MORE THAN THIS
Part 02: "A Promise of What Is"

by Mickie 05.01.29

&

Grissom, being characteristically lost in thought, never noticed when Catherine entered his dark office. He was usually rapt with an experiment, carefully recording every reaction. She would sneak up behind him and whisper his name, causing him to jump. He would then always devote his full attention to her, forgetting his experiments.

That was before either of them died.

Now, she would stand in the doorframe and report her news without jest or tease and he would listen, but his eyes were on science. He would acknowledge her when they crossed paths, and she would lift her mouth a little in reply. As of late, he hadn't been working cases with her instead preferring to work alone or with Warrick.

They knew each others numbers by heart but didn't call anymore. Knew where to eat and when to meet but they never did anymore. Catherine wondered if Grissom even cared now or if he secretly felt the same as her.

No, that's impossible.

"Hey, about the blood, Greg found human saliva in the sample you took and related it to a story of when bison attack. Basically, someone gnawed the guy to death," Catherine prattled off to Grissom who was, of course, working at his experiment desk against the wall of his office, in the dark.

Catherine was about to repeat herself when he quietly replied, "Good."

"Just thought you'd like to know, it being our case and all," she turned sharply and headed for the break room, more specifically the coffee machine.

It was the first time in weeks that he had assigned her to work with him and she couldn't believe that he wasn't a tad more enthusiastic about the latest development in their murder investigation. The victim was found to be gnawed to death by some crazed psychopath; it should be front page news and he didn't even raise an eyebrow, not that she would know if he did. It's always too dark to tell.

Catherine felt like one of those cheese sticks she was always packing Lindsey with her lunch, the kind that peel away and unravel with ease. Her life was like that now, without him. When had she become so dependant on him? No, she realized, not dependant, just in love. She wasn't afraid to admit it now, at least to herself.

Lots of things have changed since she died.

The familiar sight of beautiful dead things in glass jars and butterflies nailed in cases did not comfort him as it used to. His office was not a sanctuary any longer; it was a hiding place and not a very good one at that.

She would always find him and he would go through the same awkward dance with her, pretending that nothing was the matter and if anything was, he'd know how to fix it because he's Gil Grissom, her best friend. So of course he would know everything.

He sank down into the absorbing desk chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. One of his annual, weekly now, migraines was coming on. He'd been in love with her for years, why was it so hard to ignore now? He didn't want to ponder it tonight.

Instead, he travelled the halls until he saw her at the break room table, a coffee in her hands and her eyes staring the other way, unmoving. Surely it would be alright to put his hand on his friend's shoulder to snap her out of it. But she was ahead of him, snapping back from wherever she had gone before he was a metre away. He took the seat beside her as if that had been his plan all along.

"Why?" Catherine turned to him and asked simply.

He knew what she meant of course. Why are you hurting me? Why are you shutting me out? Why are you so pig-headed that you can't see what you're doing to me? Why are you doing this? A million questions fought for supremacy of his brain.

"I, um," he stammered, partly hoping the world would swallow him whole and partly wishing it didn't so he could just tell her. Hoping and wishing seemed to be his forte lately.

To his surprise, Catherine immediately paled after her question, seemingly as surprised as him that she said it. She knew that he knew and he knew that she knew that he knew. Their lives were entwined in a circle just like that and neither one of them had the gall or the inclination to break free. She didn't want to break free and neither did he, so they kept spinning. They both knew one day it would have to stop, that they would have to makeup or breakup, and neither wanted to start it. Not today, they tell themselves.

Not right now, Catherine's brain screamed. "I have to check in at Trace… the doctor's letter from earlier," she quickly exited the room and left Grissom, still sitting at the break table, in a state of shock… but also curiosity.

"Why would she get so flustered all of a sudden?" he mused aloud, then glanced hurriedly over his shoulder to make sure no one was around to hear that. Oh, stop being so paranoid, the persistent voice in his head admonished. That's not why, it reinforced. Grissom swept his hopeful thoughts aside and resigned himself to another day of spinning. Just for right now, he told himself.

-end (of part two.)