Chapter Eight

The rain was drumming against the car roof, against the windows, against the earth. Catherine watched it pound on, wondering if the rain looked so angry merely because she was.

Nick and Brass were chatting as the latter manoeuvred the car through the light traffic and through the driving rain. Back to the lab with the samples they had collected, hopefully one step closer to finding the monsters.

Monsters. She knew they were human, but somehow she refused to consider it. Humans would not gun down a young boy merely for skin colour. Humans would not shoot her Warrick.

Her Warrick...

She shuddered, as if she could feel the cold rain on her skin. She had come so close to losing him and she didn't even know what he was to her. Something beyond friendship, but never spoken of.

"Brass, swing me by the hospital."

The words surprised her as much as it did Nick and Brass, who exchanged curious glances, but the car changed direction and set of for the hospital. Either man said a word, or at least she didn't register if they did. She just stared ahead at the driving rain, trying to make sense of the whirlpool of feelings he had suddenly plunged into.

They let her off and she uttered polite sounds as she jumped out. The rain greeted her with a cold hail and she was wet by the time she stumbled inside. The corridors seemed endless and she had to stop herself from running. But when she reached Warrick's room, she hesitated.

What the hell was she doing? He was going to live; there was no need to panic. No need to feel cold with fear.

But her heart seemed determined not to listen, thumping painfully in her heart as she took the last steps.

He was sleeping, face even and relaxed. Cold seemed to melt away from her body as she looked at him, taking in his every life sign. He was alive. He had not died while she was away chasing the monsters. He wasn't Holly. He would live.

Her hand went to his instinctively, feeling his warm skin brush against her own. For a moment she let her gaze linger on her hand in his, wondering why it felt so warm and necessary. When she finally lifted her gaze she met his eyes.

"Catherine." He sounded surprised; after all it wasn't long since she had been by.

"Warrick," she greeted back. "Did I wake you?"

He smiled slightly. "You're better than the dream."

"And I haven't even given you a lap dance," she joked back.

"I live in hope."

"We all do," she said quietly. He sensed her change of mood and slipped his hand comfortably around hers. She sank down on the chair, wishing she could sink into his embrace. It would be a while before he was strong enough and she felt the need almost like an itch.

"Hey," he said warmly.

"I can't lose you," she blurted out.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You nearly died," she snapped back, unable to keep anger out of her voice. "I nearly lost you!"

"You didn't. Catherine... Living leads to death eventually; we see it everyday at work."

She wanted to snap back, to deny, but of course his words were the truth. She still wanted to scream at them, deny them and live in the illusion that life was forever.

He said nothing more, as if he again sensed her feelings and knew words would not make it better. She looked down at his hand again and suddenly her mind seemed to go still. There was no confusion, no hesitation. She knew what she wanted, she had known for a long time. She had just ignored it.

"I'm gonna be there with you, Warrick. All the way."

Their eyes locked, she saw him take in the unspoken words and mirror them back. It didn't matter that it rained, she still felt as if a sun was shining at her and warming her all the way to her bones.

"All the way," he agreed.

*****

He had touched her as if she was made of porcelain at first, fingers stroking the sides of her face so lightly it was merely a touch at all. A ghost of a touch. Gradually, he started stroking her cheek, her eyelids, her neck, her nose and her lips. Never once did he take his eyes of her face, his gaze so intense she had to close her eyes at first.

Now and then he whispered her name, merely audible from the rain drumming on.

"Sara..."

She closed her eyes as his thumb brushed over her lips again; she could hear her own ragged breath only distantly. Her heart seemed to have gone still for a moment, waiting.

When he finally kissed her, it wasn't the gentle touch she had expected. His kiss was forceful, demanding, for a moment nearly drowning her senses in the onslaught. Her hands fumbled as she took his glasses off, his hands busy stroking her hair.

He kissed her so hungrily she was sure her lips would bruise, but his eagerness seemed to fill her up also. Her skin tingled almost painfully, or was it his skin? She wasn't quite sure where her skin ended and his began, as if he was possessing her. Perhaps he was.

She could feel the window press against the back of her head, feeling cold and slightly damp. Maybe that was why she was shivering; surely it couldn't be something else?

'Liar,' her heart whispered.

She groaned as his hands slipped down to her breasts; she could feel the heat of his skin even through layers of fabric. She wondered if he could feel her heart pound wildly, for it seemed to echo all through her body. She wasn't sure if it was pain or pleasure, but it was raw need and want and she surrendered to it. She could do no other.

He paused so suddenly she almost let out a whimper, but the frozen look on his face pushed away the haze in her mind.

"Grissom?"

Lifting her head, she followed his gaze to see that the rain had stopped and that they were not alone. Through the light fog five young boys were walking, boots trampling through the mud. They were not looking at the car, more intent upon each other. And she knew it was them, knew it was the ones who had nearly taken Warrick's life and killed a young boy. She just knew.

They were so young themselves, children pretending to be adults. So young, so lost. But they lived and one of their victims did not.

Only then did she realise she was alone in the car.