Disclaimer: CSI belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS...

Sleep in the Comfort of Home

By Manda


"Cath?"

"Yes?" She stirred beneath the covers, and Grissom found his eyes comforted by the stir of the peach and ivory striped comforter, the heavy rustle her limbs caused when they shifted. It hurt- he could tell by her expression, he could see it in her eyes...and yet if comforted him to hear the sound.

"We're in this together, you know."

"I know." The sun was seeping through the partially closed window blinds, turning her hair into a shade that rivaled that of molten gold, curls cascading over her bared shoulders, barely concealing the wealth of freckles that he loved so much. "I know, sweetheart."

"And I'll be here." He reached for her hand and found it, beneath layers of cotton sheets and cotton comforter, her fingernails carefully groomed and digging into his palm as she sought comfort. "I'm not moving."

"Uh-huh." She turned her head, eyes flickering upward, meeting his. But he knew she didn't see him- knew the way the light played upon the spider plants and the teddy bear that Lindsey had given her didn't mean a thing. His wife couldn't see- the reaction of her senses to a blunt force trauma to the head- and the cause and effect scenario had played out to the point of failure...the point where her wings faltered and she began to fall. He could catch her, but he couldn't keep her with him.

It hadn't been something they'd foreseen- as so many accidents weren't...and he gripped her hand as his eyes closed to recount the moments up to that one, when they were alone and armed with certainties they didn't want to have. The Tahoe...her years of driving in Vegas traffic not enough to prepare her for one night of driving in Henderson, pulling out in the path of a moving van, somehow going too fast to see the beautiful blond in her pearls and red dress, going to meet her new husband at the Opera.

"He lived, didn't he?" She spoke, and drove his thoughts away as he opened his eyes to look at her, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe she saw him in her mind, and he hoped as much...hoped she could see him with his smooth chin, when he'd remembered to shave every morning. She spoke of the driver, the man whose face he'd never seen when he'd arrived at the scene, Brass ushering him away under pretense of 'being too involved'. "Didn't he?"

"Broken ankle. They've released him. It's a no-fault scenario." There was every fault- and maybe she sensed that, her grip on his hand tightening.

"Remember, Gil- you point one finger, you've always got four more pointing back at you." She smiled. "It wasn't anyone's fault...and it happens. We've seen it...it happens. There's just nothing you can do."

"I know."

"I know you don't believe me." The sun was sinking lower, and he stared at the slatted pattern the blinds and the fading rays made on the carpet of their bedroom. Catherine's only request was to go home, to sleep beside him and bury her head in the pillows that smelt of honey and chamomile. Her new shampoo, the one she never left home without, not even for a weekend. "And I know you're mad. But it's all over...and we have to let it be."

He nodded, reaching to brush a wayward lock of hair from her forehead, her lips curving into a smile at the sensation of fingers on her skin.

"You haven't done that in a while."

"And I'm sorry." The look on her face changed, something shifting beneath the skin, and her body tensed beneath the sheets. "Catherine?"

"I'm tired, sweetheart. Can you..."

"Cath?"

"Kiss me." He did, her lips soft and gentle beneath his, so much like the first kiss...and he knew it was the last. "And lay here for a minute?"

He did, slipping beneath the covers and wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her neck as she inhaled, exhaled...and sighed, her hair falling over his face as her head turned and chin dropped...and she was asleep in the comfort of home.

Gone.

~Fin