Title: But if I Let You Go
Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Author: frickangel ( frickangel{dot}livejournal{dot}com )
Pairing: -
Spoilers/Timeline: Post 'Lost & Found'
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't know. Don't I wish.
Summary: It's been seven years since she caused him pain; three years since they hurt him. Will she be able to ever let him grow? A Catherine & Greg friendship piece.
A/N: I'm basically just using Catherine to voice out my own thoughts about Greg. And I just realised, it's been three years since my last CSI fic. Wow.
Warning: Un-beta'd
The cursor on the screen blinked in perfect timing, not ever slowing down nor speeding up. It just remained as it was, probably mocking her inability to put the report of a three-year old case down into words. Why couldn't the government accept the fact that the case was closed, suspect arrested, and mountains of evidence against him were there?
Because there were lawyers capable of tearing down every single shred of DNA and common sense in a case; allowing their well paying client off on a technicality, even if the client had raped his niece and set in motion a daisy chain of heartache, pain, and death.
Loosely clutching her reading glasses, Catherine slipped them off and laid them upon the table, right above three files that were encased in yellow manila folders. Rubbing her eyes, she began formulating the beginning sentence in her head and thought of the best way she could to immortalise the evidence and the truth.
"Hey."
Her weary eyes narrowed for a moment as she set her sights to the entrance. The light that was coming from beyond her door concealed the identity of her visitor, but the voice couldn't mask his gender nor could his mannerism hide who he really was.
"Oh, Greg," a smile played on her lips as the youngest in her family of seasoned and well trained CSIs walked into her office. The door behind him clicked softly as it closed and blocked out the noise of the hallway visitors that ambled by. "What's up?" tried as she might to bite back the sigh, she lost as it escaped her lips, piggybacking on her question and revealing just how tired she was.
He seemed to have ignored it.
Taking a few steps closer to her desk, it was the first time tonight that she had noticed his attire: blazer and light blue shirt paired with matching slacks. The hair was now set into a professional cut and its colour finally revealing itself—Greg Sanders had dirty blond hair. But what tore her heart was the look of weariness that hung behind his eyes; it was something that Catherine knew was inevitable when he chose to fulfil his dream of becoming a CSI. Secretly, she had objected toward his decision and had even talked to Gil about it years before, expressing her fears and worries. Gil had spoken wisely, offering her his wisdom that holding back anybody's dream would only holdback his soul. Reluctantly, she agreed, and like any mother, she wished him the best, hoped he would be happy, laughed with him through the joy, and guided him through the darkest moments.
"I heard there was a shootout earlier," he reached for a chair before her desk, held on to the backrest but didn't move to sit down.
She never offered and she never would because he knew he was always welcomed to sit.
"We're fine," she replied prematurely, knowing exactly what his statement was leading up to. "Unfortunately for Emily's father..." her words trailed off as whatever thoughts that had meant to be formed into words had abandoned her. "We're fine," she repeated and leaned back a little.
"Good," he shrugged and then pulled the chair behind before settling himself in.
To be honest, Catherine enjoyed her quiet moments with Greg. It was like redemption for the times she couldn't be with Lindsey and had instead showered her motherly instincts on another who needed it.
"I heard you broke the case," there was no mistaking the pride in her voice.
He blushed like she knew he would as he dipped his head a little and looked back with an impish grin. "Cath, as much as I love your compliments, but I am a CSI Level 3, I think breaking a case is part and parcel of what I'm supposed to do."
"True," she stood and pushed aside her glasses before picking up the unused files. Walking over to the metal cabinet by her table, she retracted the top drawer and let her fingers dance across the contents, stopping once she had found the right tab, and shoved the files right in between. "But I like to think that a break is about as good as finding your favourite pie at Joe's diner no matter the years you've been wearing the badge, Greg."
He lifted his eyebrows and the grin had formed into a thin line.
"Right," Catherine shut the metal drawer slowly as it closed. "Bad analogy," she chuckled and leaned against the filing cabinet.
"Brass told me a shot went through the window of the interrogation room," Greg diverted the conversation back, an obvious sign to his supervisor that something was definitely on his mind and he needed to get it voiced out.
She nodded once and crossed her arms, "Yeah, but it was a way off shot." Her mind wandered to the moment her adrenaline surged at the sound of the bullet wheezing by, her instincts telling her to stay low, take cover, and pull out her own weapon. Mike Marsh hadn't been so lucky and lost his life for protecting his daughter while Janet took one to avenge her son.
Was it poetic?
But the way the glass shattered, the tiny shards raining over the floor, Catherine could only remember one thing.
The explosion.
She hadn't been at the lab on that day seven years ago, but returning to process the scene, it had given her a significant clue on the chaos that followed and the terror that Greg went through. The worst was realising that she herself was a main player in the events of his pain, no matter how indirect or accidental it was.
The pieces clicked and Catherine had a strong suspicion just why Greg was checking up on her, it was a silent reminder to them about the dangers of their job even when the crime had been committed too long ago.
"Can't seem to run away from it, huh?" he shrugged and laid his hands flat down on his thighs, rubbing the palms up and down the smooth material of his slacks. Seven years in the past, she had taught him that trick, showing him a way to stop his hands from shaking, and it did. Three years later, she found him doing the same thing after being discharged from the hospital and healing from the bruises of his brutal beating. Today, here he was right before her and putting that same trick into practise even though it had been so long ago.
"No," she replied softly and looked at the tinge of nervousness in his demeanour—how could she have not seen it before? "We can't."
"No," he echoed, but kept his eyes away from her, "but we shouldn't run."
Her heart was aching to envelope him into a hug, but she held back from babying the man—he wasn't a child. Instead, she move forward and sat herself on the edge of her desk just inches away from her CSI. Moments ago, she was struggling with her report, now here she was wondering what to say to the man. Was he here to seek confirmation?
Answers?
"It's who we are," such a simple line so nonchalantly delivered by him that it hit her stronger than all the forces of nature could, "It's what we were always meant to do." Finally, his soulful brown eyes looked up and a smile was etched on his face, explaining to Catherine his purpose of being here in her office.
He was here to comfort her.
Buried in her duties, her overworked mind had barred all traces of emotion just like it was trained to do. But the wall was cracking and somehow Greg had sensed it. So lost in what she needed to become that the feeling of fear, uncertainty, and despair, was beginning to drown her, numbing all senses.
Remembering Emily, it seemed fitting that the teenager had picked Hope as her new alias. Maybe it was a reminder that there was something to look forward to and away from her stained past. Catherine prayed Lindsey will never have to face something as sinister as that, her daughter will live to grow into a sensible young woman with choices, and her mother will be someone she looked up to.
Catherine finally found the courage to smile back at Greg and bent forward, ready to grasp his hands like she did years ago, just to keep the shaking still.
She stopped.
'Years ago. That was years ago.'
Taking a deep breath, the blonde clasped his shoulder instead and nodded. "Thank you," she spoke softly and found a sort of peace.
There was no reply from him. She didn't need one. They understood the quiet appreciation between them and that was all that was needed.
"Ms. Willows?"
Licking her lips, she gracefully looked up and found Anna right behind the front door, her face peeking through the small crack of the entrance that the younger woman had made. "Yeah?" she flashed a tiny smile, just enough to convey the message that Anna wasn't intruding. Not at all.
Translating the signal, their visitor pushed through the door and walked up to Catherine, holding out a slip to the supervisor. "Thanks," Catherine said and accepted the sheet that was all too familiar to them.
Great, just one more hour to the end of the shift and they receive such a pleasant parting gift.
"Anything major?" Greg broke the silence when Anna had slipped out the door, jarring Catherine from studying the squiggles that had been penned in blue.
"Just a simple 406... V."
"Auto burglary?"
"Some bigwig's convertible," she squinted at the writing once again. "At least that's what I can understand."
"Ah."
"Yep."
Rising from the chair, he reached out for the assignment slip expectantly.
She held on to it tightly.
He raised an eyebrow, slightly amused yet obviously puzzled by the hesitation.
"I'll get Nick to assist you."
"It's an easy case, Cath, I think I can handle it."
The fear that she kept away, and released by Greg, was now gripping her with the words he uttered. It was so similar to what Gil had said just as he handed Greg a 'simple case' like this years ago. What ensued was complete hell for the whole department and Gil wrecked with guilt for days when Greg was in the hospital.
'Years ago,'she reminded herself. 'That was years ago.'
Loosening her grip, she held it out to him and he gently took it.
Let him go.
"Be careful," she whispered as he walked away and turned for the exit.
"Sure thing, Mom," he gave a lopsided grin topped with a mock salute to his superior before finally leaving her to an empty office just as she was before.
Breathing slowly, she pushed herself from the table, leg muscles protesting from being left at such an odd angle too long. Settling behind her computer once again, Catherine retrieved her glasses and slipped them on comfortably. Her fingers moved to the keyboard and the beginnings of her dreaded report flowed easier now for some reason.
As her fingers tapped furiously upon the keys, there was a thought that kept presenting itself to Catherine, and after Greg Sanders' visit, she knew it was all true.
Her family had grown up.
END