Try as she might, there was no more sleep that night for Catherine. She stared into the dark, forcing her thoughts away from the man in the other room. Though, due to that moment where she'd nearly fainted, that became increasingly difficult. The way it had made her feel consumed her, and just remembering the smell of him made her dizzy with arousal.

Oh, God. What was she thinking? She should be angry with Warrick. But all the old feelings she'd had for him were beginning to surface, leaving her too weak to feel contempt. Her heart ached for him, knowing that he'd wanted to reach out when his friends were hurting, but couldn't. She supposed she was being selfish. After all, he'd had to deal with a constant threat to his life for three years. She'd been blissfully ignorant of the fact that the threat extended to her until now.

She sighed, knowing there was no way she was going to stay angry. But that didn't affect the hurt she was feeling. There was no undoing the damage that three years of grieving had done. She was a broken human being, and it had been too long since she'd felt anything but numbness and anger.

Swinging her feet to the floor, Catherine rubbed her tired eyes and stretched. She'd take a long, hot bath, have a cup of coffee, and then try to sleep again. For now, she just needed to relax.

And stop thinking about Warrick.


The flashes of gunshots. Bullets tear into Gedda, handcuffed to the barber's chair. Warrick on his knees in front of him, covered in blood. Another shot. And another. He's still covered in blood. But no more Gedda. No more barber's chair. He's in his car. A gun on the passenger seat. He's bleeding...

The shrill ring of his cell phone tore into Warrick's nightmare. He sat up in an instant, cold with sweat, panic causing his heart to race. It was only a dream. It wasn't the first, nor would it be the last. He shook his head to clear it of sleep before he answered his phone.

"You asshole. Where is she? Where'd you tuck her away?"

It took Warrick a minute to realize who it was. "You know, I'm wondering. How'd you get my number, Gedda?"

"I have my ways. Now, where is that little slut?"

The malice in Gedda's voice was so thick that it made Warrick nauseous. "Somewhere you can't get to her, you sick fuck."

"Oh, I can get to her. I will get to her. Because now I know it'll bring you out of your little hidey-hole, wherever the hell that is."

"Give it up, Gedda. You'll never get Lindsey. I'll make sure of it." He took a breath. "And you're damn right that means I'll come out of hiding." He paused. "But you won't get me either." Warrick hung up, his heart still racing. He dialed the agent that had called him earlier. When he answered, Warrick skipped the formalities. "Bring Lindsey home. She's as safe here as anywhere."

"I assure you, Mr. Brown, she's much safer-"

"Dammit, just bring her here. Nick Gedda is after her, and he has connections in every part of the government. He's a serial rapist, and he's got his sights set on Lindsey Willows. He's not going to give up until he gets what he wants. Now that's either her or me. If we're in the same place, he'll go for me first. So bring her here."

"She'll be there tomorrow night."

Warrick placed his phone back on the nightstand, heaving a sigh of relief. He stood and headed for the bathroom. He'd splash water on his face and try to relax, though the odds of that happening before Lindsey arrived were practically nil.

He padded the short distance down the hall to the bathroom and pushed the door open wide. He thought it odd that the light was on, but brushed it off. He had probably just forgotten to shut it off before he went to sleep. He walked to the sink and turned it on.


Catherine lifted her head above the water slowly. It was late, and the last thing she wanted to do was wake the man just on the other side of the wall. She settled against the back of the tub and drew a deep breath, inhaling the steam from the hot water. She saw something move out of the corner of her eye, and she lolled her head to the side to look.

Her eyes widened, and she shrieked as Warrick turned toward the tub. She barely caught the deer-in-the-headlights expression as she scrambled to grab the towel hanging next to the tub.

"Jesus, Cath, I'm sorry," he said as he turned and hurried out of the bathroom, practically slamming the door behind him.

"It's fine," Catherine called after him as she stood, though she wasn't sure if he heard. She pulled the drain plug and stepped out of the tub, dripping wet. She dried off quickly, the heat of the steam having nothing to do with the bright pink blush that had risen into her cheeks.

She was so confused. Warrick had just walked in on her in the tub, had seen her fully exposed, and she felt no sense of distress aside from the initial shock of seeing him. There should be at least a little bit of anger or... something. But there wasn't.

Instead, her thoughts dwelled on the actual sight of him. He had been wearing nothing but the jeans he'd climbed through her window in, and in three years, his body had, if anything, improved. A tingle of heat in her palms spread to her entire body at the thought of the taut muscles of his stomach and chest, and the arms that had caught and held her countless times.

She took a steadying breath before she left the bathroom for her bedroom. Once there, she quickly dressed and brushed out her hair, busying herself as best she could, but no amount of activity was distracting her from the fact that she was aching for him. She dropped onto the bed, sighing in resignation.

Sookie crawled out from under the bed-her favorite place when she wasn't sleeping-and sat in front of Catherine, staring up at her questioningly. Catherine bent over and picked her up, holding the kitten close to her chest as she scratched behind her ears. Sookie purred in approval, but moments later squawked and wriggled free of Catherine's arms. She clawed at the corner of the door, a sign she wanted out of the room, which was unusual for her at this hour.

Catherine opened the door, and Sookie sprinted down the hall, stopping at the guest room door. She turned and looked back at her, silently asking, "Can I go in, Ma?"

"No, Sook. Not tonight," Catherine whispered. The kitten looked like she was glaring before she turned to the door and started clawing at the rug, scratching and pulling as if to dig her way in. "Sookie, stop that. Bad kitten."

The clawing continued, and Catherine groaned, rushing to pick up the kitten. As she straightened, kitten in her arms, the door swung open slowly. Warrick stood before her, a look of amusement that morphed into embarrassment on his face.

"Sorry. She really wanted to get in." She felt the heat flood her cheeks. She shouldn't be embarrassed: she was a grown woman, after all. But the thought of him having seen her naked left her feeling like a teenager again.

"It's okay. I like her." He reached out to Sookie, and she rubbed her head against his hand, inviting his attention. "Besides, I could use the company."

She saw the pain hidden in his eyes, and suddenly his statement took on a whole new meaning. "When you were hiding, were you ever with anyone?" He lifted an eyebrow, and she rephrased, "Did you ever stay with anyone?"

He shook his head. "I was better off alone. For the first two years, they had me in Paris. When Grissom and Sara moved there, he would visit every once in a while. But since Sara didn't know right away, it wasn't too often. Eventually she figured it out, and they'd both visit once a week, but they had to be careful. It was too dangerous for them and for me. So most of the time it was just me."

"And you were okay with that?" she asked. Sookie squawked when Warrick's hand dropped back to his side, and she escaped Catherine's arms and ran into the guest room, hiding under the bed. "Dammit. I'll get her," she huffed as he walked past him into the room.

"Don't worry about it. She can stay." He sighed heavily, and she stopped to look at him. "And no, I wasn't okay with it, but I had to be. It was fine at first, but then the nightmares started."

"Nightmares?" He looked away, and she reached up to gently turn his head back to face her. "You can tell me, Warrick. Three years of thinking you were dead never changed the fact that you're my friend."

He gave her a sad smile. "They were about Joanna. And Gedda. And everything else fucked up that happened up until I had to disappear. I still have them. And they still scare the hell out of me." He shuddered. "The worst was the one I had about Eli. I barely remember it, but I know he died. I woke up crying, because I was so sure it was real. It was only after an hour or so that I realized I hadn't seen my son in over a year and a half, and I couldn't know if he was dead. Grissom had never been able to tell me anything about Tina or Eli."

"That's because Tina moved to South Carolina." He stared at her, shocked, and she looked away. "We started talking at your funeral. We'd both lost a husband-well, ex-husband-and I just wanted her to know she wasn't alone." She met his eyes with a gaze that held everything she felt for him, then and now. "Despite the resentment I'd felt toward her."

"I..." He just stared as he read her eyes, and he frowned. "I don't know what to say. A couple hours ago you hated my guts, Cath. And now... now I just don't know."

She sighed and dropped the hand that was resting lazily on his cheek. "I never hated you. I was angry, upset, but it didn't last. With you, it never does." She turned and headed for the door. "I'm gonna go back to bed. I'll see-"

"Wait," he said, grasping her arm gently. A spark of electricity shot through her at his touch, and she gasped. He turned her to face him, and she felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs when she saw the expression on his face. Sheer lust. Plain and simple. "Stay."

"Warrick, I-"

He kissed her, hard, and any protest she'd been ready to make was lost. They broke the kiss as he lifted her shirt over her head, and Catherine inhaled sharply as his hand cupped her breast. At that moment, she was truly lost in him. That scent that had so captivated her. The feel of the muscles that had sparked a purely animalistic reaction in her.

At that moment, Catherine forgot about everything but Warrick Brown.