Disclaimer: It's been a year; hopefully by now everybody knows: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me.

Author's Note: For Mr. Hathaway; for b8kworm and Sun Mee who give me nothing but support. For Mark, I count everyday of my life with you in it as a blessing; always remember that. For the people who do or ought to belong to nagging.com - Angie, Manda, Marianne, and Rita. Will you ever cut me some slack? Thanks, Mena, for the song. Many, many thanks to Beth for permission to use Bleak; we did it! Thank you for inspiring me. There is no chronological order to these chapters; consider it a stream-of-thought.

Summary: Tonight, something had changed and he sincerely cursed the near perfect memory that made his job easier while his heart became a wrenched mess.

Rating: PG-13

Archives: the Graveyard, mine. Anybody else, email me.

Pairing(s): G/C

Spoiler(s): Inside the Box.

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Title: Eccentric Seeming Emotions

Author: Laeta
Email: ladylaetayahoo.com

Chapter 4: Quake

Bleak and lonely, the depths of one's soul.
The deep abyss of emotion shattered before them in one explosive cry for help.
The screams - love is life; love is lost.
The reckless tumble of eccentric-seeming emotions quake as they erupt to the surface.

He knew what to do the instant she discovered his secret. After so many months of vacillating between options, the active effort invigorated him.

With one person 'in the know' so to speak, he headed for the other individual he respected: Al Robbins. No words needed to be exchanged; it was a silent appraisal, man to man - entirely professional while altogether personal.

Examination complete and arrangements made, Gil waited for the end of shift.

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Gil alternated between twiddling his thumbs and swinging his legs simply to pass time. He hated the act of waiting; it seemed as though he had spent his whole life in waiting. Waiting to grow up and to be considered mature enough by society to handle his own affairs. Waiting for the acceptance of forensics as a mainstream procedure in law enforcement. Waiting for happiness - waiting for Catherine to appear in his life. Waiting for Eddie to be an ignorable factor, for the pain of his death to fade.

He was a patient man and a reasonable one; you win some, you lose some - he knew that adage intimately. He only wished he had won the more meaningful of waiting races.

Well, why not try again? Why not try wishing, just one last time, for Catherine to appear in his life? What was one more self-directed disappointment among a plethora of others?

He nearly fell off the examining table.

Their conversation was a meaningless triviality; the most important aspect of this conversation had been over and done with the moment she appeared framed by the doorway. Like most things between close friends, words confused issues; the silence of support was the only element that had weight without the moral trappings.

Was there a better way for Catherine to show that she cared but by coming to see him? Of course not. Now Gil knew why he had let slip the location of his surgery. She was too good an investigator not to be able to find the details of his appointment.

He felt relief in that brief moment surrounded by her arms; so easily his fantasy of life with Catherine crashed through the gates restraining them and swept through his mind. And Gil suddenly knew why poets and artists loved to be in love. For where else does inspiration lay but in the form of a woman? To think, once, he had cursed this intoxication.

Yet, as he walked down the hallway, Gil intentionally did not ask if she would be waiting for him when he woke.

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He woke to slightly, blurred vision. It took him another moment to answer the doctor's questions, but he managed; then, he focused beyond the doctor to a familiar face. He stared until the doctor, finally convinced of his complete return to awareness, left to attend another patient.

"You're still here," Gil stated.

"I had to be."

He gazed at her a little more suspiciously. "Cath - Why are you really?"

"You were there for me when I had nobody; I've never taken that moment for granted. Look, I had to return the favor. Just accept it."

Gil smirked. He had not intended to rile her but, now that it had happened, he did not resist savoring it.

Catherine merely glared at him; mockingly, of course. Then, she seated herself in a nearby chair and claimed the remote control.

"I get first pick. Shall we rot our brains with daytime soaps, talk shows, or cartoons?"

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© RK 03.May.2004