Disclaimer: I always knew three years eventually would pass and it would be time to say goodbye; I never realized it would be this soon. However, could I please borrow CSI and its characters for some last flings?
Author's Note: Title acknowledgement goes to Angie. As always, for Mr. Hathaway, for my siblings who simply nod and let me do, and for those certain graveshifters who have been a large part of my life. Thanks, Marianne and Angie for always being willing to undergo my particular brand of torture.
Summary: As much as he wished otherwise, that was the way he lived his life. He simply never knew it would be a bane.
Feedback: Required only for complaints about the style, structure, and/or plot. Personal attacks must first survive my buffer zone to affect me.
Rating: PG
Archive(s): the Graveyard Shift; mine. All else must ask.
Pairing(s): Gil/Catherine
Spoiler(s): Viva Las Vegas; Harvest. Mea Culpa; No Humans Involved.
xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxTitle: The Bane Of My Existence
Author: Laeta
He chose sullen to describe her attitude as she lingered at his townhouse's threshold. There was no sparkle of excitement that once dominated her appearance at the mere thought of visiting him. Nor was there any obvious anger directed towards her mother for what could be construed to be abandonment.
He shelved the issue at hand for a moment so he could reassure the girl's mother, who left within seconds.
She gazed at random objects in his public rooms; he merely waited for her on a stool.
"How much did she pay you to keep an eye on me?"
Nevertheless, there was the bitterness. Gil felt it weigh down his heart.
"She didn't pay me. Lindsey, I offered."
Lindsey turned accusing eyes onto him.
"Do you know where she took me?"
"To the morgue. To see the girl's body."
"You knew?"
Gil noted how she had removed neither her coat nor her bag. Ready to leave at a moment's notice, she was.
"Why didn't you stop her?"
"What would you have me do, Lindsey? I agree with her."
"What?" The word was infused with disbelief and, maybe, a dose or two of betrayal.
"You were taking risks you shouldn't be doing. It was my idea."
Angry tears welled, pooled, and obscured the words she whispered. "I hate you."
Yet, Gil had known Lindsey her whole life; he saw through the rough charade. He left his peripheral seat and chose another that was more centrally located, one conducive to conversation.
Lindsey watched his move suspiciously, ready to run, but there was no need. He came no closer.
Instead, he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. She looked directly into his eyes. The love she saw, she tried to deny, and nearly missed his gently probing question.
She refocused while he remained still, ever patient.
"What's really bothering you?" he had asked and she no longer could deny him. After her parents, he had been the cornerstone of her life; she could neither truly hate him nor completely disregard the fact he cared.
Everything within her bubbled and boiled up and out of her. Suddenly, she felt the solitude she had wrapped around herself; she hated that more than the morgue memory. It showed her what to do.
She launched herself into his arms, ignoring the surprised exhalation of a grunt. Her assault pushed him backwards; it was a good thing the chair was there to save them -- she would not know how to explain to her mother why Gil was hurt.
Amidst tears of loss, Lindsey slowly sobbed her anger, her confession, and her sorrow to him.
xxxxxHot chocolate could warm a body and cinnamon could stimulate the senses, but nothing could replicate the familiarity that punctuated the time she spent with him in the kitchen. It comforted her so much that she missed the feeling. It also planted a seed of thought within her mind.
She studied the way Gil poured hot milk into a pair of mugs. How hard would it be to convince him to agree to it?
"I miss Mom."
She startled him; she saw how he jerked his head away from his own mug. Just for spite, she idly stirred the marshmallows about the steaming liquid surface.
He narrowed his eyes and Lindsey grinned. Yes, he was right to be wary; she was, after all, her mother's daughter.
"She misses you, too," he said, carefully pausing after every word to second guess himself. "It's not her fault that she didn't get dayshift supervisor."
"I know, but I'm all grown up now, Uncle Gil."
"Meaning --?"
She watched as he catalogued her cryptic statement.
"Meaning --" Lindsey smiled innocently at the way irritation flashed briefly in his eyes.
There were times when Uncle Gil was so easy to read. Her heart, closed after the previous scene, opened to him once more because, as much as her crying had worn her out, she knew it must have been ten times worse for him. He had such a huge heart that he could not prevent himself from taking her burdens atop his own.
"I miss Mom. I will always miss Mom, but I don't need her anymore."
"Lindsey --"
She stopped him with a simple gesture of her spoon. "Uncle Gil, I'm almost a teenager and I understand that Mom wants to spend more time with me. But it's too late."
"She needs you."
"No, what she needs is somebody to love her." Lindsey applauded herself mentally for the way she managed to say that and still look at him.
"You don't love her?"
His outrage shocked her. She realized she must tread carefully.
So, she rolled her eyes in typical teenage fashion and followed it quickly with an overdramatic flutter of her eyelids.
"Not that love. Love!" She made sure to emphasize it the second time.
"What about Chris?"
"Who?"
"Never mind." His reply came a touch too quickly to be called nonchalant.
Lindsey laughed. "Chris, the moron club owner?" She shrugged at Gil's expression. "Of course I know who he is. Mom doesn't believe in hiding anything; something about trust."
He nodded. That was the Catherine he knew.
"Anyway, Mom came home crying a while ago. Said he was sleeping around behind her back."
"She said that?"
"Of course! Uncle Gil, don't look like that; I'm nearly a teenager! We had the sex talk ages ago." This time, she placed an emphasis on "ages".
Gil shifted uncomfortably. Obviously, he had not intended to learn that much information.
Sighing, Lindsey merely replied, "Hey, you asked." She gave him a pointed glare. "And you're trying to distract me."
He slumped in his chair, resigned. Again, Lindsey wondered why people always said Uncle Gil was devoid of emotion; right now, he was so transparent.
She smiled. It managed to force one from Gil's lips.
"You look like your mother with that smile."
The flurry of giggles escaped her control. Then, she sobered.
"She doesn't smile anymore," Lindsey said quietly.
"No, she doesn't." The agreement brought her an easy way to initiate her suddenly created plan.
"Uncle Gil, let's make her smile again."
Lindsey dropped her spoon into her empty mug with a flourish and gave him her full attention. To have her plan work, she needed his help. One hundred percent of it and the only way to get it was to pressure him. She diligently had learned her mother's lessons entitled "How to Deal with Gil Grissom".
"How?"
The caution was back; Lindsey sighed. This was not going very well. Scratch that, she had a way around him.
"How about we find her a date to Sam's New Year's Eve party?"
She recognized the way he hedged with the answer. "If she wanted a date, she could easily find one."
Lindsey rolled her eyes again and muttered, "If!" She paused, looking thoughtfully at Gil. "You know, you're not surprised about Sam's party."
Gil immediately rose with their mugs and turned away from her. She jumped off the stool, skidded around the island, and bumped into him.
"Uncle Gil!"
"Cath may have mentioned it."
"Did she ask you to go with her?" Maybe, this would easier than she initially thought.
"Lindsey, get to the point."
Without question, she knew his patience was nearly gone so she straightened to her full height. "Go to the party with her. Give her a New Year's kiss to remember."
"No."
She grabbed his sleeve, catching his attention. "C'mon, Uncle Gil. How hard is it? It's just one night to make her happy. I promise I'll be good the whole year, too!"
He knelt. "I can't."
"Why not? You've always been there for us." Tears threatened again; Lindsey blinked them away. She had had enough of crying for a lifetime.
Yet, there was something in his tone as he said, "I can't." With her unaffected point of view, she gazed into his eyes and probed as delicately as he had done for her. Was that it? All she had to do was to ask. Dare she?
"Uncle Gil?" She whispered his name softly. "You're in love with Mom, aren't you?"
There was no verbal answer, only a visual one. His eyes told the truth, and Lindsey reached out to hug him. Her head fell naturally to his shoulder; his arms held her with years of practice. She knew how many years he had endured because of love and desperately wished she would not make her mother's same mistake -- to not see the love coexisting with her in favor of another, unreachable, hurtful kind. Only one option remained: she gave him hope.
"Then could you do it for yourself, Uncle Gil? Give yourself one night to be with her. Wouldn't that be worth it?" she asked, voice muffled against him.
xxxxxThe deed was done, but Gil could not remember how Lindsey had managed to convince Catherine to agree. However, her amazed face to the proposition was definitely worth his apprehension.
He may regret the night after it was done, after he had shown his heart for a night. He may live with the memory of that night for the rest of his life but he would give everything for Catherine. As much as he wished otherwise, that was the way he lived his life. He simply never knew it would be a bane.
© RK 16.Dec.2004