DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI

Ok, this chapter is set in the past, a month after chapter two. I am overjoyed by the amount of people who have reviewed this story, so thank you all of you!

And I don't know how I can do without.

I just need you now.


Grant Eastwood did not look good in orange. He looked good in well-fitting suit trousers. He looked good in crisp, baby blue shirts. He looked good in striped blazers. He looked good in royal blue silk ties. He looked good in navy shoes, so polished that they reflected any light and shone it outwards like a flashlight. Grant did not look good in orange jumpsuits. He looked good in gold wristwatches, not silver handcuffs. He looked good with a clean shave and proffesionally blow-dried hair. He didn't look good with stubble and grey hairs. In other words, Grant Eastwood was not looking so hot right now.

The prison officer led him to the interview room. He passed all the other prisoners, talking to family, friends or lawyers on the phone. A man was being restrained by the officers. The person at the other side was yelling something at him. Another man wwas crying, his hands pressed up against the glass, plam to plam with a woman on the other side, also crying. Grant didn't care about them. He made his way to the booth where his lawyer sat, dressed the way Grant used to dress. Before the whole jumpsuit thing. He sat down and picked up the black telephone. His lawyer did the same.

"Hello Grant." the lawyer greeted.

"Karl." he replied.

"How've you being holding up?"

"Not so good. Have you gotten bail or not?" garnt asked, not wanting to beat around the bush.

"I'm sorry, but the judge and attorneys declined all requests at bail."

"What did you do? You're my lawyer, you can't just..."

"Several counts of rape and abuse, then attempted murder? Judges generally don't like that."

"Are you gonna get me out of here or not?" he asked, gritting his teeth.

"Yes. It just might take a little bit longer than planned." he smiled evilly.

"What's your strategy?"

"I can't tell you that."

"What do you mean, you can't tell me?"

"Not with all these recording deivces and cameras."

"Write it down and slip it under the glass."

"Alright."

Karl Metz took a pen from his suit pocket and began to write on a piece of paper from his briefcase. Grant tried to read it as he wrote, but the lawyer covered the note with his arm. An agonising three minutes later, Karl slipped the paper under the glass to his client. Grant Eastwood read the note. Then he read it again. He looked up at his lawyer, and began to laugh. His lawyer laughed too. They laughed for a while.


"He's denying everything?" Catherine repeated, shocked.

"Yeah. The assualt, the rape, the shooting." Greg confirmed.

"We know he shot you." Catherine said, still confused.

"He's saying it was you." Greg told her.

"Me?" now she really didn't believe what she was hearing.

"Listen, nobody will believe it Cat, it's okay." he said, passing her Karl Metz's report.

"Catherine." she reminded him.

"Sorry. Nobody's going to listen to him." he insisted.

"He ran away. By the time they found him trying to cross the border, they were too late to do a GSR test."

"Yes, but..."

"He wiped his prints off the gun." she remembered.

"Listen to me Catherine. Why did he run away?" Greg asked her, lifting her chin so she was looking him in the eyes.

"It makes perfect sense, he was running from me in case I shot him as well." she told him, looking back down at the report.

"Why would I be lying about my attacker?" Greg challenged.

"What?" she asked, looking up again.

"Surely I'd want whoever shot me to go down?" he reasoned.

"Who knows, maybe I'm threatening you. Or maybe we both have something agaisnt Grant so we set this whole thing up to frame him." she insisted.

"You're thinking into this too much. I only told you so you wouldn't be shocked tomorrow in court when..."He began, his voice faltering.

"When what?" she asked.

"Catherine, the defencse is going to tear you apart." he told her sadly. "They're going to find everything, look under every rock. Karl Metz has been digging up dirt on you since Grant was arrested, he's not going to spare your feelings. He's not going to care about your feelings. I just want you to be ready, to be prepared. And remember that no matter what he says, it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change the way I feel about you."

"What would I do without you?" Catherine asked, pulling herself into his arms.

"Let's just hope you never have to know." he whispered softly into her hair.


Greg sat on one of the wooden benches outside. He wasn't allowed to be in the courtroom, he was scheduled to testify in twenty minutes. He could hear the low drone of Metz voice coming from the next room, but he couldn't make out what he was saying. There were breaks in the speech, probably where Catherine was talking, but her voice was too soft to hear. Every now and then, he would hear an excitment, low babbling and rambling voices, probably the reporters, jury and memebers of the public. Occasionally he'd hear gasps too. Once or twice the judge had to bang her hammer off the stand and demand order. He hoped Catherine was okay, but he knew she wasn't. He knew she'd be pretty shaken after the trial.

He felt a warm hand on his, and he looked over to see Sara, biting her lip. She was also scheduled to testify, being the lead CSI on the case. Next to her, Dr. Robbins was playing with his crutch, and a few officers were whispering over their polstyrene cups. Greg made a half-hearted attempt at a smile, and Sara responded with a forced smile of her own.

"It's gonna be okay." she whispered, squeezing his hand.

"I hope so." he whispered back.

"Greg Sanders?" the court clerk called.

"Yeah. That's me." Greg said nevously, standing up.

"You're up." he told him.

"Okay." Greg said.

"Relax, you'll do fine." Sara told him.

"Thanks." He nodded.

"Greg?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

"You gotta let go of my hand."

"Sorry." he said, releasing Sara's hand and moving towards the door that led to the courtroom.

"Good luck." she called.

"I'll need it." he said under his breath, walking through the big double doors.

Greg gave his practised testimony to Joan Dean, the prosecution lawyer. He outlines, just as they had agreed, the truth. He saw Catherine and Grant arguing, when he saw the gun he ran forward and jumped in front of the gun. He didn not hear the conversation, did not know prior to going outside tht Catherine was there. Then it was time for cross-examination.

"Mr Metz, do you wish to cross examine the witness?"

"Damn right I do."

Greg gulped. Joan had warned him toi expect this, but he'd still hoped he wouldn't have to say anything to Metz.

"Mr Sanders, what is your realationship to Ms Willows, or shall I call her Ms Flynn?"

"Catherine and I have been dating for nearly two months now."

"Yes, yes we all know that. What I want to know is, what was your relationship to her eight years ago?"

"Objection! Relevacne?"

"I'll allow it for now."

"Thank you judge. Now answer the question."

"I met her at a nightclub."

"The French Palace?"

"Yes."

"What was Ms Willows doing at the time?"

"She was dancing."

"Was there a pole in close proximity to where she was dancing?"

"Yes."

"Now, tell me Mr Sanders, what was Ms Willows wearing when you met her?"

"Objection! This has nothing to do wtih the shooting, which is what we're supposed to be investigating."

"Mr Metz?"

"Withdrawn. So, after you met her, did you two go out for dinner?"

"No."

"Where did you spend your first date?"

"I drive her home to her flat."

"And you dropped her off?"

"No."

"So, you'd known this woman, how long? And you went up to her apartment."

"We were going to go for a drink after her shift, but when I went out to meet her, Grant Eastwood was attempting to rape her. She was shaken up after the whole thing, so I stayed with her."

"So you are saying that you didn't kiss her?"

"No."

"And the whole time, you were both full clothed?"

"No."

"Ah."

For a minute, Greg thought he was done, Greg thought he was finished with him. But Metz continued speaking.

"Was Ms Willows sober at the time?"

"No."

"Did you see alcohol in her home?"

"Yes."

"What alcohol? Be specifific."

"I saw wine. And tequila, whiskey, rum and gin."

"Was Ms Willows under the influence of any medication at the time?"

"I don't think so."

"Did you witness Ms Willows under the influence of legal, or illegal drugs at any time?"

"Yes."

"When, and what drugs?"

"One night she called me, she was paranoid. I found out she got insomnia after taking...cocaine."

"Was this all?"

"No. Another night she called me again, and she was high."

"High on what?"

"Mrijuana."

"Were you aware of any other drugs she used?"

"She used to take halucogenic mushrooms. And the cocaine and marijuana. She also had a cupboard of other pills."

"What other pills?"

"Valium. Ecstacy. Lots of painkillers."

"Were these perscribed to her?"

"No."

"Did you see Ms Willows daughter, Lindsey?"

"Yes."

"How was she?"

"Not so good."

"Define, 'not so good' please."

"She was crying, her clothes were dirty, she hadn't been washed or changed in a while."

"Was anybody there to look after her while Ms Willows was out?"

"What did Ms Willows do with the crying child?"

"She...um... gave her sedatives."

"So it would be fair to say that she was not a good mtoher?"

"Objection! Leading."

"Yes, Metz. You're treading on a very fine line here."

"Another question Mr Sanders, how old was Ms Willows when you met her?"

"Twenty seven."

"And you were?"

"Nearly twenty two."

"Interesting."

"Were you aware that Ms Willows used to have a bet with her friends?"

"I don't remember her saying anything."

"Ms Willows and three of her coworkers used to pay each other ten dollars every time they slept with somebody."

"Objection! This has no relevance whatsoever..."

"Your Honour, I am simply trying to prove that Ms Willows is not be trusted."

"I'll allow it for now. But be careful."

"Where you aware that Ms Willows once recieved two hundred dollars in one week from her friends?"

"No."

"Now, on the seventeenth of May, eight years ago, Ms Willows was paid ten dollars. Can you tell us what happened on that day"?

"It was the first time Catherine and I slept together."

"So what makes you think you're any different from all the other woman Catherine has slept with?"

"Catherine did some things when she was younger. But that was eight years ago."

"You're saying she's different now?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"She's a wondeful mother, a brilliant crime scene investigator, and a wonderful girlfriend."

"Did you know that just a month ago she was picked up by police for driving while inder the influence?"

"No."

"She wasn't arrested because of her invovlment with the LVPD. Did she tell you about this?"

"No."

"If this were a case you were investigating, and you found out that a mother had been driving under the influence while her daughter was at home, alone, what would you do?"

"It depends on the situation if..."

"What is the procedure?"

"To arrest the mother for neglect."

"No further questions."

Greg walked back down to the benches. He was allowed to watch the rest of the trial after his statement. Catherine looked at him, her face stained with tear streaks.

"Greg, I'm sorry, I..."

Greg willed himself to put his arms around her, to tell her that it was alright, that everything would be okay. But he couldn't.

Just figured out what R&R means, read and review! So yeah, R&R!