Glad to have garnered some new readers! Thanks for your comments and welcome. Hope I don't disturb you too much.
And, for the record, this is a story with four parts, although the fourth part is really more of a two-chapter epilogue.
Oh, and I don't hate Catherine. Really. I promise. And you can't say that she's not the only character in this story that's a little unadjusted.
Chapter Twelve: I Do This Because I Love You (CATHERINE)
She kissed Lindsey goodbye before her daughter even woke up. There was a butterfly pattern of sunshine on Lindsey's cheek, and Catherine traced it with her fingers.
Two hours later, sitting in Covallo's office with Warrick scrunched next to her in too-tight chairs, she was holding on to the memory of that fragile, intangible butterfly as tightly as she was holding on to the arms of the chair. Covallo, snide and insufferable as always, had been lecturing to them in that mellifluous, blueblood tone of his since they entered the office. They were to understand that he was going to try to do everything for Grissom. They were to understand that he couldn't do as much as he'd like for Grissom. They were to understand that the lab's reputation was at stake.
They were to understand a lot of things, apparently, and Catherine bit her tongue to restrain the suggestion that maybe Covallo should start understanding how to read a clock, so he would see how much time was going by and maybe, sometime, get to a point.
Warrick was wearing a faded black jacket, even in the warmth of the room, and Catherine could almost feel the heat baking from him. She hovered her hand over his elbow and blanked out Covallo until the sound of his voice was a distant rise and fall, like the sound of waves breaking against the beach.
She's in love with him.
Like you never were?
And yes, yes, she had been, of course she had been. He had pulled her from some level of life that she no longer liked to think about. She was no longer on display, she no longer needed the momentary thrill of the coke rushing through her bloodstream, and that was because of Grissom. She had no illusions about that. How could she resist falling in love with someone like that? How could she resist making him a hero?
She had said nothing; done nothing; and the feelings had faded until Grissom was her best friend, and nothing more. When she slept with men, it wasn't Grissom's eyes she thought about. She didn't imagine his hands on her breasts and belly, didn't imagine the intense look in his eyes near the end. She never said his name.
When she had the urge to do that, she controlled it.
But Warrick was lean and beautiful and Warrick had Grissom's eyes. He had a musician's hands and lips made for kissing, made to be kissed. Warrick wasn't Grissom, couldn't be Grissom, but Warrick was something in his own right, and, looking at him in the slow revolving heat of Covallo's office, Catherine thought that she could finally love someone who wasn't Grissom, finally appreciate a man for something other than how he reminded her of what she couldn't have.
And if she were tempted, he still had Grissom's eyes. Those calm, iceberg eyes.
"Of course," Warrick said. His voice was level. He looked at her, and, with a small smile, squeezed her hand. "We're better with the press anyway."
She nodded. She didn't know what she was agreeing to, but Warrick was smiling and Covallo, if not happy, was at least looking grudgingly approving.
"I'll see what I can do about a small interview," Covallo said considerately, as if he were throwing them the ultimate bone. "And I'll begin making the preliminary steps in a compromise with Ms. Zimmer's lawyer."
"Thank you, sir," Catherine said, wanting the lead again, frustrated at herself for not having a clue about what had preceded this part of the conversation. "That's appreciated."
"His reputation will take a hit," Covallo said, rubbing his chin, "but the lab's won't, not if this is carefully handled. And this will be carefully handled, correct? You'll have no problems? The two of you are supposed to be better with people than some of Grissom's team - - I didn't want Ms. Sidle, although Stokes would be nice, except he's vanished."
Warrick's shoe nudged hers under the desk.
"Vacation," Warrick said smoothly.
"Well, he picked a damn inconvenient moment."
"Don't we know it," Catherine said with a smile, hating Covallo for bringing it up.
She waited until he had accepted that as a valid response, and then crossed her legs and let the smile fade as he kept talking.
What she had agreed to, apparently, was a discussion with a few select members of the press. She and Warrick were supposed to calm them down and convince them that the story was boring and utterly unworthy of their time. They were strictly forbidden to tantalize, denied opportunity to dramatize, and instructed only to soothe.
"Be as dull and uninteresting as humanly possible," Covallo said.
Maybe you should do the interview, then, Catherine thought. Since you're so good at it.
She and Warrick escaped, and in the cooler air of the hallway, she fell against him and breathed. "God, I hate him."
"He's detestable," Warrick agreed, but he looked as if he were miles away. "When are you going to be ready for this?"
She looked up at him and stepped back, their closeness suddenly uncomfortable. "What do you mean? I'm ready."
"You aren't," he said gently. "You zoned out in there. Is there something wrong with Lindsey? Anything I can do to help?"
"Home's fine," Catherine said dismissively. "It's all of this that's worrying me. It's just a little too much, if you know what I mean. Why accuse Grissom of rape years after it's supposed t have happened?"
"Any evidence is gone," Warrick said. "That's what I've been suspecting, anyway. Zimmer knows that no one can prove that Grissom didn't rape her when there's no evidence to the contrary. And any scandal is a bad scandal. It's still hurting him."
"But it's not enough. Sure, there's not any evidence to the contrary, but there's not any evidence working in her favor, either. You think it's just for the scandal?"
Warrick's eyes looked opaque and unreadable. "I don't know. I keep trying to think about it, but I can't seem to get it straight. A scandal's bad, but by itself, it'll fade away. There have been worse accusations, and Grissom's not a celebrity. The public won't remember forever. It's too small. It's all too small. And every time I try to connect all the dots, I get the feeling that I'm missing something important."
He sounded frustrated, almost angry. She steadied him with a hand on his arm, thoughts of sex and iceberg eyes suddenly far away. Warrick was working on something, he was desperately close to some kind of revelation, and he needed her help.
"What? What are you missing?"
He rubbed at his temples. "I don't know. It just doesn't make any sense." He smiled at her, but it looked false and unsure. "I'm just being too suspicious. Greg's paranoia is rubbing off on me. Guess I need a lucky rabbit's foot, too."
"Greg's paranoid?"
"Yeah, but he won't tell me why. We played a few games of pool last night and he lost the last one. Knocked in the eight ball. Scared him a little - - more than it should've. He wants a lucky rabbit's foot now."
She waved this off. She'd been hoping for something a little more concrete.
"I talked to Sara," she said. "She met up with Lizzie Zimmer again."
Warrick swore under his breath and Catherine fought to control her smile. She liked watching him lose control, just a little - - it was liberating. Everyone else fell down day after day, but Warrick was usually so high up on his pedestal of control that she got a selfish pleasure out of watching him get knocked down. She waited until the anger on his face was locked away into a tight, wired jaw, and continued.
"Don't worry, this time, Sara didn't go looking for her. Lizzie found out that Sara worked for CSI, and stopped by to chat."
"Christ," Warrick said softly. "Is she going to the press?"
"No. Lizzie seems pretty frightened. Sara thinks she actually was raped back in '98 - - probably taking her revenge any way she can. She said something to indicate it."
"Enough to use against her?"
"No," Catherine said again. "But enough for us to be on our guard if we ever run into her. If she were just lying about everything, she'd be less dangerous - - but she's only making up half her story, and that makes it harder to break. And she's probably convinced herself that it doesn't matter that she's fingering the wrong guy, as long as someone takes the blame for what happened to her."
"I wish I understood that," Warrick said. "Really. But I don't."
Catherine thought about how mad she'd been when she caught Eddie cheating, and how she'd grown cold to Grissom and almost everyone else, desperate to find anyone at all who would take the burden of the blame. "I understand it. Enough to work with anyway."
"No," Warrick said. "You're not going to meet up with her. I'm not going to risk that."
She hadn't been thinking about meeting with Zimmer, but something in Warrick's tone froze her. She tore away from him, stepped further back and held up her hands, as if he might attack at any moment.
"I don't think it's really your problem."
"Bullshit, Cath," he said quietly. "It's everyone's problem. You can't pretend that this is an isolated incident. Stones leave ripples."
"You really do want to be Grissom, don't you?" she asked in delight, despising herself for doing this but loving it anyway, because if Warrick could see that she had loved Grissom, then she could reverse the insight back on him, because if she had been in love with Grissom, then Warrick practically worshipped at Grissom's feet - - as bad as Nick or Greg, in that aspect, if a little more subtle. "You're going to pick up his sayings now?"
"Stop it, Catherine. This isn't tag."
"Of course, you are the favorite CSI," she said musingly, "or so we were all thinking. Bet it really burns that Grissom sent Nick instead of you. Bet that's why you're so pissed. And then Sara got to talk to Lizzie Zimmer and you didn't get to do anything at all. Sitting on the sidelines and waiting your turn like a good little boy, and you don't even get to understand Zimmer's motivations. Guess you're screwed on this case, Warrick. Everyone's been up to bat but you. Even Greg gets to have unfound suspicions, but you? You're still distant. This hasn't rippled you yet."
She watched the guarded look on his face break down as Warrick Brown fell from his pedestal one final time, and she was sure that after this, he would be truly unable to ascend again. She had ruined something for him. The part was over. Everybody out of the pool.
He turned from her and walked away in silence.
But I love you, she said in her mind, and I wish that I didn't know how to be cruel like this, but I do, and you hurt me, so I'll hurt you, you hit me, so I'll hit back.
And the terrible, stinging ultimatum, I do this because I love you.
And because I'm afraid of you.
She held on to the water fountain next to Covallo's door and closed her eyes until the room could stop spinning. She stood in the darkness for a long time.