I'd do anything…

She shuddered as she entered his office. He was off at the second annual entomological convention in Concord New Hampshire; her only consolation was he'd taken the hissing roaches with him, muttering something about a winning team. She'd offered to tend the remains of his ever increasing menagerie while he was absent.

At the time of her proposal, it had seemed to be such a trivial act. The least she could do. In a small way, she thought it would keep him close while he was away, fill a void. She also knew that he didn't trust anyone else with this task. What could she do? How could she deny him?

It had seemed so simple, until he'd provided her with six neatly printed sheets of paper filled with instructions. It seemed far from straightforward now.

She approached the spider tanks first, a grimace appearing on her face, wanting to get the task she feared most, completed first. Dropping the few crickets into the first tank, she silently cursed herself, realizing that, this would attract the spider's attention, making them undoubtedly appear before she could change the water.

She quickly grabbed the water dish, refilling it. As lowered it slowly, to avoid spilling any water, Gertie, the tarantula, chose that moment to prove that she was still alive. Catherine froze, her hand halfway inside the tank, mesmerized by the hairy black legs that seemed to creeping closer, all too aware of her presence. Squeezing her eyes shut, she continued to lower the dish, preferring now not to observe the spider's progress. The moment she was confident the dash was secure and not about to spill its contents, it took all of her willpower to slowly draw her hand out of the tank, knowing swift movements would provoke an attack. With her hand free of the confines of the tank, she quickly pulled the lid across, to prevent Gertie's escape. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, before attempting the tanks containing the other spiders. With these, she did not make the same mistake, changing the water before feeding them.

She was now left with the beetles and the antlions. Catherine quickly scanned the instructions, trying to decide which was the lesser of the two evils, believing that neither could really be as easy as Gil had first suggested. She went with the antlions, knowing she had to feed them ants, so in her mind it was in fact double the task.

She smiled as she read Gil's instructions for the beetles. He'd written an explanation of their feeding habits adding, `As they need protein, I usually feed them earthworms, but as you've been so kind to offer to help them, I've left a small tin of dog food in my fridge, they can have that as a treat.' Catherine retrieved the dog food, placing a small amount on a dish, which she put into their tank.

Her task complete, she felt a small amount of pride. Apart from the near disaster with Gertie, she'd managed to do what Gil had directed. Having done it today, she knew that tomorrow she would find it even easier, although she would not relish it; she was willing to do this for him.

I'd do anything…

"Come on, Gil, it'll be fun."

"Humph, the induction ball for the new mayor, fun. How do you come to that conclusion?"

Catherine smiled at him. "An opportunity to dress up…."

"Ha! An evening being slowly strangled by my tie, I don't think so."

"Well there's dinner…"

"Rubber chicken in some unidentifiable sauce, no thanks."

"A chance to network…"

"Do I look like the sort of person who would network?"

The following evening Gil Grissom resplendent in a tuxedo and perfectly knotted bow tie lazily swayed on the Veronese ballroom at the Venetian. Catherine Willows in his arms, helping him to keep time. He was aware they were attracting attention. He was silently convinced that they would be the source of office gossip for many weeks to come, if not months.

He was loathed to admit it, but this had been a good idea in some ways. By some twist of fate, or Catherine's interference, he wasn't sure which; they'd been seated on the same table as the new mayor, who had been more than willing to listen to his requests and ideas about developing the lab.

What had made this more enjoyable in many ways was Conrad Ecklie wasn't at the same table, and had been resigned to shooting glances in Gil's direction at frequent intervals throughout the meal.

The meal was, as he predicted chicken. He had joked with Catherine that they ought to take some of the sauce it was smothered in back to the lab in order that it could be identified. Her response was to nudge him firmly in the ribs with her elbow, so he now had an elbow shaped bruise as a further memento of this evening.

Catherine had pulled him onto the dance floor, despite his loud protests as soon as the band had started to play. There was no doubt in his mind that she was the most beautiful woman there. Her close fitting black dress emphasized her figure. Her hair was pulled up, in an intricate chignon; a few strands had been left loose to frame her face. She was drawing admiring glances from the men, and envious ones from the women, all of which seemed to heighten the attention on the two of them. Gil was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. He would rather sink into the background, the archetypal wallflower, but with Catherine that was impossible.

It hadn't been the fun she'd promised, nor the nightmare he'd predicted either. He was sure he'd not be allowed to forget his dance floor antics. But what was of greater value to him was he'd done this for Catherine, to allow her to have a night when she could dress up, become a lady for an evening, not a mom or a CSI. He was willing to do that for her.

I'd do anything….

Catherine entered the laundry room, in time to see Gil fall onto the floor and Syd Goggle grab a shovel, raising it, ready to hit Gil. She didn't hesitate, think of the consequences, she just reacted, shooting Goggle, killing him.

Her first thoughts on seeing his prone body were not of her actions, but of Gil, she needed to reassure herself that he was all right.

As Culpepper and his team raced in, shouting orders into their radios, the reality of her actions started to slowly sink in. She had taken a life.

She shivered causing Gil to look at her with concern filled eyes. She turned abruptly, trying to hide the onslaught of emotions that were quickly overwhelming her. She needed to reassure him she was okay, and in so doing allow him to get the medical attention he would no doubt try to shun.

Facing him again, she smiled weakly. "Come on, we need to get the paramedics to check your arm."

"I'm okay. It's okay. Cath…" The concern was evident in his voice.

She gave him a quick smile. "I'm okay. Come on, let's get your arm looked at." She winked at him. "This way you can avoid both Culpepper and Mobley, okay?"

He surrendered to her argument, in the hopes of stealing some time with her, before the investigators would turn their attention from the dead body of Syd Goggle to Catherine, trying to justify her reasons for shooting.

She managed to get him to the paramedics, before surrendering her weapon to Jim Brass. She then returned to the Laundry Room, knowing Gil was in good hands and had sustained no life threatening injuries was enough. She needed to distance herself from him. She'd come close to losing him and as a result taken somebody's life in return. She needed to find some justification. She needed to try to exorcise her actions from her mind as quickly as possible, in the hopes of leaving no lasting impression there.

She found herself soon relating the events to first Rick Culpepper, then Jim Brass and finally Brian Mobley. She hoped with each retelling the weight in her stomach would lessen but it didn't.

She couldn't face Gil, now, knowing that in order to save him she'd taken the life of another. What she couldn't justify was her feeling that if she was in the same or a similar situation she would react in the same way, without hesitation. How could she have such scant regard for human life, be willing to value one life above others?

She'd smiled at Jim as he approached her, trying to mask her feelings.

"Hey, Cath, how are you doing?"

"I'm that easy to read huh?"

"Come on, I'll take you back to the lab and we can talk. Something tells me you need someone to talk to."

"You sure?"

"I've spoken with the Sheriff and Culpepper, they don't need you here. You are free to go."

They walked to his car, Catherine waiting until they were both inside before speaking. "I'd do it again."

"That scares you?"

She stared at him, managing, barely, to hold back the tears of guilt that threatened. Then nodded. "How can I…."

Jim reached across and squeezed her shoulder. "It was a good shooting Catherine. You did what you had to. If you hadn't have shot him, Gil would not be pacing his office wondering where you are."

"He's pacing his office?"

Jim nodded. "He's called me three times in the past ten minutes wanting to know where you are, and I can assure you it's not so you can sign off on the report. He's worried about you."

"I'm worried about me." She offered him a watery smile.

"I know honey. It's not easy I know. I would be lying if I told you that you will wake this evening and it will all be forgotten. It's going to take time, but it will get easier, believe me I know."

"Yeah?"

"Would I lie?"

She sniffled, trying to stop the tears. "Thanks Jim."

"Anytime Catherine. And if you need to talk again about this, call me, anytime, promise."

She leant over and kissed his cheek, then wiped the imaginary lipstick mark she'd left away. "Thank you. I promise you'll be the first one I call."

"That's my girl."

"Ehmm, Jim, would you do me a favour?"

"Sure."

"Don't tell Gil. He'll worry. I don't want him to worry."

"You sure?"

She nodded. "Yes. Let me….I'll talk to him, when I'm ready, I promise."

"Okay."

As soon as they'd arrived back at the lab, the rest of the team had ambushed them, demanding they all go out for breakfast. Jim made his excuses, as his shift was not yet over. Catherine had sought out Gil's face amongst the rest of the team, finding him, standing slightly behind them. He smiled, cocking his head to one side winking, a small gesture to let her know he was indeed all right.

She'd followed them to the diner, allowing their excited chatter as they filled Gil in on the events that had occurred in the lab in his absence to fill her mind. She didn't say much, and caught Gil glancing at her concerned several times. Each time, she tried to reassure him with a smile.

When the team left them one at a time to collect their food, she was alone for the first time with him. She could see his concern displayed clearly on his face.

"I never should have put you in that position, Catherine. I'm sorry."

She smiled, now was not the time to reveal her fears that could wait. She needed to allow them to settle within herself first, make her own peace before making him aware of he effect this had had on her. So she smiled and replied. "What position? Never doubt and never look back. That's how I live my life."

It was true. She had no doubts she did the right thing. If she had to do it again, she would, as that would mean saving Gil. How could she let him be harmed, she could live with the guilt so long as he was all right.

I'd do anything…

Gil Grissom headed swiftly into the lab building, grabbing a file from the reception area, trying to process what had appeared to happen moments before. The thought that Catherine could well be in the hands of a kidnapper and murderer was making rational thought difficult. She'd told him she was leaving for her daughter's nursery rhyme recital, and instead her belongings were left in the parking lot as she drove off with the suspect they'd just released.

Lindsey. The thought sent him cold. She'd be at school expecting her mom to cheer her on as she made her stage debut. Catherine would be as upset as her daughter for missing this.

He walked towards Greg, who was motioning to him.

"What'd you find?" He asked.

"The blood's female. Definitely not Logan's."

"So it looks like Roy Logan has something to hide. No wonder he got his lawyer to appear so quickly." Gil paused, then looked at Greg. "Greg, I need you to do something for me, and if anyone asks, you are to direct them to me, understand?"

"Sounds intriguing."

"Ehmm, Catherine's daughter, Lindsey was due to appear in a school recital. That's where Catherine was running off to when Logan got to her. I need you to go to the school, video the performance and bring Lindsey back here, ok?"

"No problem."

"I'll call the school to ensure they release Lindsey to your care, just a minute."

As Gil watched Greg leave, content that Lindsey would be overjoyed to see Greg, as her mother couldn't be there. His mind turned to thoughts of his Catherine. The realization of what had happened to her, started to overwhelm him. If the blood was female, then Catherine was at risk. They had no idea about this Roy Logan or who could possibly be influencing him. He leant against the wall, closing his eyes for a brief moment willing her to be strong, to be watched over, to come back to him.

He started to walk towards his office, only to be met by Jim.

"I ran Roy Logan. No criminal record; no wants; no warrants." Jim informed him sternly, no doubt hoping that by keeping to the barest facts he'd avoid the wrath of Grissom.

"The blood on his hand was female." Gil fought the urge to react. He was still trying to come to term with the events; it was not fair to inflict his anger over what he'd allowed to happen on somebody else.

"The guy's married. He lives in Summerlin. He bucks up; got a seven year-old son. But I'll check him out."

"What about the car?"

"Code five: Keep vehicle under surveillance; do not make contact with occupants. You know, Catherine had a gun. She could've used it."

Gil felt the need to escape, seek solace in the solitude of his office. He could not respond to a comment like that. She may well have had her gun, but had Brass really thought through the possible reasons as to why she'd not been able to use it?

It was there in his office that Nick and Warrick found him some time later. As they gave him their personal opinions on the motives of Roy Logan, Gil sat facing away from them, he could not allow his fear to be betrayed in his eyes, he needed to be strong to lead the team to find her. It was obvious that she held a place in both the younger men's hearts, if he appeared weak he could affect their ability to do their job, make them second guess each action delaying the investigation and increasing the time it took for them to find her. No better, to shield his emotions from them and keep that hope that she'd be returned safely.

Brass appeared to break his moment of reflection. His news about the good health of Logan's wife concerned him. If the wife was unharmed the implications as to what Roy Logan had become involved in suddenly became more sinister. With the amount of money he'd withdrawn, the readily available lawyer and female blood it suggested he'd been involved in some brutal crime against a woman and was on the verge of fleeing the country when they'd encountered him. The fact that he still had this money and now Catherine as some sort of bargaining tool, or worse, sent a shiver down his spine. He knew there was as yet a crime to be revealed, but he could not help but feel that was only a technicality, his core told him that Catherine was in danger, but where she was and what that danger was had yet to be revealed.

It was another half an hour of anxiously waiting for the next piece of evidence, the next clue as to what was unfolding, before he was brought from his office by Nick summoning him to reception, with the news that Sara had returned.

He listened intently as Sara recalled the events of her interrupted date.

"Catherine didn't say anything?" Nick asked.

Sara gave a brief shake of her head. "She barely made eye contact. She dropped the finger on the table and walked out."

"Where is it?" Grissom asked. Part of him was relieved that she was still alive and appeared unharmed.

"Locked up at the coroner's lab, waiting for Dr. Robbins. Unless you want me to wake him up in Kansas City. Brother's wedding, back tomorrow..." Sara reminded him.

"It was the right index finger?" Gil asked.

Sara held out her finger, illustrating where the finger was cut as she spoke. "Top half severed just below the right inter-costal joint."

"Any hemorrhagic tissue?" He needed these details; there was something safe about getting all the details of the case trying to piece them together. This is what he knew, what he was good at, and therefore what he needed to confirm.

"Yeah, I couldn't tell. There was blood, though."

"How did Catherine seem?" The concern was barely hidden from his voice.

"Like I told Nick, she completely ignored me."

"And her behaviour toward Logan? Was she under duress? Agitated?" Gil continued with his line of questioning. It was as if he'd be comforted by extracting every detail, that in doing so he'd be able to picture her bring her closer.

" No ... no, looked to me like Catherine was running the show."

"A severed finger, a million bucks. And Catherine's not allowed to talk to anyone." He stated the facts.

"Kidnapping?" Nick asked.

"So, who's worth one mil?" Warrick added.

"It's time to speak to his wife." Gil stated. He knew Brass had already been there, but a part of him also knew that no man could keep secret a kidnapping if it required the withdrawal of the better part of the family savings. The wife was either hanging onto the marriage ignoring the signs that her husband had strayed, or she knew far more than she'd currently divulged.

He was relieved when Nick offered to speak with Brass. He didn't trust his patience to deal with a woman who could well be hiding details to save her husband and thus put his Catherine in danger.

It was much later in the shift, a little after dawn, when Warrick brought them news of a sighting of Logan's car. Its erratic behaviour had caused concerns, which had now been passed on to the team.

They travelled out to where the car had last been seen. Travelling along the highway a little until they saw the tire tracks on the road. Gil slowed the vehicle to a stop, stepping out and slowly surveying the scene. Tire tracks that seemed to be pointing towards a single dirt track access road. He started towards it, leaving Warrick and Sara in his wake to collect the evidence. It felt as if he could still feel her presence, her strength. He noted the way she'd dragged her heels, forming mini- canyons in the sandy earth. He saw the glow stick she'd dropped, his thoughts for a moment turning to Lindsey. He smiled to himself imaging the three of them sitting down to watch the performance. He tried to ignore the nagging voice that told him that this might not be his reality, that his Catherine could by now be dead, that instead of a potential kidnapping he could be investigating a double murder.

He walked up the access road his eyes roving from side to side, looking for the slightest clue as to what had happened. He stopped where a second set of tire tracks appeared, quickly surveying the surrounding area he found a small metal canister.

He walked to his two team members holding the canister out. "Helium canister."

Warrick looked at him. "You mean like helium for balloons? You can also use it to change the pitch in your voice."

Gil started to run through the details they'd uncovered, surmising where the cars had stopped and the events that had infolded there a few brief hours earlier. He was careful to refer to this as a kidnapping; not willing to voice his fears of what could have happened.

He was doing really well at hiding his fears until Warrick asked. "Then why hasn't Catherine contacted us yet?"

Gil could only manage to shake his head, unable to respond, due to the large lump he knew was his heart that now filled his throat. If he opened his mouth his fears would be unleashed and that would serve no purpose but unnecessary concern for him.

The journey back to the lab was silent. Warrick and Sara seemed to sense Gil's need for solitude and afforded him the necessary space.

On reaching the lab Gil was advised of Al's return. He made his way to the morgue, finding Al already pondering the severed finger. He was in the middle of listening to Al's findings when his cell phone rang.

"Grissom."

"Hey." Her voice sent shivers of relief coursing through his body. "I'm okay"

"Thank god."

"There was a kidnapping."

"I know -- Amanda Freeman. She's dead ... and whoever touched the money probably has glow-in-the-dark paint on their hands." He could barely disguise the excitement from his voice.

"You got my clues?" He could tell she was smiling.

"Yeah, nicely done. I know just about everything except ... where are you?"

He listened as she told him, then reluctantly ended the call, knowing the need to get the police out there to bring her back was more pressing than his need to hear her voice.

It was later that evening after they'd closed the case and ensured Lindsey felt secure in her bed once more, that he got to hold her, and reassure himself that she was indeed returned to him. She sat beside him on the couch, her head resting against his chest, his arm around her shoulder. He idly stroked her upper arm, revelling in their closeness.

Catherine shifted slowly, so she could see him. "Thank you, thank you for recording Lindsey's play. She was wonderful." There was a moment of silence, before she continued. "I was so scared. I thought…I…." She started to cry.

He pulled her towards him, cradling her head against his chest. "It's okay. I've got you. You're safe." He kissed the top of her forehead. Holding her tight until she calmed herself.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes still glistening from the freshly shed tears. "I love you. I hope you know that. You are so good to me and Lindsey, too good."

He smiled, kissing her forehead. "I love you." Knowing that she was indeed too good for him, and for her he'd do anything.

I'd do anything….

It was a Thursday, a year and a half since Catherine's return to Gil's team after her brief time as swing shift supervisor. Catherine and Gil had been called out to a murder at the Mirage. As they slowly examined the bedroom where the body had been discovered. Gil bent down close to the bed, the light having caught on something that reflected it. "Err Cath?"

"Yeah."

"Could you pass me my tweezers?"

She smiled, standing swiftly and sauntering to his kit. "For you dear anything."

He looked up sharply catching the smile on her face; he quickly returned it adding a wink for his wife, his Catherine.

The End