Chapter 15- Killing Myself

Thanks to Pandy Roxy Chick, Daydreamer1127, JacobedRose, Teliko. x3, Nisha14, myfairlady, fallinidentity, tough cookie, DrusillaBraun, disneygal16, Picard's Angel, CissaMalfoy, kathfire, and soliz.

Sergeant, get over it. Everyone hates the cliffhangers. Lol

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: Apparently I can't seem to get the e-mail alerting me to my reviews. So if I miss your review and don't add you to my thank you list, please don't be mad. When you review finally does show up, I'll still read it and keep whatever you say in mind.

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For a moment Grissom wondered if his soul was leaving his body behind. But he could hear Nick shouting something and Sara rushing past him. He opened his eyes.

Eddie was lying before him on his back. Eyes open and unblinking…staring at Grissom's feet, but not seeing anything. His body was limp as if it had been a balloon deflated by the force of a small piece of metal. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. Grissom saw a dark blossom of red in the center of his chest. The red liquid seeped onto the ground, staining the Nevada desert. Grissom's trail of vision slowly moved up.

Catherine stood before him, leaning heavily on the side of Eddie's car. Both of her hands were clasped around a 45 caliber. She seemed to be in shock. Her face was ash- white. Her blue eyes were wide and surprised, as if she couldn't believe she had pulled the trigger. Her hands were shaking. Then she dropped the weapon as if it has burned her. She hit her knees and began to cry; her shoulders jerking violently with every heart wrenching sob.

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The paramedics were at the scene within seconds. Catherine shrugged them off, her expression has hard as stone. Grissom had tried to comfort her, but she had pushed him away, along with everyone else. Lindsay was her only solace. The child was in Catherine's arms, while Catherine was running her fingers through Lindsay's blonde hair. The paramedics had tried to check Catherine over, but she had refused. Not just because she was okay, but because she didn't want anyone to see the bruises and the scars she had from her last fight with Eddie.

Catherine Willows wondered why it pained her to know that it had been their last fight.

"You okay Gris?" Warrick asked, leaning on the side of the ambulance beside Grissom.

"She pushed me away." He said almost to himself

"Hey man, she's hurting. She did it to all of us." Warrick tried to comfort.

"How can she hurt? He beat her, he abused her, he damn near killed her." He asked, unable to understand.

"I don't know." Warrick said. "But this is Catherine we're talking about, since when has she done anything without a reason."

Grissom didn't answer, just gazed at Catherine with a blanket wrapped around her and her daughter, wondering how much more pain she can cause him before he finally broke.

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Catherine carried her daughter into the house. It hurt even to lift her daughter, but Catherine had to. Lindsay was the only thing keeping her together. Grissom followed her into the door, having to give her a ride home.

"Do you need me to stay the night?" he asked, following upstairs to Lindsay's room.

Catherine gently laid her daughter onto her bed and tucked her in.

"No, Gil, but thanks." She replied smoothing the covers.

"Are you sure?" he asked, following her out of the room as she shut the door behind them.

"Yes, Gil." She said.

He hesitated. And she lost it.

"Gil, do me a favor. Please get out." Catherine said, facing him. Her blue eyes flashing coldly.

He took a step back, surprised. "Are you okay?"

Catherine fought back tears. "Maybe I'm being unreasonable. Maybe I'm being stupid, but it was because of you that I had to shoot Eddie. It was because you I had to cross that line and kill him."

The tears began to flood out of her eyes…uninvited.

"Catherine…" Grissom started reaching for her hand.

She drew away. "Maybe things would've ended the same way, but part of me wants to thank you for saving my life."

Grissom lowered his eyes, becomes the introverted man he was. He had put himself out on the limb, only to fall. The pain was unbearable.

"And the other?" he asked quietly.

Catherine looked away. "The other part can't stand to be in the same room as you." She whispered, her voice strained.

He looked at her with pity and longing in his eyes, but he walked away. That's all he did and that spoke volumes. He walked away, leaving Catherine staring at his back, looking more lost than she had in years.

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Sara and Greg were in the lab, trying to make up for their lost time. Their case with Catherine was closed, and the only thing left was to fill out the closing statements and file the paperwork.

"I wonder why Eddie told us Catherine was dead." Greg mused.

Sara glanced at him with a blank expression on her face. "Maybe he was too stoned to properly check his pulse." She said frankly.

"No doubt about it." Nick said from the doorway. "Autopsy showed that his alcohol level was .45."

The other two CSIs stared. "You're kidding." Greg said.

Nick nodded. "Surprised me that he could drive a car, let alone stand."

Sara leaned back in her chair with a sigh. "I guess we should be happy that he hadn't driven off a cliff or something and really killed Catherine."

Nick seemed thoughtful.

Greg and Sara being amazing CSIs, both noticed.

"What's on your mind?" Sara asked gently, giving him a poke on the shoulder.

"Did you see Catherine's face after she shot Eddie?"

Greg and Sara both nodded.

"I think more damage's been done than she let on." He said.

Greg didn't say a word, but internally he agreed. He had seen Catherine's face. It looked like she hadn't shot an abusive ex-husband, but like she had shot someone she truly cared about. Greg didn't understand it.

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Gil Grissom was drinking for the first time in a long time. He sat in the living room of his town house. The tv was quiet and so was he. In his hand was a glass of juice laced with vodka, only it wasn't exactly laced. It was more of vodka laced with juice. He stared blankly at the black tv screen, his mind elsewhere. Gil Grissom was not the type of man to wear his feelings on his sleeve. People said he was anything but a people person. They said he was serious, and showed no emotion, but it wasn't always true. He had tried to tell the one woman he cared about how he feels, but it backfired on him. Afterward, she had hurt him further by pushing him away, and blaming a death on him. He could understand her pain, but that didn't mean he had to accept it. With a sigh of defeat, he downed the vodka in one gulp and went to pour himself another glass.

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Across the Nevada desert, Catherine Willows gazed at herself in the mirror. She had wanted to get in the shower and wash the night away, but she had caught her reflection in the mirror. She stared at it. The bruises were vivid against her apple white skin. They were everywhere. She hadn't noticed them before. Her wrists, her neck, and her arms. She closed her eyes. Never will she understand why she hurt for Eddie. He had hurt her, cheated on her, abused her, yet she still found herself shedding tears for him.

She had shot him. In her mind, it made her no difference than the murderers she's caught. She had pulled the trigger. It had been justified, and she really had no choice, but staring at his body, she realized that she would never wash his blood off her hands. She had loved him once. He was the father of her only child. He had been her husband, even though it was only for a few years. She could not change that, nor did she want to. She had learned many lessons from him, hard lessons, but lessons nonetheless.

With one shot, Catherine had transformed him from a living human being to a corpse. He was no longer Eddie Willows; he was a number on a tag in the morgue. With one shot Catherine hadn't just killed her ex-husband…she had killed a part of herself.

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I thought I would capture that whole survivor's guilt thing. If you know what I mean. Also because I don't believe that anyone can take a life and not feel a thing. Only one or two more chapters to go before I end it and start working on a sequel, I already have a bunch of ideas.