The Long Road

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own them and that's just not fair

A/N: Thanks again to Cropper for the beta.

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It's not an easy process, the un-breaking of a heart, and Warrick was learning that hard truth one stumbling block at a time. Some days he felt that for every step forward with Catherine he took an amazing ten back. But being a CSI had taught him a thing or two about patience. No way would he give up before he had exhausted every trick he knew. So he set out to woo her.

There was nothing overt. No grand gestures. No public spectacles. There was simply a concentrated effort to remind her every day that she was the only woman for him. Little notes slipped under her office door, a phone call before he drifted off to sleep, a quiet dinner that she didn't have to cook, cuddling up on the couch with a movie and a blanket; little things that let her know she was cared for. Quietly, without her realizing his intent, he became an integral part of her life.

Sometimes he was sure she was going to say it, she was going to tell him that she loved him and then she would catch herself. Never letting the words pass her lips seemed to be her defense mechanism. It tore at his heart that she couldn't trust him with that last piece of her. The only time he knew that she was completely open to him was when they were making love. Calling what was between them sex was not accurate. They both knew it was more than that. It could be soft and sweet or raw and primal depending on the particular demon she was trying to exorcise at the time. But no matter how she loved him in those moments, her body told him what her voice could not and Warrick knew without a doubt that she did love him. That was the thread he clung to when his patience ran low.

They had only been dating three months on the night that Sara gave birth to Julia. But it was then that Warrick realized for the first time how empty his life had been before Catherine and Lindsay. He had friends. He had cousins and aunts and uncles. But he didn't have anyone to call his own. As if life had suddenly shown him something new, the sight of Grissom and Sara with their children had opened up something inside him. Standing in that hospital room, surrounded by his makeshift family, he realized that he wanted more. He wanted it all and now, six months later, he intended to have it.

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Ever since Julia was born Catherine had noticed a change in Warrick. If he had been attentive before, leaving little notes, calling everyday, cooking dinner, just being there for her, now he was devoted. Not just to her but to Lindsay as well. He never missed an opportunity to include the girl in their plans. He spent time helping Lindsay with her homework or just hanging out, talking about things that Catherine would never be able to draw out. That alone was enough to melt her heart. But he did not stop there. He talked to her as well. He spent time finding out who Catherine Willows was and what made her tick. He became her friend, her confidant, her other half.

There were days Catherine wanted to give in and tell him how she felt. The desire would be so strong that she could hear the words trembling on the air between them. After all, it was true, she did love him and it was only a matter of time before she admitted it. She just wasn't ready to give voice to those feelings, as if keeping it quiet made her any less vulnerable. So she held on to her words and the last piece of her heart.

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After dropping Lindsay off at a friend's house, Catherine stopped and picked up a movie. Her intention to spend the evening alone was thwarted, in a very pleasant way, by the surprising presence of Warrick's car in her driveway. With a smile, she parked and let herself into the house. Dropping her belongings on the counter, she headed for the living room. When she saw him sitting there with his head resting against the cushions and his eyes closed the cheerful greeting died in her throat.

Clearing her throat, Catherine said, "Hey. Are you okay?"

Without opening his eyes, he replied, "No. Not really."

"What is it?" she asked, moving across the room to sit beside him. "What's wrong?"

Slowly, in a voice that shook, he said, "I saw a man get killed today." Gasping, Catherine reached out and laid a hand on his thigh. "Right in front of me, less than five feet away," he continued in a strained voice.

"You're not hurt, are you?" Catherine asked, turning to face him, sliding her hands over his arms and chest as if looking for wounds. Finally, she cradled his face in her palms, searching his eyes for any hint that he was not telling her the whole story.

"I'm not hurt," he said quietly.

"Tell me." Catherine released him and picked up his left hand, cradling it between hers.

Running his free hand over his face, he sighed and closed his eyes. His voice was quiet, his muscles vibrating with tension, "I was working with Brass. We served a warrant on a suspect in the Weaver case. And we were standing outside the guy's house talking to him; you know, asking him some questions about the stuff we found inside." He paused, pulling his hand free to lean forward and place his elbows on his knees. Staring at the floor, he continued, "I don't really know what happened. There was a pop, almost like a car door closing, and…," his voice broke and he blew out a shuddering breath, "his head just exploded."

"Oh, baby…" Catherine whispered, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

Warrick looked at her, his eyes wet with tears, "I had his brains in my hair."

"I'm so sorry." She shook her head and laid her hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently. "So sorry."

"I don't know, Cath. We see so much; day after day, death and fear and hate, people hurting each other. But, for some reason, this just…" his voice trailed off and he shrugged.

His breath hitched and he tried to stifle the moan that was rising in his chest. When the tears that had been swimming in her eyes spilled over to stream down her cheeks he lost the battle with his own. The burning behind his eyes and the tightness in his throat all coalesced into a sob that wracked his slender form. Turning, he buried his face against Catherine's neck and cried. He was vaguely aware of her arms holding him, her hands stroking over his back, her lips pressing soft, soothing kisses against his hair.

Without lifting his head, he began to speak, "It was…awful. You know I've seen it before. I've seen people get shot and I've seen them die. But this was different. It was the first time I was scared. And I was ashamed of being afraid."

"It's okay to be scared. Hell, I've been there too. We've all been afraid at one time or another. I think having someone murdered in front of you is a reason to be a little shaky." She kept her voice low in an effort to soothe his frazzled nerves. "Why didn't you call me?"

"And say what? That I got nervous and needed you to hold my hand? You're the Director, for God's sake." He chuckled softly, "What would people say about that?"

"I don't care what people say," Catherine replied vehemently. "I love you and you could have been killed. I could have lost you."

The silence that filled the room seemed to vibrate with the words that she had spoken. Warrick pulled away from her, sitting up and wiping his hand slowly over his face. "Is that true?"

Standing, Catherine strode across the room and stood looking out the window at the waning afternoon light. A sigh slipped from her lips before she turned to face him. "Yeah," she breathed out, "it's true."

"Wow," he said, leaning back and allowing a tiny grin to slide across his mouth. "Maybe I should have a breakdown more often." When she gave him a disgusted look, he continued, "I'm joking." Rising, he walked over until he was standing in front of her. "I love you too," he said, sliding a finger down her cheek and slipping his hand around to the back of her neck.

"You'd better." Her voice was husky and fresh tears trembled on her lower lashes.

Slowly, he drew her to him, lowering his mouth to hers in a kiss that was both tender and sexy. Pulling back slightly, he whispered against her lips, "Marry me."

Catherine stiffened and pulled away. "What?" she croaked.

Warrick drew away, bringing his hands up to frame her face. His eyes bored into hers and he said, "Marry me, Catherine. I love you and I want to marry you."

Her hands came up to grasp his wrists. Removing them from her face and taking a step backward she shook her head slowly and said, "I can't."