted Nick and Greg easily, and oh shit, there was Cath sitting with them. And there was Bobby, and Hodges had tagged along. Leech.

"I don't see him, Sar."

"He's… he's in the back. Past the bar, right side, near the door."

Warrick checked again and damn if she wasn't right. Well maybe. The guy certainly looked like Grissom, but it was dark back there, and Warrick really couldn't be sure unless the guy stepped into the light more. "I dunno. Look, don't let it get to you, okay? You can do this." He grabbed her shoulders gently and turned her to face him. "Look at me. You can do this. Now say it. I can do this."

"I… I can do this."

"That's right. Once more."

"I can do this."

"Now," he said, spinning her around so she could see the crowd, "look out there and say it to them."

She stiffened, but he heard her murmur it softly. "I can do this."

"Good. Now let's go show them how damn good we are."

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Twenty minutes of Sara and Warrick's performance left Nick, Greg and Catherine in a state of shocked surprise.

"Holy shit," Nick whispered to Catherine, "she's good. He's good. Damn, they're good." Catherine only stared, a strange expression on her face. Greg looked lovestruck. Nick couldn't blame him; Sara was downright tempting in her dress. And her voice, and the way she talked to the crowd… "Holy shit," he said again.

Sara had finished her fifth song, some ballad Nick didn't know about un-breaking her heart. Now she was singing something a little more upbeat. That uncanny prickle on the back of his neck, that someone was watching him, made Nick turn around. His eyes found Grissom, sitting at the far corner of the bar, shredding what appeared to be a napkin. Or more than one, as there was a small pile in front of him. Grissom's eyes would shift from Sara, to the pile in front of him, to their table, and then back to Sara again. Two empty shot glasses sat off to his left.

"No way…" Nick hit Catherine lightly on her shoulder, snapping her out of her trance. "Grissom's here." Catherine started scanning the crowd in earnest, but Nick stopped her quickly. "Shh! Be discreet. He's behind us, at the bar, far right corner."

Catherine shifted, and waited for almost two minutes before discreetly glancing towards the door. She turned and murmured back to Nick, "I saw him. I can't believe he's here."

Sara was finished and talking to the crowd again, in that damn sultry voice that made Nick question his moral integrity. Sara is my friend. Sara is my friend. God, I'm gonna need a cold shower tonight. Shit!

"I think some of you guys out there have waited long enough," Sara murmured huskily as the lighting on the stage shifted to a dark, soft red. "Would you like me to sing it for you?"

"You bet babe!" an obvious regular called out from the crowd.

Sara chuckled lightly, "You sure you don't want me to sing something else?"

"No!" came a cry from a multitude of men. This was obviously a common part of the show, as the red dimmed, leaving only a soft spotlight on Sara.

"Okay then, if you want it that badly…" And she launched into a version of 'Black Velvet' that made Nick's spine tingle, and it wasn't the only body part that was reacting.

Nick shifted in his chair and nudged Catherine. They both turned around slowly, checking on their supervisor's reaction to her taunting words to the crowd, and her song, only to see him walking swiftly to the door. He opened it and disappeared in an instant, the only trace of his presence the shredded napkin bits sitting at the bar. A gust of wind from Grissom's departure reached the pile a few seconds later, and they watched as the pieces fluttered through the air.

… continued next chapter ->