Chapter 11

Catherine came to a stop outside the crime lab, her hands remaining on the steering wheel, as she just stared forward, tension still gripping every muscle within her. She was already late, having stopped twice on the way from the airport to calm herself into a safe driving state. There was no way on Earth she was going to let Gil Grissom drive her, and anyone else she might encounter on her journey, into an accident.

She checked her appearance in her rear view mirror, laughing at herself for even thinking that her make up would be anywhere near perfect. Reaching for her purse, she tidied herself up as best she could, and hoped that the air outside would have cooled her eyes and cheeks by the time she got inside. Everyone would know that Gil had left; she didn't need them to associate her tear-stained face with that. Even if the two were connected.

Satisfied that, outwardly, she could pull off some semblance of normalcy, she took a deep breath to calm her internally. Butterflies were battling in her stomach, her heart felt as shattered as it had done six years ago, and all she really wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. But she had done that far too many times over men – this man in particular – and she had vowed years ago that it would never happen again.

Stepping into the fresh morning air, she took several more deep breaths, and let the wind brush over her for a minute. Then, after locking the car, she focussed her eyes on the building's entrance and determined that from now on she was in work mode.

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There was the occasional look from someone she walked past, but Catherine just smiled pleasantly at them and they scurried away. She didn't know whether to be concerned or pleased that there existed that certain level of fear of her within the lab.

Natasha was not at her desk when Catherine arrived at her office, but she decided she couldn't really criticise her assistant for being late, when she was. She moved straight through the outer office, and was hanging up her jacket and purse when there was a knock on the frame of the open door.

"You're late."

Catherine turned and smiled apologetically at Conrad Ecklie. "Sorry."

His brow creased a little. "Are you okay?"

She nodded and crossed the office to lean against her desk. "I'm fine."

"Is Lindsey okay?"

"Yeah. I've just dropped her off at the airport, she's going back to New York."

"Ah, flying visit," he commented with a smile.

"Yeah…" she agreed adding, muttered under her breath, "Seems to be happening a lot around here."

"Ah," Conrad said next, as if suddenly coming to a realisation.

"What?" she asked, frowning but knowing full well what he had deduced.

"Don't 'what' me, Catherine… I was concerned this would happen."

"Nothing's happened, Conrad… Now, did you need me on a work-related matter?" she asked, moving round the desk and sitting down; focussing her eyes on the papers she shifted on the desk rather than on him.

He sat opposite her, folding his hands in front of him. "I came here for this."

His cryptic answer surprised her and she looked up. "To confuse me?"

"No… To see how you're dealing with Grissom leaving… I take it you found the message I left with Natasha."

Sudden panic caused Catherine's heart rate to increase. "Message?"

"Yes. Grissom called to say he had to leave and had been unable to reach you. As I was here to speak to Warrick the message came to me… If you haven't read it, and he couldn't reach you… how did you know he's gone?"

Guilt starting to spread outwards from her aching heart, Catherine ignored his question to ask her own. "Did he say why he had to leave?"

She was already dreading the words that would form Conrad's reply.

"His mother had a stroke and was taken into – "

He didn't need to finish his sentence. Catherine dropped her head into her hands with a muffled scream, then pushed herself away from the desk, standing and beginning to pace.

"Why the hell can't I think logically when it comes to him?" she exclaimed angrily.

Conrad was out of his seat, and standing in front of her, concern across his features. "Catherine. Calm down. You're not making sense."

She stopped walking, let out a heavy sigh and explained. "I saw Gil at the airport, in line to check-in. That's how I know he's gone… And because I love to jump to conclusions I assumed it was because we had an argument yesterday and I didn't give him chance to explain. I even doubted whether or not he was going to bother – and I didn't stick around long enough to find out… God! I am a horrible person."

Conrad stepped closer and gently placed his hands on Catherine's shoulders. "Catherine, look at me," he said, repeating it until she actually did it. "You are not a horrible person. You had no way of knowing what had happened. And given how much he hurt you in the past, it sounds like your reaction was only natural."

"That does not excuse the look I gave him… And he has known me long enough to know exactly what it meant."

"Then go to San Francisco and apologise."

Her eyes widened at his suggestion. "Just turn up? Like he doesn't have enough to deal with. I am the last person he would want to see."

"I doubt that… When you got shot, who was the only other person, except for Lindsey and your Mom, that you wanted by your side?"

She remained silent.

"And when Lindsey left for New York, who did you wish was here for you to talk to, and to keep you company?"

"I never said any of that," she pointed out.

"No you didn't. We've never talked about Grissom, at all, in all the time that we've been friends. I made a concerted effort not to mention him because I knew you didn't want to hear it – and that isn't because you hate him. If you hated him you'd have wanted to vent and call him names at every given opportunity… But you didn't. You shut him away completely, and that said everything you didn't… I am glad that we became friends, Catherine, and I'm glad I could stand in for Grissom and look after you, and I'm grateful that you've been there for me through so much. I would certainly not have handled my mother's death very well if it wasn't for you… I most sincerely hope Gil's mother doesn't die… But you should be there for him either way."

"But that look… I was so angry."

"And when you get an opportunity to explain the misunderstanding, he'll understand… I was around you two all those years ago and, despite the fact that you hadn't spoken to each other for years, there was the same chemistry, and the same friendship in the air when I was standing in this office with you both this week."

"But I said things yesterday… I really don't think he'd want me to be with him – "

"Catherine… When you shot Gil the 'death glare', as it's known around here, did he offer the same anger in return?"

She shook her head.

"Did he turn away and ignore you?"

She shook her head again.

"Did he look like he was wondering whether he had time to lose his place in line to come explain to you?"

Catherine dropped her head to Conrad's chest with a long drawn out sigh. "When did you become so insightful?"

He laughed a little and pressed his lips to the top of her head. "I learned from the best."

She stepped back and looked at him once again. "Can you spare me for a few days?"

He nodded. "Sure… He shouldn't be alone for this."

TBC…