Disclaimer: They're not mine
Pairing: GCR
Spoilers: None
Summary: Follow up to the 'stand alone' On The Horizon. GCR . "Just because you didn't open your mouth, Gil, doesn't mean you didn't say anything."
Thanks to sitarra for my only review for On The Horizon - ha! And I lied about that being a Stand-Alone. I really meant it to be, but then I realised I'd left a whole bunch of stuff I wanted to put in, out. Thanks again! Enjoy! Love LJ xXx
- o -
On The Verge
- o -
"The first time I ever met you... it wrecked me for weeks afterwards, you know.
Everytime my cell rang, or any phone at all, I always thought it'd be you.
It was so stupid; you didn't even have my number, but I believed it every time...
I guess I had this romantic idea in my head that somehow,
Somehow you'd find your way to me"
- o -
"You on?" Catherine Willows asked, pulling her locker shut as Grissom came in.
"Yep – you off?" he countered, standing in the doorway. She nodded and grinned.
"Gotta go get Lindsey from my mother's" she replied.
"Tell her I said hi," he told her with a smile.
"Sure, as in – Uncle Rabbit says hi?" she suggested with a smirk. He laughed as she made for the door.
"Hey, hang on a second – I've got something for you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bunch of keys, searching through them until he pulled one off the chain. "Here."
Catherine looked at him, holding out the key, but didn't take it.
"It's my door key – not a bomb," he joked at her suspicious expression. "For whenever you need to get away when I'm not in."
"Are you sure? I mean – are you sure you trust me with your front door key?" Catherine checked, hesitantly.
"I would trust you with my life." he answered calmly. A smile spread on her face and she took the key.
"Thanks. I mean it – thank you." she said softly, slipping it into the pocket of her jeans. "I'll see you later."
Unconsciously, as she passed him in the doorway, she reached up her hand to the side of his face and kissed his cheek before walking on down the corridor. She didn't even think about it, or realise she had done it but he turned and watched her leave with an amused look on his face.
Setting his kit down on the floorboards by the door, Grissom switches on the light in his silent, empty living room. He hated that silence, that emptiness but it had been a week since Catherine and Lindsey last walked through the door and the gnawing of the abrupt loneliness had eased off for a while. With a small sigh, he took off his work jacket and headed directly to his bedroom to get changed.
As he turned to his wardrobe to hang up his shirt, he laughed out loud. One of his yellow Post-It notes that he kept by the phone had been stuck squarely in the middle of the wardrobe door:
"How did I know you were the kind of man to head straight for his wardrobe and change when he finished work? You're just about to hang your shirt up, aren't you? I knew it! Is it okay to stay a couple of nights, Mr Organised?"
Gil read and re-read the note; he could actually hear her playful tone of voice coming through her familiar scrawl and could vividly see her smiling as she wrote it out, a kind of mischievous spark in her eyes. That was what he loved so much – how they just seemed to know each other, without saying anything; it just seemed to have happened along the way, or maybe it had always been there before they'd even met.
With a smile still on his face, Gil wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. The yellow on the middle shelf caught his eye and again, Catherine's handwriting in black marker over it:
"You're outta milk. Don't worry – Linds and I are out getting some now. I take back my 'Mr Organised' comment."
He laughed again. Getting milk – that would explain Catherine's coat missing from the peg by the door where she normally kept it and no Catherine. And that would explain Lindsey's toothbrush in the bathroom, but no Lindsey. Leaving the note in the fridge, he poured some water and sat at the table, planning on catching up with some paperwork whilst waiting for them to come home. Come back. He meant come back. Not home. He kept forgetting.
So the victim had a ridiculously high level of alcohol and ecstasy in her bloodstream; that's too bad, thought Catherine Willows, running her eye over the results that printed from the computer before putting them in a file. It always sucked when kids took a wrong turn, thinking they were too young to die and being horribly proved wrong.
Looking up, she jumped to see Gil Grissom standing in front of her desk in the empty lab.
"Oh crap – sorry I didn't see you there, Gil."
"That's fine – you were absorbed in your work, I know the feeling." he replied with a nod. "You work hard; you should be due a promotion some time soon."
Catherine said nothing but smiled at him before turning back to her work, hoping to avoid the inevitable conversation.
"Got milk?" he broke the silence, jokingly, trying to hide his hurt – hoping she didn't know he'd waited up all night. But she knew, of course she knew; it was just how it was. Unfortunately for him, the joke fell flat on its face as Catherine brought her gloved hand up in front of her mouth in shock.
"Oh crap – no, I forgot. I'm so sorry." she gushed apologetically. Something is different in her voice; her face seems more guarded than usual.
"Wow. It took you all night to not buy milk, huh?" he mused. "Catherine..."
Catherine stared blankly at the computer screen for a while as the printer reeled off its last piece of paper. Then she sighed, leaning her chin on her palm and looking up at the patient face.
"I ran into Eddie at the supermarket." she admitted quietly. "We had to go back. I think I left some stuff at your place; I'll pick them up later." She pulled a smile onto her face but didn't feel it as she moved a hand to brush back her hair.
"Catherine – " Gil pointed suddenly at where her sleeve's rolled up to show the handprint-like bruise around her arm. A strange kind of guilt washed over her face.
"It isn't what it looks like, Gil." she said, quickly. "It really isn't. He didn't mean to hurt me – it doesn't even hurt. Sometimes he just forgets how strong he is and it doesn't help that I bruise really easily. It really wasn't anything like that."
Grissom held up his hands in submission.
"I didn't say anything," he claimed, guarding his own expression carefully to hide the fact that, whilst it may not have hurt Catherine, it hurt him.
Catherine looked at him warily and then shook her head as she turned back to the computer.
"Just because you didn't open your mouth, Gil, doesn't mean you didn't say anything." she told him softly.
He only stood there, watching her as she sank back into working-mode, unable to find any words to say that could possibly explain anything. In the end, he only turned and left, glad, for once, to be finishing his shift.
Keys rattled in the lock. Gil Grissom looked up from where he sat at his desk and watched the door until Catherine came in. She looked almost surprised to see him there – as though he were a visitor in her home.
"I didn't think you were home." she said. Gil shrugged his shoulders.
"I finished work – I don't have many other haunts, Catherine." he told her what she already knew.
"Lindsey's at my mother's. I came to get some stuff. I think I left Lindsey's toothbrush," she explained vaguely. He nodded.
"Hey, Catherine – I'm sorry about today." He got up and moved towards her.
"Christ, Gil. You don't need to apologise. You didn't do anything; I just – I felt a bit messed up this morning." She shook her head with another sigh.
"No, I'm sorry for – not being there and all. I didn't say anything, I didn't do anything. I could've been...supportive." he offered.
"You know, it really doesn't matter," she waved away his apology. "I'm really grateful that I've got you at all. If I didn't have you, I don't know what I'd have."
"That is exactly what goes through my head every time I look at you, Cath." he replied simply.
In the pause that followed they both watched each other before moving, with perfect synchronisation, to kiss. That was it – that was all it took. More seemingly endless kisses followed and with gentle urgency, their fingers found the others' shirt buttons. But, as Catherine slipped her hands beneath his shirt and he felt his fingertips on the skin of her back, they both froze in realisation.
"You can't do it, can you?" he murmured eventually. She didn't look at him but buried her face in his bare shoulder.
"Well neither can you." she countered.
"As long as that ring's on your finger, nothing's ever going to happen." he admitted. Looking up at him, she gave a sad smile.
"I could take it off for now," she joked weakly, knowing it would change nothing. Damn consciences. He ran one finger lightly down the pattern of bruises on her arm without saying a word. Catherine turned her head back into his shoulder and, after a moment, he felt her own shoulders shake under his hands.
"Oh Catherine..." he whispered, not knowing where to go from there as he felt her tears run down his skin.
"I'm sorry, Gil. It just that – this sucks." she wept bitterly. He breathed a laugh and wrapped his arms tightly around her.
"Catherine – Cath?" he began, kissing her up from her collar bone. "When you leave him – "
"Gil, I don't know if I'll ever..." she interrupted.
"When you leave him," he cut in firmly. "Promise me you'll come here first."
"Since when have I ever run from him to anywhere else?" she replied with a smile. He kissed her again, tasting the salt from her tears.
"Promise me you'll come here – and finish this."
She nodded, wiping her face with her sleeve.
"I promise," she whispered. "I promise..."
She leant up and kissed him again until she broke away and buttoned up her shirt again.
"I should go now – if I stay then...I can't stay." she muttered hazily, grabbing her coat and Lindsey's things she'd left behind the previous night.
"That's okay; I understand." he assured her. She smiled at him from the door.
"Of course you do."
Smoothing down her hair and taking a breath, Catherine mouthed a goodbye though no sound came, and left.
- o -
Especially for you, sitarra :D - there'll be just one more part to follow. Look out for On The Peak.
