Disclaimer: They're not mine
Rating: T or PG-13 for language and violence
Summary: It's 2am. The doorbell rings. A baby is crying. What are you going to do? W/S with GCR moments and a major case
Thank you, patient GCR shippers! Here is your GCR moment with another following in the next chapter. I'm working on the story of Gil getting trapped in the bathroom... And thank you to the reviewers of chapter eleven, who were Aleja21 (now THAT sounds good!), icklebitodd (Cheesecake and espresso – I think I love you. Nice insights at the beginning actually, very poetic.), katymoonbeam, Shelbers, Megara1, Review1234 (get my email?), cherishedcrush (no problem), MissyJane, charmed1818 and Joyce3 (consider it done!)
Many apologies to those holding out to see whether or not Lyle is The Guy – you'll soon find out, but not today. Cue the write underscore impulsive Live Journal Community Now I'm off to wash my hair and get some work done before I lose myself in over-amusement about Bear In The Big Blue House songs. What! They're GREAT SONGS! Enjoy! Love LJ xXx
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Wake The Hope. Chapter Twelve. Motor Oil
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"It is a curious thought, but it is only when you see people looking ridiculous that you realize just how much you love them."
AGATHA CHRISTIE
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Catherine, bedraggled and oil-smeared from the garage, heads to the break room to wash up. She'd been handed another minor case just this morning, a routine 434. Within hours, they'd picked up an armed suspect and matched the bullets to the ones she'd just rooted out of the fuel tank of the target – a silver BMW. She was beginning to suspect that Grissom was trying to push the less high-profile cases onto her, slowly removing her from the serial rape and murder case.
"Hey Cath."
Catherine turns to see Sara lounging on the break room sofa, distractedly playing with Nate. Nate looks to Sara with a questioning gurgle and Sara grins.
"Yes – it's your Aunt Catherine, baby Nate. You remember her, right?" she says to the baby and points to Catherine. She smiles.
"Hey – what are you doing still here?" she asks. "You should get back and take it easy for a while."
Sara looks up momentarily. "No point in going back if I'm gonna get called back in for the line up." she comments vaguely.
Catherine does a double-take. "What?"
"The line up," Sara repeats. "You know...I gotta ID the guy." Catherine looks riled to say the least so she adds, "It's okay, Cath. Really, I'm okay."
Catherine only shakes her head and marches straight out of the break room without saying a word.
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"What do you think you're doing, Gil?" she snaps immediately, storming into Grissom's office and slamming the door behind her. "I mean, not only are you trying to take me off the case – which I know you're doing, by the way, so don't try and deny it – but now you're making Sara go in and look her attacker in the eye before she's even recovered?"
Gil looks up, surprised at the sudden outburst. He gets up from his desk and moves to lean against the front of it as Catherine carries on ranting in the middle of his office. He doesn't even begin to protest because she carries on, gesturing wildly with hands still grubby from the garage and blazing eyes. Instead, he smiles at her, a gentle smile tinged with fondness and sadness at the same time.
"Gil, come on. You can't make her do this." Catherine persists, getting angry. "What do you think you're playing at? You can't make her do this; she's not ready for it yet."
Only Catherine could still manage to look beautiful, endearing and perfect in one of those blue FORENSICS jumpsuits. Catherine, in the oversized jumpsuit, motor oil smudged onto her nose and forehead, her blonde hair sneaking loose from the clip she'd hurriedly pinned it up with earlier in the break room. He'd watched her do it.
"Well, say something," she snaps at his silent, faintly amused face for, though she fumes these words, she leaves him no time to even open his mouth. "You can't make her do this. I know she seems up to it, but anyone can see she's putting on a front; it's just a brave face for the rest of the group. This would mess her up – I am not going to let you do this to her."
"Catherine..." Gil begins, slowly and thoughtfully. She stops, expecting a continuation on the quarrel. Then he reaches up his thumb and carefully, deliberately, rubs the motor oil from the tip of her nose. "You've got some motor oil right there."
She responds with an infuriated sigh, stamping her foot on the floor. More strands of her blonde hair fall over her eyes and, in swiping it back angrily, she smears onto her face some more motor oil from her blackened fingertips.
"Gil..." she persists. "Quit fooling around."
He sighs finally, sensing that now is the time to be serious; he'd gotten through this difficult decision by trying to keep the morale just above bleak but it feels different now that he's having to face up to things, confronted by the one person he's never been able to keep anything from.
"We can't let this go just because it's Sara." he says firmly. "If any other witness said they felt up to identifying their attacker, we'd have already done it. We can't treat it differently because we're emotionally involved."
"But it is different, Gil, because we're emotionally involved and because it's Sara." Catherine countered exasperatedly. "If it were any other witness, they wouldn't claim they were ready when they weren't because they felt like they had to be strong for all of us and give us something to work with. They wouldn't pretend they could do this when they just can't. And if she's not going to make that decision, someone has to make it for her."
"Cath, ultimately, it's her decision." Gil tells her, taking hold of her by the shoulders. "Listen to me – listen to me: Sara won't take no for an answer. All we can do, all you can do, is support her in this. Supporting someone in a wrong decision can sometimes mean more than trying to force them into doing something they'll never do. Be there for her."
"But, Gil..." her fury has lost momentum. She hadn't been expecting Gil to be so...correct, not about this; it caught her off-guard. Instead she slumps her shoulders with a heavy sigh and looks at him, unsuccessfully suppressing a grim and anxious expression.
Without thinking, he puts his arms around her, drawing her into a hug, almost surprised to feel her slender body beneath that ridiculously outsized standard-issue jumpsuit and holds her for a while in the silence of his office. He can feel her unwillingly relax into his arms and they stand for a while, just like that.
"That's not fair," she mumbles in weak protest into his shoulder. "I was looking for a fight."
He grins and holds her out in front of him at arms length, considering her with warmth.
"You look like you've already been in one," he replies as she scowls at him. "Motor oil. Hold still." Catherine stands patiently, studying the look on his face as he is absorbed in the task of rubbing motor oil from her face.
"Ow."
"Sorry. Can you just move your head like...yeah. Wait a second. Sorry."
"That's okay."
"Hold still."
He murmured his last order only very quietly but she still heard him, with her head resting in one of his hands and tilted inches from his face.
Catherine is watching him watch her. Her eyes examine his as they squint at the offending oil on her forehead. She thinks she likes his face like this, scrutinises the stubble on his chin and surveys the hard line of his mouth, tensed in concentration. Though his eyes stay still and focused, hers dart across his face, inspecting every familiar detail with a curiously stronger tug of affection.
And then the next thing she knows, she's kissing him.
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