Title: Dancing to Forget
Author: Jeanine (jeanine@iol.ie)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Warrick/Catherine, implied Warrick/Sara, Grissom/Catherine, Sara/Grissom
Spoilers: No specifics that I can think of.
Feedback: Makes my day
Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.
Archive: At my site Checkmate , Fanfiction.net; anywhere else, please ask.
Summary: Catherine used to dance to forget
Notes: For the LiveJournal CSReports Virtual Rewind Challenge - to week 33, female POV
***
You used to love to dance. No matter how crappy your day had been, what kind of fight you'd had with Eddie, how bad the cocaine bugs crawling under your skin were, dancing made you forget your problems.
You don't dance anymore though. Dancing in the sheets doesn't count, although you wish it did, because maybe then you could forget.
It's not Warrick's fault, you know that. He certainly does his best to make you forget, and it's not as if you're not enjoying yourself with him. Let's face it, the man has a body made for sin, and he's all the more handsome for the fact that he doesn't know it, still thinks of himself as that gangly teenager with big feet and big glasses.
You know how he looks though, you've known it since the first day that you saw him, but he's always been just Warrick, your colleague, your friend.
You're not sure how you keep ending up here, in bed with him.
After all, you know there's no future in it. Warrick may be handsome, and Warrick may be nice, but he's not the one that you really want.
The one you really want is older than Warrick, older than you. He's your boss, the fascinating, frustrating, complex enigma that is Gil Grissom. The man who is your friend, has been there for you through good times and bad, has seen you at your best and at your worst, the man you've steadily been falling in love with for years. Not that anything's ever happened between you; despite Eddie's suspicions, you're pretty sure that Grissom's never once thought of you that way, has never once dreamed about touching you the way that Warrick's touching you now.
He whispers your name and you run your hands across his back, closing your eyes and trying not to wish that he was someone else. You'd feel a hell of a lot more guilty about doing that if you didn't know that his eyes are closed too, and for just the same reason.
After all, you're not the one he wants to be with either. Just like you know that when he runs his fingers through your hair, he'd rather it was darker, curlier. That he wishes that your eyes were brown, not blue, that you were a couple of inches taller.
You know it, and you know that he knows your secret too, but you don't talk about it. Just like you don't mention that the ones you're dreaming about are dreaming about one another.
It would be funny if it weren't so tragic, and you know it's never going to change. You won't tell Grissom how you feel, and Warrick won't tell Sara, because you know what the outcome would be, know that it's one thing to live without them; it's another thing to live without them altogether.
All you can do is this, try to help one another forget, and hope that some day, it will work.