Author : Montag
Disclaimer : Any characters in this story are not mine, and no $$$.
Archive : All you have to do is ask me, and give me the opportunity to say yes.
Spoilers : End of "Burden of Proof"
Feedback's nice and always appreciated.
Spontaneity
you know there's always more than one way
to say exactly what you mean to say...
- fastball -
"You got something to drink?"
"Juice."
"Anything stronger?"
Grissom looked at her curiously, suddenly noticing the distress in her sharp blue eyes, and nodded slowly. "Help yourself."
"But I'll take that orange juice too."
He handed her the carton from the refrigerator and watched as she filled a third of the glass with orange juice, and the rest with liquor. Swishing it lightly in the glass, she took a few swallows.
"You all right?"
"Nope." She answered, looking at him. "But nothing you can do anyway." An uneasy sigh escaped her, "God, I hate this."
She made her way slowly to the couch, downing the rest of what was left in her glass, and set it curtly on the side table.
"I hate this." She muttered to herself, "I hate this."
She lowered herself into the comfort of the sofa, and within a few moments drifted tensely into sleep.
Later...
"Sorry 'bout that." She said as she poured herself another drink.
"Don't worry. You could certainly use some rest." He looked up from the counter. "Tough case, huh?"
She screwed the cap back on the liquor bottle, setting it aside.
"Yeah, give me a straight ahead murder any day."
"You wouldn't be human if it didn't affect you."
She nodded.
"I heard about you and...Sara."
"Sara, you know, she gets very emotional."
"Are you in denial? No, that's, no, no, way too analytical."
Grissom stared apprehensively at her. She seemed inebriated, yet she made sense all the while.
"Wow, you got burned bad, huh? Welcome to the club. I - I got third degree burns from my marriage. Happens to everybody. Everybody just moves on."
"Good. Let's move on."
"But you have to deal with it! You have to deal with it! You have to deal with it first before it...goes away." Her words were meshed together in a slur. "You are the supervisor. You have responsibilities, and people are making a family around you whether you like it or not, whether you give them permission or not."
He didn't answer.
"We don't have to go to the Grand Tetons together. Just...every now and then you've got to LIFT your head up out of that microscope."
"Yeah." He raised his eyes to hers.
She smiled that 'you-know-what-you-have-to-do' smile of hers, though her eyes still flashed with pain. Stepping aside, she let out a relieved sigh as if suddenly a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders. Standing by the wall, she turned back, before facing the window again. She brought the glass she was holding to her lips, and swallowed, looking out through the slats of the blinds. Finally settling comfortable in the sofa, up on her elbows, she watched with a light grin on as Grissom picked up the phone.
"Yeah, hi. I'd like to get some flowers for a girl. No, no, not flowers. A plant - a living plant. She likes vegetation. Yeah, that'd be fine. To a Sara Sidle. Deliver it at the CSI Division, Las Vegas Police Department, the one out on North Trop Boulevard. Yeah, you can bill me at the same place. Gil Grissom...The sentiment? Oh, oh, on the card. Yeah. Uh, uh - have it say...have it say, uh...'From Grissom.' Thank you."
He placed the receiver back, and took a drink from his glass. Catherine looked at him thoughtfully.
"Hey, Gil, I have a hunch."
"I don't think you're sober enough to be having hunches." He replied, glancing at her out of the corners of his eyes.
She stood from the sofa, and returned to her spot, standing across the counter from him. He avoided her eyes.
"Just hear me out first."
"Go ahead."
"You won't lie, will you?"
"No, I won't lie."
"Do you...have...feelings for Sara?"
He glanced up suddenly, meeting her eyes. He shook his head slowly.
"No," He answered softly.
"Okay."
"Do you believe me?"
"Yeah, I believe you, Gil." She laughed softly.
"What?"
"That phone call was the most spontaneous thing you did all year, wasn't it?"
"I don't like doing spontaneous things."
" 'So in yourselves, know spontaneity and in spontaneity you will find joy.' "
"You're really drunk, Cath."
"I know."
"You only begin quoting things when you're really drunk."
"I know."
"Yeah, yeah. You know everything."
"I know."
"Right."
"Come on, Gil, haven't you ever done anything crazy?"
"What's your definition of 'crazy'?"
"I'll take that as a negative."
" 'The monotony and solitude of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind.' "
"Yeah, you just keep listening to what Einstein says."
He looked at her surprised.
"Huh, didn't know I knew that." She said to herself, then, "Wow, I AM drunk."
"You know, they say if you say you're crazy, it means you're not. But if you deny you're crazy, you are - "
"Joseph Heller's 'Catch-22', huh?"
He stared at her again. With her elbows on the counter, she leaned in toward him so that they were only inches away from each other.
"You, Gil Grissom, are not as smart as you think you are."
She smirked, making him smile himself.
"Doing something out of the ordinary makes you feel alive, Gil. What would life be without the occasional surrender to whim? You know, doing something you know you shouldn't be doing. Something very out of character. For God's sake, 'carpe diem'."
"You'll rue the day you ever told me to do that."
"I mean, haven't you ever wanted to break all the rules?"
"Cross the line you never dared cross."
"Do something irresponsible. Something you wouldn't normally do, knowing well enough you probably shouldn't be doing it."
"With someone you shouldn't be with."
They stared at each other, but it was more than just staring. It was deeper, past looking, past seeing. Catherine looked away first.
"You get the gist?" She said softly.
"Yeah." His voice was barely audible.
"Then, I better go."
"Right."
"Right."
"Good night, Catherine."
"Good night.........Grissom..."
- END -
Disclaimer : Any characters in this story are not mine, and no $$$.
Archive : All you have to do is ask me, and give me the opportunity to say yes.
Spoilers : End of "Burden of Proof"
Feedback's nice and always appreciated.
Spontaneity
you know there's always more than one way
to say exactly what you mean to say...
- fastball -
"You got something to drink?"
"Juice."
"Anything stronger?"
Grissom looked at her curiously, suddenly noticing the distress in her sharp blue eyes, and nodded slowly. "Help yourself."
"But I'll take that orange juice too."
He handed her the carton from the refrigerator and watched as she filled a third of the glass with orange juice, and the rest with liquor. Swishing it lightly in the glass, she took a few swallows.
"You all right?"
"Nope." She answered, looking at him. "But nothing you can do anyway." An uneasy sigh escaped her, "God, I hate this."
She made her way slowly to the couch, downing the rest of what was left in her glass, and set it curtly on the side table.
"I hate this." She muttered to herself, "I hate this."
She lowered herself into the comfort of the sofa, and within a few moments drifted tensely into sleep.
Later...
"Sorry 'bout that." She said as she poured herself another drink.
"Don't worry. You could certainly use some rest." He looked up from the counter. "Tough case, huh?"
She screwed the cap back on the liquor bottle, setting it aside.
"Yeah, give me a straight ahead murder any day."
"You wouldn't be human if it didn't affect you."
She nodded.
"I heard about you and...Sara."
"Sara, you know, she gets very emotional."
"Are you in denial? No, that's, no, no, way too analytical."
Grissom stared apprehensively at her. She seemed inebriated, yet she made sense all the while.
"Wow, you got burned bad, huh? Welcome to the club. I - I got third degree burns from my marriage. Happens to everybody. Everybody just moves on."
"Good. Let's move on."
"But you have to deal with it! You have to deal with it! You have to deal with it first before it...goes away." Her words were meshed together in a slur. "You are the supervisor. You have responsibilities, and people are making a family around you whether you like it or not, whether you give them permission or not."
He didn't answer.
"We don't have to go to the Grand Tetons together. Just...every now and then you've got to LIFT your head up out of that microscope."
"Yeah." He raised his eyes to hers.
She smiled that 'you-know-what-you-have-to-do' smile of hers, though her eyes still flashed with pain. Stepping aside, she let out a relieved sigh as if suddenly a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders. Standing by the wall, she turned back, before facing the window again. She brought the glass she was holding to her lips, and swallowed, looking out through the slats of the blinds. Finally settling comfortable in the sofa, up on her elbows, she watched with a light grin on as Grissom picked up the phone.
"Yeah, hi. I'd like to get some flowers for a girl. No, no, not flowers. A plant - a living plant. She likes vegetation. Yeah, that'd be fine. To a Sara Sidle. Deliver it at the CSI Division, Las Vegas Police Department, the one out on North Trop Boulevard. Yeah, you can bill me at the same place. Gil Grissom...The sentiment? Oh, oh, on the card. Yeah. Uh, uh - have it say...have it say, uh...'From Grissom.' Thank you."
He placed the receiver back, and took a drink from his glass. Catherine looked at him thoughtfully.
"Hey, Gil, I have a hunch."
"I don't think you're sober enough to be having hunches." He replied, glancing at her out of the corners of his eyes.
She stood from the sofa, and returned to her spot, standing across the counter from him. He avoided her eyes.
"Just hear me out first."
"Go ahead."
"You won't lie, will you?"
"No, I won't lie."
"Do you...have...feelings for Sara?"
He glanced up suddenly, meeting her eyes. He shook his head slowly.
"No," He answered softly.
"Okay."
"Do you believe me?"
"Yeah, I believe you, Gil." She laughed softly.
"What?"
"That phone call was the most spontaneous thing you did all year, wasn't it?"
"I don't like doing spontaneous things."
" 'So in yourselves, know spontaneity and in spontaneity you will find joy.' "
"You're really drunk, Cath."
"I know."
"You only begin quoting things when you're really drunk."
"I know."
"Yeah, yeah. You know everything."
"I know."
"Right."
"Come on, Gil, haven't you ever done anything crazy?"
"What's your definition of 'crazy'?"
"I'll take that as a negative."
" 'The monotony and solitude of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind.' "
"Yeah, you just keep listening to what Einstein says."
He looked at her surprised.
"Huh, didn't know I knew that." She said to herself, then, "Wow, I AM drunk."
"You know, they say if you say you're crazy, it means you're not. But if you deny you're crazy, you are - "
"Joseph Heller's 'Catch-22', huh?"
He stared at her again. With her elbows on the counter, she leaned in toward him so that they were only inches away from each other.
"You, Gil Grissom, are not as smart as you think you are."
She smirked, making him smile himself.
"Doing something out of the ordinary makes you feel alive, Gil. What would life be without the occasional surrender to whim? You know, doing something you know you shouldn't be doing. Something very out of character. For God's sake, 'carpe diem'."
"You'll rue the day you ever told me to do that."
"I mean, haven't you ever wanted to break all the rules?"
"Cross the line you never dared cross."
"Do something irresponsible. Something you wouldn't normally do, knowing well enough you probably shouldn't be doing it."
"With someone you shouldn't be with."
They stared at each other, but it was more than just staring. It was deeper, past looking, past seeing. Catherine looked away first.
"You get the gist?" She said softly.
"Yeah." His voice was barely audible.
"Then, I better go."
"Right."
"Right."
"Good night, Catherine."
"Good night.........Grissom..."
- END -