The view of the beach soaked in sunlight never got old. The clear water of the Caribbean shimmered brilliantly, as if the surface was coated in diamonds. The sun enveloped the entire beach in a cocoon, along with the woman who lay in a chaise just before where high tide reached its limit.
Catherine sighed as she soaked up the rays, her skin protected by the strongest suntan lotion money could buy. Her white skin was now a creamy tan, making her hair look even blonder than usual. She was content to lay there all day long, but something nagged at her relentlessly, and she stood reluctantly.
She may not have been able to afford her own island-that had been a crazy idea, but a tempting one-but this isolated house on the beach on a small Caribbean island was just as good. No one ever bothered her, except for the occasional visit from Lindsey, or one of the old team members.
It didn't take much after that to remind her that of all the people who had visited her, the one that mattered still hadn't. Since she'd parted with him ten months earlier, Catherine hadn't even heard from Warrick. She had expected as much, what with the FBI still having to work out the kinks in his impromptu removal from Witness Protection, but it still hurt. After a moment of slow breathing to compose herself, Catherine decided to shower and then make herself dinner.
The warm water felt good against her skin, though the aching muscles she'd been used to as a CSI had long since lost their tension now that she was retired. She dressed in a flowing white skirt that cut off mid-shin and a pink tank top that accentuated her figure. She decided to toss a fresh garden salad for dinner, and cut up a fresh banana over a bowl of vanilla ice cream for desert.
As she sipped a cup of coffee on the front deck of her home, staring out at the setting sun, she fought off a wave of loneliness that seemed to come more and more frequently the longer she lived out on this island. Catherine knew she wasn't alone: she'd made friends with her closest neighbor, three miles down the beach. They frequently got together for dinner or drinks, but it didn't seem to quell the feeling that she was alone.
She stood and walked to the railing, leaning over with her elbows resting on it, sighing dejectedly. Maybe she just needed to talk to someone. She'd call Lindsey, and then she'd turn in early. It was as good a plan as any.
When Catherine turned to walk in the house, she was struck with the feeling that she was no longer the only one out there. She brushed off a wave of paranoia, an unwelcome side effect of being hunted by a psychopath bent on revenge.
Turning slowly, she was met with a more than welcome sight.
"Warrick?" she asked stupidly. She stood staring at him with what she knew was a dumbstruck look.
He looked at her uncertainly for a moment. "You're not going to slap me again, are you?"
"Maybe," she replied. "I'm still thinking."
He laughed a deep laugh, one that was utterly Warrick, and she smiled. Tossing all of her hurt feelings aside, Catherine threw herself into Warrick and kissed him, putting months of pent up feelings into a single kiss. Her heart raced and her mind was jumbled. She was just so damn happy.
When she pulled away, she glared at Warrick accusingly. "What the hell took you so long?"
He placed a lingering kiss on her lips. "You know how the FBI is. They had to have complete control. But I finally put my foot down. After all, I had a promise to keep."
"Oh, yeah? What was that?"
"I promised nothing would keep me from you again. The FBI took me away for three years, and I'd be damned if I let them take another one."
"That's good to hear," she replied earnestly before kissing him again. "So what did you do to convince them to let you come here?"
"Catherine, I'll answer all your questions. Later. Right now, I just want to be with you." And with that he kissed her, more urgently this time, and she no longer cared what circumstances led to him being there. All that mattered at that moment was that he was there.
And, God willing, they'd never be apart again.
~Fin~