A/N: I don't own anything. But this idea occurred to me as a sort of crossover of the two fics I've read where people read other people's diaries. So this is kind of a little dorky piece I'm writing. Cath finds Gil's diary. I understand if you shun me for my excessively dorky story, but I had to get it out and I love you people because you always leave the nicest comments. Also, the premise is totally unbelievable and Grissom is MASSIVELY out of character, but whatever. It makes the story flow.

Gil Grissom's Diary Found By Catherine Willows

Cath's POV

Just look at this mess! His office has got to be the messiest place in the world. Aside from Lindsey's bedroom and a Bosnian war zone. How in the Hell does he expect me to find that stupid file that's just 'right on his desk' if I can't even find his desk?! Honestly, if Gil Grissom were any messier I'd call him fifteen and be done with it. Oh well, Brass 'really needs' that file. I guess it's up to me, mother-and-finder-of-all-things to find that file.

I swear, it was just a mistake. I didn't mean to find it. And it really did just fall open. I didn't go looking for it or anything. But I found it. And I mean, it was Gil's DIARY for Chrissake. The key to the man's head. The only way to ever understand what was going through that man's head. Can you honestly blame me for wanting to understand how my supervisor's mind works?

Okay, I know it's a lame excuse, but I was a little busy rationalizing to care. Then it came down to one little decision. I doubt Grissom would have been terrifically pleased if he'd strolled into his office to discover me munching on some popcorn and reading the latest Steven King – no wait, Gil Grissom – novel. In fact, it was safe to assume, he might commit a slight amount of murder. I considered my purse, which was lying in his chair. It was big, nobody would see this tiny little notebook. It was like driving, had to be quick and decisive. So I tossed the little notebook into my purse and continued searching for the file. Finally I found the file and I should've been happy. I mean I found it in this pigsty Grissom loosely refers to as a desk. But that stupid diary kept nagging at my conscience. I sighed plaintively and dropped the diary into it's former spot on Gil's bookcase. I guess I do have a conscience.

Okay, so the first time I took my diary, it was my fault. And I put it back without looking at it. But I swear, the second time was totally Gil's fault. I mean he brought it to my house. What kind of moron brings his journal to somebody's house? I know it's mean to call Gil a moron. He's a very brilliant man, intellectually. But outside of a lab, the man's got like, zero people skills and zilch common sense. I mean he brought it to my house. And I know that's not an invitation to go and read it, but then he left it. And I'm a good person, honestly. I wasn't even going to read it at that point. And then Gil called me and told me he'd left a book there. I was like, "Okay, I'll bring it to the lab with me."

And then – I swear that man is a mind reader – he said "I don't honestly care if you look at it, by the way. I know that's what you're thinking Cath. You're nosy, you can't help it. Go ahead and read it. It's not like you'll be able to figure out what it's saying anyway."

I was silent. That was...a little creepy, to tell the truth. Gil Grissom had just given me permission to look in his diary.

"Like I said, no way you'll ever be able to figure it out."

"Grissom, you are quite honestly the strangest man I've ever met." I shook my head and promised to bring the journal tomorrow.

Okay, he gave me permission. He said "go ahead and read it." How do you misinterpret that? That is as cut-and-dry as it gets. So I put his stupid German entomology textbook – who knew the man could speak German? – and his diary on my coffee table and sat down with a nice cup of coffee. I sipped my coffee and flipped through the spiral-bound notebook aimlessly. Gil was right. No way could I read it. The stupid thing was in Latin. I think I recognized all of two words. Amo and eloquentia. And I'm pretty sure that I only recognized them from high school French. I shook my head and stood up. I definitely needed more coffee if I was going to even attempt to decipher this thing. I poured myself a cup of coffee and proceeded to find Lindsay in her room. "Hey." I waved, Gil's diary completely forgotten.

"Hey. I think I'm going to make some hot cocoa and toast."

"Lindsay, don't you think you should be eating something healthier than toast for dinner?"

"Mom, I'm coming home at six every night after drill team practice. I'm wiped. Do you know how much crap you get for being the only freshman on the varsity drill team?"

"What can I say? You're an amazing dancer."

"Yeah well, practice till six, I'm too wiped out to even think about making dinner, and you're practically out the door by six-thirty to make me anything."

"If I had known before I'd have made you something. Or told Gil to make you something."

"It's fine mom. I'll see if Uncle Gil left anything in the fridge for me. He usually does." She glanced at her bedside clock. "Hey, it's six forty. If you don't get going soon, you'll be way late."

I nodded. "Alright, I'll call later. Please do try to get to bed by midnight, one at the latest. I don't like you not getting enough sleep."

"I'll try mom."

I kissed Lindsey on her head and grabbed shoes and my coat, running out the door at the same time. Six forty was pushing it. I'd never get to the lab on time if I dawdled at all. I got about halfway to the lab before I realized that Gil's diary was sitting on my coffee table.

Oops.

I was very happy to note that Gil wasn't angry at all. In fact, at the end of shift when I came to apologize for being late and forgetting his diary, he chuckled. He chuckled. Gil Grissom actually chuckled. I think that's happened a grand total of no times. "It's okay, Catherine." He smiled. "It's not that big a deal."

I drove home and handed Lindsey the keys to my car. I tell you, having a sixteen year old daughter who can drive is really, really scary. But Lindsey's a good kid. I went inside my house, fully intending to sleep. And then I saw the diary, lying open on the kitchen table. I swear I left it on the coffee table. And next to the diary was a pad of paper. It took my maybe half a second to realize that on the pad of paper was the translation to the last couple pages of Gil's diary. That's right, Lindsey's a second-year Latin student! I guess she translated it. Too intrigued at this point, I sat down and started reading the page. I glanced at the date. Grissom had written it at as Idus, Martius MMVII. The man was nuts. Lindsey had translated that sentence as the 15th of March, 2007. I went on to read the Latin. Maybe I'd learn a little something from this.

Gil Grissom's Diary Idus, Martius MMVII

Cave Idus Martius. O me miseram! O scelestus dies! Nicolaus et Sara sunt coniunctium. Peior, Nicolaus amat Saram. Et Sara amat Nicolaum etiam. Privi meus ocasionis. Amo Saram. Sed Sara non amat meus. Sara amat Nicolaus. Ego angoribus. Scelestus lingua meus! Nicolaus vincit. Nicolaus et Sara coniunctium.

{{sorry if my latin sucked. I had to look up most of the vocab and I'm only a first-year latin student. I'm trying to get better before I go back to school.}}

I glanced at the translated page.

15 March 2007,

Beware the Ides of March. Oh how miserable I am! Oh wicked day! Nicholas and Sara are together. Worse, Nicholas loves Sara. And Sara loves Nicholas too. I lost my chance. I love Sara. But Sara does not love me. Sara loves Nicholas. I am heartbroken. Wicked tongue of mine! Nicholas wins. Nicholas and Sara are together.

My eyes widened. We all knew that Gil has less than fatherly feelings towards Sara, he's just been a little slow at acting on them. Okay, seven years is a lot slow, but we all knew he'd get there. I guess Sara got tired of waiting. Nick though. Nick was a good guy. He'd take care of her.

I remembered to bring the diary to work tonight. Yay me. I went into Gil's office and dropped the diary on his desk. "Here ya go. I did manage to translate the last entry, despite your claim that I wouldn't be able to understand it." Grissom's eyes flew up.

"Catherine." His voice was measured and a little scared. "Where did you get this?"

"You left it at my house. This was the book you called to make sure I had. You told me you didn't mind if I read it because I'd never be able to understand it. Lindsey translated the last entry. Guess she needed some practice."

Grissom was half hyperventilating now. "Catherine, the book I was referring to was my German entomology textbook, not my JOURNAL."

My mind instantly flashed back to the textbook sitting on my coffee table.

"Oops."