"Catherine?"
She jerked causing the drink in her hand to spill a little with her clumsiness. She put her glass down and shook her hand to get rid of the alcoholic liquid now coating her hand. But in her 'tipsiness', her jerking arm jerks her entire body and it only ended up hurting her head. She reached around for something, but the only thing she had near her was a wet napkin that her drink was on. She looked around for something else, something that could help with her damp hand. Still nothing and she instead wiped her hand on her pants, grimacing.
"Catherine…"
She turned around to face the feminine voice calling for her. It's Wendy Simms, from the lab, and she's looking at Catherine with a worried face, her beautiful slender hands rubbing her Clutch anxiously. Her brown eyes were wide, taking in Catherine's bloodshot eyes, red nose, and slightly wobbly state on the barstool.
In that moment, Catherine was ashamed, more ashamed than she would have been had anyone else found her. She didn't want Wendy—anyone from the lab, but especially Wendy—to see her like this. It was embarrassing to be this weak, to feel so helpless she turned to a bottle for comfort. The only thing worse would have been if it had been her daughter who found her like this. But given the circumstances, this was bad enough.
Catherine swallowed and ran her hands down her black dress pants nervously. She didn't know what to say. She should have been at Gil's house. That's where the crew had agreed to go after the funeral. That way the could find solace in each other. She had been following Nick and Greg too, but the sight of this bar, the impulse need to take the edge off, her moment of weakness had led her here.
Wendy came and sat down next to her, heaving a sigh as she did so. She waved off the bartender with a cold flick of the wrist, her eyes never leaving Catherine. Hand resting on the glass bar beside her she gave her friend sympathetic look.
The blonde wished it hadn't been there. She didn't need anyone's sympathy. She especially didn't need it from this woman, this wonderful, sweet woman who had asked her out her first day on the job. She didn't need it from someone who had met her as an equal the very first day of her job, and had even looked up from her from time to time. It made her feel even worse. It made her feel like she was letting them both down.
Her blue eyes tried to focus on Wendy's beautiful face, trying to take in the soft planes of her features, her perfect cheeks that rose and flowed into her lips, her adorable nose sloping perfectly from well-sculpted eyebrows…her eyes. Catherine had adored Wendy's eyes from the second she had seen them. They had been glittering and joyful, and a little nervous when she had suddenly blurted out her question on whether or not Catherine wanted to join her for a cup of coffee. It had been a stunning effect on her face, especially when her cheeks had suddenly darkened to a lush pink.
A delicate but strong hand suddenly covered her own slight hand, and Catherine forced herself not to look away from those same eyes and bow her head in shame. "Everyone's looking for you," Wendy said, softly, rubbing her thumb over the palm of the blonde's hand. "You had us all worried."
Catherine's harsh laugh seemingly echoed throughout the small bar, drawing some looks towards them, but mostly just shocking the two women dressed in black and holding hands. She shook her head. "I don't know why they'd be worried," she said, her tone softer than her laugh had been. "I'm just fine." She didn't believe it as she studied the back of Wendy's hand. The younger woman had a scar on a few of her knuckles. Vaguely she wondered where they came from, but that was before Wendy started speaking again.
"Fine, huh? That's why you're in this bar instead of with friends?"
"I'm not alone," Catherine argued lightly, not looking up from the other woman's soft hands. "I have you here with me."
It was a flirtatious comment and she knew it would be before it left her mouth. She looked up under her lashes to read Wendy, to see if she was disgusted or disappointed in her actions. Maybe she would be flattered by her comment and leave her mood alone. However, Wendy wasn't any of those things, at least, not visibly. Her face was carefully blank and Catherine felt her hand tighten around her own. It was comforting. More comforting than anything had been these past few days.
Catherine sighed. She didn't want to have a heart to heart here, in the middle of this cheesy bar where everything was so…cliché. It would be like the worst part of the worst romance movie she had ever seen, and she would cry and Wendy would hold her and tell her it was alright to be sad, to feel jilted. She didn't want that, but she didn't think that she could get away without doing it. Wendy seemed resolute to do something. She had a look in her eyes, and already the bar had come up. Surely the brunette would have noticed that she hadn't just had one drink, more like five and if that had happened she would compel Catherine to tell her what was going on in her mind. But, damn it, she didn't want to do it in a bar.
Wendy tugged on her hand, before letting go. "Come on," she said sweetly. "I'll get us out of here." She hopped up off the barstool, her high heels clicking on the tile flooring as she did so, and she straightened out her dress, which in Catherine's opinion had to be the most appealing outfit she had ever seen the lab rat wear, even if she would have preferred never to see it again.
Catherine stood up too, not even reaching to finish her drink as she would have done had it been any other day, any other person. She reached for her purse and pulled out a few bills, enough to cover the drink and tip the bartender. She didn't feel wobbly anymore, just lightheaded, but she felt as if she could drive, even though her mind was telling her to just hoof it. She started rummaging through her bag to find her keys, when suddenly a soft, delicate hand was on her lower back leading her out of the bar and out into the streets.
The sunlight hurt her eyes, and she squinted against it, throwing her hand up as she was led down the street. Both in black, the sun obviously wasn't their friend, but it was so much worse for Catherine who was wearing one of her suits. Long sleeves and pants were not a good idea in the desert sun, no matter who she wore them for. They made their way down the street and to a car that was most definitely not the blonde's vehicle, and Catherine stopped.
"Wendy, this isn't my car." She looked up shocked at the brunette, who gave her a droll stare.
"Catherine," she started softly. "I don't know how many drinks you've had, but I'm not letting you drive around with the chance of your tipsiness being sharpened by your distress." She unlocked the passenger side door for Catherine with a shake of her head, her loose tendrils that had come down from her up-do grazed across her cheek.
Catherine almost reached out to put those strands behind her ear, but she resisted, not wanting Wendy to think that she wasn't paying attention to her. She may be tipsy, but she still knew what made people feel as if no one was listening to them. And she was touched that Wendy would worry so much over her, even if it was just normal worry and she would have done the same over any of her other friends.
She slid passed the door that was being held open for her by Wendy and listened with sensitive ears as it was shut behind her. She reached over to unlock the other door for Wendy and then pulled back over to her side of the car. It was kind of mundane, kind of couple-ish, but then again, so was Wendy holding the door open for her and it made the entire scene from the moment Wendy entered the bar to this very second seemed domesticated. It was like a scene write out of the everyday couple's journal.
As Wendy started the car, fully focused on her car as she adjusted the volume on her radio, switch her air conditioner around this way and that, and generally avoiding Catherine's presence all together, the blonde had time to notice how careful she was being around her. Catherine knew why. Everyone had been walking on egg shells around everyone. It was like one wrong word would send them spiraling into the depths of Hell.
And she had never wanted to murder someone so bad, to make someone pay for this brokenness that her team felt at these days, to have them feel the unbelievable sorrow that haunted the lab ever since Warrick had been taken away from them. The bloodlust had been palpable when the Undersheriff had been determined as the culprit behind Warrick's murder. She had almost, almost, almost flown off the handle. She almost just burst into the room with the force of a hurricane and shot him down while Ecklie was interrogating him. Her hand had itched so badly for her gun.
How dare he do that to them! How dare he break their life so irreversibly? They were tighter than tight-knit. That thing had cut the fibers of that bond, and it would take time to fix it, to make it work again, and even when they were stitched back together it would never be the same. The one stitch had been important in the schematics of how the cloth worked. And now it was gone. The significance was felt by all around it, and it was that man's fault!
She stared out the window, her blue eyes hazy, not really seeing any of the Vegas scenery. Sure she registered somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind that there were people milling about, the building flew by, and the light fixtures passed in since with the seconds that ticked down in her head. But her mind was somewhere else completely. Her mind was torn between the pain she felt for the loss of the only man who had ever done her so wrong and yet she had still loved him, and the woman who was driving her to Grissom's home.
Warrick had been a good guy, almost perfect. He had gambling issues, even when it came to life's trials…his marriage sprang to mind, immediately. But he had been kind and caring and a gentleman through and through. He had meant so much to each different person he came in contact with, had been such a marvelous person. And Catherine had totally and completely fallen for him without sparing it a second thought. They had been through so much together over the years that it almost seemed like they were made for each other. Through all of their mishaps in love they had gravitated toward each other, despite their scars and burns from the blasted four letter word.
She had really thought she would wait forever for him. She had really almost lived her life around him and her daughter. She thought when she finally married again, it would be him. She thought that even when Eddie had been in the picture. She thought that when she had dated that slime who ran the night club. Thought that through the bar owner he dated, and the flight attendant, and his ex-wife. Had thought that until the second she found out that he had been shot.
And that was it. The dream, which she had still held on to even through his decaying marriage, was really, finally, truly, and irrevocably over. And it hurt so bad to give up after ten years of hoping and dreaming and waiting. The shatter that deafened her to the world around her in that alleyway as she looked at the crime scene had resonated in her heart, would resonate in her heart for years. She felt stupid for letting a relationship that never was break her like that. She felt…silly and angry that she had never done anything. Ten years they danced around each other. Ten years they pined, to what avail?
She was done with them, with men. They did nothing but hurt her, purposefully or not. One after another they had lined up to break her heart, whether they knew what they were getting in line for or not. She couldn't keep hanging herself up for them, and she couldn't keep waiting for the opportunity to knock. She couldn't wait to be swept off of her feet, because look where that had gotten her.
And then there was Wendy. That instant charisma that had been present in the new lab rat had appealed to her. She wasn't wild like Greg, but she was still so alive. She popped up with a smile, gave Catherine her results and without missing a beat asked if she wanted to have coffee. It had started an instant crush. A secret held within a secret had weaved itself through her mind. She liked Wendy, wondered what it would be like to be around Wendy when not at work, what it would be like to hug Wendy, to kiss Wendy, be kissed by Wendy, held by Wendy…it had helped a lot with the still open wound of Warrick's sudden marriage.
For the longest time, Catherine had thought that Wendy was her rebound crush from Warrick. That by giving her affectionate mind someone else to obsess over, she would slowly wean herself away from Warrick, then detach herself from Wendy and perhaps then she could sort out someone else to be with. Maybe she would finally be okay with the idea that would and could be alone for the rest of her life. But when Warrick had announced his divorce, and the small hope had started budding again that they could have something, the affection for Wendy hadn't ceased. There had been no white flag of the Wendy-crushing side of her mind to the Warrick-crushing side. In fact, Wendy still held a bigger part of her attention.
Wendy hadn't burned her, and though Warrick didn't mean to, he still had. Wendy was softer than Warrick was. Her smile was more heart-stuttering that Warrick's ever had been. She could fill the entire lab with a light that shined only when she was around. Lively and fun and just so sweet it had made Catherine feel calm, safe, home from the evil she saw on her job, from the unhappiness she was beginning to feel with most men, from her unhappiness in general. Wendy made her feel wanted and she liked that feeling. Wendy made her feel like she was the only woman in the world, no matter who was around. She always looked directly at Catherine; always looked for Catherine, focused on Catherine when there were several other people in the building she could go to.
Warrick had always had friends he could go to. He had Nick he could hang out with. Grissom he could seek advice from. Sara he could joke with. Greg he could pick on. Catherine…Catherine had only been there for the standard work crush that everyone had.
Wendy liked her and it seemed like she was the only one the brunette really liked. For the past year or so it felt like Wendy was the only one Catherine really connected with too. She didn't fit anywhere really. There were the boys, Nick, Greg, and… at the time Warrick. There was Grissom and Sara and their totally antisocial ways. Jim and Sofia at the detective end of their group. Doc Robbins and Super-Dave in the morgue. Most of the lab rats had a tight-knit society. That didn't leave a lot of room for Catherine who wasn't part of any group.
Wendy, who for some reason didn't much care for the lab rat society, had felt the same way. Thus, the two had naturally gravitated towards each other. It was the only thing that made sense, the only thing that made them feel connected to the human race when mostly they felt like ghosts in a building with too many ghosts as it was.
Right there at that second in Wendy's car, Catherine realized that Warrick wouldn't have been protection from the storm. She realized right then, that Warrick had been the storm, complete with high winds, flash floods, and torrential amounts of rain that had pelted at her skin. She wasn't willing…ready to say that Wendy could be her shelter in the hurricane that had been Catherine's focal point for so long, but she was strong and steady and that was a great foundation for any relationship.
Slowly, she came back to herself and turned in her seat to look at her driver. Her brown eyes were watching the traffic carefully, weaving around on the streets with the born grace of a city-dweller. Her hands held on to the steering wheel relaxed and her thumbs tapped to the beat of the song coming from the radio. Her face was lax. She didn't seem to carry any stress with her at all, but there was a subtle tension in her shoulders, a miniscule purse to her lips. She was upset, both by the death of her colleague and the fact that she had to fish Catherine out of a bar not two hours after the funeral.
Catherine ran her hand through her hair, a habit that denoted many things, but in this particular instance, it was simply ragged nerves. When she went to speak, she found that she actually had to force her lips to open and her vocal chords to work, but she couldn't continue on in silence. She had done it for too long. "How did you find me?"
Exhalation through the nose, more like a huff but without any attitude. "Nick told me you had been behind him most of the way to Grissom's house. I just followed the route backwards until I saw your car. It wasn't particularly hard actually." Her words were soft, but there was just that edge and Catherine felt guilty for her weakness, for ditching the rest of the gang. Wendy shook her head slightly. "I get that you loved him, Catherine," the words seemed hard for her to say and Catherine found it odd that they were just as hard to hear, "but I don't think drinking will take the pain of it away, and I have to say that if it's going to become a crutch for you, I'm not going to keep it a secret. I've never been known to snitch in my entire life, but if it comes to it I will."
Wendy glanced over at her, telling her with those beautiful coffee-colored eyes just how serious she was, just how much Catherine's health meant to her, just how much Catherine meant to her at all. The blonde was honestly shocked by that. The level from which that one simple look came from. Her breath momentarily halted, all she could say was, "It isn't like that."
Wendy pursed her lips tighter together, gripping the steering wheel just a little harder. She didn't believe it, but that wasn't what had happened, and Catherine needed her to know that. "I just needed some time away from…all this for a while. It's so… unreal and oppressive and just not my friends in that house, and I knew that's how it would be. I guess I just wanted something to take some of the force away from the blow." She shrugged subconsciously, and said, hoping that Wendy understood where she was coming from, "I wanted some place that felt a little more normal."
They slowed for a stoplight, the one before they turn onto Gil's road, and Wendy looked over, looking placated and thankfully understanding. Catherine saw her hand twitch almost unnoticed on the wheel as if debating whether to move it or now, and she wished she would move her hand, maybe touch her somehow. Catherine would love to have the warmth of her palm against her skin as she had earlier in the bar. Her mouth, her lips, fine pink and perfect, opened, inhaled, and then shut again, as if changing her mind. She broke eye contact, her eyes looking at the armrest between them as she muttered out, softly, "I don't like having to worry for you."
Such a simple admission spoke volumes. A feeling so natural and strong twirled around Catherine's heart and spread warmth throughout her body. Coffee-colored eyes shot up to meet sparkling blue, and a blush tinged the brunette's cheeks just like a slight smile quirked up the blonde's lips. A wave of familiarity washed over Catherine. Not the feeling of being in a domesticated position, but that wonderful feeling of something new, something filled with promise.
The older woman reached up, brushing the strands that had fallen loose of the other's up-do behind her ear. She didn't pull back immediately, running her hand over the soft skin of Wendy's ear, down her jaw, resting gently against her graceful neck. She began to lean forward and felt as Wendy began to move towards her.
Seconds slowed. Sound muted. Vision tunneled. This was good. This was a step in the right direction. This was right. There was no waiting. There was no dancing around each other. This was action and action felt so much better than silence. This was life. This was the first necessary step towards a promising relationship, towards happiness, and best of all, love. This was release. Sweet, justified, happy ending, relief that freed the two of them in ways they hadn't imagined. The almost touching of lips, both soft and glossy, sticking together by that tacky substance but not firm enough for friction, was heaven.
Then the world dropped cruelly back into place, ruining the perfect moment like Vegas was one to do. Honks came all around them and they pulled back from each other, both remember that they were in a car and the stoplight they had been at had given them permission to go on. Catherine looked back over her shoulder to see the people behind them. A young woman who seemed to be pissed as hell along with a few cars waiting behind her.
Wendy quickly accelerated, a small blush on her face as she shook her head in disbelief. She turned onto Grissom's road and they watched, Catherine still looking over her shoulder, and Wendy looking through the rearview mirror as the people went racing passed. They could see a few glares as the people sped by, and the woman who had been behind them gave them the finger. The two women looked at each other momentarily, and slowly it bubbled up in their chests as they turned into Grissom's driveway, behind Nick's truck. They tried to hold it back for a second at best as Wendy shut the car off, but before they new it, they were laughing.
They didn't remember the last time they had seen so many people look so indignant. The faces they had been given, oh, it was hilarious for reasons only known to God in heaven. They laughed until their sides hurt and Wendy was clutching her ribs while Catherine held her hand over her mouth as if to help stop the onslaught. And that was cleansing. The weight of the world was suddenly gone and the oppressiveness in the house before the blonde didn't seem so unconquerable. She felt okay, not great, not even good, but okay, which was a good start.
When they got out of the car, Catherine close to sober now and Wendy not quite so stiff, they walked up to the house together. They didn't stand too close, not wanting to rush into anything. They didn't hold hands or kiss once for luck or strength. They didn't even touch really. There would be time for that later. For now they would respect the storm that had left them, cry for the stitch that was gone from the fabric; they would mourn for loss.
But with loss came change and the beauty of something new and stronger…
A/N: This came to me out of nowhere! But when I sit down and start writing I do not question. I only do. The plot gnomes are strong and they over power me.
I also wanted to note some things that I couldn't find room to fit into the story.
Lindsey is with her Grandmother. She did go to the funeral, but Catherine decided to go alone to the function to be with her friends.
Catherine's cell phone was turned off as was her beeper.
The other members of the crew were worried about Catherine, but figured she needed some time alone to grieve so not many went out looking for her when they didn't get an answer on her cell
I hope that ties everything up.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.
InnocentGuilt