A/N. Throw a girl a bone, people. Reviews make for a happy author... and I'll love you forever if you review. Well, maybe not, but I'll probably dedicate a chapter to you... and you'd like that, right :D
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.
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And belief, he mused, was what had brought them here. Blind belief, with no basis in reality. Belief in what they thought they could make, two flawed individuals. They were too scarred, he believed, to ever function normally again. But the scars seemed less evident… when he was with her.
"Gil?"
"Hm?"
"Why… why did it take so long? For us to get together, I mean." She wore a questioning look, as if she really didn't know the answer to her question.
"I think that we just assumed that what was there in front of us couldn't be right. Doesn't it seem like it should've been harder? Like we don't deserve this?"
She nodded. "Every day." Taking his hand, she smiled. "The world's an odd place, isn't it?"
"I think that just about sums up our combined life experiences."
She laid a feather-light kiss on his lips, sweet and chaste. "Glad you're here. This odd world wouldn't be quite the same without the undeniably eccentric Dr. Grissom."
With a soft smile, he twined his fingers with hers. Although he didn't speak a word, letting the conversation settle into a comfortable lull, he knew that she understood the sentiment that he silently communicated.
I'm glad you're here, too.
They had done well together. For the first few months, they had kept the affair secret, meeting in the mornings after their shifts had ended. Gil would forever associate Catherine with the rising sun and clean white cotton bed-sheets, the smell of lemons and the light chill that hung in the air, reminiscent of the desert night's coldness.
He watched her navigate his kitchen with the ease of one who'd known the space for years. He could smell eggs cooking in a pan, and hear the sizzle and pop of frying bacon. Gil did his part, of course. At the counter he sliced blush-red strawberries, crisp apples and the sweet pineapple that one of his neighbors had brought him back from a trip to Jamaica
She moved so effortlessly, like an ex-dancer who'd never really forgotten the steps. Even dressed, as she was, just in a white tank top and underwear, she was completely comfortable with herself. She turned and caught him watching her. Sauntering up to the counter, she kissed him lightly. He offered her a chunk of the golden pineapple. She smiled and ate it, licking her lips. When he kissed her again he could taste the sweetness on her tongue.
She ruffled an affectionate hand through his graying curls before turning back to save the bacon, just in the nick of time. Sliding the food onto plates, she added fruit and glasses of orange juice before joining him at the counter. They ate breakfast in a companionable silence, interrupting the meal every so often with a quick kiss or a brush of fingers across warm skin.