Outside the church, Gil’s phone started ringing. “Grissom,” he answered it, hanging outside the front doors. He didn’t want to go into the church while on his phone; it seemed disrespectful.
“Hey, it’s me.”
He sighed heavily, glad to hear Catherine’s voice. “I love you.”
She chuckled softly. “Right back atcha baby. Bad day?”
“One of the worst.” He looked up at the sky, and then down at his feet. “’Right back atcha baby?’” They both dissolved into laughter.
“You know I meant to say ‘I love you,’” she said, still laughing a little. “I was just trying to be different.”
He sighed, trying to contain his laugh. “That’s the first laugh I’ve had since this case started. I owe you. How’s your case going?”
Catherine replied cheerfully. “It’s getting there. You sure you’re going to be okay? Did you want me to help you out? I’m sure Warrick can get this on his own—”
He cut her off. “Well, right now, I’m at Father Powell’s church.”
“Oh.” She responded, and then asked: “Are you sure you don’t want company? I can rush down, and—”
“Cath... I’m a scientist, and I do have some problems with the Catholic Church, but, I can handle a small conversation with a man. It’s not like sitting through mass or anything.”
She countered softly. “But, you haven’t been in a church since when?”
He shrugged. “Dunno.”
“Call me when you get back, okay?”
Gil answered: “I will.”
“Promise me, Gil Grissom.”
He smiled. “I promise.”
“Okay. Have fun. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
He turned his phone off and put his hand on the handle of the heavy entrance door. He shuddered, and opened it. It was dimly lit inside, as he expected, but there was still that calm and quiet. When he was little, the quiet used to frighten him.
Father Powell had been talking to someone, but parted ways with him once he saw Gil enter. Gil sat in a pew and waited.
Gil spoke first: “I know that we’ve arrested the wrong brother.” The priest sat down. “He came to see you as soon as Ben was in custody.”
Father Powell nodded. “I tried to help... without breaking my vows.”
Gil sighed. He hated this feeling of helplessness. “We both had jobs that begin after the crime.”
“After the sin.”
“Some people would call that a career in futility,” Gil pointed out, after taking a deep breath to control his discomfort in his surroundings.
The priest countered. “Some call it a vocation.”
Gil fought to keep his voice calm. “A hundred years ago we didn’t have the technology for finger prints. Fifteen years ago, we didn’t have DNA. Hopefully one day, we’ll have foolproof means by which to put the right man in jail in this case.”
Father Powell still defended himself and his beliefs. “Someday, we won’t need jails.” Gil looked up. He didn’t know how such faith existed. “I celebrate mass every Thursday night, seven o’clock.”
“Thank you... but...” Gil shook his head. There was no way he’d be able to sit for a service. His soul, his mind... his being wouldn’t let him. “No.”
“You don’t believe?”
Gil shrugged. “In religion? I believe in God, in science, in Sunday Supper. I don’t believe in rules that tell me how I should life.”
The priest seemed surprised. “Even if they’re handed down by God?”
Gil continued to defend his point of view. “How many crusades were fought in the name of God? How many people died because of someone’s religion?”
“Fanaticism,” Father Powell responded. “Not religion.”
“Semantics. They’re still dead. I’m sorry about Ben, Father.”
He stood up. The priest looked up at him, before standing: “You still suffer like a catholic.” He paused. “The light bulb goes out, and other people fix it, get a new one. Light bulb goes out for the Catholic, and he stands in the dark and says, ‘What did I do wrong?’”
Gil tried to keep the tension at bay. “That guilt’s not in me anymore.”
He turned and walked out of the church. Once outside, he felt relieved. He had been very uncomfortable in the sanctuary. He also turned his phone on, and dialed Catherine’s number.
When she answered her phone, he smiled at her voice. “See? Told you I would.”
“How’d it go?”
“I survived.”
“I knew you would,” he could feel her smile. It cheered him up. “I have faith in you, Gil.” Before he could respond to that, she quickly added: “I’m going to go pick up Lindsay. We’re going to go have some mother-daughter bonding time, and then we’re going to pick up supper. Anything in particular you’d prefer eating?”
He spoke while opening his vehicle’s door. “As long as it’s not MacDonald’s, we should be okay.”
“Pizza or chinese?”
“Either is fine,” he told her. “Would you mind picking up a bottle of wine on your way around?”
She answered: “Not at all. I’ll see you at home, then?”
“Yep.”
~*~
Catherine rummaged around the car. “Is it back there with you, Lindsay?”
“No, Mommy. I can’t see it.”
She sighed, trying to think of where she might’ve left her purse. “The office,” she groaned, not wanting to take her daughter back there. It wasn’t exactly fair; they were supposed to be spending time together, where work wouldn’t hunt her down, and she was going to have to take her in. “Baby, I left my purse at work. We’re going to have to make a quick stop, okay?”
“Can I hang out with Uncle Warrick?”
Catherine smiled. “If he’s there, sure. Greg might be around, too.” Lindsay squealed, delighted; her mother wondered why she was so lucky that her daughter didn’t mind.
In five minutes they were parked in the lot, and Catherine had lifted Lindsay out of the back seat. Together they rushed in. She noticed that Warrick was gone, but she did see Greg in the lab. “Hey, Greg?” The females poked inside the door.
Greg looked up and smiled when he saw them both. “Hey, Cath and Lindsay.” She grinned and rushed to him. “Gonna help me here for a bit?”
“Can I?”
Greg nodded. “Sure. You know what else? We could even take some of your DNA and compare it to your mother’s...” He leaned in and whispered loudly: “You have to get one of your mother’s hairs though.”
Catherine almost laughed when Lindsay’s face wrinkled. “From her head?”
“’Fraid so.”
Lindsay rushed back to her mother, arms outstretched. Catherine wasn’t stupid—she knew what was coming—but she also saw that look in her daughter’s eyes. She hoisted the girl up, “I’ll be back in a bit, I promise.”
She wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck. “Okay. Greg and I will have fun.”
“Be good, baby— Owww!”
Giggling and wriggling, Lindsay slid to the ground and rushed back to Greg, who examined the hair. “You got a skin tag,” he grinned. “Good work.” He looked up at Catherine, who mouthed ‘thank you’ in his direction, and then left the room with a smile.
She left the lab area, and headed towards Gil’s office—where she assumed she left her purse. On her way down a hall, she ran into Gil. Her heart still skipped a beat when she saw him. He looked really upset, even though he was trying to hide it.
He spoke first. “Hey.”
“Oh,” she thought of something she forgot to mention to him earlier. “You’re going to be getting a call from the local papers about spa safety.”
He looked somewhat confused. She knew he probably forgot what her case was about, but she wasn’t about to scold him; she knew he had a lot on his mind. “Spa safety?”
“We had a victim die of an allergic reaction at the Mediterranean. Some foul play, some negligence.”
“So, what am I supposed to say?”
She answered: “That it was an isolated incident... that in no way should it be a mark against the Strip’s other fine hotel-casinos.”
He understood. “CSI supports Las Vegas.”
“Bottom line.”
She left him at the counter in the hall, determined to get her purse and Lindsay before she got sucked into stayed and doing more work. She deserved to have a family night.
When she came out of his office, purse in her hands, she heard commotion. She rushed the way she came, and saw some blood, Gil, some officers, and heard lots of yelling. Panic flooded her system. Without a thought, she rushed back to the lab.
“Hey, back so soon?” Greg looked disappointed.
She shook her head and tossed the purse onto a nearby and empty cart. “Something happened. I’ll be right back. Make sure Lindsay stays here.”
“Sure.”
She blew her daughter a kiss, and rushed back to the scene.
Before peaking in, she heard the medic: “I'm going to pronounce. 22:04.” Gil wasn’t the one bleeding, she saw, and felt her body relax at the news. She still waited outside, though; she knew Gil wouldn’t want her right on top of him.
However, when he finally left the holding area, she popped up and away from the wall. “Gil!”
“Cath... he... his teeth... he....”
She wrapped her arms around him, forgetting that he was covered in blood. “I just have to get Lindsay. She’s with Greg.” She fished her keys out of her coat. “Go get in my car. Warm it up.”
“Cath—”
“Do what I say, Gil Grissom...” She pressed her lips to his cheek, surprised at the extent of her public display. “I’m going to go get my daughter, and we’re going home.” Before she pulled back, she felt him shiver. “Can you make it?”
His eyelids fluttered for an instant. “I feel... sick.”
“Okay,” she acted quickly, turning them towards the exit. “Lean on me a little. I’ll help you outside.”
Together they made it to her car. She opened the passenger door, and helped him in. He fell back against the seat. “Thanks, Cath.”
“C’m’ere,” she instructed gently, opening her arms. In the hug, she felt him shudder before relaxing. She rocked him back and forth, until he told her that he’d be fine, and that she should go get Lindsay before Greg corrupts her.
With a smile, Catherine left him and went to get her daughter.
Once inside the lab, the tiny blonde greeted the adult with a huge smile and excited bouncing. “We match, Mom!”
Catherine smiled and bent down to her level. “Well, I should hope so.” She looked up at Greg. “Thanks for taking her.”
Greg eyes her coat. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “It’s not mine. One of the suspects in one of Gil’s cases... the innocent one, the one who was taking the fall...” She trailed off because Greg nodded in understanding, and because she didn’t want to upset her daughter. “All set, Linds? Gil’s waiting for us in the car.”
“Is he going to visit tonight?”
Cath smiled, standing up and taking her daughter’s hand. “He’s going to stay for supper, if that’s okay.” She waved to Greg on their way out. “Thanks, again, Greg!”
Once outside, she turned serious. “Lindsay, Gil’s case today was really hard on him.”
“He’s upset?”
“Yeah. He’s also, um... well, there was an accident, and he got some blood on him.” She saw Lindsay’s big eyes, and worked to calm her. “It’s not his. He wasn’t hurt. But, if he looks upset, or tired... that’s why, okay?”
“Okay.”
~*~
When Catherine joined him in the bedroom, Gil had already tucked himself into bed. She undressed in front of him and put a small nightgown on, before turning the light out and crawling into bed with him.
He had been trying to keep himself together all night, but her soft skin on his was more than he could handle. When she reached out and took his hand, he burst into tears. His first thought was one of stopping the tears, that Catherine had seen him cry more recently than ever before; the first thought gave way to the second when Catherine wrapped herself around him, telling him to keep crying until he felt better.
His chest ached, but he did feel better. She leaned into him and pressed her lips to his damp cheeks. “Next shift will be better,” she tried to comfort him.
“I should’ve been able to do more...” he murmured into her body, where he had turned into her to find more comfort.
“Gil, you can’t beat yourself up over this,” she whispered back, while running her fingers through his hair. “You did your job, and what happened can’t be helped.”
He groaned softly and rolled onto his back. Catherine, in turn, rolled onto her side and propped her head up with her hand. “What if I could’ve been able to prevent it?”
She put her hand to his chest. “What if you couldn’t, Gil? There’s no use beating yourself up. If you let every case get to you... you know how it’ll eat you up.” She kissed the hand that he had brought up to caress her face. “I don’t want that to happen to you.”
“I must’ve really worried Lindsay...” He commented on a sigh.
Catherine smiled. “She cares about you. Luckily, she didn’t see the actual event.” She sighed, lowering her head until it was on his chest. “I saw the blood and heard your voice... I panicked. I thought you were in trouble.” She looked at him when he lifted his head. “I love you.”
Those words helped, even though he heard them from her all the time. He felt the guilt, the darkness lift away. “I love you, too,” he managed a smile. “You know you kissed me in public tonight.”
She smiled back at him. “I did. I didn’t mean to, I was panicked, and then relieved when I saw you. Emotional ups and downs.”
“Hazard of the job,” he said sadly.
“Stop it,” she scolded lightly. She leaned up over him and kissed his lips. The guilt lifted away even more. His hands sought her flesh; she moaned when he affectionately touched her face and back, while lifting herself up onto him. She rested entirely on top of him.
He paused from kissing her. “Why do you have faith in me?”
“Because you’ve always been there. We’ve had some problems, but we’ve always been able to come back to each other. You save me when I need saving,” she kissed him once. “You listen when I need to talk. When I feel like listening, you talk... sometimes.” They both chuckled. “I’m never alone when you’re here.”
“How do you feel about the Church?”
“Nice pillow talk, Gil, this feels like an interview,” she winked before answering his question: “I’m a scientist, you know that. Myths and legends don’t sit well with me. But, people need it sometimes. Good times, or bad times. They aren’t any weaker. They just need it.” She kissed him, tugging on his lower lip with her teeth. “Whatever gets you through the day.”
“You...” He nuzzled her hair, his hands slipping over the satin of her nightgown.
“What?”
He pulled back to look at her. “You are what gets me through the day.”
There were no more words. Gil didn’t know what he needed to say or hear to get himself through the ordeal he had experienced; he knew he needed Catherine, and she was there. In her, he knew, he’d find comfort.
She rolled over, onto her back, while slipping out of her sleep wear. He set it on the bedside table for her, before rolling so he was leaning over her.
He bent his head and began kissing down her body, savoring her skin. Her moans and sighs fueled him on. She arched under him when he touched her sensitive zones; he chuckled into her when she struggled to pull him up, to no avail.
Instead, he continued lower, kissing each leg until he reached her feet. He licked along her ankles, and then along the arch of each foot. She squirmed and tried to convince him to join her in a series of disconnected sentence fragments, but he persisted.
When he finally returned to her, she was breathless. Her face told him how frustrated she was; her kisses told her how much she needed him.
She smiled when he slid into her. The guilt was nowhere to be found. Connected to her, he felt completely safe.
Together, they moved. Their hips, their hands, their legs, their lips; everything was in synch. He bit his lip when he felt his release, struggling against the urge to cry out. He saw bright colours, and then her eyes; he felt explosions, and then her hands kneading his back.
He tucked his face into her shoulder and sighed. When she moved them so he was on his side and she was behind him, holding him protectively, he whispered: “You didn’t—”
She cut him off; her breath tickled his ear. “Sleep. You need it.”
Catherine had been right. He felt his system level off, and then, he slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The End!
