Thanks to Nessa for the beta read. Response to the YTDAW improv challenge. First and last lines provided – 2000 words or less.

Oh, and I do not own CSI.

Thanks to all who have read and reviewed. I'll try not to keep Grissom in the depths of despair too long!

The ringing of the cell phone shattered the unnatural quiet. As Sara answered the call, Grissom continued to drive, silently welcoming the interruption. Silence between the two of them was an old friend but lately the stretch between words served only to highlight the odd direction their relationship had taken. They didn't ignore each other – they just didn't talk. Grissom knew that if they did talk, it would all be over because he was at the point of breaking – the last thing he wanted to do was ruin their friendship.

He actually chuckled at that and ignored the look of confusion coming from Sara's direction. The title of friends wasn't something that really applied to them anymore. Actually, the only type of relationship they had was a working one and that, at times, had been tenuous. You take away the job and there would be nothing left between them.

God, how could something that was so much more than … this just disappear?

He was sure he loved her and that she still … loved him? Cared for him? It was the whole 'not ever being together' that left him bewildered – or rather in a state of denial. More than once he just wanted to shout, 'what the fuck?' to the sky, to anyone who would listen … to Sara. He knew it was selfish and insane but he couldn't help but feel cheated – she was supposed to wait for him, right?

Her laughter, directed toward the person on the phone brought him back to reality. From her side of the conversation, it seemed as though Greg was trying again to throw her an engagement party. For the past couple of weeks Sara had declined the offer, joking about Greg's feminine side coming out in all the wrong places. Unfortunately, it seemed that after much persistence and shameless begging, Sara was caving in.

"Okay, okay," she relented. "One condition. No, my condition - not yours, Greg. Well, maybe they'll be a few conditions."

I am going to kill Greg. With my bare hands.

He didn't want to be invited and he definitely didn't want to go. She probably didn't want him there, anyway. Or did she? Would she be hurt if he respectfully declined? Would his absence make this whole situation even worse? His stomach was on fire over the thought of everyone quietly speculating the reason for his absence and why he would once again do this to Sara. Surely she would understand.

Grissom kept his eyes on the road, knowing that if he looked at her now, his heart would break even more. Her smile would match the light in her voice and – damn it – why wasn't that smile for him!

Deep down, he knew that he should be happy for her. And he was. He was happy that she was in love; that she worked less overtime; that she and Ecklie had even started getting along better. The only problem was the source of this change. His name was Jason – it should have been Gil.

Grissom grimaced at his petulance and wondered if he'd ever get to the point when he was going to put his hands on his hips and pout. This wasn't usual behavior for him, but the instruction booklet on how to get over the love of your life must have gotten lost in the mail along with the one on how to have a successful relationship. People do this everyday – why is this so hard? He rubbed just below his sternum; surely, he was developing an ulcer over this.

"Hey, Greg? Thanks. This, uh, this means a lot." He listened as she stumbled over her gratitude, realizing that even though she had earlier refused, the party was something that she wanted.

"Yeah, yeah – don't get all sappy. See ya," she said, chuckling and closing the phone.

She was happy. Happy. Hearing her thank Greg … she was touched that someone was doing this for her. That someone wanted to celebrate her decision to love someone for the rest of her life. This was a big deal for her. Damn. And it should be. She moved on and he had to as well – it was time. He will go to the party, kiss her cheek, shake Jason's hand and give them his blessing. And then he would go home and throw up. He could do this for her. For Sara. This is what she wanted and he loved her and this is what you do when you love someone. You put them first. You put their needs and wants before your own.

"So you finally caved?"

"Yeah," she answered, waving the phone in her hand, "Sometimes it's just easier to let Greg have his way."

"Don't let him hear you say that."

"Trust me, I won't."

And then the silence resumed.

He hated this. He hated that he was the one responsible to make it better. Lying wasn't something that came easy to him. Denying – yes. Hiding – definitely. But not lying. The only thing he could do right now was lie – perhaps maybe the biggest lie. That he was over her.

"So, um … what does one give as a gift for an engagement party?" You're doing this for her.

"I, uh, I don't know. I don't really want anything." He could tell that this was making her uncomfortable – hell, it was uncomfortable for him.

"That kind of makes it hard for the gift givers, don't you think?" His voice was a little too joyful and forced – he could tell and knew that she could, too. Maybe they could share this lie.

"Grissom…"

He restrained from wincing at her tone. It was a little too soft and a little too knowing. Why couldn't she just let him pretend? "What?"

"Thank you."

He glanced over and immediately regretted it. The look on her face gave away too much and he wished the gratitude and warmth it displayed was a little less obvious.

"For what?"

She turned her head toward the road with a soft smile. "Your gift."

Damn, this hurts.

THIS was the right thing to do. This was the RIGHT thing to do. This was THE right thing to do.

Doing the right thing SUCKED

Greg surprised Grissom, and everyone else apparently. The decorations were a little gaudy and excessive, but the subtle background music was tasteful and the spread was nice – very nice. In fact, he would say that Greg probably had this party catered. He didn't know exactly what he'd expected, but he did know that chips and dip and pizza rolls were the first things that came to mind.

Because of a space issue at Greg's apartment, the party was held at Nick's, which everyone found a little funny since Nick was the one that came down on Greg the most for throwing a girly party.

The streamers were overboard and it seemed as though Greg bought out Vegas' supply of wedding dove decorations. There were doves carrying wedding rings, kissing doves, doves in wedding dresses and tuxes and doves hanging from the ceiling.

Grissom looked over at Nick who was talking to Sara and Warrick. He was saying something about how he was going to have nightmares about doves mating in his home and that every single one better be gone when the party ended. Grissom wanted to cut in and ask if this wasn't already a nightmare – it must be, because he totally felt out of his body and every movement felt like it was in slow motion.

Blocking out the laughter surrounding him, Grissom picked up one of the tiny doves that formerly topped the cake. He was flipping it around when Catherine plopped down beside him, nudging him with her elbow.

"So, what do you think about all this?"

"Greg did a decent job."

"Yeah, he did alright. I'm not talking about that, though."

Of course not. That would mean you were minding your own business. "Catherine …" he warned.

"I'm talking about the engagement. Come on, what are your thoughts?"

"Seems a little sudden."

"Gil, not all courtships lasts for years. Besides, I don't think the wedding will be anytime soon. Warrick said that Sara mentioned that it may be a year before they get married – something about Jason being booked throughout the next six months on seminars and such. God, you think Greg bought enough paper doves or what?"

Grissom looked up just as Sara left Warrick and Nick to take her place by her fiancé, who was with his translator, chatting it up with Jim. He closed his eyes just as Jason's arm slid around her waist to rest low on her hip.

"White doves signify a peaceful solution to any disagreements which may be troubling you. They are released as a pair at a wedding to symbolize leaving the past and starting a new life together. The cooing of doves also promises reciprocal love."

"Yeah, but Greg here didn't get just two – he has a whole flock!"

He sighed, wishing that Catherine would leave him alone. "It's been said that a flock of doves predicts the return of an old friend from a distance."

"Not all distance is measured by miles."

"I know."

"So, am I the only one who wonders if his translator goes on dates with them? How weird would that be?" Catherine swiped a loose strand of hair away from her eyes and shoved his foot with her own. "Okay, you were supposed to laugh at that."

She was trying to lighten the moment; he knew that much, but her way of doing it left a little to be desired. "Nothing about this is funny. I'm trying my best to put on a brave face – can we please not talk about this?"

"Hey, no problem. You need to understand that this is happening, Gil. You have to make a decision on how you're going to deal with this. You can turn away from the comfort of friendship, but just realize that turning away from the comfort of love was what got you here."

His relief at her departure was short lived. The happy couple made their rounds, saying goodbye to their guests and thanking them for sharing the day with them. When they got to him, he did what he promised he'd do; he kissed Sara's cheek and shook Jason's hand, letting the translator convey his well wishes. What he really wanted to say was that if he hurt her, he'd kill him, because she has had enough pain for a lifetime – but how could he when he himself caused so much of it.

He didn't leave. In fact, he stayed to help clean up – much to the surprise of Nick and Greg. His motivation was all about clearing away the day and getting rid of every single one of the doves. He spent the next half hour making sure each dove found its way to a new nest at the bottom of the trash can.

The room began to resemble Nick's living room once again and Grissom felt a misplaced sense of accomplishment. Small victories like this eased the pain marginally which was better than not at all. Finally feeling as though his stomach could handle some food, he made his way over to the leftover spread to grab a bite before leaving.

The funny thing about denial is the way it can strip you down to nothing when it's taken away and no matter how you try to sweep things under the rug … or how you toss reminders in the trash can. All he wanted was something to drink and what he got was a dose of reality.

Grissom hung his head and sighed as a lone dove floated in the punch bowl.

TBC ...