I know what they all think of me. I always know. They think, "Gil Grissom! He's untouchable! He's cold!"
But they all have the wrong idea. Even Catherine, who's known me for almost 20 years. They all think I have some kind of manly tough exterior, that nothing bothers me. It burns me inside when they all finally burst from the pressure and then accuse me, who is trying to stay cool and stay one step ahead, of having no feelings. They have NO IDEA! No idea.
They have no idea how hard it is to run a unit like this in such a seedy town with such horrible occurances of crime that happens on a daily basis. They have no idea what it's like to always be the first to a scene with Brass, to find a body in such a state of horror, with no redemption in sight. I hate it. I can't stand to see our world in such disrepair.
But I do it anyway. Do you know why? Because it's in my blood, that's why. There is nothing in this world that I could do better than this job. I was born to do it. Me and my bugs, we'll solve the crime together. Every death, every crime.. it's like a puzzle. My brain is constantly solving puzzles, looking for something else to do, always on the run. If I weren't a CSI, I'd be lost. I wouldn't know what my place in this world would be.
I know that they think I'm a hard ass and I give them pointless assignments sometimes. I know for a fact that they all think they could run this joint better than I ever could. If they could only see how hard it was. If they could only see how much sweat and blood I put into this unit, and how hard it is to maintain something like this, they would run in the opposite direction. I know they think it's easy to hand out assignments and process evidence and think linearly about the crime, but they have no idea. I loved all my CSI's dearly, but they truly had no idea how taxing it was to be in my position. They don't see me go home after a long day and take the littany of prescribed drugs I have. They don't see me stare at the clock, filling with dread as the numbers kept coming until it was time to wake up. They didn't see inside my head, at the fireworks that consumes it on a daily basis. They didn't, and they couldn't, see.
I know everyone thinks I'm a terrible people person. That, they're right about. I'd much rather turn on some classical music in my office and study the latest forensics technology than go to a social occasion with anyone. I just didn't get people. They had so much power in their hands and they didn't know what to do about it.
I know what they think of me. They think I don't want a relationship with anyone. They think I'm too cold to ever love anyone more than I love the job. They're so deadly wrong about that. I know they think I didn't go after Sara because of the myriad of reasons not to, but they're wrong. I didn't go after Sara because she knew too much, she saw too much of me, and she asked too many questions. I didn't pursue Sara the way I wanted to I knew her better than she knew herself. I didn't go after Sara because I knew that once she saw the real me, she would run away. She wouldn't understand. She would just get hurt. It was better this way. This way, she never had to know the truth about me.
That's why I was so in love with Lady Heather. Nobody else knew that about me. Nobody saw me leave work and drive slowly to her house in the middle of the day, before the creatures of the night came out. She didn't ask questions. She knew me. She knew the real me, and that was okay for her. I didn't give her every part of me, like I knew Sara would want. It worked for us, and while it wasn't exactly true love, I cared for her deeply. Never as much as I cared for Sara, but most of the time in life, we don't get what we want.
At the end of the day, I was just like everyone else. I wanted someone to care for me the way I cared about them. I wanted to hold someone, and reassure them that things would be okay. I wanted love, but it was so hard when I had so much to lose.
I know what they all think of me, and they're wrong. I do feel things. I feel them too much.