Disclaimer: They're not mine.
Rating: PG or K+
Summary: "Want me to tell you about the time Lindsey accidentally locked Gil in our bathroom?" she offered brightly. "She was about six. He was stuck in there until I came home from work four hours later."
I love reviews. I love Christmas. I love reviews. Thank you, reviewers! Once again, you didn't let me down, so I'm thanking Krys33, icklebitodd, DrusillaBraun, Lizzy Sidle, Daisyangel, Mellie Erdmann, charmed1818, CSI Battosai (an hour's still pretty long! Although it isn't quite four...), Review1234, ibreak4CSI, coolcatz and haley104, who I must thank especially for coming back after leaving a quite different review for the first chapter – it makes all the difference that you've come back and changed your tune. It's very gratifying, thank you.
Anyway, I hope everyone's had a really great December 25th and both religious and non-religious festivals surrounding said date (see how I get away with my lengthy and unnecessary political correctness?) And don't forget to visit the live journal community: writeunderscoreimpulsive, for all your creative-writing-challenge needs. What this chapter lacks in laugh-out-loud funniness, I hope, I'm making up for in the "aww" factor. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx
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One Mississippi. Chapter Four. Near Ego Nut
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04.51
Ecklie smirks some more and saunters into the locker room as Catherine tucks away her phone, blushing furiously but fixing him with a challenging stare.
"You know, I hadn't counted on being serenaded today – it makes working the Grave Shift as Grissom's replacement so much easier." Ecklie goes on.
"Temporary stand-in." Catherine snaps back quickly and Ecklie raises an eyebrow.
"What?"
"You're not his replacement," Catherine corrects coolly. "You're a temporary stand-in supervisor, for one night only."
Ecklie's expression changes and darkens. "And you're a CSI Level Three who's meant to be working, not singing children's songs in an empty locker room." he counters sharply. Catherine scowls.
"I was just taking a break to say goodnight to my daughter before I write up my finished case," Catherine mutters in response.
"Well, balancing careers and parenthood can be tough, so I've heard," Ecklie answers smoothly. "If you need to take some time off, Catherine – a leave of absence or work part-time, even..."
Catherine's eyes flash dangerously. "Thank you for your concern, Conrad." she cuts him off pointedly and adds in a cold voice, "But I'm coping fine."
The shadow of a sneer crosses Conrad's face just for a moment. "Clearly."
Biting down on her lip, Catherine resists the temptation to throw a punch in his the direction of his face and instead gets up stiffly, forcing on a smile.
"You and I had better get back to work," Catherine tells him with false politeness. "They'll be missing me."
Ecklie pauses before standing aside to let her pass him in the doorway and, as she did so, he murmurs gently, "I hate to say it, Catherine – but law enforcement is still a man's game."
Catherine only fixed him with a disgusted glare, refusing stubbornly to rise to the bait, and stalks off.
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04.55
"He said what to you?" Gil repeats, incredulously. "Ecklie has no right to talk like that to you – not only is it completely unprofessional, but it's just plain ignorant."
A smile flickers faintly onto Catherine's lips. Listening to him rant about it was somehow more therapeutic than doing it herself. She sits forwards in her chair at a desk in the file room, writing up her day's case – open and shut – now where was the challenge in that?
"Oh well – what do you expect? It's Ecklie; he's an ass." Catherine replies lethargically.
"I'd expect a little more respect from him to you," Gil snaps. She shrugged her shoulders indifferently and yawns widely.
"Never mind," she says indifferently. "I know where I stand."
"As long as you're okay, I guess," he relents with a sigh. "And as long as I know where I stand – between you and Conrad Ecklie, we might keep conflict to a minimum."
Catherine laughs slightly, rubbing her tired eyes. "Well, I appreciate your concern, Gil; that's sweet. But I'm not gonna let him shake me." She scribbles down a few more words from her case notes and adjusts the cell phone jammed between her shoulder and ear. "So how are you holding up?"
"I'm fine; we're fine," Gil answers, calming down. "Lindsey's still asleep and I'm still locked in the bathroom."
Catherine smiles. "Okay, okay – I'm coming home as soon as I'm done writing this up," she tells him. "I promise."
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Nick pulled on his latex gloves with a wry smile as Catherine flicked on her flashlight and moved further into the trashed and ransacked house. As Jim Brass stepped outside to talk to the homeowners, Nick began to choose his words carefully and wandered with forced casualness up to Catherine who stepped carefully around broken lampshades and smashed vases.
"So," he ventured hesitantly, like testing waters before diving in. "How long as the whole Grissom thing been going on?"
Catherine continued to swing her flashlight beam in wide, slow arcs around the destroyed room. "What Grissom thing?" she asked absently. Nick frowned and took a few more careful steps towards her.
"You know – I heard you two on the phone," Nick admitted. "And it's not too hard putting two and two together. I mean – that's what we do, right?"
At this point, Catherine's flashlight beam swung down to shine only at the carpet as she turned, fixing Nick with a confused expression – one dubiously raised eyebrow and a small smile on her face.
Nick's eyes narrowed slightly. "Hey – it's alright, you know, Cath. I think it's kind of sweet," he rambled on. "You're practically made for each other. Greg and I were wondering when you two'd figure it out and get together."
"Get to what-now?" Catherine repeated. But then she recalled her voice and the last part of that phone call and a broad grin spread on her face as it clicked. "Wow, Nicky – you just put two and two together to make a hundred."
"Huh?" Nick blinked perplexed a couple of times.
"We're not together, Nicky." Catherine told him firmly. "Gil's babysitting for me at the last minute. He put me on speaker to Linds."
"Oh." he said and flushed red as it made sense. "Oh. Right."
Catherine laughed lightly and raised the flashlight up again, picking her way further into the room. As she did so, Nick's words flowed subconsciously through her head. She stopped suddenly, midst wreckage and ruins, as one particular line hit her. Practically made for each other. After a pause, she smirked. That'd be Nick and Greg's imaginations running wild again – seriously, when those two were together, they were like a pair of nine-year olds. She and Gil were just friends. Just really good friends.
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05.18
It's been one hell of a shift, Catherine muses, as she heads to her car whilst reaching for her cell phone to dial that number once more. When Gil Grissom, slumped against the porcelain tiles, grabs his cell phone, hoping its ringing didn't wake the sleeping six-year old outside, and hears her voice down the phone line for the final time that night, it spreads a broad smile across his face.
"I'm coming home," is all she says. Just those three words, in her voice, send a tingle across the receiver, along his spine and fingertips. He smiles.
"Thank God." he replies and hears Catherine breathe a laugh before she ends the call and starts her car – heading home to him.
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