Okay, everybody. Here's another short, quality vs. quantity chapter. I really hope it is good. Enjoy!
As he flipped through the pictures, a multitude of emotions flickered across Gil's face. Catherine wasn't surprised at the predominant shock and guilt. The only question he wasn't able to answer was why somebody would victimize her. She had no idea what was going on, or what those pictures really proved.
"Well?" she asked, her tone bleeding impatience and a touch of desperation.
He handed the photos back to her. "I'm sorry, Catherine. I can't--"
"Cut the bullshit, Gil," she broke in. "Somebody thinks I know something, and I have no idea what the hell that is. Three years after he supposedly died, someone sends me a picture of you and Warrick from a year ago, drinking lemonade, without a care in the world."
Catherine's voice was rising. "I'm hurting. I've been hurting for three years. Nothing has made it better; I just numbed it so I could get by for the sake of my daughter, and when you left, for the sake of the team. But this," she flung the pictures at him, "this just made me sick."
She held up her hand when he went to speak. "Don't even try. You and God only knows who else have been lying to me, and I don't want to hear anymore. Either tell me the truth, or stay quiet." The pained expression on his face showed the turmoil he was in. She felt terrible, but at the same time she felt he deserved it. He wasn't the only one feeling helpless.
"Give me a minute," Gil said after a moment's pause. "I have to call Brass. He should be here."
"Oh, by all means. I've only waited three years. What's another couple hours?"
An hour and a half later, Brass entered the kitchen with a box of donuts, a solemn smile on his face. "Hey, Catherine."
She nodded, her voice failing her for a moment. The past ninety minutes had been awkward to say the least, more so when Sara had joined Gil and Catherine in the kitchen. She had busied herself making coffee--the same coffee growing tepid before Catherine--but the air was still thick with the tension between them, and it only seemed to get worse when Brass arrived.
When she looked up, Catherine noticed Brass was looking between the three of them, seemingly at a loss for words now that the tension was swallowing him as well. He opened the box and held it out. "Donut?"
Then again, maybe not.
"I'll take that as a no," he said, placing the now closed box on the table and taking the seat across from Gil. He picked up the stack of photos that had been straightened up before he'd arrived. "Are these the pictures?"
"Yeah," Catherine answered curtly, her impatience beginning to grow again. "And now that you're here, I'd really like some answers. I think I've waited long enough."
"What do you wanna know?" Brass asked, lifting his eyes from the photos to look at her.
"Well, let's start with the obvious. Is Warrick still alive?"
Her heart was racing as Brass glanced momentarily at Grissom, then looked back to her.
"Yes."