She rolled out of his arms in sleep, her legs splayed like a base runner sliding to escape an impending tag. His eyes trailed the line of her body several times, grateful for the steady rise and fall of her chest and the solace of sleep. Assured that she was at peace, he took the opportunity to step out – he had phone calls to make and he needed her laptop.
He passed through the living room, his eyes drawn to the pictures that still covered the floor. He wanted to hide the memories of the morning, yet he'd need to wait for Catherine to know what to do with them.
Moving to the kitchen, his eyes met the dishes left behind from the morning. "I'll clean those up after," he noted. He poured himself a glass of iced tea and set out to start making phone calls.
His first phone call was Nick. "C'mon man, just foam board?" Nick had asked, hoping he'd be able to do more.
"You could bring a light dinner as well," Lou had suggested, "It's your company she'll appreciate more than anything, though."
His second phone call was Jim, who agreed to come by the next day. "How's she doing?" Jim had asked.
Inconsolable described their morning. Peaceful described her present state, but who knew how long that would last. "Okay," Lou had settled for her earlier term's overloaded definition.
His last phone call was Gil. "Can I talk to her?" he had requested.
"She's sleeping right now," Lou relayed.
Grissom paused for a moment, searching for the right words to share, yet settling for, "Then can you tell her I'm sorry?"
Lou ended his last phone call. Palms against the counter, he leaned his shoulders over his hands, his elbows locked, and blew a breath of frustration. "I'm going to need to stop reacting to sorry," Lou thought, "I'm certainly going to hear it a lot later this week."
Lou focused his attention on the dishes, scrubbing away the remnants from the morning. Like the dishes, she had a tough outer shell, yet he knew her pain wouldn't wash away that easily.
After finding her laptop, he returned to sitting by her side. He typed "LVVANY0MI" to gain access to the laptop. He was met with a wistful memory of when she had set the password.
She had cooked for him at her house after shift to give them the opportunity to talk through the details of her move. He had stayed away for three weeks: the first and second, she was recovering from her gunshot wound and occasionally visiting him at his house, and the third, she had decided to start the major packing. He had spent the morning trying to ignore the boxes she had stacked in the living room. He was supposed to fly out to Virginia for a few days the following week to help her unpack them. The bitter thought of "Why is she packing at all?" tinged his mind, yet he already had the answer – with the promise of a new job, she had welcomed the opportunity to leave Vegas behind.
After their meal, they sat at the dining room table, sipping coffee and fiddling with her new laptop. "Lindsey says it's better for FaceTime," Catherine had indicated when she made the purchase, trying to let him know that she was making an effort to be able to see him, albeit virtually. He hoped he'd have better luck using it with her than he'd had with Jake.
"I'll have a three site family now," she had explained.
He understood she was happy, yet it would take him more than the 3 weeks he had known for him to warm to the idea that she was moving so far away. His brow furrowed, concentrating more on his thoughts and the coffee than the conversation. "The look on your face says Las Vegas, Virginia, New York, oh my!" she teased.
He scowled.
"Look – it's prompting me for a password. How about L-V-V-A-N-Y-0-M-I?" she emphasized each character, staring at him and giving him a hard time.
He stared back, yet didn't take the bait. Two could play that game. "Why the zero?"
"It needed a number."
"I need you."
He had her pinned against the wall, assaulting her lips with kisses before she could respond. He took her swiftly as if to drive his point of "Please don't leave" deep within her walls so they'd be inseparable.
The next week, she left.
The obituary she had started was still open on the computer. He skimmed it, noting she had taken care of the familial details. He thought it looked good as is, yet he added where Lindsey attended school for Catherine's consideration.
To fill his idle time, he wandered the Internet, looking for a dress Catherine might like, what to get her for Christmas, and an array of other topics in between. Shopping certainly wasn't his forte, yet he thought he would be helping Catherine if he tried narrowing down some of the dress choices. At least the more time he spent searching, the less time his mind was idle to spend worrying about her.
She woke early evening to a dull pain behind her eyes and the occasional click of a keyboard. "Hey, Lou," she said, unmoving.
"Hey, you," he returned, closing his browser window of Christmas gifts and setting her laptop aside. "How you doing?" he asked, resting his hand on her arm.
She pulled herself to a sitting position and hunched over, resting her elbows on her knees, her hands pressing against her eye sockets. "Headache," she explained.
He moved to get up to fetch Tylenol and water from the bathroom, yet her hand around his forearm held him back. "I'll get it. It's not that bad. I have to get up anyway," she said.
She returned after a few minutes looking refreshed, her hair pulled into a ponytail. "Whatcha been up to?" she asked, crawling back into bed and leaning against his shoulder.
He pointed toward her laptop. "I took a look at the obituary that you prepared – you did a great job, by the way – and I've been looking at dresses for you."
"You? Trying to pick out a dress?" she feigned shock.
"Why so surprised? I am a sharply dressed man, thank you," he played along, mimicking tightening a tie.
"Who dresses women?"
"You certainly don't complain when I undress them."
"Them?"
"Oh, very funny. Like I could handle more than one of you."
"There is only one me."
"Thank God."
She tickled his sides, taking pleasure in watching him squirm. He tickled her back until they were both laughing and panting for air. "Truce?" he asked.
She nodded and sealed their truce with a kiss. "Now, let's see those dresses," she declared.
"Lou, this one looks downright awful," she announced, pointing at the laptop on her lap.
He peeked over her shoulder. "It reminded me of the one you wore when you took me on your tour of D.C. and got us lost at the National Mall."
"So that one was awful too?" she challenged.
"That's not what I'm saying, and you know that. You look beautiful in anything. Even nothing," he added.
She took the compliment. "I might, but that dress won't," she scoffed.
She cycled through a few more pages of dresses before she found one for herself. Then she remembered, "Oh, Lindsey," which led her to shake her head and push her laptop to her knees. She didn't want to think about picking her dress now.
"Oh, dammit, the obituary," she remembered, pulling the laptop back to her lap.
Lou watched her internal struggle, punctuated by the movement of the laptop and frown gracing her face, yet he didn't intervene, giving her the space to work it out. She navigated to the obituary that was still open and he looked over her shoulder again. "All I added was her college, Cath. Like I said, you did a great job," he reiterated.
Catherine reread the obituary a couple of times. "I like that. I'd like to add her major in theatre as well. She so loved singing and dancing."
"Like her Mom," he said, kissing her temple.
"Singing? Not so much," she rebuffed.
"C'mon, I know you sing a mean Happy Birthday," he encouraged.
"If you replace happy with crappy," she grumbled, returning her attention to the laptop, indicating the conversation was over.
Catherine finished her edits and e-mailed the obituary to the funeral director. "One more thing done," she thought.
"Nick should be here soon," Lou noted, checking his watch.
"We better clean up, then."
Lou and Catherine emerged from the bedroom wearing jeans and t-shirts. "Let's get these picked up," Catherine stated, gesturing her arm across the room at the pictures she had worked on. "Just stack them for now," Catherine instructed, "then they can get stuck to the foam board once Nick gets here."
"Cath, I can get these," he stated, reaching for her shoulder and trying to get her to avoid the task of going through the memories yet again.
She shooed his hand away. "I'll help. I've got it, don't worry about it."
Catherine lingered looking at some of the pictures as she picked them up. She paused at Lindsey's high school graduation picture, seemingly looking through the portal into the past. "I think it's the loss of promise of a future that makes it hardest," Catherine stated. "I can hold on to memories of the past, yet I can't see dreams materialize in the future."
Lou stopped picking up pictures and looked over at her, the graduation picture shaking in her hand. "What would my little girl have worn on her wedding day?" she considered. "What would my grandkids have looked like?"
"Catherine," he interrupted her thoughts, trying to pull her back into the present.
A knock at the door caused both of them to freeze. "Shit," she cursed.
"Stall for me," she pleaded, pushing the pictures into Lou's hands and disappearing back into the bedroom.
"I should have tried harder," he thought. "Nick, I'll be right there," he called to the door, rushing to pick up the remainder of the pictures.
"Hey, man, thanks for coming," Lou stated, opening the door to Nick.
Nick carried a few large pieces of foam board under one arm and takeout and beer in the other. Lou relieved Nick of the foam board and welcomed him inside. "No problem. Where's Catherine?" Nick asked, not seeing her in the living room or the kitchen as he scanned the rooms from the entranceway.
"I'll be out in 5 minutes, Nicky!" Catherine shouted from the bedroom.
Lou shook his head that she had been listening in. "I brought your favorite takeout and beer," Nick hollered back, "and cards, if you're up for it."
He was offering her a distraction, which she eagerly clung to with all of her strength. Her tone was bright and masked the pain she experienced minutes earlier. "Hope you're ready to lose!" she returned.
Lou steered Nick to the kitchen so they could setup the takeout and talk without being overheard. "She's had a long day," Lou explained unnecessarily.
"When we lost Warrick, we all took it pretty hard," Nick recalled, "some days we'd go out after shift and play cards at the diner just to keep our mind off things. I know this isn't nearly the same, but I've got to do something to help, and being here for her is the best way I know to take care of her."
"We all just want to help," Lou thought. "Thanks, Nick," he replied.
When Catherine entered the bathroom through the bedroom, she stared at herself in the mirror and forced herself to take slow, deep breaths. "Breathe, Catherine, breathe," Catherine chided herself, willing herself not to cry for what felt like the thousandth time that day. She patted her cheeks. "Snap out of it. You have a present standing in the other room that could give you a future."
Satisfied that she stopped the immediate threat of tears, she reentered the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the conversation in the hall. "I'll be out in 5 minutes, Nicky!" she shouted when she heard him question where she was.
She welcomed the prospect of a distraction with open arms.
The last time she had played cards, it had been strip poker with Lou. She had gone from fully clothed to skirt and a top in a matter of a few hands. "You're cheating! You're purposely trying to lose!" he accused her when she removed her bra from beneath her blouse and tossed it aside after losing another hand.
"Whatcha gonna do about it, Copper," she taunted, leaning over.
He couldn't take his eyes off of her breasts that were now fully visible through the deep vee of her blouse. He reached his hand out to touch her skin, to cup one of her warm, supple breasts in his hand, yet she pushed his hand away before he made contact. "Oh, no – no touching," she scolded, "game's not over yet."
Begrudgingly, he groaned and dealt another hand. She lost again, this time removing her panties from beneath her skirt. "Game over," he declared, tackling her to the floor and removing the rest of her clothing with his own hands.
They were seated at the table, takeout plated, when she returned. "Hey, Cath," Nick greeted her, standing and pulling her in for a big hug. "I'm so, so sorry."
Lou stiffened at the words, yet Catherine pulled back and stated, "Thanks. So where are those cards?"
They settled in to eat dinner and play hand after hand of cards.