TITLE: Value
AUTHOR: Gomey (grissomsgnome@yahoo.com)
ARCHIVE: Anywhere . . . just let me know, so I can brag. Heheh. J/K
TYPE: GCR (what else?)
RATING: R (some sexual themes)
SPOILERS: *shrugs* I guess . . .
DISCLAIMER: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.
SUMMARY: Catherine worries over a rather distracted Grissom.
NOTES: I have *no* idea where I am going with this. . . man! How do I get myself in these predicaments?.
----------Value - Part Four----------
Catherine watched as Jim interrogated the suspect - a certain Timothy Hales. Her eyes rested on Gil, still leaning against the wall and watching the suspect. . . observing him. He made no effort to contribute to the case - no effort to make known the evidence collected. Catherine chuckled morosely. "What evidence?" She whispered.
On the other side of the one-way window, Jim leaned on the table, coming face to face with the man. "We have a witness that put you at the crime scene. We also have a motive."
"And what's that?" Timothy asked, though directed the question to Gil.
"Seems you had a little beef with the victim. What, was he coveting your wife?" Jim asked innocently, though trying to spark some response from Timothy.
Timothy let out a hoarse chuckle. "That tramp? You'd think I'd kill over her?" He sneezed and Catherine saw a sprinkle of spittle land on the cold, metal table that separate cop from suspect. She noted Gil noticed the DNA as well. "I've been seeing someone myself." He threw a card on the table. "Call her up. We were 'rocking the boat' if you get my drift, during the supposed murder."
Jim picked up the card and threw it back on the table.
"So, no evidence means no case, right?" Timothy asked, once again glancing at Gil. Gil nodded in response, which infuriated Catherine even more. She was about to step in when she was interrupted by Greg.
"Catherine!" He jogged up to her, looking a little nervous. "You wouldn't shoot the messenger, would you?"
Catherine became worried. "What did you find, Greg? Spill it, now!" She ordered, snatching the paper from Greg's hand.
Greg handed her a paper. "The blood wasn't that of the vic or a suspect."
"How can you be sure?"
Greg paused. "It was Grissom's."
The words echoed in her head. «Grissom?»
She burst through the door and walked up to Gil. "What is going on?!" She demanded.
"Mmmm." A lude moan came from behind her where Timothy stood. He looked her up and down and gave her a toothy grin that made her cringe. She watched as his eyes travelled from her body to Gil and then he nodded. He turned and left the interrogation room.
Jim turned around and looked at Gil. "What was that about?"
Gil shrugged. "Darned if I knew."
Jim seemed to accept the answer but Catherine wasn't buying it. Her eyes grew big as she watched Gil walk towards the table. "No!" She yelled, and shoved him against the wall, pinning him with her arm across his chest. She knew he could easily push her aside, so she pressed her whole body to his, in an attempt to keep him still. There were secondary reasons to her actions, but she put all thoughts of carnal desires out of her head. "Jim." She asked, looking into Gil's sea-blue eyes, ever darkening with confusion. Confusion and. . .«Lust?» Shifting her body weight slightly, she felt his arousal press into her thigh. She inhaled sharply. "Jim." She called again, trying to steady her voice. "Can you please swab the table to get some DNA from the suspect?"
Jim watched the somewhat compromising situation the two senior CSIs found themselves in. "Sure." He gave a brief reply. He swabbed the table and left the room, heading towards the lab.
Catherine forced herself to concentrate on the evidence, on Gil's behaviour, on blue skies, on anything to keep her perverted mind from conjuring up images based on Gil's reaction to their close proximity. She tried to keep her breathing regular. "Gil. . ." she whispered, her face close to his. She closed her eyes for a brief second to regain control over her body. She felt something stir deep within her and she felt herself craving to feel him. When she opened her eyes, she saw him staring at her.
"What are you doing, Cath?" His voice was almost a murmur, husky and sensual.
Catherine felt his warm breath tickle her lips and she yearned for more. She pressed in to him more, leaning her whole weight against him. "S-stopping you from compromising the case." She leaned closer; her lips almost touching his. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his hands reach her hips.
Gil gave her hips a squeeze and felt Catherine buck against him. His breathing shallow, he touched his lips to hers, just barely. Sliding his hands to her waist, he whispered into her mouth, "I think we're done here." He suddenly lifted her up and deposited her to the side, thus freeing himself.
Catherine stood facing the wall, trying to get her emotions and libido in check. "Go home, Gris. I'll take over the case." She said, without turning around. She sensed him lingering at the door.
"Yeah." Came a distant reply. "I should." He walked towards his office.
Catherine took a deep breath and pressed her thighs together. She was incredibly aroused and she could still feel Gil's length pressed up against her. She didn't know how long she had been planted there, but she noticed Gil walking past the room, towards the parking lot.
She got up and followed him out, keeping a safe distance behind him. She watched him walk up to his Tahoe and hesitate. She sighed aloud; he looked so vulnerable that she had to fight the urge to run up and comfort him. She shook her head; he'd been acting so strange, ever since she walked into his office in the morning. «And staring at that blank piece of paper. . .» She chewed on her lower lip. She glanced back and noticed that Gil's SUV was still in the parking lot's vicinity. She walked briskly towards the car, her thoughts interrupted by the car's futile attempts to come to life. The poor creature's laments echoed through the parking lot as the engine made one last vain attempt to reanimate itself.
"Shit." She heard Gil through the closed window.
Catherine tapped lightly on the window and waited for him to roll down. He didn't budge. She opened the door and leaned against it. "Hey! Do you want a lift home?"
Gil stared at her, unsure of her intentions. "I'll take a cab." He still felt aroused and seeing Catherine in all her splendour, didn't help the situation.
She rolled her eyes. "C'mon." She yanked him back the arm and almost dragged him towards her vehicle. "Think of it as bad karma for taking off without me." She muttered, pushing him into the passenger's side. "Heh, car-ma? Get it..." She trailed off when she saw his blank expression. "Never mind." She eased the car out of the parking lot and headed towards Gil's house; a place where she called home, a safe haven for when the monstrosities of the World crept into her fragile mind and slowly began destroying it - bit by terrifying bit. "So . . . since we are alone," she glanced at him briefly, "are you going to tell me what's wrong?" She tried to keep her voice emotionless but she knew he picked up on her concern. She whimpered as she felt his hand on her thigh and tried to focus on the road.
Gil smiled inwardly, noting the deep crimson rise, caressing her delicate face. "If there was a problem, you'd be the first to know, Cath." He said honestly. They didn't speak for the rest of the trip.
Catherine cut the power to the engine and turned in her seat. "Will you be okay? Do you want me to come in and talk?" She paused, searching his eyes. ". . . or just listen?"
"No." He said abruptly, as shock spread over Catherine's face. "Thank you." He added, as an after-thought. He got out of the car and walked briskly towards his townhouse. Opening the door, he let it close shut without a second glance. He walked to the window and began closing the curtains, his eyes never leaving Catherine's Tahoe.
"Oh Gil. . ." Catherine dropped her head on the steering wheel. «Another woman? No wonder he had been so distracted.» Her thoughts jumped back to the moment in the interrogation room. His state wasn't because of her and a twisting pain hit her stomach with full force. She felt sick. She grasped her slim tummy and put the back of her hand to her mouth. Her breathing came out in quick spurts, hyperventilation finally exposing it's ugly self. Warm tears cascaded down her cheeks as she pulled out of his driveway and headed back to work. Work would help her forget for the moment, but she feared the moment when sleep would demand time, for she knew these haunting recollections would not let her off the hook with such ease. She knew: pain was not a stranger to Catherine Willows.
Gil drew the curtains completely shut, whispering, "that's right, Cath. Just drive away. . ." When she was out of sight, he turned and smiled uncertainly, glancing at the dark-haired figure who seemed to have commandeered his couch.
–TBC–
AUTHOR: Gomey (grissomsgnome@yahoo.com)
ARCHIVE: Anywhere . . . just let me know, so I can brag. Heheh. J/K
TYPE: GCR (what else?)
RATING: R (some sexual themes)
SPOILERS: *shrugs* I guess . . .
DISCLAIMER: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.
SUMMARY: Catherine worries over a rather distracted Grissom.
NOTES: I have *no* idea where I am going with this. . . man! How do I get myself in these predicaments?.
----------Value - Part Four----------
Catherine watched as Jim interrogated the suspect - a certain Timothy Hales. Her eyes rested on Gil, still leaning against the wall and watching the suspect. . . observing him. He made no effort to contribute to the case - no effort to make known the evidence collected. Catherine chuckled morosely. "What evidence?" She whispered.
On the other side of the one-way window, Jim leaned on the table, coming face to face with the man. "We have a witness that put you at the crime scene. We also have a motive."
"And what's that?" Timothy asked, though directed the question to Gil.
"Seems you had a little beef with the victim. What, was he coveting your wife?" Jim asked innocently, though trying to spark some response from Timothy.
Timothy let out a hoarse chuckle. "That tramp? You'd think I'd kill over her?" He sneezed and Catherine saw a sprinkle of spittle land on the cold, metal table that separate cop from suspect. She noted Gil noticed the DNA as well. "I've been seeing someone myself." He threw a card on the table. "Call her up. We were 'rocking the boat' if you get my drift, during the supposed murder."
Jim picked up the card and threw it back on the table.
"So, no evidence means no case, right?" Timothy asked, once again glancing at Gil. Gil nodded in response, which infuriated Catherine even more. She was about to step in when she was interrupted by Greg.
"Catherine!" He jogged up to her, looking a little nervous. "You wouldn't shoot the messenger, would you?"
Catherine became worried. "What did you find, Greg? Spill it, now!" She ordered, snatching the paper from Greg's hand.
Greg handed her a paper. "The blood wasn't that of the vic or a suspect."
"How can you be sure?"
Greg paused. "It was Grissom's."
The words echoed in her head. «Grissom?»
She burst through the door and walked up to Gil. "What is going on?!" She demanded.
"Mmmm." A lude moan came from behind her where Timothy stood. He looked her up and down and gave her a toothy grin that made her cringe. She watched as his eyes travelled from her body to Gil and then he nodded. He turned and left the interrogation room.
Jim turned around and looked at Gil. "What was that about?"
Gil shrugged. "Darned if I knew."
Jim seemed to accept the answer but Catherine wasn't buying it. Her eyes grew big as she watched Gil walk towards the table. "No!" She yelled, and shoved him against the wall, pinning him with her arm across his chest. She knew he could easily push her aside, so she pressed her whole body to his, in an attempt to keep him still. There were secondary reasons to her actions, but she put all thoughts of carnal desires out of her head. "Jim." She asked, looking into Gil's sea-blue eyes, ever darkening with confusion. Confusion and. . .«Lust?» Shifting her body weight slightly, she felt his arousal press into her thigh. She inhaled sharply. "Jim." She called again, trying to steady her voice. "Can you please swab the table to get some DNA from the suspect?"
Jim watched the somewhat compromising situation the two senior CSIs found themselves in. "Sure." He gave a brief reply. He swabbed the table and left the room, heading towards the lab.
Catherine forced herself to concentrate on the evidence, on Gil's behaviour, on blue skies, on anything to keep her perverted mind from conjuring up images based on Gil's reaction to their close proximity. She tried to keep her breathing regular. "Gil. . ." she whispered, her face close to his. She closed her eyes for a brief second to regain control over her body. She felt something stir deep within her and she felt herself craving to feel him. When she opened her eyes, she saw him staring at her.
"What are you doing, Cath?" His voice was almost a murmur, husky and sensual.
Catherine felt his warm breath tickle her lips and she yearned for more. She pressed in to him more, leaning her whole weight against him. "S-stopping you from compromising the case." She leaned closer; her lips almost touching his. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his hands reach her hips.
Gil gave her hips a squeeze and felt Catherine buck against him. His breathing shallow, he touched his lips to hers, just barely. Sliding his hands to her waist, he whispered into her mouth, "I think we're done here." He suddenly lifted her up and deposited her to the side, thus freeing himself.
Catherine stood facing the wall, trying to get her emotions and libido in check. "Go home, Gris. I'll take over the case." She said, without turning around. She sensed him lingering at the door.
"Yeah." Came a distant reply. "I should." He walked towards his office.
Catherine took a deep breath and pressed her thighs together. She was incredibly aroused and she could still feel Gil's length pressed up against her. She didn't know how long she had been planted there, but she noticed Gil walking past the room, towards the parking lot.
She got up and followed him out, keeping a safe distance behind him. She watched him walk up to his Tahoe and hesitate. She sighed aloud; he looked so vulnerable that she had to fight the urge to run up and comfort him. She shook her head; he'd been acting so strange, ever since she walked into his office in the morning. «And staring at that blank piece of paper. . .» She chewed on her lower lip. She glanced back and noticed that Gil's SUV was still in the parking lot's vicinity. She walked briskly towards the car, her thoughts interrupted by the car's futile attempts to come to life. The poor creature's laments echoed through the parking lot as the engine made one last vain attempt to reanimate itself.
"Shit." She heard Gil through the closed window.
Catherine tapped lightly on the window and waited for him to roll down. He didn't budge. She opened the door and leaned against it. "Hey! Do you want a lift home?"
Gil stared at her, unsure of her intentions. "I'll take a cab." He still felt aroused and seeing Catherine in all her splendour, didn't help the situation.
She rolled her eyes. "C'mon." She yanked him back the arm and almost dragged him towards her vehicle. "Think of it as bad karma for taking off without me." She muttered, pushing him into the passenger's side. "Heh, car-ma? Get it..." She trailed off when she saw his blank expression. "Never mind." She eased the car out of the parking lot and headed towards Gil's house; a place where she called home, a safe haven for when the monstrosities of the World crept into her fragile mind and slowly began destroying it - bit by terrifying bit. "So . . . since we are alone," she glanced at him briefly, "are you going to tell me what's wrong?" She tried to keep her voice emotionless but she knew he picked up on her concern. She whimpered as she felt his hand on her thigh and tried to focus on the road.
Gil smiled inwardly, noting the deep crimson rise, caressing her delicate face. "If there was a problem, you'd be the first to know, Cath." He said honestly. They didn't speak for the rest of the trip.
Catherine cut the power to the engine and turned in her seat. "Will you be okay? Do you want me to come in and talk?" She paused, searching his eyes. ". . . or just listen?"
"No." He said abruptly, as shock spread over Catherine's face. "Thank you." He added, as an after-thought. He got out of the car and walked briskly towards his townhouse. Opening the door, he let it close shut without a second glance. He walked to the window and began closing the curtains, his eyes never leaving Catherine's Tahoe.
"Oh Gil. . ." Catherine dropped her head on the steering wheel. «Another woman? No wonder he had been so distracted.» Her thoughts jumped back to the moment in the interrogation room. His state wasn't because of her and a twisting pain hit her stomach with full force. She felt sick. She grasped her slim tummy and put the back of her hand to her mouth. Her breathing came out in quick spurts, hyperventilation finally exposing it's ugly self. Warm tears cascaded down her cheeks as she pulled out of his driveway and headed back to work. Work would help her forget for the moment, but she feared the moment when sleep would demand time, for she knew these haunting recollections would not let her off the hook with such ease. She knew: pain was not a stranger to Catherine Willows.
Gil drew the curtains completely shut, whispering, "that's right, Cath. Just drive away. . ." When she was out of sight, he turned and smiled uncertainly, glancing at the dark-haired figure who seemed to have commandeered his couch.
–TBC–