She woke up startled some time later. She realized it was Grissom in the
kitchen. She got up to see what he was doing. He was backing out of the
refrigerator with all the accoutrements for making a sandwich gathered in
his arms when he noticed her.
"I woke up starving. I thought I'd have a sandwich. You want one?" He offered.
"Yeah, sounds good." She replied. It was intriguing to watch him build the sandwiches. She usually slapped meat, cheese and lettuce on some bread. He toasted the bread; put ham, turkey, cheese and lettuce on it then carefully added tomato slices, pickles, onion and black olives. He paused for a moment and gazed at the refrigerator. She could practically see the wheels turning, certain his internal debate centered on whether or not it would be worth the wait to fix some bacon and make it a real club sandwich. She went to the refrigerator, retrieved a package of bacon bits and handed it to him with a slight smirk. A little 'you caught me' smile played around his lips as he shook some bits on each sandwich.
Once again they were seated at her kitchen table, this time enjoying a sandwich together in companionable silence. Catherine finished her sandwich and located a file from her manicure set to remedy a jagged edge on one of her nails.
"Your nails are not polished." He observed.
"Well, it's hard to play Harry Potter with wet nails." Catherine replied. "Linds loves that game you gave her for Christmas. I stripped my nails while she was doing her homework but I didn't have time to do the rest before she was ready to play."
"Maybe I can play it with her tonight." He said. Catherine determined from this statement that he didn't intend to leave any time soon.
She decided to test the waters. She had to proceed carefully, allow him no yes or no answers. "How, exactly, does Sara remind you of Liz?" She asked.
"What do you mean?" He parried, reflexively attempting to steer the conversation toward yes or no answers.
Catherine stopped filing and bestowed her best 'Don't fuck with me' look upon him. He was well acquainted with it, having received it numerous times before, so he chewed the inside corner of his mouth.
"Well?" She prompted as she examined her nails. One was not shaped quite right so she resumed filing.
"I'm thinking." He replied. After a time he concluded. "Sara is not much like Liz at all."
"Does something else bother you about this case?" Catherine asked, instinctively sensing there was.
"Yes." He answered, almost immediately. She stopped filing and carefully examined each nail again, waiting for him to continue. Satisfied with their appearance, she put the file away and began buffing.
"I felt like the doctor and I had something in common in a way. Both middle-aged men, defined by their job, offered an opportunity for something different by someone young and beautiful. He took it and it ended in murder. It hit a nerve." He said.
"You're referring to Sara asking you out." She stated. He nodded.
"Why didn't you go out with her?" She probed, curiosity getting the better of her.
"It would have ended like every other relationship I've been in. I don't want to hurt her. Besides, I'm her supervisor and mentor, or was, I suppose. It just wouldn't be right. She's not what I want. I'm tired of repeating the same history." He responded.
He rose and began putting the sandwich stuff away signaling the end of the conversation. She gathered the dishes from the table to place them in the dishwasher. She had just shut the dishwasher door when he stepped close to her. He ran the side of his thumb along her jaw then his finger down her neck and over her shoulder to the spaghetti strap of her top. He moved it aside and placed a soft kiss there.
"I woke up starving. I thought I'd have a sandwich. You want one?" He offered.
"Yeah, sounds good." She replied. It was intriguing to watch him build the sandwiches. She usually slapped meat, cheese and lettuce on some bread. He toasted the bread; put ham, turkey, cheese and lettuce on it then carefully added tomato slices, pickles, onion and black olives. He paused for a moment and gazed at the refrigerator. She could practically see the wheels turning, certain his internal debate centered on whether or not it would be worth the wait to fix some bacon and make it a real club sandwich. She went to the refrigerator, retrieved a package of bacon bits and handed it to him with a slight smirk. A little 'you caught me' smile played around his lips as he shook some bits on each sandwich.
Once again they were seated at her kitchen table, this time enjoying a sandwich together in companionable silence. Catherine finished her sandwich and located a file from her manicure set to remedy a jagged edge on one of her nails.
"Your nails are not polished." He observed.
"Well, it's hard to play Harry Potter with wet nails." Catherine replied. "Linds loves that game you gave her for Christmas. I stripped my nails while she was doing her homework but I didn't have time to do the rest before she was ready to play."
"Maybe I can play it with her tonight." He said. Catherine determined from this statement that he didn't intend to leave any time soon.
She decided to test the waters. She had to proceed carefully, allow him no yes or no answers. "How, exactly, does Sara remind you of Liz?" She asked.
"What do you mean?" He parried, reflexively attempting to steer the conversation toward yes or no answers.
Catherine stopped filing and bestowed her best 'Don't fuck with me' look upon him. He was well acquainted with it, having received it numerous times before, so he chewed the inside corner of his mouth.
"Well?" She prompted as she examined her nails. One was not shaped quite right so she resumed filing.
"I'm thinking." He replied. After a time he concluded. "Sara is not much like Liz at all."
"Does something else bother you about this case?" Catherine asked, instinctively sensing there was.
"Yes." He answered, almost immediately. She stopped filing and carefully examined each nail again, waiting for him to continue. Satisfied with their appearance, she put the file away and began buffing.
"I felt like the doctor and I had something in common in a way. Both middle-aged men, defined by their job, offered an opportunity for something different by someone young and beautiful. He took it and it ended in murder. It hit a nerve." He said.
"You're referring to Sara asking you out." She stated. He nodded.
"Why didn't you go out with her?" She probed, curiosity getting the better of her.
"It would have ended like every other relationship I've been in. I don't want to hurt her. Besides, I'm her supervisor and mentor, or was, I suppose. It just wouldn't be right. She's not what I want. I'm tired of repeating the same history." He responded.
He rose and began putting the sandwich stuff away signaling the end of the conversation. She gathered the dishes from the table to place them in the dishwasher. She had just shut the dishwasher door when he stepped close to her. He ran the side of his thumb along her jaw then his finger down her neck and over her shoulder to the spaghetti strap of her top. He moved it aside and placed a soft kiss there.