Chapter Eight: Counting on a Friend

Whenever Grissom wanted to see her, it usually wasn't for a good reason. Sure, they talked, as much about stuff unrelated to work as work itself. But it was never a good thing when Grissom sent out for her.

Catherine gathered the last of her stuff, an armful of items she hardly used, but couldn't be without. A purse, a heavy coat in case she was called away from the city, which now was in desperate need of a wash, groceries that she had picked up before shift. Sometimes she felt as though she needed a second life…or at least a clone. It would make things so much easier.

It wasn't a lot to carry, though more than she was certainly used too and part of her wished she had stopped by Grissom's office first. So she would have to walk an extra twenty steps, but now she would have to find a spot for all her stuff.

Grissom didn't seem to mind, glancing over his computer screen as she dropped everything in one chair, nearly collapsing in the other. It had been a trying double shift, and she was more than ready to go home, it only added tension that she had to be here.

"You headed out?"

She blinked, raising an eyebrow. Was this what he really wanted her for? To make small talk? "I was…"

"Anywhere in particular?"

Once again she was slow to respond, the question catching her off guard. "Are you…asking me out?"

This was enough for Grissom to look up, the confusion on his face matching that of Catherine's. Quickly he shook his head, clearing his throat. "I was just wondering if you would be willing to stop by Greg's place, see how he's doing."

Catherine let out a sigh, folding her hands in her lap. It wasn't a secret; she had gone to Grissom the day after learning of Greg's plight, to talk things over with the supervisor. She needed a release of her own, and since Grissom already knew about it, she technically wasn't breaking any promises. "Why is that?"

"Just concerned," he replied quietly.

"You think something might happen to him?"

"He's been irrational as of late and on top of that he's purchased a gun, so yes, I'm a little worried something might happen."

"How do you know this?" Catherine wondered, her brow furling as she studied him.

"How do we know half the things about our suspects?" Grissom answered, barely missing a beat.

Catherine was astonished. "You've been diving in on his personal life?"

"You think that's wrong?"

She nodded, mouth still hanging open some. "Hell yes."

He looked up, somewhat surprised, but she didn't give him enough time to talk. "Grissom, he's not an experiment you can poke and prod at. You have no right…" she shook her head, rubbing it. "I can't believe you would even try something like this…"

"I became concerned when his doctor called here trying to get a hold of him. I did a little research, found out he had purchased a gun…it's not like I'm stalking him."

"It's still wrong," she stated point blankly, "If he wanted to tell you, he would have. I don't blame him for being testy…I would be too."

"So you're telling me that if it were Lindsey, you wouldn't do anything?"

"That's different," she sighed, "Lindsey is my daughter. Greg is an adult…he can take care of himself."

"If Greg's intentions are to harm himself Catherine, we have to do something."

She sat quiet for a moment, considering his last words, but at last shook her head. "Greg's a smart kid, he knows better than us what he's doing. If…" she took a breath, stressing the word, "if he decides to take his own life, there's not much we can do about it."

"So you'd just give up on him?" he questioned, frowning.

"I think we should respect his decision. This isn't something he's going to come back from Griss…you know that, I know that, and so does he. If he doesn't want to sit around and wait to die…"

She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. It was hard to think about, and even harder to talk about. Grissom shifted in his chair across from her, taking control of the conversation.

"I know that Catherine, I know there's nothing we can do, but what would Greg accomplish by taking his own life? It's selfish…"

"And it's not selfish for us to hold him here?" She wondered, looking up at him. "When he's ready to go, he's ready. And he'll know when that is…we can't ask him to stay just because we want him too. I can't even imagine what he's going through, and neither can you."

He pulled off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. The conversation had gone far off course, further than he would have liked. "Put it into perspective…what if it was Lindsey? Would you let her do something like this?"

Catherine's mouth was dry, almost immediately she wanted to shout 'of course not', but found herself unable to. Turning away from his gaze she thought it over, letting the unsettling thought pass over her. Could she let go of the one person she truly loved? "I don't know," she told him quietly. "I suppose…that after watching her suffer, seeing everything she had to go through…yeah…I think I could. It would be hard, but…sometimes there are worse things than death. A person will let go of life when they're ready…we see it all the time, the dead and the living, one person refuses to die, where another lets go instantly."

Grissom said nothing in return; he had expected a different answer. He wasn't happy with what she gave him, but it had struck him hard. Was he helping at all here, or was he only hurting, making things worse? Would Greg become even more irrational just because he knew he was being watched, would he try a make a point just because Grissom had challenged him?

"I'll stop by," she told him softly, "But I'm not going to try and convince him to do something he doesn't want to. I trust him too much…"

He didn't even have to look up to know that she had already gone; her departure had been anything but quiet. Grissom was still lost in his thoughts and abundant worries…he couldn't help but wonder if he had made things worse…when all he had been doing was try to help.

There were no visible lights that she could see through the shade of the window. Catherine had already knocked twice, and tried the doorbell once, her apprehension only growing as no answer came. She had been furious when finding out Grissom's method to keeping tabs on Greg. What ever happened to just asking the man, rather than pouring into his secrets…

If Grissom would do something like that so easily, what was he doing with the rest of them? Was Grissom looking into her private life as well? She knew that she had jeopardized the lab several times in the past, but surely that didn't account for an investigation into her life.

"Come on Greg," she breathed quietly, knocking once again. Now she was really starting to worry. His car was in the parking lot, two stalls down from where she had parked. He would have been home for hours now…maybe he was asleep, or maybe he had actually tried something.

The thought only increased her panic, as she knocked on the door once more. Would she really be able to let him go when he was ready? The news of the gun had indeed shocked her, but not as much as she first anticipated. Greg was only exercising his limits, just because he had it, didn't mean that he would use it…did it?

By now she was overly worried, close to giving Grissom a call on his cell and apologize thoroughly, state that he had been right and there was something wrong. That was until a light went on inside, and footsteps could be heard. She let out an impatient sigh, grateful at the same time.

The locks were messed with, and second later the door opened, Greg, only halfway dressed was watching her curiously, a towel draped over his shoulders. "Are you lost?"

"I've been trying to get a hold of you for the last ten minutes," she told him, shaking her head.

"I've been in the shower…is that a crime?"

She gave him a crisp look, all the while trying to think of some witty comeback when stepped inside, leaving the door open. "You coming in?"

She stepped in after, closing the door. For a moment she was basked in dim lights, but Greg changed that as he turned the switch in the kitchen even as he finished drying his hair. "Can I get you anything?"

Catherine shook her head, to which Greg only shrugged, opening the refrigerator door himself. He seemed fine…but then again looks could be deceiving. Greg pulled away quickly, a cup of yogurt in his hands. "So, why are you checking up on me?"

"I'm not," she replied almost immediately. It wasn't until after Greg gave her that questioning look that she confessed. "So what if I am? Grissom's worried."

"He would be" Greg snorted, digging his spoon into the container. He took a big mouthful, attempting to speak but in only came out as a jumbled mess, in the process spilling some of the food onto the counter.

"Sorry," Greg apologized, wiping it clean with a towel. "After all these years I still haven't learned to not talk with my mouth full."

Catherine laughed, leaning against the counter across from him. "How are you doing?"

He was quiet, stirring the yogurt with his spoon, seemingly lost in thought. Finally he shrugged, letting out a sigh. "I lost my temper…and I don't why."

"I wouldn't blame you," Catherine stated, "Grissom was out of line."

"It's not that," he countered her, "I was mad before he even told me…I'm assuming he told you as well."

She nodded slowly, but said nothing. Greg sighed, taking another bite. "I suppose you want me to give it to you."

"Greg…"

"I can't," he stated simply, "I got rid of it…I thought about it, honestly I did, but Grissom's right, I can't do it."

She smiled at him briefly before answering. "Are you saying that because it's true, or just to make me feel better?"

He shrugged, "Whatever you want to believe."

"I'll take that as a no…"

His smile was grim, and he refused to look at her, jabbing his spoon into the empty container a few good times. "I don't know what I'm trying to prove," he admitted honestly. "I don't want to die…I'm not ready."

She reached out, touching his wrist gingerly. It was enough to catch his attention, and next she knew she was gazing into his eyes, already wet with unshed tears. It was the same, each time he tried to talk about, a sure sign that Greg had yet to accept his fate. Catherine couldn't blame him, would she accept her death when it came to light?

"Not very many people can prepare for their deaths Greg…" it wasn't a happy topic, and certainly one that wasn't discussed often, if at all.

"Are you saying this a good thing?"

"We live to die…it's what we're working towards our entire life…whether or not you want to believe that. But death is the greatest happening in our lives…"

"You're sounding like Grissom," he cut her off dully.

She squeezed his hand, "I'm not going to tell you what to do Greg, it's your life. You're the only one that can make these choices…I want to tell you what I'd rather have you do…"

Greg nodded, mutter a quiet thanks. "It's so hard, there's no one I can really talk to…" he gave a small smile, squeezing her hand back. "Besides you, that is. I don't even know what to make of Grissom…"

Catherine laughed as she straightened up. "What about Sara? She's been listening to you a lot lately."

"She doesn't know," Greg shook his head, sighing. "I'd rather not tell her."

At the disconcerting look he received from her he continued to explain. "Not just yet…"

"You have friends here Greg…" Catherine reminded him. "Don't forget that, okay?"

The young man nodded, watching as the woman made her way to the door. "You want me to show you out?"

"I can find it," she told him sweetly. "I'm only a call way…"

"I know," Greg cut her off, "Thanks…"

It was the last that was ever said between them.

TBC