Summary: [GC friendship] "I don't know where I'd be without you here with me. Life with you makes perfect sense. You're my best friend."
Rating: G
Notes: Man, it seems like forever since I have posted anything! Anyway, this is just a lil' fic for Catherine's birthday yesterday. You know you're obsessed with CSI when you know the character's birthdays! LOL!
Disclaimer: I could say that I owned them just for the heck of it, but I am not really in the mood to get sued today. ;-) The summary is from Tim McGraw's "My Best Friend."
-Best Friends-
*-March 26, 1985-*
"Gil, I'm fine. Really."
Catherine Willows sat on a park bench, next to her best friend, Gil Grissom. Each had an ice cream cone in hand, and they were in the middle of a discussion. The shade from a small nearby tree did nothing to stop the cold substance from melting, as it was already over eighty degrees outside.
"But it's your birthday, Catherine. You turn twenty-two today."
She cocked one natural, perfectly shaped eyebrow. "You think I don't know that?"
"It's more of a matter of acknowledging the fact, than knowing it." He said.
"I already acknowledged it! It's my birthday, are you happy?"
"No. That doesn't change the fact that you won't let me buy you anything."
She shook her head, allowing the mid-length strawberry blonde hair to flutter in the slight breeze.
"There's no reason for you to."
He looked a little hurt by the comment.
"I'm your best friend, Catherine. That's a reason in itself."
"I did let you buy me the ice cream." She pointed out, smiling.
He wasn't amused. "I meant something good."
"I know that. But the best gifts aren't always expensive. Your friendship means much more to me than any present ever could." She admitted, lowering her eyes in a slightly embarrassed way, and taking another lick of her ice cream.
He was left speechless for a moment at her admission. Of course, they both knew that they were needed, but the words had always remained unspoken between them.
"You mean a lot to me, too." He admitted.
A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Gil didn't show his feelings often. And even more rarely did he ever express them verbally. The fact that he did so showed Catherine exactly how good of friends they really were.
"Thanks, Gil." She finished her cone, and, surprising Gil, nestled her head contentedly on his shoulder.
*-March 26, 2006-*
'Happy Birthday, Cath.' That was what the card said. No name. No indication of who had slid it in her locker. But she knew anyway.
Catherine smiled at the fact that all night, Gil had acted like he didn't remember. He knew she didn't like to have her birthday acknowledged. He and Lindsey were the only exceptions. So he hadn't said anything; hadn't let on to the others that she was turning yet another year older.
And then, at the end of shift, she had opened her locker and a small, white card fluttered to the ground.
Simple, to the point. There was no doubt in her mind that it was from him. It was as if they were connected somehow; she just knew.
Catherine smiled, then, leaving her things in her locker, she spun on her heel and walked to his office.
!
Boots clicking on the tiled floor alerted Gil of her approach.
Hastily, he replaced the small jewelry box back into the drawer where he kept it. Gil just managed to slide the drawer shut when the door opened, and she entered.
Catherine's face held an affectionate smile that made Gil lose his breath. Wow, she was beautiful when she smiled. Well, really, she was beautiful all the time, but especially when she smiled.
Then Gil realized that she had spoken.
"What?"
She rolled her eyes.
"I said, 'Thank you for the card.'"
"Oh. Of course. You're welcome."
She cocked her head, sensing that something was up with him.
"Okay, Bugman." She moved from her stance in front of the door to sit down in the chair in front of his desk. "You're acting weird. What gives?"
Leave it to Catherine not to beat around the bush.
!
Catherine sat, waiting for an answer.
"Promise you won't yell at me?" Gil looked a little sheepish as he asked the question.
"You bought me a present." she quickly deduced.
At his nod of confirmation, Catherine blew out a breath.
"Gil Grissom, how many times do I have to tell you..." She broke off, mid-rant, staring at the open jewelry box in Gil's hand. She felt the breath still in her throat as she took in the delicate silver chain and small heart-shaped locket, glinting off the bright, smooth silk.
"How many times have I asked you not to buy me anything?" This time, though, her voice didn't have the same conviction in it. Her fingers were itching to reach out and touch the beautiful necklace.
"Every year. But when has that stopped me?" Gil asked, smiling.
"Never. You even sent me a gift that year you were off at the bug conference." She said, grin matching his, but eyes never leaving the box that remained in his outstretched hand.
"What do you think?" Her eyes finally raised to meet his.
"I think it's beautiful." Catherine admitted.
"So, does that mean you'll keep it?" He asked, teasing.
"Maybe. If I like the way it looks."
"Well, there's only one way to determine that." He stood and made his way to her side of the desk.
When he took his place right behind her chair, Catherine swept her hair off to the side, so it wouldn't be in the way.
With surprisingly deft hands, Gil unfastened the latch and gently placed it around her neck. When he was done, she let her hair fall into place.
"Do you have..." She was going to say a mirror, but he was already holding one.
"I think I can make an exception just this year." She said, when she saw her reflection. It was an echo of each of her birthdays for the last twenty-one years. It was a sort of tradition between the two of them; she told him not to buy her anything, he did anyway. And she always kept them.
They were special to her; sort of reminders of their friendship. Of how much they really meant to each other. It hadn't been spoken out loud since her first birthday they spent together, eating ice cream in the park. And though she knew, Catherine felt a sudden urge to make sure that he did too.
"You remember all those years ago, in the park?" She asked suddenly, turning to meet his eyes. "The day I told you that I needed you?"
"How could I forget?"
"Well, I still do. I know I seem overly independent sometimes, but I really don't know what I would do without you."
"I know."
Unreasonably, Catherine felt hurt that he hadn't returned the sentiment, but she knew that was just the way he was. She hadn't asked, so he hadn't told.
Before she could stop herself, Catherine blurted, "Do you?"
After a few moments of semi-uncomfortable silence - at least on Catherine's side - he spoke.
"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art. It has no survival value; rather is one of those things that give value to survival."
She shook her head, smiling. "A quote for every occasion."
"No, but I'm working on it."
"Who was that one by?"
"C. S. Lewis."
"Ahh. So," Catherine said, setting down the mirror on its shelf. "Want to go to breakfast? I'm starved."
"Sure. My treat." He opened the door for her, and followed her out into the hallway.
"I don't think so. You already bought me that gorgeous necklace."
"Which, by the way, looks very beautiful on you."
"I think you have it the wrong way around. You are supposed to compliment the lady, not her jewelry."
"Yes of course. You look beautiful as well."
"Gil Grissom, are you flirting with me?" Catherine teased playfully as they entered the locker room.
"Not at all. I was simply doing what you told me to."
"I didn't tell you to do anything. I was just giving you a hint in case in some alternate universe, you actually go on a date."
He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because I could have sworn you just wanted me to compliment you."
Her mouth dropped open, and Catherine felt a slight blush crept over her features. Thank God she had makeup on.
"Gil, you really are ridiculous sometimes." She said, following him back out into the hall. They walked side-by-side towards the doors that led to the parking lot.
"Not at all. I just follow the evidence."
Half an hour later, they were seated in a corner booth at their favorite little diner, eating a delicious breakfast.
Watching them, a person would observe how each knew what the other wanted almost before it was spoken out loud. You would see the slight incline of her head when she spoke to him, the unwavering eye contact, the body language that clearly indicated that they knew each other well, and were perfectly comfortable.
She even reached out to touch his hand once. He started slightly, but looked pleased at the contact. There would be no doubt in your mind that these two people were extremely close. Even to a stranger, it would be apparent that they had a special connection; one shared only between the closest of friends.
Because that was what they were: Best friends. Two people who talked, fought, laughed, teased, and above all, meant the absolute world to each other.
~end