Moving On

"Our revels are now ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and..."

Catherine listened to Gil speak. He was reciting Shakespeare, something she found comforting given the situation they were all facing. She looked out over the crest of the mountains, down towards the Colorado River, and she sighed before returning her gaze to Gil.

Finding out he had been in a relationship with Sara had been a shock to her system. She never would have guessed that he would go that far with the younger woman---especially after the commentary Catherine received from him about her own private life. She had been surprised and angry in the first few minutes she knew; but those feelings had to be pushed aside so they could save Sara.

She blamed herself for not finding Sara in time. She tried to work past her frustration and anger with Gil, and she continuously wondered if her troubles had led to Sara's death---and, if she had been able to compartmentalise better, would Sara still be alive? She was constantly plagued by thoughts like those, with no rational answers to make herself feel any better.

She studied her oldest and dearest friend and wondered how he was holding up. He was wearing sunglasses---not only to hide from the sun on the hiking trail near Lake Mead, but to hide his tears as well---so she found it hard to determine how upset he still was.

After a few seconds, she felt a hand on her elbow. She turned her head and saw Nick at her side. He offered her a sad smile, obviously affected by the loss of the younger woman; Catherine reached out and touched his hand, hoping to offer him some sort of comfort.


"Are melted into air, into thin air;
And like the baseless fabric of this vision..."


As she squeezed his hand, Nick felt the need to cry fade away. He smiled and inched closed to Catherine. He was always grateful for her presence in his life: when he was in trouble, she bargained with Ecklie so she could save him from being arrested; when he was rescued at the nursery, she held his hand the entire drive to the hospital and even in the hospital, she didn't leave his side until his parents insisted that she let them take over; and when one of his colleagues was killed, she offered him some of her strength so they could get through the scattering ceremony together.

It didn't feel like Sara was really gone. He still expected to see her at work the next day. He wanted to see her, and to tease her about sleeping with the boss---which had been a complete shock to his system.

He had known Sara worshipped Grissom, but he never thought anything would come from her attraction. He was hurt that she didn't tell anyone. He understood why they kept it to themselves, but he had always seen the graveshift team as a family---an awkward, intelligent family.

Families shouldn't keep secrets.

He turned his head and saw Warrick, standing with his wife. He was glad Tina came to the service---especially since she and Warrick weren't on the best of terms. After a slight tilt of his head, he put his hand to his chest. Warrick mirrored the gesture solemnly.


"The cloud-cappd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself..."


After he returned his hand to the inside of his pants pocket, Warrick surveyed the small group of people. There were people there that he didn't know---friends that Grissom had probably been introduced to by Sara---and many people from the lab. It was like they were an oddly formed family, bonded together by their love of science and justice.

He always saw Grissom and Catherine as the parents of the family---not Ecklie or the other lab management. Neither of them looked happy, which he suspected, but he would have wagered that they were unhappy for different reasons.

Catherine was a strong woman, but he never realised how strong she really was until they received the news that Grissom loved Sara and that Sara was the Miniature Killer's last victim. She struggled to pull herself together and save the member of their team, while she was coping with the news that Grissom didn't return her feelings.

He knew she had feelings for the older man. As much as they flirted and danced around chemistry that ultimately was tucked away when she learned he was married, he knew that she had real feelings for Grissom. They had a friendship of many years and she was the only person that he shared (almost) everything with. His victories and his losses were hers, and even though this particular loss was a woman that he chose over Catherine, she was still there to support him; she was still there despite the pain written all over her face.

He had arrived late---Tina hadn't worn shoes for hiking, citing that she wore flat, ugly shoes at work and she didn't want to wear them with a nice dress, so they walked slowly to the site---so he hadn't had time to offer the strawberry blonde his quiet support. But, he intended to as soon as the ceremony was concluded.

He also intended to make sure Catherine stayed safe as long as they worked together. Their team wouldn't survive another loss. He was glad to see Nick standing with her; he trusted Nick to support her as she coped with Grissom's loss.


"Yea all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And like this insubstantial pageant faded..."


Jim heard Grissom's voice waver and he saw Catherine's shoulders tighten. Nick put his hand around her back and she leaned into him. He stepped forward, going from his row into the next so he could stand at Catherine's other side.

No one else in his life had been such good friends to him as they had, and they were both in pain---for different reasons, but they were both in pain, nevertheless. And all he wanted to do was support his friends and help them heal; however, he wasn't exactly sure how to do that.

When she saw him at her other side, she gave him a sad smile and rested her head against his shoulder for a moment, before reaching out and taking his hand in hers.

He squeezed her hand and turned his focus to the ceremony. A flash of blue and green hair caught his eyes; he saw Greg standing with his girlfriend, a rocker who seemed almost out of place in her demure, navy dress. Greg seemed as lost as everyone else did. Jim knew that he and Sara had been close; he knew that the next few days would be as difficult for him as they would be for everyone else on the graveshift team.


"Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded in a sleep."


If Nadia hadn't come with him, Greg didn't think he would have made it to the ceremony. It wasn't because there would be a crowd (because there wasn't one); instead, it was because attending the ceremony meant that Sara was really dead.

She had been one of his closest friends at work. She had supported him wholeheartedly as he made the switch from lab technician to criminalist and it was her encouragement that inspired him to continue working to change careers.

He had had a crush on her and while it hurt for a little while to know her feelings weren't returned, he was glad at least that she had good taste in choosing a partner. He could respect her choice because Grissom was a good man---she couldn't have done any better, and she deserved the best.

He looked out into the sky, beyond Grissom who was reciting Shakespeare---"The Tempest," he believed---and admired the way the sun was setting. It was a night Sara into which would appreciate being freed; its beauty suited hers and Greg could think of a no more perfect time to honour her life.

&&&&

Gil set his tumbler down on the coffee table and leaned back on the sofa. He let out a loud sigh and closed his eyes, trying to forget the image of Sara's ashes being blown by the wind around Lake Mead. Bruno, the dog he and Sara had adopted together, lifted his head as he heard the melting ice clink against the glass but he lowered it again when Gil's movements ended with that simple adjustment. A heavy silence fell down upon the living room, punctuated only by Gil's laboured breathing.

Even the law could not comfort him. A system he had treasured most of his life could not give him the piece of mind he desired and for the first time, he understood how victims and the families of victims felt. Catching the criminal wasn't enough; he wanted something purer (painful torture and/or death) or something completely impossible (Sara walking through the door as if nothing had happened), and knowing that he couldn't have either made his chest ache even more.

When his cellular phone vibrated against the table's smooth, mahogany surface, he chose to ignore it. He was on leave from work, citing his grief as his reason for not attending to his regular schedule, and he hoped his friends, who were also at the service earlier that day, would understand that he did not feel up to speaking to anyone.

Apparently they didn't; his land line started to ring a few seconds after his cellular phone stopped trembling.

He groaned and turned his face into the leather upholstery of his sofa, as if to hide from the outside world that rudely intruded upon his privacy.

"Hello," his answering machine announced into the quiet room, his voice sounding amused and lighthearted in the recording, "you've reached Grissom Bugs 'n' Slugs. Please leave your name and number at the tone and I will get back to you as soon as possible."

"Gil, it's Catherine," his caller said into the room, "I know you're probably hiding from everyone and everything right now. It's perfectly understandable. I just... I wanted to call to tell you that... to tell you that... I'm here. If you need anything---anything at all, Gil---you can call me. I won't promise you a home-cooked meal, but I can bring you food from somewhere... or watch your house if you want to get out of town for a couple of days. Take your time grieving and... and take care of yourself. Okay. Bye."

Wearily, Gil rubbed his eyes and slowly pushed himself into a sitting position as Catherine's voice faded away. He reached for the bottle of bourbon and put a few more fingers' worth of the whiskey into his glass. He sipped, grimacing as the strong drink burned his throat, and then he gulped the rest of it down; it didn't burn as much and instead left him with a warmth that temporarily left his chest feeling less sad and less heavy than it did before.

Bruno, stocky and sound, got up and walked towards Gil, sniffling and snuffling curiously as he travelled closer. He pressed his nose---usually damp but because he was snoozing, dry---into Gil's wrist and dragged it up to his shoulder before sniffing Gil's face.

"Hey, buddy," he mumbled, reaching out and petting his solid body with his slightly-clumsy hand. Bruno whined and Gil frowned. "I know, Bruno... I miss her, too," he whispered before tilting his head and kissing between his canine companion's eyes, as Sara did so many times.

The phone rang again, and Gil ignored it, again. After his voice told the caller to leave a message, he heard Jackson---the husband of Tricia, one of Sara's closest friends---speaking to him.

"Hi, Gil, it's Jackson McNamara. I wanted to call and tell you that Tricia and I thought the service was very fitting to honour Sara. If you need anything---even someone to look after Bruno for a couple of days while you regroup, let us know. Tricia's planning on cooking a couple of casseroles for you, but if you'd like to join us for dinner some night this week, give us a ring. Talk to you later, Gil."

The answering machine clicked off and Gil closed his eyes, thinking about the last time he and Sara, Jackson and Tricia got together for a nice meal. The McNamara kids had been there as well, racing around and playing with their toys. At the time, Gil had thought that they were misbehaving, unable to sit down and behave like grownups; after Sara's death, he couldn't help but think that a family as alive and rambunctious as that would have been nice to have with his girlfriend.

He refilled his drink and stood up, wandering aimlessly and cataloging the marks Sara left upon his life. Her photos, mostly photos of them together, lined shelves and the mantle. She looked so vibrant and he let himself get transported back to those moments when the pictures were taken; he could smell the fresh air around them, the scent of the flowers she was holding, the perfume in her hair, as if she was next to him.

Gil choked and coughed, freeing himself from the memory. He turned the frames down, hiding the happy images, and then he wiped his tears away.

From the shelves, he walked into the kitchen. He could see her impression upon that room as well. She had a grocery list attached to the refrigerator; her vegetarian alternatives were inside the appliance. Her favourite coffee mug---pale blue with a navy design based upon the caffeine molecule---was still in the sink, soaking after she finished her evening coffee before they went into work together.

He went to the sink and cleaned her mug, with warm water, dish soap, and a plastic scrubber. He lost himself in the routine, the rhythm his hand made against the outside and inside of the cup. Then, he rinsed it off and placed it very carefully upon the drying rack, before he dried his hands and went back to his place on his living room sofa to drink and grieve.

&&&&

Catherine sighed and turned her gaze away from Sara's locker, emptied by Gil a few days before the ashes-scattering service. She looked back inside her own locker to check that her make-up hadn't smudged and that her clothes were still in place; after looking at her reflection in her mirror, she grabbed her blazer and closed her locker door.

"Catherine?"

She turned and saw Conrad Ecklie standing in the doorway of the small room. She smiled a little and brushed her hand through her hair. "Hi, Ecklie," she said in reply. "What can I do for you?"

"Grissom's going to be off for two weeks," he said.

She nodded. "I can imagine he'd need some time away," she said quietly, understanding some of what Gil was experiencing.

Conrad nodded, too. "In his absence, I'd like you to take over the night shift," he told her. "You can take his office if---"

"I'll keep mine," she interrupted. "He'll be back in a couple weeks."

"Alright. Well, assignments are waiting at reception, then." He said brightly. "And, I'll draft the memo."

"It's what you do best," Catherine muttered under her breath, after Conrad left the room. She tucked her hair behind her ears and the walked out of the locker room to go find the remaining members of their team.

She had expected that she would take over the supervision of the grave shift team. She wasn't the only one who was qualified, but she had seniority---and Ecklie's approval---so she knew she was a prime candidate. She didn't want to use Gil's office, mostly because she didn't want to intrude on his privacy; even though he wasn't physically there, so much of his private life was, and she didn't think he'd want her privy to his secrets. Afterall, he hadn't even told her that he and Sara were together romantically. She doubted that he would want to tell her anything with lesser magnitude.

"Hey, Cath," Greg said as he almost walked into her, startling her from her thoughts, "Where're you headed?"

"To reception to get our assignments," she replied. Greg nodded and made a left turn when she made a left turn, staying at her side. "You heading this way, too?"

"Thought you might like some company," he told her with an easy shrug.

"Greg... what's going on?"

He stopped when she stopped, in front of Judy. The shorter woman handed Catherine the assignments for her shift, and then she walked away---heading towards one of the administrative areas, with a package in her arms. Catherine looked into Greg's eyes, trying to figure out what he was up to, but he didn't flinch.

"Greg?"

"Cath?"

She smiled. "You just... wanted to keep me company while I walk down the hall?" she asked.

He grinned. The expression didn't quite reach his eyes, but it was happier than it had been a few days ago, so Catherine figured he was dealing with Sara's death rather well. "Yeah, and make sure you give me the best assignment out of the batch," he admitted.

She chuckled. "Well... that I can believe," she told him.

Together, they turned and walked down the hall to the break room, where Greg told her Nick and Warrick were waiting, reading newspapers and drinking coffee. They both looked up when Greg and Catherine came through the door; she thought Nick and Warrick and Greg shared some sort of silent conversation, but she couldn't decide if they had or not, so she didn't comment. Instead, she held up the pieces of paper and smiled.

"We've got three cases," Catherine said as she inspected the details of each one. "Warrick, there's a B-and-E here for you... Nick, why don't you and Greg take the homicide on the Strip... and I'll take---"

Greg plucked the papers out of Catherine's hands. "You've got bones?" he asked, sounding more enthusiastic than he should. "Just bones? Oh, c'mon, Mom... can I go with you?"

Nick sipped his coffee and then nodded. "I can handle the homicide on my own, and it'd be good work for Greg, learning how to make identification off of skeletal remains," he explained.

"Plus, I remember Teri Miller, and she was so fine---"

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Greg, we might not need her---"

"Still! Bones!" he interrupted, still sounding very excited.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Alright... if that's what's gonna get your rocks off," she conceded. She looked at all three men, one after the other, and then said, "Ecklie put me in charge until Grissom's back. I don't mind a little friendly disagreement over cases... but, if this keeps up... I might have to knock your heads together."

Warrick smirked. "Yes, ma'am," he said as he walked over and took his case report from Greg. Catherine smiled and shook her head slightly. He looked down at the information and then back at her. "If I finish early, I'll come help you out, Boss."

"I knew you missed working under me," Catherine teased.

Nick snorted and crossed the room to get his case report from Greg. "Oh, we both did, ma'am," he said, teasing Catherine with a wink and a grin.

Catherine turned to Greg. "If you have any comments or gestures to get out of your system," she said, "I suggest you so now."

"God, working for you is gonna be a blast!" Greg exclaimed, rubbing his hands together.

Catherine chuckled softly and then she stepped back a bit to look at the three men. "Guys... the next few days are gonna be rough. Don't think you have to overdo it with humour or... well, we're all coping as best as we can. And," she added, "if you need help, come talk to me, okay. Not just for departmental resources, either."

"Yes, Mom," Nick said, reaching out to touch her shoulder as he walked past.

"Nicky---"

He turned and smiled a bit. "I know. I appreciate your help, Cath, really."

"We all do," Warrick said before he followed Nick out of the room.

"Can I call you Mom, too?" Greg asked quietly.

Catherine felt a happier smile tugging at her lips. "Sure, Greg," she conceded, before nudging him towards the room's door.

&&&&

Catherine heard a loud crash coming from Gil's office and she stifled a groan of frustration. After a week of the shift's criminalists working steadily despite having two less scientists on their roster, Gil had returned, and every day since then had been disastrous in one way or another.

She had relinquished her supervisor powers when he clocked into work a few days ago, but she wished she hadn't had to do so because someone needed to rein him in without fearing for his or her job. He was working alone, without breaks; he was curt and, at times, downright rude; he made unreasonable demands of his coworkers and the lab technicians; and he yelled, a lot.

He should not have returned a week early, Catherine thought silently.

"Hey, Cath," Warrick said quietly as he ducked into her office and closed the door.

She smiled a little. "Trying to avoid Hurricane Grissom?" she inquired as she took her glasses off and set them down on her desk. "Or did you start it?"

Warrick put his hands up, as if in self-defence. "Hey, now, I didn't do anything to Grissom. I was walking from Trace to DNA, and I heard the noise and feared for my personal safety," he said, finishing his explanation with a little joke. His smile faltered. "And... we haven't had much time to talk about how you're handling everything, so I thought... I'd visit."

She sighed and offered him one of the chairs on the other side of her desk as she got up and sat in the other one. Once he was seated, she looked at him and said, "This is hard."

"Yeah."

"I... I'm sorry," she mumbled, shaking her head. "I shouldn't be talking about this with you."

"Who're you gonna talk to?" he asked, leaning forward and taking her hands in his. "Grissom? He's not gonna be the most captive audience tonight."

Catherine snorted quietly. "Understatement," she mumbled, sliding her hands away and into her lap. She lifted her gaze to his and asked, "How are you handling everything, Warrick?"

"I miss her," he admitted. "It's... hard. I know we accepted the risks of the job when we signed up for the job, but it's hard. We're like a weird family and we lost a sister or a daughter... or a..."

"Wife."

He sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Did you know about those two?"

She shook her head. "He and I aren't really close anymore," she said, voicing the realisation she had come to a few days ago. "I thought we'd always be good friends, but this year proved that."

"Yeah."

"He didn't trust me," she mumbled, "and I know I shouldn't be thinking about our friendship during a time like this... but I can't help it." She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. "There are so many thoughts going on in my head right now. I'm not safe to talk to, Warrick. I don't want to offend you or hurt your feelings or---"

"Catherine."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Yeah?"

"How long have we been close?"

She smiled sadly. "Almost a decade," she answered. She chuckled weakly. "God, that sounds... it doesn't feel like it."

"You can't hurt my feelings," he assured her. "You were my rock in the aftermath, Cath. You held us together... Grissom certainly couldn't. Nick and I both depended on you---and I'm pretty sure Greg did, too. And now, you need some help. I'm here."

Catherine frowned. "I think not finding her was my fault, Warrick," she whispered. "I can't stop thinking that it was my fault."

He reached out and pulled her chair closer to his, so their foreheads were almost touching. "No way," he said quietly. "It wasn't your fault."

"I couldn't..." she trailed off and tried to keep her lower lip from trembling. "I couldn't stop being angry at Gil for not telling me about them... for lecturing me on compromising the lab when he was doing it the whole time... for... for throwing away our friendship! I couldn't focus on the evidence---on just the evidence. I screwed up and she paid for it," she explained as her eyes filled with tears.

Warrick cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. "It's not your fault," he said in a firm, quiet voice. "It's the killer's fault, Catherine. Not yours. Grissom was too emotional, too desperate, and you stepped up and led us through the case. You did the best you could---"

"She's dead!"

"Yeah, but it's not because of you," Warrick said quietly. "No one here blames you... and when you stop and think about it, you'll realise that, too."

"Gil had me so... so thrown for a loop and so... so angry," she mumbled, shaking her head slightly. "I couldn't focus on the evidence and---"

"He lied to all of us, Catherine," Warrick interrupted. "And even Nick was a little upset he didn't trust us with the truth. But, you have a right to be mad at him. And when he starts to heal, I hope you two have a chance to really talk about everything."

Catherine closed her eyes and leaned towards Warrick; their foreheads touched and pressed together. "I don't think I want to talk to him, sometimes," she admitted. "Sometimes, I just think I should cut my losses and walk away."

"From Vegas? Because Nick and I will hunt you down," he whispered.

She sniffled and chuckled. "No... I wouldn't want to incur your wrath," she teased, despite her foul mood. Her smile faded as she spoke again, "I don't know how to help him. I used to. And now... he's a complete stranger to me, Warrick. He sounds like my old friend and he looks like my old friend, but he only acts like my old friend some of the time and I know he needs help---god, the whole lab knows he needs help---but I don't know what to do. And I don't want to hurt him more."

"He knows it's not your fault," her friend said in a quiet voice. "And all you can do is let him know you're there for him... that you've got his back. Even if he doesn't want you back there, you just gotta let him know you're not gonna leave him alone."

"I tried to," she mumbled.

Warrick nodded. "Then, that's all you can do."

"I feel so... so... so confused and---" she stopped short as her eyes filled with more tears. They spilled down her cheeks; she leaned away from Warrick, sniffled as she tried to wipe them away. "I'm sorry, Warrick."

"Don't be," he murmured. "We've got to stick together."

She looked into his eyes. "Is that why you, Nicky, and Greg have been at my side every shift?"

He smiled. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not an idiot," she replied. "I haven't investigated a case alone since we went back to work. Are you waiting for me to fall apart?"

He shook his head. "No," he said quietly, the humour fading from his eyes. "We're family, Catherine. We don't want to lose anyone else."

Catherine's lower lip began to tremble again; before she knew it, she was crying softly at the memories and pains of the past few weeks. Warrick murmured quietly, gruffly, and gathered her into his arms for a comforting embrace as she released her emotions the only way she could.

As her sniffles faded, she looked up from his shoulder and whispered, "Thanks."

He looked down into her eyes; she saw that tears has moistened his cheeks, as well. He kissed her forehead and tucked her back into his body without saying another word.

&&&&

They had finally gotten their emotions under control when Gil opened her office door and interrupted their private moment. He glared at Catherine before glaring at Warrick, and all Catherine could think about were the silent accusations he was already forming in his mind.

"Warrick," Catherine whispered, "I think... well..."

"Yeah," he agreed, even though she hadn't finished what she was saying. "I know. I'll see you tomorrow."

They extricated themselves from their embrace and Catherine walked around to the other side of her desk after Warrick left the small room, without giving Gil so much as a nod. Their supervisor shut the door, and then he turned his attention back to the strawberry blonde.

"Following my lead?" he inquired. "Fishing off the company pier?"

Catherine snapped her gaze to his. "Go to hell," she hissed. "You can yell at the lab techs, you can smash your office to pieces, but don't you dare comment on private moments I have with my friends that you interrupt! You don't know what you saw and you have no right to talk about it!"

He tilted his head and for a second, his glare faltered. "Did you finish prepping for the prelim on---"

"Yeah," she cut in. "I finished it." She picked up a binder and set it on the desk. "It's all here."

"Good. They set a date for the hearing. Tomorrow, one o'clock."

Catherine nodded and picked up a pen, so she could jot the time down in her dayplanner. "Got it," she said as she finished writing the information down. "Anything else?"

"No."

"How are you holding up?" she asked quietly.

"Catherine... I don't want to talk about it," he replied.

She frowned. "Yeah, well, I think you should. Not with me, since you've made it pretty clear where we stand, but with someone you trust or respect or both. Everyone's scared to work with you."

"Is that why Warrick came in? To complain to you about my behavior?"

She shook her head. "No, he came to see how I was doing," she replied honestly.

"You didn't look too upset," he pointed out in a wry tone of voice.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Gil. Look, just... just go see a shrink or something."

"I'm fine," he said, bristling a little.

"Yeah, sure... okay. You lose the love of your life and you only take a week off?"

"You didn't---"

"Firstly, Eddie wasn't the love of my life. Secondly, I blew up the lab," she interrupted. "Take more time, Gil. You're going to regret it if you don't."

He sighed. "I don't need you meddling in my life," he muttered.

"Fine."

"I don't," he protested.

"Fine," she repeated. "But, then, I want you to stay out of mine."

"I'm the supervisor, Catherine," he shot back. "If you're having an affair with Warrick, don't you think I should know about it so I don't let you two work together anymore? Your relationship could destroy a case's cred---"

Catherine put her hands up to cut him off. She wanted to jump across the desk and physically knock some sense into him; at the same time, she wanted to cry. She didn't like the way grief affected people---differently in every case---because she suspected it would drive everyone insane before it passed over them.

"I'm not having an affair with Warrick," she said as calmly as she could. "I was upset and he was comforting me and if you don't believe me, you can go to hell. I am done letting you influence my behavior, Gil. I've learned, over the past couple of months, that you're in no position to criticise my actions."

"In no position?! Catherine---"

Nick knocked once and then opened the door. "Cath? Everything okay in here?"

She gave him a weak smile. "Yeah, Nicky, I'm just getting ready to clock out."

He nodded. "Proper thing," he responded. "I'm heading out. How about I walk you to your car?"

Gil cleared his throat. "We're not finished, Catherine."

She squared her jaw and glared at him. "We are," she insisted, before walking past him and leaving her office.

Nick put his hand on the middle of her back as they walked towards the locker room to grab their personal possessions. She winced when she heard a loud crash; she couldn't guess what he had knocked to the floor, but she knew it was probably in her office.

"Sorry," Nick said quietly.

She smiled at him. "Not your fault. You rescued me from a yelling match I wanted no part of," she murmured. "Did Warrick---"

"Something like that," he interrupted.

She laughed softly and rolled her eyes. "You boys are gonna make me crazy," she said softly.

"Nah," Nick replied, smiling.

She patted his chest with her hand before walking into the locker room, before they separated. "I'm lucky to have you guys in my life," she admitted, smiling back at him.

&&&&

Gil lifted his head off of the sofa's arm when he heard the knocking on his front door. He wanted to ignore it, but Bruno continued bouncing from him to the door, wagging his tail and barking excitedly. He was pretty sure the dog wouldn't let him stay on the sofa, so he did the only thing he could: he got up and answered the door.

He was surprised to see Catherine standing there, holding a couple of large paper bags from a restaurant off of the Strip. He hadn't really seen her since he fought with her in his office. The next shift, he avoided her and the next day after that, he called in sick and didn't go to work. He didn't want to continue their conversation and he didn't want to start a new conversation with her; he didn't want to discuss his feelings with anyone, particularly Catherine.

"Hi," she said quietly. "I brought you something to eat," she said as she stepped past him, not waiting for his invitation or rejection. "I'm guessing you haven't really been taking care of yourself so..."

He turned when she trailed off and saw her staring at Bruno. He cleared his throat. "That's Bruno," he explained. "Our dog."

"He's beautiful," she murmured as she set the bags on a table in the foyer and kneeled down so the dog could inspect her. Bruno wagged his tail as he sniffed her face and hands. He licked her face once, making his decision on her presence in the townhouse, and then he bounded over to Gil's side. She rose to her feet gracefully, confidently, and then took the bags into his kitchen.

"Catherine, what are you---"

She cut him off as she took foil and plastic containers out of one of the bags. "I'm putting some of this on a plate for you," she interrupted. "The rest can go in your fridge. It'll keep for a few days."

"I'm not a child," he muttered. "I can---"

"Then, stop acting like one, Gil," she said calmly. "I'm not going to sit back or tread on eggshells while you destroy your life and career. You can yell at me all you want, but you are going to eat something."

"Catherine."

She glared at him when he said her name. It was the same glare she had fixed upon him in her office. It infuriated him; it made his chest tighten. He wanted to yell and throw things at her---and at the same time, he wanted to thank her for taking care of him. He hated feeling so conflicted, so confused.

"Sit down at the counter," she said, motioning towards the stools on the other side of the half-wall. "I'll get you this---and judging by the nearly empty bottle of sour mash on your coffee table---some water, too."

"Bourbon," he corrected her, "and I don't need---"

"And while you're eating," she continued, seemingly uninterested in what he was trying to say, "I am going to turn your bed down, because I'm guessing you haven't slept in it in a long time, and I'm also going to get a shower started for you. And if you give me any more grief, Gilbert Grissom, so help me, I will kick your ass."

"Oh."

She smiled a bit. "Sit down and eat," she said as she put the plate down.

He obeyed her, even though he only wanted to kick her out of his townhouse, and as he picked up his chopsticks to eat the chinese food he was given, she poured him a glass of water and set it down next to his plate. She left him alone after stocking the fridge, and as he ate, he heard her moving around the rest of his home. Bruno seemed to be taken with her; he followed her around and the sound of his tags jingling joined the sounds she was making.

After he was finished eating, he put his dishes in the sink and looked into the fridge to see what else she had brought for him. He saw several containers of rice and noodle dishes, some vegetable-based and others with meat included. He sighed and closed the door and then he wandered down the hall to his bedroom and bathroom.

Gil could hear the shower running and Catherine milling around in the bathroom as he approached the set of rooms. He walked into his bedroom and started unbuttoning his wrinkled shirt. He stopped suddenly, though, when he saw that Catherine had changed his sheets.

His pulse quickened and he felt his jaws clench in anger. He couldn't believe that she had changed the sheets of his bed. In his mind, she had no right to do that. Sara had slept in those sheets with him and her scent was still (barely) on her pillow. He hadn't wanted to lose her lingering presence and Catherine had erased her from his bed without any consideration or concern.

"Your shower's all warmed up and ready to go," she said, announcing her presence in the room.

When he didn't respond, she reached out and touched his shoulder. "Gil? You need to take your shirt off and go into the bathroom---"

"You changed the sheets."

She walked around and smiled a little. "Yeah... Gil, you need someone to take care of you right now," she told him. "You haven't done laundry or any other household chores in weeks, and I want to help."

"You changed the sheets."

Catherine frowned. "Gil... what's wrong? You'll feel better when you get in a clean bed after a long, hot shower."

"She was on those sheets!" he exclaimed. "You had no right to get rid of her like that!"

Her face fell. "Oh. Gil, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"You just barge in here and erase her from my life!" he yelled, exploding and releasing his emotions. "It's not right! You shouldn't have done that without asking me! You're always pushing, Catherine---and I'm sorry I can't heal as quickly as you'd like me to, but---"

"Gil, it's not about that," she said quietly, stepping towards him. "I didn't think changing the sheets would be a bad thing. I just wanted to make you feel better."

"Well, if you wanted to make me feel better, you should have just stayed away!"

Catherine sighed. "Gil---"

"Stop saying my name!" he hollered.

She cringed, temporarily dazed by his explosion of emotion. Then, she reached out and touched his arm. Before Gil knew what he was doing, he had lashed out and slapped her with the back of his hand.

Catherine jumped back, her cheek flushing a bright red where his hand had assaulted it. Her eyes were wide and surprised but after a few deep breaths, she seemed to calm down.

She cleared her throat and said, "Your shower's running. I'm sorry about the sheets... and... I'm gonna let myself out. See you later, Gil."

A few seconds later, Gil was alone in his bedroom and in his townhouse. He wasn't sure if he felt better or worse after Catherine's visit.

&&&&

Catherine frowned into her mirror as she dabbed concealer over her cheekbone. It had been a long time since she had had to hide bruises on her face, and she had hoped she would never have to again; however, after Gil struck her, the blueish tinge on her face appeared and she knew she couldn't go into work without hiding it.

He had scared her. It had been a while since a man she knew and trusted could scare her.

He hadn't been in his right mind---and that was what was so frightening. His reactions had been too emotional and she could remember how worked up he was becoming. By the time he backhanded her, Catherine was sure he was operating on adrenaline and grief, and not much else.

"Hey, Boss."

Catherine gasped and startled as she heard Warrick's voice. She turned and peeked at him, giving him a smile. "You scared me!" she accused, still smiling. "Don't sneak up on a girl when she's putting her face on, Warrick."

"Yeah, I should've remembered that," he said as he came into the room and sat down on the bench. "Ecklie stopped by a few minutes ago. He opened up Sara's spot on the team, and---"

She had been focused on her reflection as she dabbed foundation and coverup onto her cheek. When he abruptly stopped talking, she turned her head slightly and said, "And what? Did he find someone already?"

"Cath..."

"What?" she asked quietly as she sealed the makeup with powder from a compact.

"What happened?"

She closed the compact and turned fully to look at him. She smiled and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb."

Catherine's face fell. The team was so fragile; she knew she couldn't tell Warrick that Gil had hit her, especially when she believed he hadn't meant to. If Warrick learned the truth, she suspected that he would say something to Gil---and after her visit with the grieving man, she knew he would not take well to being cornered and questioned.

"I... I was opening a closet door. Lindsey was running around, I wasn't paying attention," she lied, "and it got stuck on a rug. I pulled and pulled... and it came loose and opened all at once. I didn't get out of the way in time."

Warrick frowned. "Right," he grunted.

"Warrick..."

"Don't protect the guy, Cath. It's not worth---"

He stopped short again and Catherine saw the realisation in his eyes. He stood, swore, and shook his head. She put her hands on his arms and said, "Warrick, he didn't mean to. I went to bring him food. He hasn't been eating... and... having someone else in his condo was too much. He didn't take too well to me being there. I should've known better."

"He should've known better," Warrick said quietly as he inspected the side of her face that Gil had struck. "God, Cath... he hurt you."

She smiled weakly. "I've been hurt worse before," she reminded him. "And, really, I don't think he was aware of what he was doing."

"No excuse," Warrick said quietly.

Catherine hugged him without warning. She wanted to reassure him that she was alright and she wanted a little comfort as well; luckily, Warrick seemed willing to accept her reassurance and to give her the warmth she needed.

"I'm fine," she whispered. "And he's having trouble dealing."

"We're all having trouble, but I don't hurt my best friends and colleagues!" Warrick exclaimed, looking down at her.

"Don't mention Ecklie's job hunt to Gil, okay?" she asked quietly. "He has enough to deal with and... I don't want him to hurt anymore than he already is. If he thinks... if he thinks that we're re-replacing S-Sara like she's expired milk or something, he'll get pretty upset."

"He's already pretty upset, if you ask me," he commented. He cupped the chin in one hand and tilted her head to the side. "It's all covered up, though. In case you're wondering."

"Thanks, Warrick," she said quietly. She sighed. "I just need to... to be careful around him. That's all." She saw Warrick open his mouth and she quickly added, "I'm not excusing his behavior. I'm not. And when he comes back to his senses, I want him to apologise... but... grief does funny things to people. We're all on uneven ground, trying to cope, and he's not ready to face reality yet."

"Shock and denial, volatile reactions, disorganisation and despair, and reorganisation," he said quietly, reciting the stages of the grieving process.

Catherine smiled sadly and nodded. "Yeah... exactly. We're all at different places right now... soon, things'll sort themselves out," she assured him.

"Alright, but you're not working with him tonight," he stipulated.

She rolled her eyes. "He hasn't worked with anyone since he's been back. I'm not too worried about that."

Warrick shrugged. "Still. Don't like the idea of... of him alone with you right now."

"Thanks," she said quietly as she stepped away from him and took her cellular phone out of her purse and clipped it to her belt. "We should probably get going. I don't know if Gil's showing up or not, but we usually get cases around this time of night, so... best be ready for them."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly.

She sighed and closed her locker door. "I'm not defending his actions. I'm not. I pushed too hard and he reacted poorly," she said cautiously. "Warrick, I need to know you aren't going to tell anyone---"

"Catherine."

"No, Warrick, this has to stay between us," she insisted. "I'll deal with him later... when he's feeling better... on our own terms."

"He has no idea how lucky he is to have you stickin' up for him and it drives me crazy---"

She put a hand on his arm and silenced him with a serious look. "If it was Tina, how would you react?" He swallowed hard and looked away. She rubbed his arm. "We all react differently and we can't predict what we'll do. He's living off of instinct and emotion right now."

"And here, for the first few years we worked together, I was thinkin' he was a robot," he mumbled.

Catherine smiled. She had never thought he was a robot; she had seen through him from the beginning, from their first meeting. Even though he had problems expressing himself, she knew he felt emotions---sometimes stronger than anyone else she knew. He was raw and vulnerable and she didn't want anyone else to add to his pain until he was moving on with his life.

"C'mon," she murmured, "let's get to work."

"Yes, ma'am."

She chuckled when she saw him smile a little.

They walked together to the break room, where they knew Greg and Nick would be waiting for their assignments. Neither Nick nor Greg noticed Catherine's bruise; she was relieved because she didn't want to have the same conversation that she had had with Warrick all over again with either of the other two men.

Nick looked up, smiled and then leaned back in his chair. Greg was at the coffee machine; he flashed Catherine a grin and then poured her a cup of his special brew of coffee.

"Thanks, Greg," Catherine murmured affectionately as she and Warrick took seats together at the table in the middle of the room.

"How's Linds doing?" Nick asked.

Catherine smiled. "She's doing really well," she replied. "She's... more serious, which I worry about, but the past year was hard on her." She shrugged and sipped her coffee. After swallowing, she added, "She's okay."

Nick smiled back at her. "I'm sure she's just fine. She takes after you, afterall."

The strawberry blonde laughed quietly---until Gil stepped into the room, assignment sheets in his hand. When her eyes met his, she fell silent and crossed her arms under her breasts, unsure of what she should do or say to him. He didn't look much better than he had the last time she saw him; so she knew he wasn't taking care of himself.

"Busy night," Gil said to the four criminalists as he walked towards them. "Greg, you and Nick will take a B-and-E. The MO is the same as the others you guys have been handling, so make sure you look for anything out of place, no matter how insignificant you think it is."

"Got it," Nick said as he leaned forward and took the paper Gil offered him. He read the details and then passed it to Greg, who did the same.

"Catherine, take this---" Gil said, sliding a paper across the table without meeting her eyes, "---arson case." She nodded and took the paper, so Gil turned to Warrick. The younger man's shoulders were tense and Catherine could see that he was already resistant to Gil's presence in the room. "Warrick, you've got a trash run---but, I have a multiple, so when you're finished, join me and---"

"That is not a good idea," Warrick said in a quiet voice, looking into Gil's eyes without flinching.

Catherine frowned and put her arm on Warrick's shoulder. "Don't," she whispered. "Just do the job. It's okay."

"No, it's not," the younger man said as he pushed himself up into a standing position. "It's not okay and I'll tow the line and do my job... but, I am not going to work with him. Not after... no. No way. I'll do my trash run and then meet you at your scene."

"She can handle herself," Gil told the younger criminalist.

Nick and Greg looked at each other and then looked at Catherine and Warrick. No one said anything and Catherine could feel the tension rising in the room. She sighed and set her arson case file down before speaking. "Warrick can join me," she said quietly. "After he does his trash run, I mean. You should take Nick or Greg with you, Gil."

"Are you the boss here, Catherine?"

"No," Warrick replied for Catherine, "but she should be until you're actually ready to take the job back."

"What's... going on?" Greg asked in a quiet voice.

"Nothing," Catherine answered quickly. She glared at Warrick and hissed, "Cut it out."

"I'm not just gonna sit here while he burns the lab to the ground!" Warrick hissed back.

Catherine's gaze softened and she silently pleaded with her colleague, to drop the argument and to go back to work. His expression softened as well; he leaned towards her and put his hand on her arm and in that moment she knew he was calming down a little.

"Everything settled?" Gil asked.

Nick and Greg shrugged, before standing and leaving the room; they told Gil they'd be available if he needed help before they disappeared from sight. Warrick rose to his feet as well, but he didn't leave the room. Instead he walked to Gil and glared down at the other man.

"I know what you did and you know what you did, and the difference between us is I find it completely unacceptable," he growled. "You've gotta snap out of it before you lose everything and everyone around you. And especially before you hurt Catherine again."

Catherine stood up. "Warrick..."

"You don't get to hurt Catherine," Warrick told Gil. "You used to be better than that."

Before their conversation to escalate into anything else, Catherine stepped forward and put her hand on Warrick's back. She murmured soothingly, assuring him that he had done enough to defend her honour---and that she appreciated it. She made the mistake of looking into Gil's eyes as she spoke to Warrick; the coolness of his gaze made her shiver and terrified her at the same time. He looked empty and lost and she didn't know if he would ever recover from losing Sara. As much as she wanted Warrick to provoke an apology from Gil, she knew nothing good would come from provoking Gil that night.

"C'mon," Catherine insisted, "you go do your trash run and then meet me at my arson, okay?"

"Make sure an officer stays with you on the scene," Warrick responded quietly as he turned to face her. "At all times," he stipulated.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Yes, Dad," she teased.

He squeezed her shoulder and then turned to leave the room---but not before glaring at Gil again. When he and Catherine were alone, the shift supervisor cleared his throat, preparing to ask a question.

Catherine shook her head. "I... I better get to work," she said, realising she sounded more timid than she should have sounded.

"Yeah," Gil agreed.

She inhaled deeply and left the room, leaving Gil with his own thoughts.

&&&&

After Catherine finished that particular arson case, with Warrick at her side, she returned to the lab to discover that Gil had been forced to take a two-week vacation at Ecklie's insistence. Part of her was relieved, because she knew he wasn't ready to be back at work. However, when she heard that he had permanently lost his role as supervisor, she was worried that he would never return to the lab---even after he had dealt with Sara's death.

She was used to the extra work, so when Ecklie told her she would be the new shift supervisor, she accepted the position easily. Warrick was happy for her; he was glad that someone 'stable,' as he had put it, would be running their shift. Greg had been sad for Gil but he assured Catherine that he'd enjoy working for her, with his signature grin. Nick took her out for celebratory drinks at a casino on the Strip, and when she went home, Lily and Lindsey were also very excited for her.

Catherine, on the other hand, wasn't sure how she felt about the promotion. She would never desert her colleagues but she didn't know how Gil would react to her new position. She knew she deserved the promotion; taking it from Gil, though, seemed to cheapen it somehow.

Still, she didn't let her doubts get to her. Gil was gone and she didn't know if he would come back. Their team needed someone to lead and to teach them, and Catherine couldn't leave them at the hands of someone else.

Two days into her new job title, Catherine decided to call Gil to see if he was still alive. The once-happy message on his answering machine had been deleted; there was no more introduction, at all, before the beep that told callers to leave their information on the machine. She told him she was worried about him and that she wanted to let him know she could make an appointment with a grief counselor, and then she ended the call, unsure of what else to say to him, through his answering machine.

Five days into her new job title, she took a shift off and gave it to Nick. She waited until Lindsey went to bed, and then, after her mother arrived to stay at her house---in case of emergency---she drove to Gil's townhouse to check in on the grieving man.

Warrick, who knew of her plans, told her she shouldn't give him another chance so easily. She replied by telling him that she couldn't just give up on Gil without knowing that she had tried her best to help him heal. He thought she was insane; she ignored his opinion and went with what her instincts were telling her.

He hadn't been happy to see her, but she didn't let that bother her. He had been drunk, so when she went into his kitchen, she made coffee first and unloaded groceries second. He muttered about how annoying she was and she propelled him into a shower. He dried off and she turned his bedding down. He slept and she took Bruno for a run, before she locked his home up and left to go home.

Every couple of days, she would visit him. She would take a few hours off of her schedule and go to his townhouse. He would resume cursing and complaining and she would brew coffee, run a bath or shower for him (depending on how intoxicated he was), and then she would push him into bed before she took Bruno for a walk or run (depending on her energy level).

It was draining on her energy levels, but she refused to give upon Gil.

He had been her best friend for nearly two decades. He lied to her and he falsely accused her of doing the things he was actually doing; he was a lying hypocrite but she still cared deeply for him. His faults couldn't erase their history, the way he'd wink at her, their serious conversations and light-hearted flirtations.

So, she continued to visit him, every couple of days. She endured his hostile attitude and she took care of him, as he had taken care of her in the early years of their friendship.

Two days before Gil was supposed to return to work, Catherine left Warrick at a traffic accident, and she went off the clock. She drove across the city to Gil's townhouse and she let herself into the house with a key she had taken from him.

Bruno was excited to see her. He barked and wiggled happily, bounding around her legs as she walked across the foyer of Gil's home. She smiled at the stocky, boxer-type dog and rubbed his ears when he stayed still long enough for her to pet him.

"Where's Gil, Bruno?" she murmured quietly as she glanced around the darkened apartment.

"In here," Gil called out weakly, from down the hall.

Catherine frowned and set the groceries down on his kitchen counter, before she shrugged out of her blazer and walked down the hall towards Gil's bathroom.

She found Gil sitting down on the floor, nearly hugging his toilet. She sighed sympathetically and walked across the small room before dropping to her knees in front of him. He lifted his head from his arm and looked at her through reddened eyes.

"Hi," he whispered.

"Hit rock bottom yet?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"Getting there," he mumbled, tucking his mouth into his arm. "God... I'm so sick, Cath."

Her heart broke as she watched him suffer in front of her. She reached out and gently brushed her fingers through his unkempt hair, which probably hadn't been washed since the last time she pushed him into a shower. He sighed and closed his eyes as she massaged his scalp and the back of his neck.

"I brought you some food," she murmured, "and some dog food for Bruno. Want me to run you a shower before I go put that stuff away?"

Gil shook his head a little. After a few minutes, he mumbled, "Can you stay here for a little while? Please, Cath?"

The tone of his voice---broken and desperate---broke her heart even more, dissolving the barriers she had constructed between herself and her oldest friend. She inched closer and rubbed his back with both of her hands.

"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere, Gil," she promised.

He lifted his head and started to say something---drunken mumblings she couldn't make out---but he was interrupted when his stomach started to wretch again. Catherine's eyes watered as she heard him emptying the last of his stomach's contents into the porcelain bowl, as he started to dry heave when he had nothing left inside to expel.

She reached behind her and grabbed a towel. Lifting herself up a bit, she managed to turn the faucet of his sink on and to dampen part of the small hand towel. Then, she eased down and reached in front of her, in front of him, and offered him the towel.

"Ugh," he grunted and wiped his face.

"You wanna get cleaned up in the shower?" she asked quietly as she brushed her fingers through his hair, hoping to comfort him through the touch he refused so many times in the past few weeks.

"Why are you here?" he asked, without turning to look at her.

Catherine sighed. "Gil... you're my best friend, even if I'm mad at you," she admitted. "You can't turn me away so easily."

"I don't deserve you," he mumbled as he reached forward and flushed the toilet.

She smiled sadly. "No, you don't," she agreed. "But, I'm here, anyway, so what does that tell you?"

"You must really love me, no matter what," he said, still slurring his words a little.

"No matter what," she whispered as she rubbed his shoulders and neck. She squeezed his shoulders and then said, "C'mon, Gil, stand up. I'm gonna run a shower for you---"

He quickly interrupted her. "Can't stand."

She chuckled, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Okay, how about a bath?"

"Nyugh."

Catherine was still smiling when she stood up and tried to pull him to his feet. He balked, so she left him on the floor as she walked to his tub and turned the water on. When it was at the right temperature, she plugged the drain and waited for it to fill. Gil groaned and buried his face into his arms as she prepared his bath.

After she filled the tub, she took her blouse off, leaving her in her pants and camisole. Then, she hauled Gil to his feet---with little help on his end---and braced him against his sink's counter as she started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Whaddya doin'?" he mumbled.

"Getting you ready for your bath," she replied in a no-nonesense tone of voice. "You can barely stand right now, so you can't exactly get yourself ready. And I can't have you drowning in there, so I'm going to have to stay in here with you."

"You're not my mother."

She laughed quietly. "Thank goodness for that," she told him.

"Well said," he agreed as he lifted his arms and helped her with his undershirt.

She tried not to be embarrassed or to make him feel embarrassed as she undressed him. It was hard not to do, though; as close as they were, she never saw him naked. She knew he valued his physical and emotional privacy and she hated intruding upon it, but he needed to sober up before he did himself anymore harm.

Once he was naked, she put her arm around his back and let him lean on her as he stepped into the tub. Slowly, they worked together, inching lower and lower until his body was soaking in the warm water. Catherine sat down on the floor and leaned her back against the wall as she waited for him to wash up.

"Cath?"

"Mmyeah?" she asked quietly, purposefully keeping her eyes away from the bathtub.

"I'm sorry."

She smiled a little to herself. "Thanks, Gil... but I know it doesn't count when you're drunk."

He sighed. "But---"

"Gil, it's okay. I'm here," she interrupted. "I'm not leaving until you're feeling better."

"What about the shift?" he asked.

"Warrick's covering things for me," she told him.

He sighed again. "Warrick hates me."

"No, he's just standing up for me," she explained. "He's mad at you, but he'll forgive you when you straighten yourself up and start making amends."

"You think?"

"I know," she assured him.

Gil groaned and she could hear him slipping a little. Soon after that, she heard him rest his head against the edge of the tub with a quiet thud. After a few minutes passed in silence, he said, "Why are you hiding from me?"

"Because you're naked, Gil," she replied as she brought her knees up to her chest. "And I'm trying to give you a little privacy even though I don't want you to drown."

"Oh."

She chuckled softly. "Any more questions?"

"Nope." He paused and then added, "Well, not right now." He sighed. "God, Catherine... I screwed up so much stuff... and she's gone... and I miss her... and it's my fault---"

"Not your fault, Gil," she interrupted in a gentle voice.

"If I didn't give in and... and decide to try to let her in..." he trailed off and sniffled a little. "And I came back to work too early. I can't even look at my kit without thinking about---about---"

Catherine scooted forward and reached for him. She put her hand on his cheek and wiped away the tears that had started to spill. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, obviously seeking the comfort she offered him so many times.

"This is the only way to live your life, Gil," she whispered. "You can't isolate yourself... you have to interact and make choices and live with your actions. Life isn't a solo event. It sucks sometimes... god, we all know how much it can suck. But, there are good things in our lives, too."

He opened one eye. "You've got Lindsey."

"Yeah," she whispered. "She's one of the good things in my life."

"Even though Eddie---"

She interrupted him. "I would never trade Lindsey for not meeting Eddie," she told him. "I can't live by focusing on my regrets and you shouldn't either." She rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. "You're strong enough to get through this, Gil," she murmured. "I know you don't think you are... but you forget how well I knew you."

"Past tense," he pointed out.

"Yeah," she agreed, "because then you went and changed on me."

"I didn't change," he insisted.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, c'mon, Gil... you did. Maybe it was because I stopped being the only woman in your life, but you shut me out. I stopped being important to you." She paused and sighed. "Let's not talk about this now, okay?" she suggested. "You're not sober and I've got a scene to get back to."

"Why don't you just go then?"

She tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. "Because I don't want you to drown," she replied.

"Really? Even after I..." he trailed off and let Catherine fill in the blanks on her own.

"Yeah, even though I wanna throw you to the wolves," she assured him, "I won't let you drown."

"Thank you," he mumbled.

A small smile tugged at Catherine's lips. "No problem." She touched his shoulder to get his attention. "I'm going to go put the groceries away, alright?" she asked. "Will you be okay to stay here for a few minutes?"

"Probably," he replied.

"Gil..."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, a smile appearing on his face. "I promise not to drown," he said while looking into her eyes.

For a moment, Catherine saw the old Gil. That glimpse gave her hope for the future, for their future as friends and colleagues. She smiled more fully and patted his arm before pushing herself to her feet and leaving the bathroom.

&&&&

After she finished putting his groceries away, Catherine returned to the bathroom to find Gil falling asleep in the bathtub. She smiled as she let her eyes sweep over his relaxed form; he looked peaceful, and she hadn't seen him look at peace in a very long time. She hated to wake him but she knew that he'd feel better once he was tucked into bed.

So, she crept up and leaned over him. She intended to touch his cheek or his shoulder to rouse him from his sleep, but when she was close enough she slipped on some water and had to brace herself on the wall; the quick, surprising movement caused her to yelp quietly and that noise woke Gil. He startled and reached out to grab what had startled him.

When he grabbed Catherine's arm, he prevented her from supporting herself against the wall. She fell against him, her hips balanced against the edge of the tub; the ends of her hair soaked up water and weighed the rest of her wavy tresses down as she sputtered and tried to figure out what had happened.

"Uh... Gil?"

"Sorry," he mumbled drowsily. "You started me."

Catherine chuckled as she carefully lifted herself off of him and the bathtub. Once she was standing again, she reached for his bathrobe and a large towel.

"C'mon," she murmured. "Before you give me a heart attack, get up and dry off," she said, offering him the towel. "I'm going to tuck you into bed and then I'll take care of Bruno."

"You're too good to me," he said as he stood up and took the proffered towel.

"I am," she agreed, "and you should remember that in the future."

He nodded, hanging his head guiltily, and he worked on drying off his body. Then he took the bathrobe from her and went to the sink once he was covered up. He brushed his teeth; Catherine rubbed his back and then went out into the hallway to walk to the bedroom.

She turned the sheets down and fluffed his pillows, as if she were taking care of Lindsey when she was sick; she turned the overhead light off and dimmed his bedside lamp, and then she made sure to set his alarm for twelve hours in the future. He ambled into the bathroom and went to his dresser for something to sleep in, and she went to the kitchen to get him a bottle of water.

When she came into the bedroom again, Gil was sitting on the bed and staring off into space. He looked up when she entered the room.

"Here," she said as she offered him the water. "You're going to need this."

"Thank you." He took a sip and then put it down on the bedside table. Catherine walked over to him and motioned for him to get into bed. He frowned and looked at the pillows. "I don't think I can, Cath."

"You need the rest," she reasoned.

He frowned more. "Every time I close my eyes, I think... I see..."

"I know," she murmured when he trailed off and rubbed his eyes. "But, those memories won't hurt so much after a while," she told him in a gentle voice. "Soon, you'll be able to remember the good times without feeling all of the pain."

"Promise?"

"Do I lie to you?" she asked.

Gil shook his head. "No, rarely if ever."

"Yeah," she murmured. "Lie down, okay? I'm gonna go take Bruno out and lock up---"

"Will you come back?" he asked, his eyes opening wider.

Catherine tilted her head and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Come back?" she echoed, unsure of what he meant.

"And stay with me while I fall asleep?" he added.

"Gil... are you sure?" she asked quietly. "I don't wanna get slapped again."

He bowed his head, cradling it in his hands. "I didn't mean to... to do that," he mumbled. "I was so scared I'd lose her... that I'd forget her, Cath. I acted badly and that's gonna live with me forever. I'm so alone."

Gil's words and actions made her heart break again. She knew what that grief-stricken loneliness felt like and she wouldn't have wished it upon anyone, especially Gil. She knew that despite everything he had put her through in the past year, she couldn't desert him; that loyalty frightened her and made her silently question why she stood by him without hesitation. When she couldn't come up with a clear answer to her question, she sighed and ran her hands through her hair.

"I'll come back," she conceded.

"You will?" he asked, lifting his head and looking at her with dark, red-rimmed eyes.

She nodded. "I will," she assured him. "But, if you're hogging the bed... I'm gone."

"I won't," he promised.

She smiled a little and nodded again, before reaching out and combing his hair off of his forehead. "You lie down and get comfortable and I'll come back," she vowed in a soft voice. "I just need to take care of Bruno first."

Gil nodded and started to tuck himself into bed as Catherine turned and left the bedroom. As she walked down the hall, she shook her head and mentally reprimanded herself for giving into Gil's demands. She hated that he could weaken her defenses so easily. She hated seeing him in pain---and she knew that was why she couldn't deny him anything. For most of their friendship, he had been her rock; he had been the one she could turn to, when she was divorcing Eddie, when she had problems with Lindsey or her mother, when a particular crime scene was too much for her to wrap her brain around. Despite the fact that they had drifted apart, she couldn't forget the years through which they had supported each other.

Because of those years, those memories, Catherine returned to Gil's bedroom after she took Bruno for a walk around the block. The dog settled down in the living room, on a big pillow by the fireplace; Catherine turned all but one light off and went back to check on Gil.

He was lying down, under the covers, but his eyes were still wide and full of pain. The redness was clearing, though, and she took that as a sign that Gil was starting to sober up.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hi," he whispered.

She shrugged out of her blazer and blouse and set them down on a nearby chair, positioned near the window. "You still want me to stay?" she asked quietly. "Because if you don't---"

"N-no," he interrupted in a voice that made him sound almost child-like. "Please... at least until I fall asleep."

Catherine nodded and made her way over to the bed, lying down next to Gil when she was close enough. She expected him to keep plenty of space between them; however, as soon as she was settled, he turned towards her and wrapped his arm around her stomach. Surprised, she shifted a little to facilitate the cuddling he apparently wanted---while ignoring the shivers his touch instilled in her.

He tucked his head into her shoulder. She reached up and gently massaged his scalp with the pads of his fingers. After sighing softly, Gil seemed to relax fully against her.

Gil started to drift off to sleep and Catherine stared up at the ceiling, wondering if she would ever relax in that position.

An hour later, she was still awake---although she was beginning to feel sleepy---and her cellular phone started to ring. It roused Gil from his sleep; he groaned and tucked his face into her neck and the pillow under her head, as if to escape the shrill ringing sound. Catherine tried not to flinch as she picked her phone up off of her belt and answered it.

"Willows," she said into the phone, her voice thick and soft.

"Cath?"

She sighed. "Hey, Warrick," she replied, "what's up?"

"Are you sleeping?"

She chuckled quietly. "No, I'm not sleeping. Gil is, though," she explained as she tried to sit up and found that Gil had successfully pinned her to the bed with his head and arm. She sagged against the mattress and pillow and resigned herself to her current position. "What do you need?"

"You're sleeping with him?" Warrick asked.

She sighed. "No... not really. He just wanted some comp---"

Catherine stopped talking when she felt Gil's open mouth pressed against her neck.

"Cath?"

"Uh... he just wanted some company," she told Warrick quickly while trying to discourage Gil from doing whatever he was determined to do. She felt him lick his lips and then kiss her neck again; she nudged him in the stomach with her elbow, but he only hugged her more tightly. "Gil, stop that," she hissed.

Warrick understood that something more than sleeping was happening in Gil's bed. He grunted and said, "I can't believe you're... you're with him."

"I'm not," Catherine insisted.

"Cath..."

"I'm not!" she repeated, more forcefully. "We're not... doing what you think we're doing. He's still sleeping."

"Uh huh."

She sighed again. "Warrick, it's not what you think. Trust me, okay?"

He sighed, too. "Yeah... okay. I just... I just don't want him taking advantage of you anymore than he already has."

Gil's fingers expanded over her stomach, covering most of the flat plane of her belly. She sucked in a sharp breath, reacting to having that area of her body touched by Gil's warm and heavy hand, and she tried not to push up into his touch.

"Don't worry about me so much," Catherine scolded her friend through the phone.

"I can't help it," Warrick replied. He sighed once more and then said, "I've got everything bagged and tagged and logged in at CSI. If you want to stay there, you can. The sketches are done and I'm recreating the accident right now."

"You sure?" she asked.

"Yeah," he told her. "I can finish our case, no problem. Call me if you need anything, though, okay?"

She smiled. "Warrick, are you---" she stopped short as Gil's fingers connected with her skin, after pushing the hem of her camisole upwards. She hesitated and then finished her question. "Are you worried about me?"

"I always worry when you go to visit Grissom," he admitted.

"Don't," she murmured, even though she was beginning to wonder if she should start to worry about being alone with Gil. "I'm fine. How about I call you when I'm leaving?"

"That'd be good," he told her. "Even if you think I'm off duty. Call, Catherine. Tina won't mind if you wake me up."

"Sure about that?"

"Well, she won't after I tell her the score," he assured her.

She laughed quietly. "Alright, then. I'll call you on my way home."

"Good. Talk to you later, Cath."

"Bye, Warrick," she murmured before taking her phone away and snapping it shut. She set it on the bedside table and her movement roused Gil into moving more. He curled into her body and his hand slid from her stomach to one of her breasts. Catherine whimpered---part in arousal, part in confusion---and she arched into his hand. "Gil," she whispered, "what are you doing?"

He replied with an open-mouthed kiss to her neck. Between his mouth and his hand, he exploited several of her erogenous zones---behind her ear, where her shoulder and neck connected, below her navel, at the base of her sternum, and the underside of her breast---and Catherine wasn't sure what she should be thinking or feeling.

She tried not to encourage him because she didn't think it was appropriate for either of them---because he was grieving (and still drunk), and because their friendship was on unsteady ground. But, he stirred feelings inside of her that she hadn't felt in a while; that made her even more confused. She was a warm-blooded woman, so she had imagined what he would be like, as a lover; however, Gil had been categorised as a friend for so long that she had written him as anything but her supervisor, colleague, and friend. Her mind was spinning, and as Gil touched her, her pulse was racing.

After a few more minutes, he moved to pop the button of her pants open. Warning lights flashed in her head; she quickly reached down and grabbed his wrist.

"What?" he whispered, nuzzling her temple.

Catherine turned on her side, towards him, so she could look into his eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"If you have to ask, I'm not doing it right," he replied, grinning boyishly.

She rolled her eyes. "Gil..."

"You always tell me what you're thinkin' when you look at me," he whispered, reaching out and brushing her hair out of her face. "It's dangerous to be so close to a woman like you... you make me crazy."

"I do, do I?"

"Uh huh," he said, nodding. "I've been awful to you... and you're still here," he continued. "And... part of me wants to kick you out... but the rest of me wants to keep you here."

"Well, I'm not your prisoner," she pointed out.

Hr grinned. "No?"

She shook her head. "Not so much, Gil," she murmured. He slid his hand down over her hip, guiding her thigh up so it was resting over his leg and hip. "What's gotten into you?"

"I'm convincing you to stay," he whispered, before brushing his nose against hers. He tilted his head and kissed along her jaw. Her inhalation was shakier than she had planned it to be; her hands went to his chest, first with the intention to pull him away, and then they hesitated. "Stay, stay, stay," he whispered into her skin and hair.

"Gil... don't," she whispered. She gasped when he pulled her firmly against his body; she never remembered him being so warm and so solid. "You don't want to do this, Gil," she insisted before he rubbed his hips against hers.

A whimper escaped her mouth and she buried her face in his shoulder. She didn't think she had ever been so confused. Gil was grieving because he lost his girlfriend but he was evoking reactions from her body that few had ever stirred from within her. He set an easy rhythm for her to follow and her body was reproducing that rhythm for itself, even though her mind was suggesting that Catherine stop and catch her breath.

He whispered her name, hot and heavy near her ear, before he sucked her earlobe into her mouth and found yet another one of her sensitive places on her body. Her stomach tightened and she rocked against him; in response, he sucked harder on her flesh and pressed his leg between hers for extra friction.

She croaked wordless, unsure of what to say. Gil's hands found her back and behind; they cupped her to him as he resumed his steady pace set to satisfy his needs.

"Stop," she whispered as her mind finally strengthened its resolve against her body's baser desires. "God, Gil, we have to stop this."

"But, it feels good," he breathed.

"Yeah, but---"

"Let me make you feel good," he interrupted.

She opened her mouth to tell him she had to leave and she pressed her hands to his chest with the intention of pushing him away, but he nibbled on her neck and eased her onto her back. HIs body settled down between her legs and all that warmth and weight pressed against all of the right places on her body caused a whimper to escape her throat.

"Better?" he asked as he caressed the side of her face with one hand.

"Gil... c'mon," she murmured. "We can't. We're friends."

"Friends do this sometimes. Sometimes, they do more," he reminded her. "And we've been friends for how long without ever slipping up?"

"Did you ever want to slip up?" she asked, unable to keep her curiousity to herself.

He sighed and kissed the underside of her chin. "Couple times," he admitted. "Can't ignore the fact that you're... you're... you."

Catherine laughed. "Well, I am me, Gil," she murmured. "How nice of you to notice."

"Noooo," he mumbled, "you're all... you're... you dazzle."

She blushed. "I do?"

"God, yeah," he whispered as he snuggled up to her.

The strawberry blonde didn't know whether she should laugh or cry. The absurdity of the situation was wearing heavily upon her mind and heart. Gil's hips rocked against hers and she tipped her head back and closed her eyes. She could feel him growing hard between her legs, under his shorts and through her pants; she could also feel heat coming from between her own legs and when he clumsily squeezed her breast, a moan escaped her throat and her back arched in reaction. He was doing everything right---which was surprising because he was drunk and because they hadn't taken off any clothes or even kissed mouth-to-mouth---but she still knew she shouldn't be there, with him, like that. The last thing Catherine wanted Gil to feel was regret, on top of his grief.

She could deal with her mistakes but she didn't know if he could, in his present frame of mind.

Gil grunted a few times under his breath. She could feel his hips' rhythm picking up speed and she knew he was enjoying himself more than she expected him to; he buried his face into her neck and shoulder and laved the skin he found there with his lips and tongue, and suddenly, she was enjoying herself more than she knew she should.

Catherine felt the telltale tingling of a small orgasm developing between her legs and when Gil used his teeth on her neck and his hand on her breast, she cried out wordlessly and flexed against Gil's body. He reached climax with a loud groan, shortly after she did. He said her name a few times as his system leveled off, but he didn't get off of her. He seemed content to hold her, to rest on top of her, and until Catherine could process what transpired between them, she didn't want to make him move.

He sniffled a little and then he stilled. His breathing deepened.

She cursed under her breath when she realised he had fallen asleep. After poking him a few times, she knew he was out cold. Part of her was insulted and part of her was relieved.

With some force, she pushed him off of her and onto his back. Then, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths before sitting up. She took a covered elastic out of her pants pocket and tied her hair back before looking around the room and trying to figure out what her next move would be.

Spending the night wasn't an option. She didn't know how he would react to seeing her in his bed in the morning---especially after he reacted so badly to her simply changing the sheets. It had seemed like he had a change of heart, or had started to move into the other psychological stages of grief, but she did not want to rush or hurt him.

Instead of staying, she decided she would leave---but after taking care of Gil. She pushed herself up and walked into the bathroom. She soaked a washcloth and took it back into the bedroom with her.

Gil didn't flinch when she pulled his shorts down and washed away the remnants of his orgasm. She didn't want him to wake up crusty and uncomfortable, so she took her time cleaning him up with gentle strokes. Then, she replaced his shorts and tucked him into his bed; once she pulled the covers up to his chest, he snuggled into his pillow and started to snore.

Catherine frowned and took her cellular phone, blouse, and jacket with her as she left the room. Bruno was sound asleep as well, she discovered when she walked into the living room. She slipped into her shoes and picked up her keys off of the table and then she left the townhouse with more questions than answers in her mind.

Once she was in her car, heading towards her house, she dialed Warrick's number.

"Hey, Cath," he said before she had a chance to introduce herself. "You on your way home?"

"Y-yeah," she replied.

"You okay?" he asked. "Did he hurt you or---"

"Warrick, I'm fine," she lied, unsure of how she really was.

"Okay. Where are you?"

"A block away from Gil's place," she answered honestly. "I'll be home in fifteen or twenty minutes, depending on traffic."

"You making any other stops?"

She shook her head even though Warrick couldn't see her. "Just going home."

"Alright. Drive safely, Cath... and if you need anything, call me again."

She smiled a little. "Okay. Thanks, Warrick."

"No problem," he said before ending the call.

She tossed her phone onto the passenger seat and continued to drive home. She tried not to think about GIl as she drove, so she could keep her focus on the road; however, it was difficult to compartmentalise her thoughts that night.

When she pulled into her driveway, she noticed a familiar vehicle stationed outside of her home. When she hopped out of her car, she saw Warrick sitting on her front step.

He rose to his feet when she started walking towards him. She wished she had thought to don her jacket before getting out of the car, because he immediately dropped his gaze to her neck and disheveled camisole; she blushed and tried to think up an explanation for her appearance.

He only sighed and shook his head when she was close enough. Catherine frowned and avoided his gaze until he turned her head to one side and saw the bite mark on her neck.

"How could you let him... after... after everything?" Warrick asked quietly.

Catherine pressed her lips together. "I didn't exactly... let him do anything," she admitted.

Warrick's eyes bugged out of his head. "He forced himself on you?!" he demanded. "I'm gonna---"

"No, don't," Catherine interrupted, putting her hands on his chest. "It wasn't like that. He was drunk and confused and no one got hurt."

The younger man rolled his eyes. "How many excuses are you going to make for him!?" he asked her. "He slapped you! He... he was inappropriate with you tonight, and you keep going back for more!"

"It's not that black and white, Warrick," Catherine murmured, trying to placate him while getting her point across at the same time.

"It should be," he said as he guided her to sit down on the step with him. He put his arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry I sounded angry, Cath," he added in a quiet voice, "but it's just so frustrating. You've been nothing but a good friend to him and he... he doesn't appreciate you the way you should be appreciated, you know?"

Catherine blushed and rested her head against his shoulder. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"He doesn't deserve you."

"When we met, I didn't deserve him," she mumbled before tucking her long bangs behind her ear.

"I doubt that."

Catherine chuckled and closed her eyes. "It was a long time ago. It took me a while to turn into who I am today... and even now, I'm not---"

"Shuddup."

She chuckled again. "Why are you here, Warrick?"

"Heard what was going on when I called earlier, and didn't know if I should be worried about you or not. Tina said I should go and make sure you're alright... to ease my mind," he replied. "Figured I could do that or lie awake in bed worrying about you."

She looked at him and smiled. "You were gonna lie awake and worry about me?"

"Of course," he said quietly.

She patted his knee. "I'm lucky to have a friend like you, Warrick," she murmured. "You've always had my back."

"You've always had mine," he replied before rubbing her arm.

They stayed outside, together, for a few minutes, and then Catherine sent Warrick away. She stared up at the lightening sky, watching night slowly change to morning, and then she picked herself up off of the step and walked into the house.

&&&&

After a difficult phone call with Conrad Ecklie, in which he learned that Catherine would be the supervisor of the grave shift indefinitely and in which he asked for another week away from work, Gil put his phone receiver back into its cradle and he wandered into the kitchen to feed and water Bruno.

He asked for another week because he wasn't sure if he was ready to face Catherine, professionally, after their very unprofessional encounter the night before. He knew he wasn't completely ready to start dealing with victims and suspects again, either, but it was the idea of seeing Catherine again that had him more unsure than anything else.

When he woke up that morning, he hadn't thought anything of being alone in his bed. However, after he got his shower and started milling around his house, pieces of the night before started to filter through his mind. He remembered Catherine undressing him and Catherine sitting next to the tub while he washed up. He couldn't remember many other images, but then he had a feeling like more than a bath had occurred. When he went into the bedroom again, to get dressed, he had the distinct impression that he knew what her body would feel like against his.

It had shaken him up. At first, he felt guilty because he couldn't believe he'd have physical relations with any woman while he was still grieving over Sara's death. Then, he felt guilty because he had probably taken advantage of Catherine.

He looked around his bedroom, looking for signs of sexual activity. He opened his bedside table drawer and saw the condoms he kept there---the last time he needed one, there were five left and there were still five in the drawer. He didn't think he would initiate unprotected sex with Catherine; he didn't think Catherine would, either.

However, when he found the washcloth with what looked like dried semen on it, he wasn't sure what to think.

It took him a few hours to put the pieces together---and when he did, he was pretty embarrassed with himself.

And then, he decided to give himself---and Catherine---another week before he returned to work.

After he took care of Bruno, he went into the living room and turned his stereo on. As music filtered through his townhouse, he poured himself a drink and sat back on his sofa. He stared at the glass of amber alcohol and felt a war begin in his mind. Part of him wanted the solace drinking would give him; his painful grief would be dulled and he would be able to sleep most of the day away. But, the rest of him remembered how awful he felt the previous night and he wasn't sure he wanted to experience that again.

In a weak moment, his need to dull his pain won out and he picked his glass of bourbon up. He brought it to his lips and didn't give himself a chance to smell the whiskey before he drank it. Two sips into his drink, the smell and taste overpowered his senses and he barely had enough time to move the glass from his mouth before his stomach tightened and heaved.

He vomited over his pants and the floor, mostly bile since he hadn't ingested much yet that day. The sight and smell of his stomach's rebellion caused him to dry heave a few times before he could control himself.

With a grimace, he set his glass down on the table and slowly picked himself up off of the sofa. He took his pants off there and carried them to the kitchen; once he put them in the washing machine, he gathered cleaning supplies and returned to the living room so he could clean his mess.

Once everything was as it should be, spic and span, he went into the bathroom and took another shower.

Gil took his time cleaning his body, even though he didn't really need to. He scrubbed and scrubbed, and then he spent a few minutes simply standing underneath the hot water spray---even though it was his second shower of the morning.

He dressed in fresh clothing and then went back to his living room with the intent of putting the bottle of bourbon back in the cabinet used to store his liquor and of pouring the glass' contents into the sink. However, when he walked into the living room, he saw Warrick standing in the space, surveying the scene with a critical eye.

"Hello," he said quietly, unsure of what to expect from the younger man.

Warrick nodded his head towards the coffee table. A paper bag of take out food was sitting next to his bourbon bottle and tumbler, but Gil didn't think that it was the food to which Warrick was gesturing.

"You just don't care anymore, do you?" the younger man asked.

"Excuse me?"

Warrick frowned. "We all miss her, Grissom, but you're gonna alienate yourself from everyone on the team if you keep this up---including Catherine."

"Warrick..."

"She's a much better friend than you deserve right now," he said quietly. He pointed to the whiskey on the table. "And I can't believe you're still... doing this."

Gil swallowed hard and then mumbled, "I know she is. And I'm not. I... I couldn't today."

"Liver finally say no?"

He nodded. "Something like that," he admitted. "Warrick... why are you here?"

"We're supposed to be a family... and... and we're not," Warrick said quietly, picking up the paper bag and carrying into Gil's kitchen. "I hate this, Grissom."

"So do I," he admitted, following his younger colleague into the other room.

"I spend most of my free time worrying about Catherine and trying not to be angry with you," Warrick admitted as he took the breakfast food out of the bag and set it on the counter. He turned and started looking in the cupboards for a clean plate. When he found one, he took it to the counter so he could arrange the food upon it. "And when I'm not doing either of those things, I'm thinking about the way things used to be. By the time I get to work, I'm exhausted, man, and then I have to worry about keeping the team together."

Gil frowned. "It seemed like you were all doing a good job of that when I was there."

"Oh, so you noticed, then?" Warrick asked. "You took your head out of the microscope enough... you stopped rampaging around to notice that we're sticking together like a team?"

"I... I noticed," Gil admitted. He sighed. "Warrick, I don't really want to talk about this."

"Well, that's tough," Warrick said in a firm voice. "You are going to sit and eat while I tell you exactly what's on my mind."

"Warrick, I really don't need you to tell me what---"

"Yeah, I think you do," the younger man cut in. "Because I don't think you're entirely aware of what you're doing. According to Cath, most of the time, you're too drunk to lift your head up. The fact that you're sober enough to look me in the eye means you haven't started yet or you're slowing down." Warrick put the plate down on Gil's kitchen table and motioned for him to sit. After Gil sat down and was handed a fork, Warrick went to the fridge and found Gil something non-alcoholic to drink. Then, he continued talking. "We all miss her, but you need to sober up and smarten up."

"Is this my daily pep talk?" Gil asked in a wry tone of voice after swallowing a few of the hash browns on his plate. "Will Greg come in tomorrow to tell me the sun'll come out tomorrow?"

Warrick plunked himself down in a chair across from Gil and rolled his eyes. "If we thought that'd help you move on."

"I'm not going to move on," Gil muttered, frowning into his scrambled eggs.

"Well, you better, because if you don't, you'll be throwing away your career, your reputation, and you'll probably lose the most important person in your life."

Gil scowled and silently vowed not to start crying. "I already did," he mumbled.

"You're stupider than I thought, Gris," Warrick commented quietly. "Or possibly, you're insane. I can't decide."

Puzzled, Gil lifted his head and looked at the younger man with a curious expression on his face. Warrick rolled his eyes again. "Man, I don't believe you," he said, exasperation evident in his tone of voice. "You hit her... you... god knows what, last night... and she still worships the ground you walk on. And you don't think she's the most important person in your life?"

"Catherine," he breathed, his mind finally making sense of what Warrick was telling him.

"Yes, Catherine," Warrick said. "Who'd you think I was talking about?"

"I... I don't know."

"You don't deserve her," Warrick said in a dangerously low voice.

"Is that why you're here?" Gil asked. "To save her from showing up herself? She's a big girl, Warrick. If she wants to be here---"

"You're almost no better than Eddie right now," Warrick interrupted.

Gil's eyes widened. He never would have expected an accusation like that---especially from Warrick. The analogy hit him hard, though; it made him think about all of the times that Eddie had hurt Catherine and all of the times that she had gone running to him for refuge.

Warrick must have seen the realisations forming from the expression on Gil's face because he leaned back in his chair and said, "You have to snap out of it, Grissom. You have to start moving on."

"But..."

"We all miss her. And sure, you were dating her... so there's a little more for you to deal with, but... you're gonna lose everything if you keep this up."

&&&&

Warrick's words were still ringing in his head a couple of days later. They were hard to shake from his mind. He was afraid that he had turned into someone as despicable as Eddie Willows; he had despised that man for years, for what he put Catherine through, and the idea of being similar to him terrified him more than few things ever had.

Since the younger man's visit, he tried to follow the advice given to him. He started taking Bruno for walks again and he started cooking again. He stopped drinking completely---mostly because the thought of vomiting again was too much to process---and he tried to do a few household chores every day.

He had been taking the trash out when a sport-utility-vehicle pulled into the driveway. He hadn't been wearing his glasses, so it took him a little while to realise his unexpected visitor was Nick. He hopped out of the front seat and walked around to the back after waving to Gil; he reappeared with what looked like a foil casserole dish.

"Did Warrick tell you I'm starving or something?" Gil inquired when Nick was closer.

Nick flashed him a little grin. "Nah, he just suggested I stop by and I never like visiting empty-handed," he replied. "I was brought up better than that."

"Well... come in," Gil said.

For the first time in a while, he actually felt like he meant his invitation. Nick beamed at him and followed him into the townhouse; Bruno made a huge fuss over Nick and Nick made a huge fuss over the dog, so they bonded immediately. Gil found the younger man's antics to be rather amusing---and he was surprised that he found anything amusing since his mood had been so foul lately.

Nick didn't approach him with the same animosity that Warrick had. And he didn't look at Gil the way Catherine did, with eyes full of concern. Gil didn't think Nick knew much about the meetings he had with the other criminalists and he was oddly relieved that he wasn't going to have to play any sort of game or perform in any way.

"Did you eat yet, Gris?" Nick asked.

"Not since lunch," Gil replied, honestly.

"Well, this is my mom's recipe," Nick told him as he put the casserole into the oven and fiddled with the dials. "If you leave it in here for thirty minutes, the cheese'll melt and everything'll reheat, so---"

Gil opened his mouth and impulsively asked a question that completely surprised him. "Do you want to stay and have some with me before you go?"

Nick grinned. "Sure, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Gil assured the younger man. "There's some beer in the fridge if you want one," he offered.

"Great," Nick replied, before going to the fridge. "Do you want one?"

"I'll have a bottle of water," Gil answered.

"Alright," Nick said as he opened the appliance's door.

Half an hour later, as Nick had promised, the dish was heated and they were taking plates and bottles into the living room. Nick settled down on one side of the sofa and Gil turned the television on before he sat down.

"You watch much TV around this time of day?" Nick asked.

Gil shrugged. "Honestly, I don't do much of anything around this time of the day." He flicked through some channels before he landed on the Discovery Channel. He saw Nick's face light up as he recognised the programme, so he set the remote down. "Is this any good?"

"'MythBusters,' Grissom," Nick replied with another grin. "It's a pretty cool show. These two guys are special effects experts... they test rumours and urban legends, and see if they're true or not."

"Well, let's see, then," Gil said, deciding to give the show a chance.

A few minutes into the programme, Nick turned his head and looked at Gil. "So... um... how're you doing?"

Gil snorted. "I've been sober for about three days in a row, so I guess I'm improving," he said in a wry tone of voice.

Nick smiled a little. "That's a plus," he agreed.

"Did you guys organise some sort of schedule to keep an eye on me?" Gil inquired.

Nick's smile faltered. "Oh... no. It wasn't anything like that, Grissom," he replied. "Warrick just mentioned that Catherine's been checking in on you from time to time, and he and I thought we could all do our part to give the boss a---"

"Break?" Gil finished for Nick when he stopped short. "I know Catherine's been given the shift, Nick. I'm alright with that. I bet she's doing a great job."

"Yeah... she's got everything under control," Nick agreed. "Are you okay with... it?"

Gil shrugged. "I screwed up. And, I'm not really in a position to lead the team." He shrugged again. "It's okay, Nick. Or, it will be."

"That's the spirit."

The older man rolled his eyes. "Are you patronising me?"

"No! No, no... I'm not doing anything like that," Nick said quietly. "I mean it. You can't start feeling better until you start thinking that you will feel better. And, from what Warrick and Catherine have said, you still aren't feeling much at all... so... thinking it is the first step, y'know?"

Gil wasn't sure that he followed Nick's logic. He suspected he was too close to the situation, to his grief, to make sense of what Nick was saying; it did, however, give him hope that he would eventually stop feeling as if someone had cut his heart out and tied his insides into knots. If Nick thought he was on the road to feeling even a little bit better about life, then Gil decided he had to believe in that because the alternative was too grim to consider.

&&&&

"Hi."

Gil shifted his weight and felt his cheeks heat up as he looked into Catherine's eyes. He had known it was her on his front step when he heard her knocking against the door; he had thought about ignoring the call, but then her knocking turned to banging and he knew that ignoring her would only make things worse between them.

"Hi," he replied quietly. He didn't know what to say to her---he didn't know what he could say to her. "Um... would you... like to... come in?"

"Please."

Gil stepped back and granted Catherine entrance to his home. Bruno saw who was visiting and bounding excitedly from his dog bed to her, skidding a little on the hardwood floor before he could stop himself. Catherine chuckled and bent down to pet him; then, she straightened up and walked into the living room.

"It's... cleaner," she commented.

"Yeah," Gil agreed.

Catherine toed out of her shoes and set her purse down before she turned and looked at him. He couldn't stop himself from wondering if she saw Eddie when she looked at him; but he was too scared to ask her what she was thinking.

"I haven't been visiting lately," she said as she fiddled with a button on her jacket.

"It's perfectly... understandable," Gil said when she didn't say anything else. "I wouldn't want to visit me, either. I... but, I've been doing better. I've been trying, anyway."

"Because you want to feel better or because you feel guilty about---"

"Both."

She nodded and put her hands on her hips as she paced a little. "Are you coming back to work the day after tomorrow?"

"If you'll still have me," he answered.

Catherine turned and looked at him. Her eyes weren't so unreadable in that moment and he saw that she was happy to hear he was seriously considering a return to the lab. She smiled a little and nodded. "Yeah, we'll still have you," she assured him. "Of course... given the past few weeks, you're going to be on probation---"

"Anything," Gil interrupted quickly. "You're the boss now. You make the rules."

"I don't want you to come back too soon," she explained. "And if you're not ready to be there... I need to know. I have to look out for you and for Warrick, Nick, and Greg." He nodded. She swallowed hard, as if there was a lump in her throat, and then she continued talking. "This is probably going to be hard for you. We'll talk about work when you clock in." She shook her head slightly and smiled---but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "I'm not really sure why I came here. I should have called instead."

"Catherine, about the---"

"Don't," she cut in. "Please, Gil."

"Don't you think we should talk?"

"And say what, Gil?" Catherine asked as she gesticulated a little with her hands. "You've been insufferable. And sure, in the beginning you had an excuse. I've been defending your actions to Warrick for weeks and I'm not sure why because you haven't given me a reason to be so loyal in a very long time... and still, I'm showing up every night to make sure you're still alive."

Gil frowned and looked away. He could see how hurt she was and his insides tightened because he knew he had hurt her.

"I'm sorry," he said in a very quiet voice.

"For what, Gil?"

"For all of it," he answered.

Catherine laughed but the sound was humourless. "You don't even know what it all is," she pointed out.

"Then, tell me... and... and I'll apologise," he insisted.

The strawberry blonde shrugged and shook her head. "I don't really think I should be adding to your grief or guilt or whatever you're feeling right now," she reasoned. "You don't want to hear it and... I don't want to drive you to start drinking again."

"You won't," he assured her as he gestured towards the sofa. Bruno, interested in their antics, padded across the room and sniffed Catherine's jeans. When she finally sat down, he sniffed a little more before resting his head in her lap. Catherine looked down at the canine and smiled; she petted his broad, solid head and rubbed his ears. Gil had flashes of what her hands could feel like and before he sat down, he felt a wave of heat pass over him, taking his breath away. "W-water?" he asked shakily. "I need some water. How about you, Catherine?"

"Sure," she said, accepting his offer without looking at him.

Gil watched her hands for a few more seconds, remembering how it felt to have her rub his shoulders, neck, and head with her fingers, and then he had to disappear into the kitchen.

When he came back, Bruno was still vying for Catherine's attention. He smiled a little and joined her on the sofa, even though apprehension was pounding through his veins.

"So..."

"I don't think we should be doing this now, Gil," Catherine said in a reluctant tone of voice.

"When are we going to?" he asked.

"Never?"

He sighed. "Catherine... I... I don't want to leave this unsaid between us. I promise whatever you say won't drive me to drink. And I..." he trailed off and sighed. "I don't think I would be here right now if it weren't for you."

"Probably not," she agreed.

"Why did you keep checking on me?" he asked quietly.

"Because you were my best friend," she replied honestly, turning to look into his eyes. "And... and for some idiotic reason, I'm sure, I couldn't just walk away and let you suffer." She sucked in a sharp breath and then added, "I'm sorry that Sara's dead. Part of me still thinks some of it's my fault... but... I can't change the past and right now, it's your career and reputation on the line... and that's... well, the lab needs you."

Gil blinked, unsure of what he should say. He didn't know what Catherine meant when she shouldered some of the blame for Sara's death and he didn't understand why she was speaking only in terms of his career and the lab.

"Catherine..."

She looked at him and then said, "Sara wouldn't want you to waste the rest of your life."

"So... you're honouring her wishes and memory by taking care of me?"

"Partly, yes," she replied.

"And the other part?"

"Is between me and my therapist," she said with a teasing smile---a dangerous expression that told him to watch his step because he was treading into territory into which she did not want either of them heading. "The lab needs you---"

"Catherine, we're not getting to what we should be---"

"You're a hypocrite," she blurted out, cutting him off.

He sighed. "You've said this before," he responded. "What... look, Catherine, I want to make amends. You got me through the past month and... I don't know what I would've done without you. It's not the first time I've thought that, either... and I... I know I take you for granted." He paused and averted his eyes. "The other night---"

"We can't talk about the other night," Catherine interjected. "We just can't talk about it. You were so drunk you were sick... and I... we are not going to talk about it."

"Catherine..."

She shook her head. "Some things are off-limits right now and that is definitely one of them."

"I lost Sara, I lost some of my job... probably some of my sense of self along with it," he said, turning his body towards hers. "I hit somewhere pretty close to rock bottom. And... I know I took advantage of you. And... I hurt you... before." He frowned and felt his throat constrict in reaction to his emotions. "I hurt you before I slap you... and before the other night."

"Yeah."

He blinked, shocked at how calm she was behaving. "That's all you have to say?" he asked.

"Everyone else screwed up, Gil... and you forgave them," she replied quietly, folding her hands in her lap. "Nick slept with a hooker---and he almost got arrested for he rmurder. Warrick... Warrick lost his cool in a case, mixed personal with professional... and Sara... Sara almost had a DUI and then she verbally assaulted me in front of the whole lab! And you forgave their mistakes. We're supposed to be a team---a family, sort of---and you treat me differently than---"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. He never thought to consider his actions from her perspective; when he studied the evidence, though, he saw that he had done her an injustice. He frowned and looked down at his hands that rested on his knees, one holding his glass of water.

"And... the past couple of years, I really needed a friend. Similarly to the way you've needed one lately... and you weren't there for me," she added. "Gil, you're always going to be important to me. But... I don't know if we'll ever be best friends again."

Gil looked into her eyes. She wasn't lying, and his heart ached at the thought of losing her, too. The impact of Warrick's words from days ago finally hit him forcefully.

"What do I have to do?" he asked, trying to keep the uncertain waver out of his voice.

"Get better," Catherine replied with a sincere smile. "Just get better and get your life back on track. That's what I want you to do right now."

"Catherine---"

She shook her head. "When you're feeling like yourself again... maybe we can talk about all the other stuff," she murmured.

"And the other night?"

Her cheeks flushed a little. "Well, I don't think we should talk about that at all, but... let's just get you back on your feet, okay?"

"Catherine, please---"

She shook her head again. "One thing at a time," she interrupted. "First, get back into your routine... and fix things with the team. Then... if you still want to talk about everything... we will."

He sighed. "That's hardly---"

"That's how we have to do it, now," Catherine told him, cutting him off again. "Too much has happened to both of us."

"I... how am I supposed to react to that?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said with a shrug.

Gil reached out---to touch her, to comfort her---but Catherine flinched slightly and he startled. She looked at him, her eyes registering surprise and something else he couldn't quite identify, and then she sighed, petted Bruno once more, and she rose to her feet. "I have to go... Ecklie's having some sort of supervisor meeting this afternoon and I don't want to be late."

"But---"

"Come and see me when you clock in, okay?" she insisted. "We'll figure out a little more then."

He frowned. "Catherine, I am sorry."

"And I believe you," she said after looping her purse over her shoulder. "But those are just words... and right now, I don't think you're ready to give me anything else. And, that's okay. It's normal... as surprising as it is for you to be normal," she added with a little, teasing smile. She walked over to the door and Gil rose and followed her; he wasn't willing to let her out of his sight yet. She put her shoes on and then said, "I'm glad you're doing better."

"You're one of the reasons why---"

She put her hand up and he stopped talking. His brow furrowed. She smiled a little, an uncomfortable, nervous smile, and then she said, "Take care of yourself, okay?"

He swallowed and nodded. "Sure... I... I'll see you at the lab, then?"

"Yeah." She cleared her throat and then said, "Lindsey wanted to say hi."

"How is she?"

"Growing up too fast," Catherine replied, her hand moving towards the doorknob. Gil watched her open the door and then she turned to face him again. "I am glad to see you sober... and better."

"I don't want to do that again," he assured her.

She nodded and smiled a little. "Good. See you later, Gil."

Once the door was closed behind her, Gil stared at its wooden surface. He couldn't figure out what the next move was---although he was fairly certain that the next move was his to make.

&&&&

It took Gil a few minutes to leave the safety of his car, to go into the criminalistics lab. He was reluctant to face everyone and to begin to make amends for the way he had treated them during the beginning stages of his grief. He was also reluctant to go back to the job that had cost Sara her life; he wasn't sure how he would react to suspects and victims. However, he knew he had to resume work and at least try to put his life back together.

Judy greeted him with a timid smile. Gil greeted her with an apology---he knew he had snapped at the petite woman several times. Much to his relief, she accepted his apology and handed him a message from Catherine, reminding him to meet with her before the shift really started.

"Is her office still---"

"She's in your office now, Dr. Grissom," Judy said, cringing a little.

He forced himself to smile. "Well, it has more space... and she is the boss now," he said, hoping to keep her fears in check. He saluted her slightly and said, "I better go see what she wants."

"See you later," Judy said, waving as he walked past her desk.

Gil sucked in a deep breath and walked down the hall to the space that used to be his own. He saw someone from the day shift using her former office; he wondered what else had happened to the organisational structure of the lab, but didn't see anyone along the way that could inform him about the changes he had missed.

His---no, her---office looked different than it used to. Catherine had had some of his shelves removed; the other two were alone one side of the room, cluttered with his experiments and specimens, as well as some of her things. He noticed that the walls held photographs of her family as well as of the team, and, for some reason he couldn't explain, the lighting was brighter than it was when he used the space. When he scanned the other side of the room, he noticed there was another desk; it was smaller and it housed his scientific equipment, the things he used to conduct experiments. He was surprised that she had kept it all.

Catherine was sitting at her desk, reading something on her computer. He didn't announce his presence right away; instead, he chose to observe her. She looked confident and curious; whatever she was reading held her interest. She adjusted her glasses and then tucked her hair behind her ear; however, her eyes never strayed from the document she was reading.

Still reluctant, he slowly brought his hand up and knocked on the door frame.

"I was wondering how long you were going to lurk out there," Catherine said before she looked up at him.

He smiled bashfully and stepped inside the office. "I like what you've done with the place," he said quietly.

She smiled a little. "Well, I couldn't exactly get rid of Miss Piggy and all her friends," she explained as she motioned with her hand towards the shelves. "You can use the other desk as long as I don't need the office," she added as she offered him the seat in front of her. "It'll come in handy when you help me with my paperwork," she said, her smile stretching.

Gil ducked his head to one side. "I suppose that's only fair, since I left you with much of my paperwork."

"Yeah, maybe," she replied as he sat down.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, neither of them saying anything or moving. Then, she sighed and said, "This is going to be tough in the beginning, Gil. I don't expect it to be easy for either of us."

"I'm back... and I'm ready to be back," he assured her. "I shouldn't have come back so early, before... and I know that now."

She nodded and leaned forward on her desk. "I want you to go to weekly therapy sessions," she announced in a quiet voice. "I don't mind if you find someone outside of the department, but there are therapists available to you through work... either way, you'll see someone regularly. And I'll be getting progress reports."

"One of the conditions of my return?" Gil inquired, feeling a little like he was being constricted. He shifted his weight and took a deep breath, trying to relax.

"Yes."

"Are there any others?" he asked.

Catherine nodded. "There have to be, Gil," she replied. "I run the team differently than you do... and there are some things I won't stand for." She sighed again. "This isn't going to be easy for us. You were my boss... one of my mentors, and now, I'm in your spot. I respect you and your expertise... and if you can't respect me---"

Gil put his hands up. "I respect you," he assured her. "Here, in this building, you are the boss."

"It won't be that easy all the time, but I appreciate you trying," she said honestly.

He met her gaze again and said, "I want to make this work."

She nodded. "I hope so," she said in a quiet voice, before that awkward silence fell down upon them again.

"So... mandatory therapy," he said, hoping to get back to the list of conditions for his return, so he could get a case and go to work. "When should I let you know who I'm seeing?"

"One week's time," she replied. She opened a drawer and pulled out a file folder. Inside there was a document that pertained to his return to the job, as far as he could tell from the headings on the top page. She scanned it quickly and then set it down on the desk. "I don't want you working alone for your first ten cases."

"Catherine---"

She cut him off. "No, Gil... I need to know that you can handle the work... that you can work with others... and that I can trust you to be professional with suspects and victims and other persons of interest," she said in a firm, no-nonesense tone of voice. "Every time you go out and do the job, my ass is on the line, and I don't want a loose cannon on my team."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Do I get any say in who I'm working with?" he asked, thinking it could be torture if she continuously paired him with Warrick, since the younger man was nowhere close to forgiving him for his behavior. "Or is that at your discretion?"

"A little of both," she replied. "How about we consider that an open line of communication... always open for interpretation or something along those lines?"

He relaxed a little. "That... that sounds good," he admitted.

"You and I'll have to meet---officially---every other week, too," she added.

"I figured," he said quietly, folding his hands in his lap. "You're very hands on."

"I don't want anyone to slip through the cracks, Gil," she said, explaining her reasoning. "The guys have been teaching me that we need to stick together... and... even though we're not on the best of terms right now, that includes you, too."

Gil pressed his lips together and then said, "Thank you, Catherine."

"We have team breakfasts," Catherine added, a small, teasing smile toying with her lips.

"Team breakfasts?" Gil echoed.

"Yeah... we like catching up, spending a little time together off of the clock," she explained, "the way we used to before everything pretty much started going to hell." She shrugged. "It's been fun. Sometimes it's just Nick and Warrick and Greg... sometimes it's just me and one of the guys... but we like the downtime, together. And... you should start thinking about joining us. It might be a good way for Warrick, especially, to start accepting the apologies I'm sure you'll be making."

He rolled his eyes. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

She smiled and shrugged. "A little," she admitted, her smile stretching into a grin for a brief moment. "Gil, don't you think I'm entitled to have a little fun at your expense?"

"Uh... well..."

"Gil."

He sighed. "I guess so," he conceded.

"You have thick skin, you'll survive," she assured him.

"Do you want apologies in written---"

She cut him off, shaking her head. "It's mostly personal. And I don't think it's necessary for you to write a memo to the entire lab," she said. "I want you to start repairing those burned bridges, though... but I'll leave that up to you."

"Of course, you'll hear about it during our official conversations," he pointed out.

Catherine smiled a little. "Of course."

After a slight roll of his eyes and a little smile of his own, he said, "Is there anything else?"

"Just sign this," she said as she gave him the paper she had been reading a few moments ago. "I'll give you a few minutes to read it first."

He nodded and scanned through the official language that outlined the terms of his return to the lab. It was all very straightforward. When he glanced at Catherine, she was picking a pen up off of her desk; she offered it to him but he didn't accept it immediately.

"You have to sign it to go back to work," she reminded him.

He sighed. "I know... I'm just... thinking."

"Well, don't think too much, because we eventually have to get to work," she pointed out. She leaned forward again and asked, "What's on your mind?"

"I... I really screwed up," he said quietly. "And... and a lot of the past few weeks, I wasn't exactly at my best. I remember most of it, but... but..." he trailed off and sighed. "I have a lot to make up for, on the job and off of the job. I want to... but... is it all worth it?"

She set her hands down on the ink blotter. "Do you want your job back?"

"Yes, but---"

"Do you feel ready to move on with your life?" she asked.

"Yes, Cath, but---"

Catherine shrugged. "Then, it's worth it."

"Are you going to let me say what I want to---"

"No."

He rolled his eyes. "Catherine---"

"The rest is just crap," she interrupted, yet again. "When you're at your best, you're an asset to the lab. Plus, with you gone, I'm short a bug expert."

"What about... what everyone thinks of me?" he inquired. "I mean, I'm sure most of the lab thinks I had some sort of breakdown or break with reality. And I don't know if... if you need someone like me on your team."

Catherine arched an eyebrow. "You trying to get yourself fired?"

"No, but... I just don't understand."

"I'm letting you go back to work, Gil," she said in a calm voice. "What is there to understand?"

"I hurt you," he said quietly.

"Yes."

He looked into her eyes. "How can you sit here and... and... let me come back?"

"Personal and professional... they're separate right now," she replied. "You can't be expected to fix everything all at once. It's impossible. It's going to take time... and... if you're serious about repairing our relationship, then I can wait until you get other things sorted out."

Gil frowned. He didn't like the idea of Catherine putting herself last and he wanted to argue with her, but she seemed so sure of herself and their situation. He didn't know what else he could say.

"You promise not to stick me with Warrick all the time?"

A small smile appeared on her face. "I'm not a sadist, Gil," she said in a teasing tone of voice. "Or... not much of one, anyway."

"And... what happens in my therapy sessions---"

"Will stay between you and your therapist, apart from what I receive in your progress reports," she interrupted. "And, what we discuss in our meetings will stay between us. I won't run to Warrick and spill the beans. You'll be able to trust me."

He nodded, feeling reassured that his private life would not be plastered throughout the lab and gossiped about by everyone in the building. He took the pen from Catherine and looked down at the sheet of paper in front of him.

"What about... us?" he asked quietly.

"One thing at a time," she answered.

"Catherine, I... I know I screwed up, and while I'm a little fuzzy on all of the details---"

She cut him off. "Maybe it's better that you don't remember everything," she suggested. "For now... let's just... repair our working relationship."

"Are you okay with that?" he inquired.

Catherine nodded. "I am. Are you?"

"I'm not sure how I feel," he admitted. "But, I trust you... and I'm willing to do this your way. You're the boss, Catherine."

"It's not always going to be this easy," she pointed out. "I'm not an easy woman to work under, and the guys can tell you that," she added.

"I'd rather work for you than anyone else," he told her.

"You might be singing a different song in a few hours," she pointed out, as she motioned behind him. Nick, Warrick, and Greg were walking into the office. She smiled at the younger men. "Hey, guys... all set to start the shift?"

"Is Grissom back with us?" Nick asked, smiling.

Gil glanced at Catherine, who was still smiling, and then he quickly signed and dated the official document in front of him. Catherine took the paper from him and slipped it into one of her desk drawers. Then, she looked back up at Nick as Gil turned to face the men behind him.

"He's back," she told them.

"Alright," Greg said, nodding and smiling. "Glad to have you back, Grissom."

"Thank you, Greg," Gil replied, giving the younger man a hesitant smile.

Catherine held up some assignment sheets and cleared her throat. "Greg, you're preparing for court tonight, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I've got a meeting with the ADA in a few minutes," he replied.

"Okay... well, why don't you go prep for that," Catherine suggested. "If you finish up early, come see me, and I can put you on a case."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a grin.

Catherine chuckled softly as he all but bounced out of the office. Once it was only the four of them remaining, Gil turned around and looked at Nick and Warrick. He cleared his throat and said, "I... I know that... well... I haven't been a good friend or boss to you lately."

The darker, taller man snorted and rolled his eyes. Catherine coughed once, quietly, and then said his name in a warning tone of voice. He sighed and nodded, before turning his focus to Gil.

"I'm not good at expressing myself, but I want to tell you both that... that... I appreciate your help the past week," Gil continued. "I don't think I would be here right now if you guys hadn't taken an interest, for whatever reason."

"Cool," Nick said with a smile. "Now, next time you get all bottled up... might be better to let the top off before you explode, Grissom," he advised. "Good to have you back. Now, maybe we won't have to pull as many doubles."

Catherine smiled at him, and when Gil looked at her he suspected she looked proud of Nick's attitude. She lifted a piece of paper---an assignment slip---and then spoke to him. "You want to take a homicide in a hotel?" she asked.

"Oh, boy, do I ever," he said in a dry tone of voice.

He took the paper and then disappeared. Gil looked into Warrick's face and saw a storm brewing behind his eyes. He quickly glanced away and found his eyes seeking Catherine's for reassurance; he was disappointed when he found her looking down at the remaining assignment sheets.

"I'm going to take a hit and run," she told the men. "And you two are going to work together on a B-and-E."

Gil frowned and looked at Catherine. "Are you sure that's... the best idea?"

"You're both on the same team and it's time to start acting like it," Catherine told them. "Warrick, I know you have serious issues with Gil's behavior and actions---and with mine. But, we're all grown-ups here."

Warrick sighed. "Catherine..."

"Gil's back and he's ready to start fixing his mistakes," Catherine told him. "And you're gonna cut him some slack."

"Or, what? You'll knock our heads together?"

"Yeah," she replied.

Gil frowned again. "Catherine, I can just stay in the lab tonight and do---"

"You're needed out in the field," she interrupted. She looked at Warrick, "If you want to do right by me... you'll give him a chance to fix things."

"He doesn't have to fix things with me," Warrick told her. "He needs to fix them with you."

She nodded. Gil opened his mouth to speak, to tell the younger man that he was ready to do just about anything to repair his relationship with Catherine, but the strawberry blonde cut him off.

"He's working on it," she assured Warrick. "Now, can you two work together, or do I have to send a uniform along to supervise?"

Warrick smiled a little. "We'll work it out," he replied. "Grissom, I'll go get a car. Meet you out front?"

"Uh... sure. Thank you, Warrick."

"Yeah," he said before he took the paper from Catherine and left the office.

Gil looked at Catherine. "I... I don't know how to do this," he admitted.

"You'll get in the car, you'll go to the scene... you'll do your job... and every night, you'll put a piece of yourself back in its rightful place," she told him. She pushed back from her desk and walked over to the other side of the other desk. A second later, she was pulling his kit up and offering it to him. "I had Greg sterilise and stock it for you, yesterday," she explained. "And when you take your firearms test, you can get your weapon back."

He nodded. She smiled a little and motioned towards the door. "Warrick won't wait all night for you," she reminded him.

"Catherine... I... thank you."

"Just do your job," she murmured as he rose to his feet and approached her. "Everything will get sorted out."

"Promise?"

"I don't usually lie to you, Gil... so yeah," she said, still smiling slightly. "Call me if you have any problems, okay?"

"See you at the end of shift?" he asked, hoping to spend a bit more time with Catherine.

She smirked. "You're paying for breakfast."

"Ah... of course," he said with a little smile of his own. He took his kit from her and then asked, "Do I have to call you 'ma'am?'"

"I think you might enjoy that a little too much," she teased.

"You're a riot, Alice."

She grinned. "I know."

The phone on her desk started to ring and she left his side to go answer the call. Gil watched her for a moment---until she realised he was still there and watching her. Then, he waved and left the office that used to be completely his. He stopped into the locker room, where he found his vest still in his locker, and then he continued down the hall---while trying to ignore the stares from the other departmental employees---towards the exit where Warrick was supposedly waiting.

The younger man didn't exactly greet him with open arms and a warm smile, but he did nod and while they drove, they made casual conversation.

Gil knew it wouldn't be easy---to put his career back on the right track, to make amends with his colleagues, to apologise to Warrick and Catherine and to regain their trust and admiration---but he knew he was doing the right thing. The ache in his heart lessened as he thought about the things he would have to do in the coming days and weeks and months; for the first time in a long while, he felt as if his life had direction again.

"Cowards die many times before their deaths,
The valiant never taste of death but once."

Warrick looked up as the words slipped from Gil's lips, as he examined the broken window in front of him. "What are you saying, Gris?"

Gil felt the tips of his ears begin to warm; he assumed they were turning pink. "Oh... um... I was just thinking."

"About Shakespeare?"

"No... about... about us... Nick... Greg... Catherine..."

Warrick moved from his crouching position into a standing position. He put his flashlight in his vest pocket and then said, "You're really back."

"I'm working on it. I... I can't promise to turn into my old self... or that things will go back to the way they were," he told the younger man, "but I did have a few moments of clarity... and... I know where I'm needed. You reminded me---you and Nick reminded me about me place here and in the world. I need to try."

"Good," Warrick said with a little nod.

The two men returned to working the crime scene in amiable silence.

&&&&

"And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages."