Chapter Five

II

Once, long ago, Catherine Willows had been slightly in love with Gil Grissom.

In love had turned to love, to a sort of marriage without honeymoon or sex and in many ways, she still thought of him as hers. Her friend, certainly, her colleague, her support, her lab husband, her known. Never her lover. Someone else had claimed that place, and she hadn't been jealous. Not for that. For other things, she had at times felt Sara an intruder. Into the lab, into the dynamics, into the relationships. Into Grissom.

She had gotten over it, or gotten used to it, and watched the play between them with bemused interest bordering on annoyance with Grissom and sympathy for Sara. She hadn't interfered, merely commented now and then, knowing that in a dance of two, a third pair of legs merely tripped things up. She had told Warrick as much.

She was beginning to regret that now.

"No, Catherine," Warrick repeated, folding his arms, the sun framing him as he leaned against the car. "Didn't you tell me once interfering in whatever was going on between them was a terrible, terrible idea?"

"They just need a chance to talk somewhere on neutral ground, somewhere neither has the upper hand," she protested and he groaned.

"Don't you think those two have said more than enough to each other? You were there when..."

"Yes, yes," she agreed hurriedly. "I remember. I could have killed him. He knew Sara's mother was a raw deal to her. He knew."

"Yeah," Warrick said quietly. "But this is Grissom. What he knows and what he reasons from that knowledge are two very different things. You and I have been around him for a long time, and I still can't quite puzzle him out."

She smiled. Grissom wasn't a puzzle. Grissom was light, reflecting off what was held up to him to illuminate it - the lab, the bugs, the quotes - and only truly seen when broken into the spectrum of colours by glass or water or Sara. Only then did you see what was within.

"I do know Grissom would not be happy you trying to fix his love life for him," Warrick went on. "Neither would Sara. Come on, Catherine, we have our own lives to live. We're not side-kicks in The Grissom and Sara Tales, fun as that gig might've been. We're not the Las Vegas dating agency. I know I'm not Cupid, and I haven't seen any wings on you."

"Warrick, how long have we been married?"

He gave her a look that showed his clear disapproval at the change of topic, but his lips curved into a faint smile as he answered. "Sixteen months, five days and some hours."

"How many fights have we had?"

"About as many as we've had reconciliations," he replied, breath hot against her skin as he leaned forward and kissed her.

She placed a finger on his lips, feeling his hands rest on her hips and lock her close. "Imagine after one of our fights, I left and you never had a chance to plead your case and beg my forgiveness."

"Oh, I would be the villain?"

"Naturally."

"Naturally? I sense another reconciliation being needed."

The sun was warm against her back when she kissed him, the morning dawning behind her. She tried to imagine knowing the dawn was just the start of another day without him, tried to imagine knowing it was her fault it would be so, tried to imagine living on still. Tried and failed as her heart seemed to fail under the imagined pain of it all.

Grissom had been an idiot. But she still loved him, in her own way, and she had nearly lost him. And he would have died alone, without the second chance of life the lab had once given her.

It didn't seem right.

"Warrick," she said softly, tilting her head up to meet his dark gaze. "He's my friend."

"I know," he said simply and she knew he did.

She knew even before she entered what had happened, knew from his silence as she stood in the doorway, knew from the simple fact that he was her friend and she had learned to read the shades of his eyes.

"Gil?" she said quietly.

"Catherine."

The office was dark and he seemed darker as she looked at him, not only without light on him, but without light in him too. For a moment, she wondered if she was watching the emotional equivalant of a black hole; the centre collapsed and the forces in it so strong nothing could pull free, not even hope.

"Sara left, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"Can't say I blame her," she muttered and he just looked at her. "Come on, Gil. Her mother dies, you play Mr. Emotionally Unavailable just when she might need you, you go poking about her mother's case and as a result we all find out, Ecklie finds out, hell, even Hodges. How did you expect her to react? And then you manage to make it worse, impossible as that seems..."

"I know!" he cut in, lifting a hand to halt her triade, his face so still it hurt to look at. "I know, Catherine."

"I know," Warrick said again. "He's my friend too, Catherine. I still think it's a terrible idea and neither will thank you for it, but..."

There was understanding in the but, and she nodded, resting against the warmth of him for a moment. So much comfort in another's skin. So much hurt being bereft of it, being left with only your own.

She freed herself and reached for the phone, warching Warrick shake his head slightly as she dialled the number, but his gaze warm as he held her. She loved him. She hoped she never would have to know the pain of losing him, particulary through her own fault.

Once, long ago, Sara Sidle had been madly in love with Gil Grissom. Maybe she still was. Catherine hoped so. Oh, she hoped so very much. It would make it a little easier.

"Sara? This is Catherine. Just listen, please..."