He closed the door of his office behind him, watching her as she made her way towards her chair, and it was that at that point in their lives that chair belonged to no one else, he could imagine no one else sitting in it as he worked alone some nights, he could hear no other words but hers coming from that direction.

And he walked, maybe all too slowly for her taste, as if he was measuring every step he took, and the truth was that he was indeed measuring them.

He didn't want to make the same mistake twice.

He couldn't afford it.

He sat.

And she stared back at him, and smiled.

"How long has it been since we didn't sit like this?" her words sounded empty in the silent room.

He shrugged "Too long." He was never the one to express his feeling out in the open, any feelings. And if someone knew that it was her.

Her eyes got lost in the bookshelves behind his back, as if looking for a way of avoiding his eyes "There was a time when we would tell each other everything"

"I guess we've changed, haven't we?"

"Sure" her voice close to a whisper "But…sometimes, don't you wish things could go back to the way they use to be?"

He rose and eyebrow, frowning. And she had to swallow, forgetting as fast as she could how sexy that gesture played on his face "It depends"

"Of what?"

"Of the moment you're talking about"

She shook her head "Any moment was better than this one Gil, we've come too much of a long way to end up like… like this"

"We're not ending up anywhere Catherine"

And she moved her head, crossing one leg over the other to stare straight into his blue eyes "Yes, yes we are" And even though her words sounded all too easy to say she had to stop herself from shaking, from hesitating.

"And where is that? Where is it we're ending up?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing could come out of her mouth, almost not believing his words. She raised her eyebrows standing up, so she could look down at him "You're trying to tell me that we stand in the same position we did… what? A year ago?"

"I'm not saying that Cath, and you kno-"

"The hell I know it Gris…" she cut him off, he only took his glasses from his eyes, leaving them on top of his desk, massaging his temples, not daring to look up as he heard her speaking "We've been kidding ourselves for too long now, it's time we have the conversation we should have had a long time ago. Isn't that the reason you brought me here in the first place?"

He kept staring at his joined hands. When was it that he had lost track of all this? Where was all of this suddenly coming from? "Yes" he said all too cold, all too slowly, all too quite. She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest, and waited.

But he said nothing.

And she couldn't bring herself to ask.

Finally he looked up at her –her reddish blondish hair falling to her shoulders in soft locks, her lips slightly painted a light shade of pink, her body embraced by the fabric of her wine red top and a pair of tight jeans, her skin not all that pale, her blue eyes staring back at him with wonder (something all too close to disappointment) - and he opened his mouth "I guess you do deserve an explanation…"

"That would be nice, yeah" and she smiled softly to the side, walking back towards the chair and sitting once again at his same eyelevel "I'd like that"

"I assumed" he simply stated, and she frowned inquiring him with her eyes. Because he told it as if it was the most obvious fact in the world, as if she would instantly forgive him for everything, forget everything. And this time around –just as many other- she didn't follow him.

"Huh?"

"I assumed Catherine. You know as well as me that one should never make assumptions about anything… especially with this kind of things. I simply assumed things would go back to what they used to be."

She nodded "But they couldn't"

"No, they couldn't"

There was a small silence.

"So you just shut me off, of you life, of your friendship, of your work" she said as if speaking to herself.

He took his glasses and put them back on, stretching back in his chair "What else could I do?"

Her shoulders fell when she understood his line of thinking "Talk to me"

He shook his head "After all I did to you? How could I bring myself to ask you to go back to what we had after I… after I…" and he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Walked away?" she said trying to diminish what he had done, because he hadn't only walked away, he had left her. Plain and simple. She had woken up one day and he was gone, gone of her bed, gone of her house, gone of her heart… but not gone of her life (and that was exactly the problem)

He nodded.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair "And does she make you happy?"

Did she?

Grissom bit his lower lip, his eyes lost in the nowhere "I don't know" he finally answered.

"She should, she's smart, witty, good looking…" she said smiling, friendly "she's a doctor after all; she's even okay with you being a C.S.I."

He looked at her from over his glasses "She's not you"

She laughed, taking it as a joke "Well there's that but-"

"No, I'm serious, she's not you"

Her features changed when she heard the tone in his voice "What… what are you trying to do Gil? I'm really trying to follow up but you're too dense, I can't keep up with this little game you're playing here"

"It's not a game"

She was starting to get exasperated "What is it then!"

"How long were we together Cath?"

She closed her eyes trying to recall "I don't remember… ten months, a year maybe"

"Eleven months and a half, actually"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"How much longer do you think until you stopped fancying me?" he laid back, asking with not only his voice but also his eyes, his hands. He stood up and walked through the room until he was standing in front of her chair. His words sounded too planned to her ears, as if he'd been thinking the perfect way to put it for too long, as if he'd used them a million times before.

She smiled, shaking her head as she looked up at him "This is what it was all about?"

""Mortal lovers must not try to remain at the first step; for lasting passion is the dream of a harlot and from it we wake in despair."" He said quoting, and she couldn't help to bury her face in her hands just to look up at him afterwards.

"What's that? Oscar Wilde?"

"Actually is C.S Lewis"

"And you really believe that? You really thought that we, that us was only passion?" And this time she took his hands in hers, so he was forced to kneel down in front of her, this time having to look up to her as she moved one of her hands to his cheek, stroking it gently, she loved the feel of his beard in her skin.

"It was the safest bet" was all he could bring himself to answer, because all his strength was now focused in the way her hand felt against his skin, in the way knew perfectly well how he liked to be caressed.

"No Gil, it was the most idiotic bet to make" and she smiled.

And he couldn't help but to smile back.

"I'm sorry Cath… I really-"

"Don't" and she put her index finger covering his lips, so he couldn't keep talking "No need to apologize now, it's too late for that" and she stood up, walking towards the door slowly, waiting for him to say something, waiting for him to mutter any word, waiting for him to run towards her so she couldn't have to leave.

But it was Gilbert Grissom.

It wasn't Eddie.

It wasn't any other man that had been in her life, in her bed.

It was the one that had managed to get away.

He stood up slowly, still staring at her back, still feeling her finger pressing against his lips, his skin still burning from her touch. It had been too long since they had been like that, and he knew now what he should have done back then…

Exactly the opposite from what he actually did.

She stopped, opened the door and stayed a few seconds at the doorway before taking a deep breath and starting to walk down the hall towards the locker room. He watched silently as she left, and every word that was trying to leave his mouth was once again unspoken.

And he was, all over again the bad guy in the movie.

He took out his glasses, threw them on top of his desk and took the auricular in his hand, dialing a number he had forced himself to learn by heart.

"Hello, darling..." he knew exactly what he had to say.

And this time he couldn't do it on the phone.