Category: Angst and more angst for this chapter.

Notes: Hah! Barely, but I made it! I am posting it today, and keeping up with my goal so far! )

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or the characters. They belong to JB, AZ, et all. Not me.

--Personal Stuff Chapter Three--

Catherine awoke to the chime of her doorbell. A glance at the clock confirmed what her mind had already told her. It was way too late, or early, depending on your point of view, for someone to be at her house. Getting up from the couch where she had fallen asleep, Catherine stretched. The bell rang again, and she checked the front window to find a cab parked outside her house. Opening the door, she found a man standing outside with a very drunk and sleepy Gil leaning on him for support.

"Oh, my..." Catherine stared with her eyes wide at her supervisor. He was drunk. Gil Grissom was drunk. He never got drunk unless a case got to him alot. And the case they had been working on had not been anything extraordinary. What on earth was so bad in his life that he had to drink to sort it out? That was not his way of solving problems.

Suddenly, Catherine realized that she was still standing in the way.

"Oh! I'm sorry. Here, let me..."Catherine stepped forward, and together, they hawled Gil to the couch, where they unceremoniously dropped him.

"How much does he owe you?

He told her, and she paid him, along with a five dollar tip.

He thanked her, and was on his way.

Catherine turned back towards the couch to find Gil lying down, but he seemed oddly awake for someone who had been passed out five minutes ago. Maybe she could get something out of him. Like maybe why he had gotten drunk in the first place, or why he had come to her house afterwards.

"Gil?"

"Yes, Catherine?" His voice was slightly slurred, but he seemed to be alert enough.

"Why?"

He sighed dramatically. Okay, maybe he was a little more drunk than she had thought.

"I mean, did the case get to you?"

He shook his head.

"You."

"Me? What about me, Gil?"

He just shook his head again.

"Can't tell you. Then you will know."

He sat up, and they were about even, she on one side of the couch, next to his legs, and he on the other end.

"What will I know, Gil?" Catherine almost felt guilty about prying. She knew he wasn't aware of what he was saying. But that crack about him drinking because of her, and not wanting to tell her about it had her too curious. She was getting a chance to look into the feelings of the mighty Gil Grissom, albeit without his permission, but she couldn't help feeling at least a little bit special. No one had gotten this close to him before; at least since he had closed himself off all those years ago. But she didn't want to think about that right now. Right now, she was on a mission, and she was not going to let bad memories distract her.

She scooted up a little closer, so now she was sitting next to his hips.

"Gil, you can tell me." She said in a soft voice.

Shaking his head yet again, he said,

"No. You can't know. Don't love Heather. You..."

Catherine's eyes widened, but then narrowed. He didn't love Heather? That was why he had gone drinking? But what did that have to do with her? Did he want her to think he was still hung up on Heather?

Catherine scooted away from him suddenly. Oh, God. That must have been it. He had guessed her feelings for him, and had pretended to still be in love with Heather, so he wouldn't have to hurt her and tell her that he didn't love her.

Well, it serves you right, Catherine. She told herself. If only she hadn't gone sticking her nose where it didn't belong, she would have remained blissfully unaware of his feelings...And his knowledge of hers.

Her attempts at curbing the pain that came with that realization were about as successful as they were realistic. She tried to tell herself that nothing he was saying was credible because he was drunk, but she knew that it wasn't true. Alchohol didn't make you conjure up stories, it just loosened your tongue enough so that you spilled the truth, whether you wanted to or not.

Needing to get out of there as soon as possible, Catherine said the first thing that came to her mind.

"I'll...get you some water."

Jumping up, Catherine hurried to the kitchen. She took deep, slow breaths to calm herself as she watched the water stream into the cup. Keeping the tears at bay was going to be tough, but she could hold them in until he was asleep. She had to.

Entering the room again, she was surprised to find him sitting. Although on closer inspection, she noticed his eyes were drooping, and he was barely awake. She helped him take a few sips of water, and slid his shoes of as he laid back down. She walked to the closet to get an extra blanket, and heard him yawn.

As she covered him with the blanket, Catherine couldn't help the wave of love and longing the washed over her as she saw him all cuddled up on her couch. His face was so adorable and vulnerable in sleep. That pouty lip was even more tempting than usual. She heard a gentle snore, and knew he was asleep, but she still didn't back away.

Slowly, as if compelled by some force she couldn't stop even had she wanted to, Catherine leaned down and brushed his lips softly with hers. What she hadn't expected was the jerk of his head up towards hers at the contact, or the way he responded. She pulled back, startled. He whimpered a tiny little whimper, and settled back on the cushions. A few moments later, he was snoring again.

She sat there for what felt like an eternity, but what could not have been, in reality, more than an hour. There were cramps in her legs from sitting in the same position for so long. Except for the steady ticking of the clock, all was still and quiet.

Immersed in the silence, Catherine felt a lone tear slip down her cheek.

"Goodnight, Gil Grissom." She took a deep breath. "I love you."

And with that, she stood and walked back to her room.

TBC...