Disclaimer: Yup. I'll cry it from the highest peak, the deepest ocean, the tallest tree…CSI is not my own…but belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer and those creative geniuses who work with him.

A/N: I wasn't sure of the Building Inspector's name, other than the first name…eh.

That Which We Covet…

By Manda

She was getting married.

It was early spring…although the seasons in Nevada tend to blend into one another, until the transitions become less and less noticable and eventually disappear. She'd walked into my office, a smile spreading easily across her features as she slipped into the stiff-backed chair in front of my desk. Her hands folded, eyes sparking with that depth-of-the-sea way they had, and I could recall that feeling of unease. Her eyes never sparkled that way unless she was playing the proverbial 'cat that ate the canary.' 

"I'm getting married." She spoke quickly, as if the canary were aching to get out of the jaws of the cat, aand the words flew free. My eyes settled on her hands, which had since unfolded to lay useless in her lap, and the sparkling of a delicate sapphire caught my attention. "In three days."

I hadn't even known she was in love.

"Congratulations." I raised my eyebrows briefly, offering my hand across the desktop, nudging a jar of preserved ants out of reach and grasping her delicate fingers as she slid them between mine. But there was nothing else to say, not at the abrupt announcement that my partner, best friend and confidant was about to change the course of her life forever.

In the next hour and a half, Catherine told me about things I'd never suspected, and my incredulity grew. The past year had been rife with fancy dinners and secret rendezvous, times she'd spent with the county building inspector. Paul Newstead was a man whom I'd never met, but I'd never once anticipated that Catherine would be taken with anyone involved with her work. The nights I'd invited her for coffee, or offerred to make her a complete breakfast in the organized confines of my townhouse…she'd declined more often than not, and now the reason was clear.

"How is Lindsey taking it?"

Catherine shook her head, hair falling away from her face as if it had rehearsed, knew exactly how to fall and where. Her hair was beautiful, complimentary to her already flawless features. I'd always been able to count on her for supplying beauty where it might not exist…at a crime scene where there was merely agony, disaster. The beauty in nature could sometimes be scarred by violence…but even when Eddie was harsh and degrading, Catherine could arrive at work as the very personification of perfection. I'd counted on that more than I realized.

"She's happy. Paul loves to take her to the park…and when Eddie forgets he's supposed to pick her up…" She laughed spiritedly, and it dawned on me that the glow of contentment suited her. She deserved to be happy more than anyone I'd ever been aquainted with. "He's wonderful with her."

                I let my head fall as my hand released hers and began to sift through the sheaves of paper on my desktop. She shifted, clearing her throat, and I lifted my eyes to meet hers, as she tilted her head cautiously, lips curling into a gentle frown.

"Grissom?" Fair hair fell in molten curls across her eyes, blocking out the confusion that had begun to cloud over them. "Gil…what's wrong?"

"We only covet that which we cannot have…" I couldn't look at her forever, knowing that in less than a week I'd be changing papers, filling out a new form for 'Catherine Willows-Newstead', or 'Catherine Newstead'. It wouldn't be the same after that…she'd no longer be afraid of confrontations with her ex-husband, as long as her new love was by her side to strongarm Eddie from making any reckless decisions.

                I always knew you two had a thing…

                But in three days, it would be too late to validate Eddie's statement…and I'd never have that chance again.

                "Grissom?"

                "How much leave will you need?" I shuffled through the papers once more, seeking out the pink edges of an official request form. At Sara's request, I'd brought out several from the inner reaches of the Crime Lab, leaving them in the nest of random sheets spread over the gunmetal grey desktop.

                "Wait a second- leave?" She stood, hands falling to her sides, boot heels clicking against the floor as she paced before my desk. Her crimson shirt was open at the collar, black nylon laces dangling loose and swinging against her shoulder, in tandem with the flowing bell sleeves that barely hid the tips of her manicured fingernails. "Grissom- who said anything about leave? I'm not Sara- I know when I should take time off…and I don't plan on taking any now."

                "You're getting married, Catherine- You can't keep working through the ceremony."

                Her sigh was heavy, falling into the tense air like a rock hitting asphalt.

"Don't be an ass, Grissom. As you say, I'm getting married… not ending my life." An expression I knew too well had begun to spread over her face, settling into a ridge in her forehead. It was the expression she adopted when she was thoughtful, the scientist within considering options and evidence laid out before her. "Grissom- what aren't you telling me?"

"I can't find the form, Catherine. You'll have to stop in later…or Brass might have a few handy, if you have time at the end of shift." She stared at me, incredulously, before shaking her golden curls and turning on her heels to pick her way out of my office, the absence of Billy Bass's harmony only serving as a funereal silence to the true, imminent execution of Catherine Willows.

When I finally had the mind to seek her out, twenty minutes later…I found her in the locker room, stuffing random belongings into an economy sized totebag. The image of Scooby Doo had roughly drawn onto acanvas side with garish orange puff paint, the barely discernable signature of Lindsey Willows scribbled at the bottom in black felt marker. Once apon a time, when Catherine had brought the bleary eyed Lindsey to sleep at the lab, late into the evening…I'd watched over her shoulder as she struggled to write the names for plants and insects native to Nevada…and truly, Latin may have been simpler than deciphering the writing of a child.

"Catherine…"

She paused, setting a folding mirror on the bench behind her and folding her legs beneath her body as she fell upon it, head tipping toward her lap. The sigh that followed was something I'd never liked to hear…the type of sigh she'd only needed when Eddie had double-crossed her, when Lindsey was ill…when she'd felt as if the world were on her shoulders and she were about to fall beneath the weight.

                "Gil…what is it, really?" The Scooby-Doo bag fell from her fingertips and struck the floor, heavy contents causing a thump that resounded through the empty locker room. "What's bothering you about this…so much that you can't talk to me about it?" Lifting her head, she brushed away the hair from her eyes and blinked, giving me opportunity to note that the sparkle in her eyes had begun to fade, weariness and confusion beginning to reign supreme. "We've known each other too long to dance around things."

"You haven't let the evidence speak, Catherine."

Her fists formed rapidly, clenching in her lap before she slammed the folded right hand into the varinished wood beside her.

"Dammit, Grissom- what evidence? What's it supposed to be saying that you're not telling me!?"

                My shrug was slight, and she arched her eyebrows in confusion as I moved out of the doorway and sat on the cleared section of bench beside her weary form, lifting her chin to stare clearly into the eyes that understood me better than anyone. These eyes, on a day-to-day basis, sought out my vulnerability, anger and fears, washing over them with the freshness of a warm bath.

                "I love you, Catherine Willows."

- End (?) J