Love Comes Softly

Chapter 2



Disclaimers: Blah blah blah, I don't own these characters! Or this show! But this IS my story! LOL

Notes: Once again, I'm sorry, I just HAD to put them together..

Thanks: Thanks again to Tash, and also Mooni, who so nicely reviewed this fan fic even though she's only watched the show once. Yes, I am getting desperate for beta readers. LOL, ;)

Enjoy, and please review otherwise I'm not writing anymore!

Chapter 2

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At the breakfast table, Lindsey entertained Warrick and Catherine with several stories about her time at the babysitter's during their shift. Catherine loved to watch Warrick smile, the way his whole face lit up. She found she liked it best when Warrick was happy, in fact, she worked hard to make sure he always was.

She was glad that keeping him happy was a hell of a lot easier than keeping Eddie had been. She remembered distinctly the way he had hit her if she didn't have his dinner ready on time, or if she had to work an extra shift and he would have to bring Lindsey somewhere. She always knew when he was in a bad mood, the way his eyes shone and flashed gave it away.

She stared at Warrick, a man eight years her junior. They had been sleeping together for three months now. She would have loved to be able to say they were dating, but the fact was that they had never been on a date. Not yet, anyway. They were too busy, and they were afraid that one of the other CSI's would see them. Catherine didn't know why they were afraid, but the feeling had always been there and neither of them did anything to make it go away.

She loved him, she knew she did. She told herself every morning and every night, the tricky part was telling him. She woke up staring into his gentle eyes, and fell asleep watching them slowly shut. Her life was about him now, about making him happy and seeing him smile, about getting him to say the things she didn't dare to.

He was aware of her eyes on him, so he looked up and watched as a grin slowly spread across her face. Nothing about her appearance was out of place, that was one of the many reasons he loved her so much. She dressed simply, but she always managed to look sexy. Her hand reached across the table and grabbed his, and he thanked God at that very moment that she had been brought into his life. He smiled remembering that night...



"Cath, we've been here all night. Everybody else is gone, and this case is pretty much solved. Why are you stalling, can we just go home already?" Warrick pleaded, half-sitting half-lying in his chair. They were the only two people left in the building.

Catherine was bent over a stack of papers, reading quietly. She looked up at the sound of his voice, and nodded shortly. "I guess. But I'm taking these home." She motioned toward the case file. "Something doesn't feel right and I want to know what it is."

"Whatever." He said, grabbing her jacket from the coat-rack and helping her put it on. She shivered at the presence of his fingertips, lightly resting on her shoulders. She didn't dare to turn to face him to be sure, but she wondered if he felt the shock of electricity that went through her at his touch.

He got his coat, shrugged it on and looked at her with an unrecognizable expression. "You need something heavier than that, Warrick. It's cold outside." He kept looking at her. She didn't know what else to say. "Believe it or not, it does get cold in this city sometimes."

He half-smiled. "I know, Cath. I've lived here my whole life."

"Right."

"Right." He fingered the fringe on her jacket. "This doesn't seem so heavy, either." They were both aware of the fact that their conversation was pathetic. The air was thick with emotion. She stared at his hand, un- moving, until..

He pulled her towards him, his eyes searching her face for something, anything that would tell him that this was OK. She nodded slowly, and pressed her lips to his. Electricity coursed through both of them and she stopped him to say, "Are you sure we're alone?"



Nicky was driving to the crime scene in his own Tahoe. His reason was that he didn't know how much more of Sara's taste in music he could take. Sara had only laughed, shoving him away from her and turning to go into Grissom's vehicle.

"You're not taking yours?" Nick asked.

"Nah. I prefer company." She said, setting her kit down in the back seat.

"Grissom's company." Nick mumbled, then got into the Tahoe and drove away before she could reply. She was still wearing a shocked expression when Grissom arrived.

"Ready to go?" He asked her, recognizing the scent around him as hers. When she answered with only a nod, he frowned.

"Something wrong?" He hated asking so many questions without getting any answers. It seemed that Sara never told him enough about herself; what she was feeling or thinking. He had no idea why he always wanted to know so badly.

"No." She answered curtly, climbing into the Tahoe and waiting silently for him to do the same. He did, but he was still concerned.

"Nicky upset you?" He asked, turning on the engine.

"I told you nothing was wrong."

"Pardon?" His reply was enough to make her short of breath. Her head changed positions from looking at her shoes to looking into his eyes. She wiped away a silent, careless tear. She had forgotten. How many times in one day did she forget?

"I said not to worry; nothing's wrong." He turned back to the road. He said nothing, but she knew he had heard her this time.

They drove in silence a few minutes before she spoke again. "How am I supposed to talk to you, you know, when you've gone completely deaf? How am I sup-" she was cut off by the tightening in her throat that seemed so often to be there. It was there to taunt her, she was sure, but nonetheless she bent her head down and cried a little to make it go away.

He didn't answer her, and she wondered for a horrifying moment if he had even heard her at all. But one look at his facial features and her fears were put to rest. His eyes were clouded and he took a shaky breath.

"We'll figure something out. Let's not talk about that right now. I don't want to think about it."

"You never do." She said, defending her cause. "I just want you to hear me speaking to you as much as possible until you can't anymore. Until you can't hear anything anymore." She was aware that he was growing more and more agitated as she spoke, his hand tightening on the steering-wheel, his face setting in a grave, serious expression. One even more serious than he usually wore.

"Come on Gris, let's talk about this-"

"Damn it, Sara!" He yelled, slamming on the brakes and making the tires on the Tahoe screech. "I don't want to talk about it, alright?! Just leave me the hell alone!"

The tears were starting again, she could feel them threatening to spill out of the sides of her eyes. She tried to shake her head free of this devastation, of this horrible, terrible sadness that was engulfing her. But to no avail; whenever she closed her eyes she saw Gil. Standing, enclosed in silence.

As mad as he was, he still reached forward to gently push her back against her seat. Regret filled his eyes, but he did not apologize. He didn't need to, Sara could tell by his face he was sorry.

"Let's just go and solve this damn crime." She muttered, too ashamed of herself for crying to do anything but look out the window and wipe away the tears from her face.

"Sara, I.." He hesitated. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to blow up like that."

She shook her head. "I know." She rolled down her window and let the wind tear at her face. "I know."