After this morning, Greg felt lucky to be alive. When Catherine discovered her underwear in his pocket, he was sure he would have to call paramedics. Luckily for him, he managed to calm her down and explain that it was Lindsey who had planted the incriminating panties in his pocket. Catherine, although at first unconvinced, admitted that it was something Lindsey could have plausibly done.

Now, after containing one potentially dangerous situation, he was pretty sure he could be facing another. He wasn't sure what possessed him to call in sick to work and park outside Catherine's house. But here he was; Greg the stalker. He was sure that this wasn't one of his brightest ideas.

He knew Catherine's date would pick her up around seven, and sure enough, he arrived exactly on time. Greg narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge his competition, but he could barely make out the man's face. When Catherine emerged, however, he could clearly tell she was radiant. He felt his breath catch as he took in her form-fitting classic black gown. Her hair was pulled up and she was shouldering a dark blue shawl that Greg was sure set off her blue eyes.

When Greg managed to break himself out of his trance, he followed them to the restaurant, trying to keep himself as discrete as possible. He groaned when he realized where they were heading; Aquavit was a fancy French restaurant that was certainly well out of his pocketbook range.

"Do you have reservations?" The maitre d' asked him, and Greg adjusted his tie, thankful that he had dressed appropriately.

"No, I don't," Greg said. "However, I am with the Las Vegas police, and I'm investigating one of your patrons. The gentleman who arrived shortly before me, with the beautiful redhead-" Greg said, stretching out the last sentence waiting for the man to reveal the name of Catherine's date.

"Dr. Chad Sullivan?" The maitre d' said, surprised. "He frequents our restaurant quite often. I highly doubt he'd be involved in anything devious."

"Well, that's not what our evidence may be suggesting," Greg said, trying to sound as authoritative as possible. He flashed his CSI badge. "All I'd like is a table nearby where I can place him under surveillance. Any help you can provide will be appreciated."

The maitre d' eyed the badge suspiciously before he relented, but not without adding that Greg had to at least order something. Now he found himself under the scrutiny of an annoyed waiter."Are you ready to order yet sir?" The waiter asked testily.

Greg titled slightly to see around the waiter. "Uh - a garden salad."

"A salad sir?" The waiter said, his voice hitching up a notch slightly. "You do realize that we have a fifteen dollar minimum here."

"Oh, then a salad and a cup of the house special's soup." Greg gestured downward. "I have to keep my girlish figure." He winked at the waiter.

The waiter refrained from rolling his eyes. "Very good sir," he said tersely as he abruptly grabbed Greg's menu which hadn't even been opened. "I'll be here shortly with your soup and salad."

Greg chose to ignore the waiter's clipped tone, and instead focused on what he really came here for - Catherine's date. As he watched Catherine and her date, a jealous knot formed in the pit of his stomach. The man was handsome, Greg admitted despite himself. Tall, blonde, and square-jawed, he was the epitome of handsome. Probably was a jock in high school that ridiculed geeks like Greg and always got girls like Catherine. Chad was definitely a jock's name, Greg sighed.

Brushing off his thoughts, he looked down at the notebook that was open in front of him. Taking out a pen, he began crossing off items.

Romantic music CD. Check.

Company email. Check.

Lindsey...Greg tapped his pen against his mouth. Not quite ready to check that off just yet.

Running down the rest of the list, he realized that there was nothing really to help him in this particular situation. Snapping his notebook shut, he shoved it back into his inside coat pocket with the pen. This time, he would just have to wing it.

He watched as Catherine laughed at something the jock said and Greg frowned. A sudden ringing in his pocket interrupted his pouting, and he flipped open his cell phone.

"Greg, it's Grissom."

Greg began coughing into the phone. "Oh hey Grissom. I'm still feeling pretty run-down."

"Sorry to hear that Greg. Is there any reason you weren't answering your home phone?"

"Oh, I think my ringer must be off."

"Regardless, I didn't mean to interrupt your rest, but I just had a few questions about the Chase case."

"Oh, the one I worked on with Catherine a few days ago?" Greg asked, suddenly formulating an idea. "You know, maybe you should call Catherine about it. I just took some medicine and it's making me drowsy. I may not be able to answer your questions clearly."

"Good idea Greg. I'll give Catherine a ring."

"By any chance, how long do you think your questions will last?" Greg asked, attempting to sound casual.

"I'm not sure - maybe ten minutes or so."

"Ok good. Make sure you're very thorough."

"I always am," Grissom said, confused. "Greg, are you sure you took the right medication?"

Greg coughed again. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Grissom paused on the other line. "Just, get some rest."

"Will do boss," Greg said. He snapped his cell phone shut and watched the couple across from him intently. Sure enough, within a few minutes, Catherine's cell phone began ringing. Greg watched as Catherine smiled apologetically to her date, and left the table to take the call. Once she was out of sight, Greg made his move.

"Excuse me, Dr. Chad Sullivan?" Greg asked, as he approached the table, trying to mimic the expression he often saw Grissom wear when interrogating suspects.

The man looked up at Greg, surprised. "Yes, that's me."

Greg took a seat across from him, carefully keeping an eye on the hallway where Catherine had disappeared to. "I'm Greg Sanders with the Las Vegas Crime Lab," he said, flashing his badge.

"Crime Lab? Do you work with Catherine?" Sullivan asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Actually, Dr. Sullivan, that's what I'm here to tell you," Greg said leaning forward. "The woman you're with does not, in fact, work with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. In fact, her name isn't even Catherine Willows."

"It's not?" Sullivan asked, concern etching across his face. "Then who is she?"

"Ever heard of Lady Heather's Box?" Greg asked, arching his eyebrow.

Sullivan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Yes, I've heard about it. Mostly from friend. Not something I'm interested in," he added hastily.

"Yes well, the woman with you claiming to be Catherine Willows is actually a dominatrix working for Lady Heather. She also may be involved in a murder of a client that happened earlier this week."

"A client?" Sullivan asked weakly. "What happened to him?"

"I'm not usually at liberty to disclose such information but-"Greg looked around and gestured for Sullivan to move closer to him. Greg leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

Sullivan sat back in chair, looking slightly shell shocked. "It was his- uh-"

Greg nodded. "Not a pretty sight."

"And my date is a potential suspect in this? I don't understand. Why is she posing as a CSI?"

Greg tapped the side of his head. "According to her psychiatrist, a Dr. Gil Grissom, she's known to assume several identities. It works in her line of work. As you can imagine, men like her to take on different personas while she's, uh, torturing them."

Sullivan dropped his jaw. "What should I do?" he asked, looking nervously behind him. Greg inwardly felt smug. It looked as if the man was about to jump out of his skin.

"I suggest you leave dinner immediately. Give her some excuse. We may not have evidence yet linking her to the crime, but we certainly believe it was her. Now, I'm going to go back to my table. But don't mention I was here. I don't want to blow my cover." Greg attempted to stand, but before he could, Sullivan gripped his arm.

"Do you think she'll come after me?"

Greg brushed him off and offered a slight smile. "No. Just get out of here as soon as you can."

Sullivan sucked all of this in and nodded furiously. Greg tried to keep the smirk from spreading across his face as he walked back to his table. Sitting down, he waited for the show to begin.

After finishing her call with Grissom, Catherine stalked back to her table slightly irritated at having her date interrupted. "I'm so sorry Chad-" she began, but stopped when she noticed his expression. He appeared to be sweating profusley. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah - I'm fine," he said quickly. "You, uh, finished with your call?"

Catherine cocked her head slightly and sat down. "Yeah, yeah. That was just my boss, Grissom."

"Grissom?" Sullivan asked weakly.

"Yeah, he wanted to check up on a case from last week. Just had a few questions."

"Ah. I see. On a case," Sullivan said slowly.

"Yes. A case," Catherine examined him closely. "Are you sure you're fine?"

"Oh, yeah. Never better. Actually, I have to use the restroom. If you'll excuse me," Sullivan said. "I'll be back in a minute."

Sullivan's minute turned into several, and Catherine began to grow concerned.When the waiter returned to the table with their food, Catherine touched his arm lightly. "Excuse me, but my date went to the restroom. He's been in there for awhile. Would you mind checking on him? He didn't look well. "

"Of course," the waiter said smiling. Catherine returned the smile, thanking him. When the waiter returned, a frown was prominent on his face.

"I'm sorry, but your date isn't in the restroom," he said apologetically.

Catherine narrowed her eyes. "He's not?" she asked loudly, and the waiter backed away slowly, fearing for his life.

Catherine withdrew her cell phone and called Sullivan's cell phone number. When he didn't answer, she left him a voice mail that the doctor would never forget. Once she was finished, she buried her head in her hands and a headache began to form.What had gone wrong? No one just left a date with Catherine Willows. She's the one who usually did the leaving.

"Is this seat taken?"

She knew that voice.Catherine looked up to see a smiling Greg. Simultaneously, her headache grew.

TBC