Break
I. Bombshell
At last in the safe security of her office, she sank into the plush, burgundy padding of the desk chair and sucked in a breath. She was almost positive it had been the first full one she'd taken since Warrick's announcement earlier that night. It had sent her reeling; the finality of it rocked her to the core.
He was married.
Married. The word echoed over and over in her mind, taunting and cutting and dripping with inevitability.
She hadn't been convincing, she knew that, and she didn't need to be. He knew she was attracted to him; hell, she thought he was attracted to her, too. I guess not. Even in her mind, her confession sounded abnormally caustic.
"At least it wasn't a public wedding," she muttered under her breath. She jumped when a soft, almost hesitant knock came at the door. Massaging her temples with her index fingers, she took a chance and called, "Come in," making no move to open her closed eyes or get out of the chair- or out from behind the desk, for that matter. She wasn't going to look, she wasn't going to get up, she wasn't-
"Catherine?"
Her eyes flew open involuntarily. It was Grissom.
"I thought you had to go pick up Lindsay from school," he said, ice-blue eyes searching her own cerulean ones. There was no accusation in his quiet tone, merely compassionate and evenly curious.
"I lied." Hopefully that answer would satisfy him; he didn't care anyway. The man couldn't even see a foot past his own nose. Sarcastic again, an inner voice chided. She sighed, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. "She's at home already."
"Would you like a ride?" he asked carefully, knowing full well he was skating on thin ice. He waited patiently for her reply, concluding after a moment that there was always a possibility that he might not get one. She looked miserable, and his heart ached for her.
A minute passed. He came around her desk and held out his hand, inviting her simply to take it. She did so without a word, and he refused to let go until they reached his Tahoe, where he opened the door for her and reluctantly extracted his hand from her tight grasp. She immediately placed both hands in her lap, clenching them into tight fists and breathing deeply. He jogged around to the other side and slid in the driver's seat and pulled out of the parking lot of the Las Vegas Police Department.
The majority of the drive was spent in complete silence, with Grissom catching glances at his distressed companion every few minutes, and Catherine staring out the window absently.
"I'm okay, Gil."
He clamped down hard on his tongue to keep from arguing with her. "I know."
"Do you?" She turned to face him. The afternoon sunlight shone through the window and cast a shadow on her face, hiding most of her facial features.
"No. You're not fine, he's not fine, nobody's fine."
Despite herself, a hint of a smile touched the corners of her lips. "'S that right…" She left it open, leaving him to wonder whether it had been a question or a derisive retort.
A tiny, almost imperceptible nod was all that emerged from the entomologist. "Mhmm."
She was silent, having absolutely nothing to say to that.
"And," he continued, more or less dryly, "Yes, I can see past my own nose. Sara and I have been together around four months."
Her smile grew.
"You hide it well."
Another nod. "It's for the best." He paused and tilted his head to one side, as if wrestling with the idea of adding something. "For others, maybe not quite so much." With that, he pulled into her driveway and yanked the Tahoe into park. "Would you like some company?" He opted to respect her decision, whatever she chose.
"That's okay, Grissom. You go ahead." She unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the vehicle. He got out and walked her to the door, listening to the sounds of the autumn leaves crunching under his feet and the wind rustling through the trees. In a rare and quiet display of tenderness, he gave her a gentle hug before she disappeared inside.
"Thank you," she said, and closed the door.
"You're welcome," he replied simply, but she didn't hear him.
