AN: Here's an update, because again, writing is more fun than homework. I added a little humour in here, so enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. I wish I did, cuz I have a lot of ideas that I wish that they'd put in the show.

In A Plexiglas Prison With You

Chapter Eight: A Dead End

"Gil?" Catherine whispered. He didn't answer.

"Gil?" she said a little louder, shaking him slightly. He moaned and cracked open an eye.

"What?" he questioned, looking down at her. She almost laughed at how funny he looked when he was just waking up.

"You know what I was thinking about?" she asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

"A way to get out of here?" he asked hopefully. She grinned.

"Yeah," she teased, "We break open the coffin, you swim out first to distract the sharks and then I'll swim to safety."

He could tell that she was joking, so he returned the banter, "I see one flaw with that plan."

"What?"

"When I'm gone, who's going to look after you?" he asked. She laughed and nodded.

"That's a good point," she agreed, "I don't know what I would have done without you over all these years," she admitted. He started a little and looked over at her. It almost sounded like she had forgiven him.

"Really?" he asked. Her smile was his response. He felt like the bullet had just been extracted from his chest.

"I'm sorry about what I said before, Gil," she apologized, "I really am. If anything, these past 23 years have been the best of my life."

"You know," he said, "If I had to choose anyone to be stuck in a glass box with, it'd be you," he told her, contradicting his previous comment.

"Really?" she asked. He nodded.

"You may drive me crazy, but it's a good kind of crazy," he said.

"I try," she said. He chuckled, glad that they had made amends. He had his best friend back, right when he needed her most.

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Officers Jordan Low and Leslie Boon were making their usual rounds in Newport Beach. It was a leisurely day as they drove down a residential street. All was calm.

"Nice day," Low commented looking down the road as he drove.

"Isn't it, though?" Boon replied, looking at the houses. Something caught her eye in one driveway. It was a red Chevy. She didn't know what was so odd about it, but she turned to her partner and asked, "What was the licence plate number on the truck from the APB?"

"CRO-980," he answered, "Why?"

"That's the truck!" she announced, pointing back at the house with the red avalanche.

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"They're smiling," Lindsey announced as she watched the feed on the laptop in LAPD headquarters. She had gotten over the initial shock of seeing her mother in such a compromising position. It was good to see her at all.

"Better than they were before," Nick commented, walking over to look. Catherine was laying with her head on Grissom's arm. His head was close to hers and they were talking and smiling. Nick almost grinned, but then he caught sight of the brunette watching the feed from another computer and hesitated. She looked a little lost. He walked over to her.

"Hey," she said lowly as he approached.

"We're closer to finding them and getting them home, Sar," he said, slipping an arm over her shoulder, "That's all that really matters."

"I know," she said softly as she continued to watch Grissom and Catherine together.

"They found the truck!" Brass hollered as he rushed into the room with Sofia and Annie Kramer, his old friend from Jersey.

"What?" Warrick asked, leaping to his feet.

"Two uniforms found it in a driveway in Newport Beach," Annie answered from Brass's left side.

"Who's house?" Greg asked, grabbing his jacket. It seemed too easy.

"Ben Kallum," Sofia answered from Brass's right side before Annie could, "I've checked it out; he was the arresting officer for both the Haynes and Lester cases. He retired to California with his wife."

"Son of a bitch," Warrick cursed as he followed the three detectives out the door. Greg followed.

"What about me?" Nick called after him.

"You get to sit back and relax with Sara and Lindsey," he replied, running out the door.

"It's okay, Nick," Sara shrugged, "You don't have to baby-sit."

He looked at her and rethought himself, "No, Sara. I want to stay," he said, causing her to smile slightly. He could've follow Greg and Warrick to the scene or get on the patrol boats in the harbour to find Grissom and Catherine by pure dumb luck. But he didn't. He stayed with her, and that's what mattered the most.

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"Do you remember the night we met?" Catherine asked, staring into his cerulean eyes. He smiled and nodded.

"I'll always remember that night," he replied, "It was memorable," he commented with a chuckle.

"You know, you were the only guy in the room who wasn't at the stage. I couldn't figure you out," she reminisced.

"Really?" he asked, "You saw me in the club?"

"How could I not?" she asked, "We had a bit of a staring contest when I was up on stage. Forget, old man?"

"I was just seeing if you remembered," he said, "I couldn't understand why you looked so bored when you were dancing."

"I think I'm going to head out," he mumbled in his cousin's ear. Doug frowned.

"It's my bachelor party, Gil!" he exclaimed, "You can't leave yet! The fun is just beginning!"

"Believe me, I'm having a blast, but I have to get up early for a conference-"

"Sleep on the plane, Gil," Doug suggested, "Maybe even have more than one beer and enjoy the show!"

"Hey, California! Come on, let's do a shot!" a guy in a leather jacket with way too much mousse in his hair called from the bar.

"Comin', Ed!" Doug hollered back.

"Who is that?" Gil asked, motioning to the man who had obviously had a few.

"This guy I met over at the bar. He knows like all of the dancers," Doug explained, "Come on, let's go have a shot."

"I dunno…"

"Fine, whatever," Doug shrugged, and turned to join his new friend. Gil shook his head and turned to leave.

"Now, the moment you've all been waiting for!" someone with a mike announced, "The lovely Lady Red!"

Gil turned around to see what all the cheering was about. She was definitely lovely as she skilfully navigated the stage, turning, twisting, swaying to the music, enticing everyone around her. He could see why they called her 'Lady Red' as her reddish blond hair flowed down her back.

Then his gaze caught hers, as she stared, almost bored, around the room. She had the bluest eyes he had ever seen. Blue met blue, and he felt as if he had known her all of his life. Her eyes conveyed her deepest emotions. He saw passion, lust, and…boredom? Why did she look bored? Her career was obviously quite stimulating, so why was there something stifling that sparkle that he knew had to exist. Eyes like hers had to sparkle.

He didn't know how long he stared into her eyes before she gave him a tiny frown and turned away. He watched her movements, entranced by her grace, and intrigued by the mystery underneath her skin.

"I couldn't understand why you weren't leaving me a tip with the other nice gentlemen," she snorted, "Yet I knew you weren't gay. You don't have that look."

"What is that look, because I've been mistaken for gay?" he quizzed. She shook her head.

"Only amateurs would mistake you for gay, Gil. When I danced, I could tell right away if a man was gay or not. You were definitely not gay, what with the way you were staring," she explained, "You have a bit of staring problem, by the way."

He laughed, "I do, do I?"

"Gil, every time we have a case involving anything where clothing is optional, you become a gaping, staring idiot," she told him.

"I do not!" he denied. She raised an eyebrow.

"Alright. What about the first time we stepped into Lady Heather's dominion?" she shot at him.

"It was fascinating work," he defended.

"What about all the times we've had to interview showgirls?" she asked, "I distinctly remember having to tell you to shut your mouth once."

"Uh…"

"Or how about that nice little stripper girl who wanted you to be her mad scientist?" she teased. Okay, so she caught him.

"I can't help staring at a beautiful woman," he replied.

"No, you are just like every other man looking for a nice view. I knew that about you, at least," she said. He shook his head and laughed. They hadn't talked like this in years.

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"Clear!" Annie shouted.

"Clear!" Matt Glazer, another of LAPD's finest, called.

"Oh shit," Brass growled as he looked into the Kallum's living room, "Four bodies in the living room!" he called. The rest of the house was cleared and the cops congregated in the living room.

"Ben and Jane Kallum," Sofia sighed.

"Who are the two dudes?" Greg asked. Brass shot him a grim smile.

"Norm Lester and Nathan Haynes," he spat bitterly.

TBC