Disclaimer: Not mine, all belongs to the incredibly lucky CBS peoples!

A/N: Hey y'all. Just a random little one-shot I needed to write while struggling a bit with the next installment of "A Marriage of Convenience." I guess takes place after season five. Deals with Grissom, Catherine, Catherine's musings, Gil's thoughts, and overall ladybug (G/C) friendship. Ladybug is what I dubbing all Grissom/Catherine dealings. He's a bug-boy, she's a lady- makes sense, lol. Enjoy.

Why Can't I Sleep When it Rains?

"Hey Grissom," Catherine said cheerily as she breezed into the break room about an hour before the start of swing-shift. She stopped though when she saw him hunched over in a chair, hands wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee. "Whoa, you don't look so good. What's wrong?"

"Mmm," he didn't look up.

"Gris?" Catherine's eyes darkened in concern. She moved over to sit next to him, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. As soon as she made contact though, he jumped as if he'd been shocked, the coffee mug flying off the table, crashing on the floor as droplets of the burning liquid came to rest on his hands. He looked down at them, not really seeing the red, irritated spots of skin popping up.

"Gil, c'mon babe, let's get you to my office," she ordered, taking his arm and gently pulling him out of his chair. "I've got a first aid kit."

"Hey, what happened?" Nick asked as he walked into the room.

"I don't know. Something's up with Gil," Catherine shook her head. "Can you go get janitorial services, get someone to clean this up?"

"Sure," Nick nodded, looking at Grissom quickly before walking out, just as Sara was walking in, still at the lab from working a double.

"Oh not again," Sara muttered as she took in Grissom's zombie-like appearance.

"What do you mean?" Catherine asked.

"He's tried to remain too emotionally un-attached to the recent cases," Sara explained, moving over to loop her arm through Grissom's. "Not to mention it's been raining for the past two weeks nearly everyday."

"And what's that got to do with anything?"

"It really isn't my place to say," Sara shook her head as they maneuvered Grissom to Catherine's office, helping him to sit on the couch. "Just have him take one of his Sominex pills; I'll go grab one for you. Let him get some sleep for a couple hours, and then just let him know you're there for him. He'll open up with a little prodding."

"Thanks Sara," Catherine nodded when she returned with the pill.

Making sure Gil swallowed it and chased it with some juice, she pushed his shoulder, turning him so he was lying down. Seeing his hands, she remembered her original reason for bringing him here. Grabbing the kit from behind her desk, she pulled out the tube of Veradex E ointment and began applying it gently to the small burns on his hands and wrists. She noticed as she was doing this, that he had fallen asleep already, his breathing deep and even, punctuated by little snores every now and then.

She finished up applying the ointment, then pulled her desk chair around and sat herself down next to him, taking his hand in hers. She had always admired his hands. Their precision, steadiness, and the tender way he handled his bugs. She shuddered slightly. She wasn't fond of the bugs at all, but the tenderness and care he used with them, she could easily envision him doing the same, and using the same amount of care and tenderness with a woman.

At one time, she had fancied herself in love with Grissom; now though, she knew it was only hero worship, in a sense. He had come and helped her out of a dark period of her life, a time of stripping, drugs, and Eddie. He had helped her clean up her act, get her degree, and get a respectable job so she could provide a decent life for Lindsey. So of course she had developed feelings for him. He was her white knight in shining armor.

Of course some of those feelings had been real; the feelings of infatuation had never disappeared. Rather, they evolved into care and admiration, and thankfulness for his friendship. Recently though, things had been strained. Between the shift split, Lindsey's problems, and that mess with Sara, she hadn't been able to talk to him like she was used to. Since the shift split, he had spent more time conversing with Sara, Greg, and Sofia. Hell, even Hodges saw Grissom more than she did. That was hard for her. She was used to being Gil's main confidante, and now, she was slowly losing that position. But she knew that was a way of life; change.

She was still sitting there several hours later, musing over things, when Grissom began to stir and mumble. She scooted her chair closer, reaching a hand up to brush some of his curls back from his forehead as he slowly opened his eyes. It took him several times, and many blinks, to clear the sleep from his eyes enough to focus on Catherine.

"Hey sleepyhead," she said softly, using a tone similar to the one she used when Lindsey was sick and wanted to be babied.

"Hi," his voice was husky from sleep. "Where am I?"

"You're in my office. You've been asleep the last…" she glanced at her watch. "Five hours, a little more maybe."

"Oh."

"You were dead on your feet in the break room when I came in tonight. Did you even go home this morning?"

"No."

"And why not? You obviously needed some rest Gil," Catherine struggled to keep her anger in check. "Coffee will only last you so long."

"I know."

"Well if you know, then why didn't you?"

"It's been raining," he replied with a shrug.

"Yeah, Sara mentioned something about you and rain. You want to clarify that ambiguous statement for me?"

"Why can't I sleep when it rains?

Is it because it's too much like tears

Falling off the cheeks of children?

Or is it the sound on the tin roof

Like a whip piercing the silence.

Why can't I sleep when it rains?

Is it because of the broken hearts

Crying out to lovers gone?

Or is it the façades hiding

The drowning spirit within me?

Why can't I sleep when it rains?

Is it because of the voices

Blaming me for every wrong?

Or is it because of the sadness

That fills my tired soul

Why can't I sleep when it rains?

Is it because of the thoughts

That plague my mind at night

Or is it because of the guilt I feel

That I could be happy when so many aren't?

Why can't I sleep when it rains?"

Grissom pushed himself up into a sitting position after he recited the poem, watching Catherine. She was sitting there, analyzing everything he had said, and everything he hadn't in reciting that poem. She met his piercing gaze for a moment, but had to look away.

"I think I get it, but I'd rather hear you explain it to me."

"All right. Simply, when it rains, I can't sleep. Ever since I was a child, I've been unable to. As I entered this line of work, it only became worse. When it rains, I can see every victim we've ever helped in my mind. I can see the tears of their family members as we break the news to them that another life was ended to soon, and too cruelly," he paused, breathing heavily.

"Gil-" Catherine started to speak, but he went on as if he hadn't heard her.

"Sara once told me that she wished she was like me; that she didn't feel anything," he laughed, but it was a harsh sound. "She left before I got a chance to tell her how wrong she was. I supposed I should admit that I also was wrong when I said I never screw up my cases with personal stuff. It's not that I don't feel anything; I feel too much. And I keep shoving the emotions away, doing my best to lock them up in some obscures part of my mind. And it works, most of the time. I've let them through before; the baby who was killed, the boy who was scared to death because of Jimson weed tea, the deaf boy, Dr. Lurie…I could go on. And then when we get our rare periods of rain, I'm reminded all over again. The demons are unleashed, and keep me from sleeping. These past two weeks, I've only had short naps here and there. I've been living on coffee, power bars, and the fact I have to come to work. When I do go home, it's always with a few cold cases on the off chance that I'll be able to help bring closure to someone."

"Gil," she began once she was sure he had stopped. His eyes were unusually bright from his emotional unveiling. She impulsively leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his stubble covered cheek. "Thank you for that."

"For what?"

"For confiding in me."

"Well, you're my best friend," he replied, rising to his feet.

"Are you sure you're okay to go?" She asked worriedly, walking with him to the door of her office.

"I feel much better," he nodded. "I'm only going to finish up some paperwork, and then I'll head home and try and get some sleep. The rain's stopped."

"So it has," Catherine said with surprise, cocking her head to the side as she noticed the quietness that came from above; no raindrops on the roof. "Well, take care of yourself. I don't have time to train another best friend."

"The same goes for you," he smiled, walking out. She watched him take a step down the hall, then abruptly stop and turn around and walk back. "Did you forget something?"

"Yeah, thank you," he leaned in, almost shyly, and kissed her cheek. He straightened, his cheeks a light pink, and turned around and walked out of sight.

"You're welcome," she whispered with a smile, her hand rising to touch her cheek of its own volition.

Maybe they weren't so far apart as she had thought.