DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI

OK, chapter two! This one goes back to the past, two years (and a bit) before the first chapter. This is a few weeks after the final chapter of Don't You Want Me. Hope you like it! Thanks C.H.W.13 for reviewing, hope you like this next chapter!

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?

For me it happens all the time.

"Ms Willows, what is your relationship to the accused?" Joan Dean, the prosecutuion attorney asked her witness.

"He was my boss. Twenty years ago." Catherine replied.

"Where did you work?"

"In one of his nightclubs. I was a dancer and a cocktail waitress."

"Was the accused nice to you?"

"At first." She said, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

"Did something bad happen?"

"He started abusing me when I'd been wporking there a month." Catherine stuttered.

"Did you ever show any romantic interest in him?"

"No."

"How long did this last?"

"I worked there for eight years. The whole time." Catherine told the attorney, her voice strained.

"Did Grant ever ask you out on a date?"

"No." she managed to choke out eventually.

"Did he ever discuss marriage?"

"No." what was wrong with her, she'd practised these questions a hundred times.

"Did he love you?"

"No." she sobbed.

"Objection!" Karl Metz yelled, standing up.

"On what grounds?" The judge asked.

"The witness had no idea what my client feels!" Metz responded.

"Withdrawn." Joan Dean sighed. It was best not to argue with Metz about something so trivial.

Karl Metz was a shark. Greg thought. Like the one in that movie, except he didn't actually kill people. He just helped the ones who did get away with it. Thinking about sharks, he hadn't watched Jaws in ages. Maybe he could trick Lindsey into watching it with him by putting it in the box of one of her rom-coms. Catherine wouldn't fall for it unfortuantely. He'd played that trick one too many times.

"No further questions your honour." The prosecution lawyer nodded toward the judge.

"Alright, you may take your seats. This court stands in recess until twelve o clock tomorrow." Then she hit her woodedn hammer onto the table.

That would make a really good crime case. A judge kills somebody because he knows he's guilty but since the CSI's can't prove it, God forbid, he can't convict him. So he kills the guy himself, and the hammer is the murder weapon. Nobody would ven think to check it for blood. They could make a whole movie out of it. And after the guy's dead, the judge would hit him on the head once more and go "Case closed." I would so pay to watch that. How would I trick the others into going to see it? I could...

He was interupted from his scheming by Catherine coming over to see him.

"Hey." she said, with a small smile.

"Hey, you were great." Greg said, hugging her.

"I was nearly crying, and I haven't even discussed Lindsey or the actual shooting yet."

"Cat, you are one of the strongest people I know. Crying every once in a while isn't a problem."

"Catherine." she reminded him.

"Sorry, I keep forgetting."

"It's alright. You ready for tomorrow?" She asked him, ruffling his hair absent-mindedly.

"No. I'm dreading being put on the stand."

"Sadly, it's kind of neccessary."

"I never used to understand why those people who escape from crime scenes don't want to talk to cops." Greg told her, as they headed out through the big wooden double doors.

"Me neither. I used to wish they'd just help us find the person who hurt them."

"Yeah. Now it makes sense though." Greg said, sighing. Catherine sensed that they needed to change the subject.

"You are going to wear a suit tomorrow right?" Catherine asked him, fingering the blue t-shirt that read Save Water, Drink Wine.

"Do I have to?" Greg whined.

"Uhm...yes." Catherine told him, looking around the car park for Greg's highly fashionable yet entirely inpractical sports car.

"But... then I'll be really uncomfortable, which will make me look uneasy, so the jury will think I'm suspicous." Greg insisted, clicking his car keys in no particular direction until he heard a click.

"Greg, nobody is going to..." Catherine began. But he wasn't finished.

"And then they'll think I'm lying, so they'll get Ecklie to investigate the crime scene again. And he hates me, so he'll twist the evidence, then the jury will think I tried to kill you but accidentally shot myself,"

"Greg..."

"And then they'll arrest me for some terrorist attack that happened thirty years ago because they need a fall guy, so I'll be put on death row. Then you'll have to re-evaluate every one of my cases..."

"We won't have to..."

"And because you don't get it done fast enough, they'll fire you. So you'll have no money, so you'll starve to death. And I'll be executed. So you see, I cant wear a suit." Greg concluded, smiling smugly.

"That is the strangest story I've ever heard. And you're wearing a suit." Catherine told him, getting into the passenger seat.

"Didn't you hear what I just said? Me wearing a suit puts both of us in a life-threatening situation. Do you want to die?" Greg asked, taking the seat next to her.

"If you don't wear a suit, you won't look professional, so the jury won't take you seriously, so Grant won't be convicted so he'll kill both of us as revenge." she retorted.

"That's a little far-fetched, don't you think?" Greg asked, sighing at her.

"Just wear a suit." she told him, rolling her eyes.

"But, looking at our stories, I'm going to die either way. I'd rather die in a comfortable pair of jeans and a hawaiin shirt than a tie, a shirt so stiff I can't move and pants with a fold in them."

"Under no circumstances are you wearing a Hawaiin shirt to your funeral. And you forgot the jacket and shiny shoes."

"Okay, the shiny shoes I can deal with." Greg shrugged.

"You like shiny shoes?" Catherine asked him.

"I like being able to see my own reflection in my shoes. Please don't tell Nick and Warrick." he begged.

"I won't. As long as you wear a suit to court tomorrow." Catherine said slyly.

"Catherine..."

"I think you look sexy in your suit." she whispered.

"Fine then. I'll pick it up from the dry cleaners tonight." he sighed. Catherine tried to hold back a smile. Works every time.

"When did you drop it off?" Catherine asked him, suddenly aware of the fact that they had been sitting in the car for several minutes now and hadn't yet started driving.

"A few years ago...after a wedding." Greg said absent-mindedly, putting the keys in the ignition.

"Greg! There's no way they're still going to have that." Catherine said indignantly, putting on her seatbelt.

"Serious?" Greg asked, buckling up as well.

"Yeah. After a few months they send it to a charity shop." sje informed him.

"Ooops. No suit then." he shrugged, smiling smugly.

"It's alright. We'll go shopping." Catherine told him. Greg's facial expression immediantly changed.

"No...I'll do anything..." he began to beg.

"Sorry Greggo." she sighed.

"Please!"

"Come on."

"HELP! Help me somebody! This woman is going to torture me!" He started to yell out the windows to the passers by.

Luckily, everyone was too busy with their own lives to pay much attention to the guy with the spiky hair yelling out his window.

Greg grinned as Catherine pulled his head back into the car.

"Shut up." she told him.

"You know you love me." he teased.

"Yeah. I do." she whispered, suddenly serious.

"I love you too Cath." it was the first time he'd ever said those words to a girl. He din't feel scared though, he didn't feel worried or frightened or trapped. He felt free. He felt happy. He felt in love.

"If you weren't driving right now, I would kiss you."

"Now I'm going to speed the whole way home."

"Perfect."

Haha, pretty different from the first chapter, isn't it? Anyways, click the review button and tell me what you think!