Title: The Way It Ends
Author: amazonqueenkate
Pairing: Nick Stokes/Bobby Dawson
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Theme: #26 if only I could make you mine
Warnings: pissy!Hodges; white and green decor; sea-sickness; alcohol; heterosexuality
Disclaimer: Definitely not mine. In case you didn't guess.
Author's Notes: Another sad one. I'm sorry. Forgive me? Also, this is NOT character death. The title sounds like it, but it is NOT. Just so you know.

"You're late," Hodges informed him dryly as he arrived at the dance hall, sopping wet and shaking his umbrella out in the lobby. Even with the umbrella, the unexpected desert downpour had soaked his suit coat and hair. The curls were plastered to his forehead as Jacqui nearly tore his coat off him and started shaking it vigorously. "You're lucky we waited for you."

"Not everybody could have the night off," he replied tensely as Jacqui splattered the others – Hodges, Archie, Wendy, Henry, Super Dave, and Ronnie – with water droplets from his sodden jacket. "I came soon as I – "

Jacqui cut him off, looping an arm in his. "We know," she nodded, and for a moment, her expression was soft. "C'mon. We found our table and got your place card."

"And then, Ronnie switched your stickers," Wendy piped. "He decided he wanted the prime rib, after all."

"Wendy!"

"What? It's true!"

He mustered a little half-smile and allowed himself to be soldiered into the hall proper, Jacqui's ridiculous black-sequined not-a-dress-but-also-not-pants brushing against him and his damp slacks. It was an attractive hall, he realized as his heart crawled into his stomach. Everything was draped in white – white flowers, white tablecloths, white cake on a white doily on a white table in front of a white trellis – and accented with a rich, deep green. The DJ played a variety of middle-aged pop songs he felt he should know but didn't, and he listened half-heartedly to the tunes and Jacqui's associated chattering as he was lead to their table, way in the back. They all settled into their appropriate seats – he'd been arbitrarily plopped between Jacqui and Hodges, but from the way Jacqui was still gripping his arm, maybe it wasn't that arbitrary, after all – and smiled as a waiter came around with hors d'oeuvres and an offering of wine.

Once the waiter flitted away, Hodges sent him a very serious look and cut into Archie and Dave's heated argument of Star Trek versus Star Wars. "You didn't have to come."

He forced a smile and gripped his wine glass as though it just might try to run away from him. "I wanted to. I should be here."

"Why twist the knife?"

Jacqui narrowed her eyes. "David, I swear to you – "

"It's a valid question," Hodges defended, and ignored her nonplussed look. "Are you a masochist? Like rubbing salt in the wound? Because, really, if you think we're going to turn this into a pity party – "

"David!"

" – then you're sorely mistaken." Hodges grabbed his own glass and took a swig. "Don't think you're the only lonely bastard in Vegas."

The heart that had crawled into his stomach settled there, a stone, as he stared into his glass and the golden-white wine. He set it down before he either broke it or, worse, threw up, sea-sick from the ripples. "I know," he admitted, quietly and mostly to himself. "I just…needed to be here."

"We know," Jacqui assured him, and patted him on the knee while sending Hodges a look that very clearly communicated her deep-rooted loathing for him at that very moment. "David's just an asshole."

Hodges sighed and set down his glass. "Jacqui, he's miserable here or elsewhere," he argued, and the rest of the conversation at the table died as he leaned forward, his face both very annoyed and very earnest. "We've been picking up the pieces ever since – "

"So let's grind the pieces into the ground first?" She threw up her hands. "You know, David, this is just like you. Be a human being for five miserable minutes and don't ruin this with your fucking – "

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the wedding party!"

The DJ's announcement cut off whatever barb Jacqui had chosen to end her conversation piece with, and she and Hodges kept glaring at one another while the rest of the reception-goers did as instructed. He watched his glass, listening to the laundry-list of the usual suspects with half an ear as he watched the ripples in his wine.

"David's right," he said softly, and the clapping on either of his sides subsided as Jacqui and Hodges turned to stare at him. "I just don't know where else to be, ya know? Don't know what I'd do, if I weren't here, and I…" He pursed his lips and swallowed the bile that rose in the back of his throat. "I need this."

Suddenly, Jacqui's arms were around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, and he sighed and leaned into her, desperate for the contact. He breathed her in, slack in her arms, and tried not to think. He tried just to breathe, to fight what he felt deep in his throat, and try to forget.

Somewhere, in his blurry vision, he could see the vision of Nick Stokes bending deeply and kissing his new wife.

"You deserve better, Bobby," Jacqui breathed into his ear, landing a kiss in his still-wet hair and hugging him tight enough to cut off his breath.

He nodded, closing his eyes, and took a moment to wish that he actually believed that.