disclaimers: don't own them. cbs, alliance, etc own them. they also own my mountain of debt. so please stop calling me.

spoilers: nada

Wednesday

Gil woke up, migraine still in place. He grabbed his pills and swallowed a couple, knowing that this time they would not help. This migraine was caused by Catherine and the only way to cure himself of it was to do what she asked of him. And after that, he could deal with the migraine that would come from doing what was asked of him. But if two migraines meant the return of their previous relationship, then it was a small price to pay. She was his best friend, had been for many years. She knew him better than anyone else and vise versa. Her happiness meant a lot to him so he knew he had to do his best for her.

After he had showered and made himself breakfast he pulled out his phone book, it was time to get serious. Mike Bishop? No, he still lived with his mother. Darren Chance? A possibility, but would Cath really take a man whose wardrobe came from Wal-Mart seriously? David Bremner was definitely out. His wife divorced him for cheating on her. No way was he fixing her up with Mark Altman, the guy was a total player. Barry Green was a great guy, but his personal hygiene habits left a lot to be desired. Moving on. Stanley Harris was a prof of psychology at UNLV and an amazing boxer. Possibility. James Lemming, nope, didn't like kids. Edward Monk? No, great guy but he was looking for a great guy himself. Maybe he should hook him up with Bobby D.

Gil shook his head, hook him up with Bobby D.? Now he was turning matchmaker for Bobby and Edward. He put the book down, grabbed his coke and took a sip. He reached for the remote and turned on the television, determined to find something else to think about for a few minutes. Rerun. Rerun. Cop show-unrealistic. Infomercial. Home Improvement Show. Ancient Sitcom. Automobile construction show. Cary Grant & Myrna Loy. Baseball…Cubs vs. Braves. It was the bottom of the third and Gil thought he might have time to watch the rest of the game before going in to the lab. By the top of the fourth, though, the game was in a rain delay so he flipped back to the film. He'd seen it years before but couldn't remember the name, oh yeah, "The Bachelor and the Bobbysoxer."

He picked up his phone and gave Stanley a call, figuring that he could set this date up in one quick call.

"Hey, Stan, It's Gil."

"Hey, how are ya, Bugman? Where the hell have you been lately?'

"Working."

"Listen Stan…"

"You know, the guys at the gym have been asking about you. Haven't seen you down there in a couple of months. You find a woman?"

"Me? Hardly, no time. Stan, I need…"

"What about that babe you work with, the blonde? Or is she still seeing that nightclub owner?"

"Stan, um, that's actually why I'm calling."

"Need a psych eval on this guy? She getting serious or something?"

"Stan, would you just shut up a minute."

"Sorry, Bugman, don't get your boxers in a wad. What do you need?"

"I don't need anything. SHE needs a date this Saturday and she wants me to fix her up."

"And you've lost me Bugman."

"Stan, I'm asking you to take her out."

Silence. Total silence.

"Stan, she's gorgeous. She's got a great personality. She's intelligent."

Silence again. Followed by loud, boisterous laughter from Stan's end.

"Bugman, you kill me. I'd love to take her out…"

"Great, let me give you her number…"

"…But I'm already taken. Met her about a month ago at a convention in San Antonio."

"Oh, I didn't know. Congratulations."

"Thanks, man. She's amazing. Specializes in elderly psych conditions. And she's a pretty good racketball partner too. Listen, my other line's buzzing, gotta go. And, Gil."

"Yeah, Stan."

"Don't fuck this up."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." And they both hung up.

Gil signed as he placed the phone back in it's cradle. So much for this being easy. He grabbed his phone book and started flipping through it again. Jim Brass—he would do it, but Cath wanted a romantic date, not a night out with a friend. Terry O'Connell might work. He was a local sculpture who Gil had met at one of his mother's gallery showings a few years back. Ryan Vance was another possible choice. He was a local real estate investor that Gil had met months ago when looking at investment properties. Single, ambitious, career oriented. He also possessed an incredibly quick wit that would keep Catherine on her toes. Jerry Williams…NO! He was an incredible bore with the ability to put even the most tweaked out crack user to sleep. He grabbed the phone once more to make his calls.

"Terry, this is Gil."

"Gil, where have you been?"

"Work."

"Really."

"Work. And training cockroaches. Got a speech to give in St. Louis in a couple of months. There's going to be racing."

"Of course…"

"Hoping I can win one this time. What's happening with you?"

"One of your friends, Ryan, gave me a call a month or so back and has commissioned me to do some sculptures for a new commercial park he's developing. I'm doing the whole project with scrap metals recovered from shipwrecks in the deep gulf."

"Send me the work-up, I'd like to see it."

"Email still the same?"

"Oh yeah. Terry, listen, I need a favor."

"Anything."

"I've got this friend…"

"…anything but THAT."

"Terry, you didn't even let me finish."

"Let me guess, great personality, wonderful sense of humor, needs a date."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Gil, we both know that means she's desperate."

"She is not. She's incredible. She's gorgeous. I work with her."

"That kid with the dark hair and dark clothes? Not my type."

"Mine either, but it's not her. It's Catherine."

"You want me to go out with Catherine?"

"Terry, please."

"Gil, as much as I would like to say yes I've got to say no."

"I don't understand."

"If I say yes, and we have a great time I'll ask her out again. Listen, buddy, she's hot, but we've been friends too long for me to feel comfortable taking her out."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Man, you are hopeless. I appreciate the offer, but no. Good luck. I'll catch you later." With that Terry hung up.

Good grief, thought Gil as he dialed Ryan's number.

"Hello," said a female voice.

"Um, is Ryan available?"

"Hold on." Gil heard her mumble something and then movement.

"Who the hell is this?" said the male voice on the other end.

"It's me, Gil."

"You know, your timing is rotten."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that out. I'll call you later."

"No, I'm here, what did you need?"

"I was going to ask you to go out with a friend of mine, but it seems you already have a friend."

"Yeah, and she's giving me a look like you wouldn't believe. Bye, Gil." He hung up before Gil could even utter a reply.

He threw the phone across the room in frustration. He knew this was going to be difficult, but this was ridiculous. It was almost time to leave for work and he hadn't found a date for her after going through his enter phone book. He grabbed his keys, turned off the tv and the lights, locked his door and left for the office.