The routine was becoming fixed for Gil and Catherine. They would see each other at work and very often work together. She spent almost as much time in his office as he did, sitting perched on his desk, her legs dangling near his chair taunting him. They ate breakfast at his place on Friday mornings; he cooked while she mixed the screwdrivers. And on Saturday, she and Lindsey would show up on his doorstep, needing shelter. That continued for a month.

It was Wednesday when Catherine spotted Gil in the hallway of the lab, walking toward the exit. "Gil," she called out.

He stopped and looked in her direction. "Hey," was all he said.

"Skipping out early? World is ending."

"Have to get to the airport." His tome was matter of fact.

"Oh…leaving town?"

"No, not this week anyway. Someone's coming for a visit, actually."

"Oh…who?"

"My mother."

"You don't seem very happy about it."

"I'm happy. It's just that…well, you'd have to know my mother to understand." He looked at his watch and then back at her. He wanted to stay and talk more or just look at her. He was always content just to look. "I'm sorry, but I'm already late…"

"Go," she smiled. He smiled back at her and then bolted out of the door.

He stood near the gate, looking for her. The flight was a few minutes late which was lucky for him. She would have no idea that he had arrived at the airport late. Finally, people began making their way out of the ramp. He watched intently for his mother. She stepped into the terminal, her brilliant blue eyes searching. They spotted each other at the same time and began walking towards one another. Briefly he hugged her and took her carry on bag. They walked to the baggage claim area in silence since she was deaf and his hands were full and he was unable to sign. For the time being, they let their eyes do the talking.

Finally, in the car she began to 'talk' to him. "I hope you have enough room for me."

He nodded. They were stopped at a light so he was able to quickly sign that he had an extra room. They arrived at his townhome a few minutes later. He carried her bags as they walked to the door. Once inside, she began to look around. He took her things to his bedroom. He would be sleeping on a couch in his study.

When he returned to his mother, he found her in the kitchen, exploring the cabinets. He knew she was looking for tea so her opened the cabinet door that hid it and showed her where all the necessary equipment was. Quietly they went about the task of making tea and once it was ready, sat down at the table to chat.

"I like your new house. It is appropriate for you," she said with her hands.

Gil knew he was rusty with his signing skills but he responded. "Thank you. I decided that I needed more space it made no sense to continue to rent."

"It's time you had a place that was your very own."

"I just wish I had known you were coming sooner. I could have scheduled time off. As it is, I'll have to work."

"I understand. I don't wish to be a burden. I will be fine."

"I know. It would be nice to be able to spend more time together though."

"Yes."

They continued talking for awhile longer. Gil could see that his mother was getting tired. "Would you like to take a nap?"

"Yes, that would be nice. Then I will fix you a delicious lunch." She smiled and the stood to walk to the bedroom. She patted his shoulder as she passed him. He watched her as she left the room, smiling after her.

He took advantage of the time to nap also. He woke up to the sound of pots and pans clattering. Realizing that his mother must be awake, he slowly made his way to the kitchen. She had a sauce bubbling in one pan and a pot of noodles boiling in another. He detected the smell of garlic coming from the oven and guessed that she was toasting some garlic bread. Now her hands were busy with a salad.

Picking up a knife, he joined in her effort. She looked up and smiled at him and he winked at her. She was tearing the greens while he chopped vegetables. Glancing at her hands, he noticed the arthritis that was settling into her knuckles. Funny that he hadn't noticed that when they were talking earlier, he thought. Glancing at his own knuckles, he wondered how long it would be until the family curse settled into his hands. He knew it was inevitable, everyone on his mother's side had arthritis and most got it early. It was only the constant use of her hands in signing that had held it at bay for so long for her.

Once the salad was finished, she pulled the bread from the oven, nodding with satisfaction at its appearance. Gil drained the noodles and then they fixed their plates, choosing to serve themselves buffet style from the kitchen. Finally, they sat at the table and conversation resumed.

She asked him about his job and were they treating him fairly. He asked about her gallery. She told him about a new artist that she had come across and he told her about a new coroner that was working at the morgue that he got along with really well. "He's amazing, Mother," Gil signed. "He had an accident at a crime scene and lost both of his legs. But he learned how to walk again and is working now. He even goes to the crime scenes. When I see him getting down next to the bodies, I am in awe. I know it has to be really awkward and must hurt, but you never hear him complain. He just treats it as a normal fact of life."

"For him, it is a normal fact of life, son. But he does sound like a courageous man. As you know, I have no patience for those who treat their challenges as excuses."

"I know, Mother. I think you would like Al. He feels the same way and lives up to it everyday."

She looked around the room again while she finished her tea. Then she looked back at her son. Staring at him with an expression he knew very well from his childhood, the expression that had told him she would not accept anything but the truth, she asked another question. "Who are you building the nest for, my son?"

Gil blinked. "Nest?"

"Yes, you have moved into a nice townhome, although a bit too masculine for my tastes, and have stocked your kitchen with all the necessary tools for domestic life. You used to eat out or have food delivered most of the time and had no need for so much kitchen equipment. There are plants near the window and your bathroom had soft, fluffy towels. Your old towels were merely serviceable. Besides, you actually have bedding that matches. Also an improvement and also more domestically minded."

She maintained a cool, even expression but inside was amused at his 'deer caught in the headlights' expression. She had suspected something when he first told her that he was buying a house. Her curiosity had been the major reason for her sudden decision to visit. Now her suspicions were confirmed. Her son was involved with someone, seriously involved, and she wanted to know the woman.

Her question was still pinballing through Gil's brain. How was he supposed to explain Catherine to his mother? How do you explain to your mother that you are hopelessly in love with a married woman? That you spent one night in heaven and are now doomed to a lifetime in purgatory?

She watched his face as he considered a response. There's a problem. He is having difficulty answering. She observed the little nuances as his face changed from surprise to fear and then relaxed. He's thinking about her, she thought as she watched his eyes soften.

"There is no one, Mother."

"No one?" She glanced around at his furnishings again. "Perhaps you aren't dating her at the moment, but there is someone, Gil. As you are so fond of saying, the evidence never lies."

That night at work, he was sitting at his desk reading a file and Catherine was perched in her usual place on the desk. "Your mother all settled in?" she asked.

He looked up, refocusing from the file to her. "Yes, she is. Enough so that she made lunch today." As he thought about lunch, he remembered his mother's question. Panic rumbled through his stomach again.

"Everything okay?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah….why do you ask?"

"Your expression….like you ate something sour."

"Oh."

"You sure you are okay? There's something going on in that big brain of yours."

"I'm sure. It's just that…uh, it probably wouldn't be a very good idea if you showed up for breakfast on Friday. Her bloodhound instincts are already on overdrive and a beautiful woman on my doorstep would give her mind too much to work with."

Catherine smirked. "Give me some credit, genius. I had already decided that breakfast this week was not a good idea. How could you ever explain to your mother about us? I'm a part of us and I'm not sure I understand. There's no way to explain it to anyone else."

"Us is easy." He glanced across the room at his open door and then back at her. "I love you and I think you love me…that makes us. It is very simple."

"Until you add in everything else. Then it gets very complicated."

"The situation is complicated, true. But the way I feel about you is very clear to me… and I hope it is to you also."

"It's what I bank on every day, Gil. It is what keeps me sane." She wanted to touch him, caress his face. But she knew that one touch would lead to more and they couldn't do that, especially not here at the lab. So she kept her hands to herself and simply smiled.

His eyes returned to the file but he wasn't really concentrating. He was already regretting that they would not have breakfast together. It had become the bright spot of his weeks. Glancing back at her, "We could go to the diner or something."

"What? Now?"

"No, for breakfast."

She was tempted but knew it was a bad idea. "No, it wouldn't be the same. You have breakfast with your mother. And when she leaves, we'll have breakfast two mornings to make up for skipping Friday."

Twice in one week. He liked the way that sounded. "Okay," he shrugged before returning to his file. Catherine continued to sit and watch him, comfortable in his presence in a way that she had never felt with anyone before.

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