Platypus 8: Fireworks

Gil held Catherine in his arms, as they lay down in her bed after what seemed like an eternity of passion. He kissed the top of her head. “That was...” he couldn’t even think of a word to describe it. “You know.”

She sighed, bringing her hand up to stroke his chest lightly. He shivered under the touch. The reactions she provoked in him were incredible. He couldn’t even think straight around her sometimes. “Yeah, I do.”

“Does Lindsay mind that I’m here?”

Catherine shook her head. “Nah, she’s pretty fond of you.”

“Good,” he responded. “I am, too.”

She looked up at him, a smile twitching at her lips. “You’re fond of you, too, or fond of her, too?”

He rolled them both over, a grin on his face. “You’re silly. Fond of her.” She smiled. He thought he saw tears, but he wasn’t sure; the moisture disappeared before he could determine it existed. He wondered why Catherine would let Lindsay see them together, being affectionate in front of her, if the feelings weren’t mutual; however strong the desire to find out exactly how she felt about him, he didn’t want to rush or ruin things between them. “Very fond of you, too.”

She lifted her head and kissed him. “Good, seeing how we’ve been sleeping together for quite some time now. I’d hate to think you loathe me.”

He didn’t reply with words; he bent his head and stole another kiss. This one lasted much longer than the first. He propped himself over her with one arm, and used the other to stroke his hand up and down her ribcage.

“Gil...” she whispered. “We can’t do this again.”

“Why not?”

As if on cue, his phone rang. She sighed and rolled out from under him. “That’s why.”

He cursed softly, and reached to the bedside table to answer it. “Grissom.” Jim Brass was on the line. There was an explosion in a building downtown. One dead man. “Okay... call Sara and Warrick. I’ll get Catherine.” After saying good-bye to him, he hung up his phone, and looked at his lover. “Brass. There was a bomb.”

She nodded. “Takes one explosion to kill another,” she smiled sadly, kissing his cheek before getting up and walking across the room to her bathroom. He watched her nude form moving in front of him, and smiled. He certainly was a lucky man.

“Hey, Cath?” He called out.


“Think I have time for a quick shower?”

“Probably not, why?”

“I’d really like a cold splash of water.”


“Smell the sulfur?” Gil asked Catherine and Brass as they examined the dead security guard. Catherine nodded. Gil pulled his knife out and scraped a dark powder off of the body. “Got your lighter, Jim?”


After he fished it out, Gil held the knife up. “Light this.”

It light up and caught on fire, all with a small whoosh. Catherine spoke next: “Gunpowder. Well, we know the propellant.”

He nodded. “So, would you care to make a preliminary call on this?”

She smiled. “I’d love to. Seat of the bomb,” she said while they got up. “Is here.” She pointed at the distinct markings on the floor. “Victim was thrown three metres. His clothes are torn, but not burnt, indicating a low velocity propellant. 67,000 feet per second.” Gil fought the urge to smile. She could be so sexy when mapping out a crime scene. He loved watching her at work sometimes. “Who, why, will he do it again?” She shrugged. “Time will tell.”


Gil looked up when he saw Catherine enter the room, carrying an envelope. “What’s that?”

“Pictures of Nick’s...” She trailed off. “Christie. The dead prostitute.”

He squinted, not understanding how she got her hands on the pictures. “Why do you have those? It’s Days’ case.”

She smiled proudly. “I convinced Ecklie and the Sheriff to give me 12 hours to clear Nick.” Gil nodded, not smiling or frowning. He believed his CSI didn’t do it; Nick didn’t have an evil bone in his body, as far as he could tell. However, if there was no evidence that proved otherwise, Nick wouldn’t have a chance. “You know he didn’t do it.”

“I do,” he nodded. “But, evidence isn’t subjective, Catherine. It tells you what it tells you.”

She shut the door, and turned back to face him. “I know. But, he didn’t do this. There has to be something that’ll tell me he didn’t do it.” She sat down in his lap when he pulled back from his desk. “How’s your case going?”

“A couple leads. Nothing much. We have a man for questioning.”

“Think he did it?”

“He seems benign, but so did Milander.”

She put a finger in the middle of his forehead. When he asked what she was doing, she giggled. “When you fret, your forehead scrunches. Worry lines.” She replaced her finger with his lips. “Take a breath, Gil.”

He obeyed, inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly. “Thanks. Where are you off to now?”

“I have to stop in and see that sperm sample Greg has frozen.”

Gil nodded. “Think it’ll give you anything?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know. Nick claims it’s his. So, probably not. But, I just want to familiarize myself with the evidence before I go over and check the house out for weapons.”

“Will I see you later?”

She kissed his lips. His hands traced light patterns on her thigh, while he lost himself in the moment. “Of course you’ll see me later. Eddie has Lindsay tonight, remember?”

“Ohhh, yes.”

“Your place or mine?”

“Whichever’s closer,” she grinned. He laughed, and glanced at the clock. Catherine sighed. “Yeah, I should get going.” She kissed him once more, and then got up slowly. “I’ll see you later, Gil.”

“Bye, Cath.”

He immersed himself in paper work until an interruption ten minutes later. Warrick had something for him in the evidence room. He sighed, took his glasses off, and got up.

On his way past the DNA lab, he met Catherine on his way out. “Nice to see you again,” he grinned. “How’d it go?”

They rounded the corner. “The sperm found in the condom was frozen at 10:15 AM. It’s all heads. No tails.”

“I’m not quite up to speed on the particulars—”

She cut him off. “Takes about seven hours for bacteria to eat away at the tails, placing the time of ejaculation at 2:00 AM. but, Christie’s time of death was 6:00 AM.”

He understood everything she was saying, but it wasn’t entirely credible. A court wouldn’t see the link, and how that prevented Nick from being her killer. “Which suggests a lag between ejaculation and Christie’s murder, but it doesn’t disprove Nick’s presence at the time of the homicide.”

Catherine’s eyes met his. “You could be a little more supportive.”

He smiled at her and was about to say something; however, Sara prevented him from talking, by calling out to him. The lovers parted ways and went about their separate business.


Catherine knocked on Gil’s door after she came back with Nick, her system revved up because she solved the case. He was sitting on his couch, a facecloth over his eyes.

“It’s me,” she spoke softly. “Can I come in?”


She crossed the room, and kneeled down in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

“Dominic died today.” He answered without pulling the cloth off of his face. “He took the bomb out of the locker, carried it outside the building. Triggered it. It exploded. He exploded in front of me.”

She took his hand in hers and kissed the palm softly. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve been awful.”

He nodded. “Sums it up.”

“Well, do you want me to drive you home? The shift’s almost over, and I can do my paperwork tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “I think I’m gonna lie here for a while and then head home and go to bed.”

She felt the distinct feeling of rejection. Her stomach muscles were clenched and she found breathing difficult to maintain. “You don’t want company then?”

He shook his head. “People around me get killed.”

“A little over the top, don’t you think?” She asked. “I’ve been around you for what? 15 years? I haven’t gotten killed yet.”

“A matter of time,” he murmured, rolling over on his side, pulling his hand out of hers, his back shutting her out. “Go home to your daughter.”

Catherine wanted to hit him. It might release the tension she was feeling. Instead, she got up and shut and locked the door. He wasn’t going anywhere until they had a fight. She assumed he wouldn’t want to do it with the door open, in case the team was lingering around.

The instant the door clicked shut, Gil turned over. She hadn’t moved, so she assumed he thought she was gone and it was safe. When he pulled the cloth off of his face and saw her, she smiled, but her voice sounded angry. “You can’t push away the best friend you have, Gil. Be mean,” she taunted. “I like it.”

“Look, Cath,” he tried while sitting up. “This isn’t the time or the place. I just want to be left alone.”

“So you can sit in the dark and mope?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. You can’t let the guilt eat you up!”

He met her eyes. She saw how hurt he was, but she knew he’d thank her later for kicking his ass. “It’s not eating me up.”

“Riiiight.” She rolled her eyes. “Liar.”

He stood up and walked to her. “Cath, please, go. I can’t... I want to brood for a while.”

“Not going to let you,” she shook her head again. “Knowing you, you’ll get yourself into some kind of trouble.”

“That’s not your call to make!”

She shrugged. “I don’t care. I’m making it.”

He grabbed her. She didn’t wince, but his grip was tighter than usual. When he didn’t say anything, she acted, knowing he’d thank her later; she slid up onto the balls of her feet and kissed him passionately, her right leg lifting and resting on his hip so her lower leg could pull him in.

“Hate me all you want for this, Gil,” she replied when he pushed her away. “But, you can’t just hang on to this.”

“Catherine, just leave.” When she shook her head, he continued. “I’m not safe to be around right now. All I want to do is lose myself in you, and that’s not fair to you?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why isn’t it? I lose myself in you all the time. You used to do it. Why not now?”

“Fine,” he responded, before bruising her lips with his. She was surprised with his intensity, never seeing passion like this flare up in him. She felt his hands on her shirt, gasping when he ripped it open, sending a shower of buttons to rain on the floor.

They kissed for only a few more minutes. He removed her pants, and shoved her underwear aside, after he had opened up his own trousers. She lifted when he asked her to, and he thrust into her, pinning her to the wall next to the door. She wrapped her legs around his waist and groaned, gripping his hair with her hands.

When he sought release, he did so without waiting for her. She worked with him as he lowered them to the floor.

Their coupling had been short, and she missed having an orgasm, but she knew he needed it.

Minutes of silence passed before he said anything. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Who knew you were such an animal,” she joked, her smile appearing again.

He looked at her. She watched his eyes survey the damage. He brought a hand up and lifted her shirt and jacket back to see her shoulders and arms. She knew he’d see the beginnings of bruises. His face paled. “Oh, God, Cath...” he looked miserable. “I’m so sorry.”

“They’re only bruises, Gil,” she tried to soothe him.

“I ruined your shirt.”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t that crazy about it anyway. You can buy me a new one.”

“I hurt you,” he frowned, his eyes filling up with tears.

Catherine’s voice was soft and gentle. She knew him well enough to know she wouldn’t get hurt purposely. He wasn’t the abusive type. “Bruises, Gil. They’ll heal.” She managed an easy smile. “Look, so you exploded. So what? I’ve seen worse. I’ve dealt with worse. You were upset, and I was provoking you. You needed to vent somehow. You didn’t hit me or kick me in a violent way, you just got a little overzealous with the sex. Normal.”


She put a hand on his arm. “If you give me an orgasm right now, I’ll forget about the shirt, the bruises, how mopey you can get... the whole thing.”

“I might have to find you a shirt, too,” his mood lightened. “I don’t think the office is a suitable place for you to walk around topless.”

“They wouldn’t complain though,” she winked, as he slid her down so she lay on her back.

“But, I might get jealous...” He grinned back at her before giving her a kiss.

The End!

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