Title: This Disaster

Disclaimer: It's not mine, and barring a Christmas miracle, it never will be.

Spoilers: Indirect references to some of the relationship bumps up to about season 4, I think. Nothing major. So just pretend this takes place during/after the fourth season.

A/N: I actually meant this to be a one-shot but forgot to write that in the summary. And since people liked it, I decided to continue. This chapter is a different style than the first, I think. I still personally like the first one better. So consider this a sequel. I'm still not sure if there'll be another chapter after this. If so it will probably take a bit longer than usual to update. Three, maybe four days minimum. Probably. Ok, fine, you caught me. I really don't know. But if I do I'll try to make it quick. No promises.

"Grissom"

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening.

"Grissom…"

This was a nightmare. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening.

An exasperated sigh. "Grissom! Will you pull your head out of your ass for just one damn second?"

His office was a cave, musty and dark. He could almost see the anger radiating off of her in the dim light; a red so bright he'd closed his eyes.

"What do you want, Catherine?" he mumbled like the tired old man he was.

The blonde bit the inside of her lip, frustrated. No matter how much she wished it otherwise, the man sitting in Grissom's chair behind Grissom's desk in Grissom's office simply was not Grissom. The real Grissom disappeared months ago. This imposter, no matter how many times he rubbed his temples in the exact manner Grissom always did, wasn't him. The beaten, ancient, weak man before her just wasn't Grissom, and hadn't been since Nick and Sara.

And that made her so angry with him, because it wasn't their fault.

Catherine crossed her arms defiantly across her chest, her voice laced with disdain as she spoke. "What the hell was that about?"

Grissom sighed inwardly, propping his forehead against his palm, letting his head sink into his hands. His answer would just irritate her. He knew. It was only because he derived some sick pleasure from causing someone else to feel his anguish did he look up, lifeless eyes pouring into hers:

"What?"

"Are you kidding yourself, Grissom? Back in the break room…what the hell were you thinking? Do you actually wantthe rest of the team to think of you as the supervisor-turned-jackass? This is their day, Grissom. Can't you just be happy for them for one goddamned second instead of moping around and punishing them for your mistake?"

"Catherine, I…"

"Jesus, Grissom" she continued, as if he'd never spoke, her voice soft and almost comforting, making her words that more potent. "They're getting married. And whether you want it to be or not, that's a good thing."

Grissom remained silent, watching Catherine's anger deflate as she looked at him. He knew what she saw: a man who was old and bitter. A man who was tearing himself apart. A man who was sinking, trying desperately to drag anyone he could down with him.

Pitiful.

Her next words blew him over:

"You had your chance. Why can't you just let them have theirs?"

Stubbornly, Grissom refused to meet her eye, putting all of is effort into showing no outward signs her comment had affected him.

Inside he was collapsing.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening.

Shift had ended five minutes ago. Nick told everyone to meet in the break room. "There's something I want to tell you guys" he'd explained, his face stretched into a broad smile. A smile Grissom had seen before, pressed into Sara's.

They'd assembled in the break room, Greg, Warrick, and Catherine opting to take seats at the table. Brass hovered by the coffee pot, nursing a steaming mug. Grissom stood near the doorway, separate from the rest of the group. Nick and Sara sat together, on the couch.

And once again, Grissom couldn't tear his eyes away. The way Sara leaned into him, legs tucked comfortably under her. The way Nick draped an arm around her shoulders, fingers trailing lightly up and down her arm. The way they looked together; the way they looked at each other. All engraved into his memory. One more moment when it wasn't him. One more part of his heart that stopped beating.

He wasn't hearing what Nick was talking about. But he came crashing back to reality when he heard Nick say,

"…and I finally asked Sara to marry me."

Grissom panicked. This wasn't…

"And I said 'yes'." Her voice so happy it hurt.

…happening.

There was a moment, before Warrick grinned, patted Nick on the back, and offered his congratulations. Before Brass teared up when Sara asked timidly if he'd please walk her down the isle. Before Catherine gushed over the pair, asking to see the ring, and before Greg pulled Sara into an impromptu hug, genuinely happy for the two. Before all that, there was this moment when Nick and Sara looked at each other.

And Sara smiled.

Grissom's mouth went dry with the bitter taste of bile. That smile; her gap-toothed, full-on, 100-watt smile. As sincere and as real as the ring on her finger. The kind she used to share with him, only him. And images came flooding back:

Sara, fresh form San Francisco, laughing as he dropped dummies off a roof.

Sara, with blankets and coffee, sitting next to him to watch a decomposing pig.

Sara, on the sidewalk after the explosion cradling her hand.

Sara, pinned between him and a bloody sheet.

And that smile.

This wasn't happening.

How could she share that smile, his smile, with Nick?

The silence in the room clued Grissom in; six pairs of eyes were trained on him. After all, congratulations were in order, were they not?

He cleared his throat and spoke, the jealously, the bitterness, the venom, all clear and unmistakable in his voice: "The ring will tear through our latex gloves. I trust you'll remove it before coming to work."

And he turned and left, holing up in his office, coping the only way he knew how.

By ignoring.

And Catherine now stood in his office, dealing with it the only way she knew how.

By confronting.

He sighed heavily. "Catherine…"

"Forget it, Gil" she shook her head sadly, walking out of the room. "Just…forget it."

He heard her walk back down the hall to the break room; he heard them talking, laughing.

Nightmare. Nightmare.

This wasn't happening.

A/N: I'm partial to the first chapter more… but what do you guys think? Let me know.