Catherine walked into the break room intent on getting some coffee and something to eat. She not had the opportunity to acquire either during the shift, and seeing as she was now heading for some overtime she decided to afford herself a little break. She was thankful that Lindsey was away at camp. She hated disappointing her daughter with an early morning call to break a promised breakfast date. It was part of her job, she knew that, evidence didn't work regular hours, but as Lindsey entered the teenage years it was becoming more difficult to justify the time she gave to it.

It wasn't just Lindsey growing that was making her question her work life. In the past two years her life had changed dramatically and in many ways she was still adjusting to those changes.

Maybe she was expecting too much. She'd gained more than she could have hoped for. She was happy, there was no doubting that, but was she happy with the compromises she was having to make? That was the all-important question, the one that tonight, more than other nights had kept igniting in her brain, suppressing all other thoughts when she'd allowed her mind to take a break from the evidence.

She could be scientific about it. Few would doubt her for being so. After all, her work life revolved around finding evidence, proving a theory, but this was one theory, one thought she was frightened of proving. Frightened because of what the evidence might indicate. Frightened of having to rebuild her life. Frightened of losing something she'd fought so hard for.

She crouched down in front of the small office refrigerator, opening the door; she scanned its contents, before letting out a deep sigh.

"Oh Cath, don't tell me he's been keeping his experiments in there again? I thought you got him to stop that."

She straightened up, closing the door, turning to face Nick, "No, no experiments, just nothing I want to eat right now."

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she put one hand behind her neck in an effort to relieve some of the tension that was building there, "Just tired, you know."

Nick smiled at her, "Oh yeah, I know that feeling. It's been a busy week."

Catherine smiled in an effort to reassure him, let him know everything was okay. "I guess I'm not used to the hours yet."

"You want to talk about it?"

Catherine paused, she needed to talk, but wasn't sure if she was quite ready yet. "No, I'm okay honest. Lindsey's away at camp, if I get my results back within the next..." she glanced at her watch, approaching nine in the morning, how did it get so late? "Uhm hour I might get a few hours sleep before coming back. I'm fine honestly." She added noting the concern on his face.

"Well, anytime you need to talk, just find me, okay."

"Thanks Nick." She tried a dazzling smile, but knew that it hadn't quite worked. Having found no food to satisfy her, she headed into the lab in search of the tox screen results.

She sat on a lab chair, comforted by the whirr of the machinery in this room. Was this what life held for her, sitting here at the sacrifice of her family? Picking over the secrets of people and families, maintaining a professional detachment, guarding her emotions? Waiting to prove the innocence or guilt of someone she didn't know? Making calls to her home apologizing for missing important events, snatching moments of time together, between cases? Appearing as an outsider, watching her family grow, move away; gain independence, hearing second hand of first steps, arguments, and success? Stop this Catherine, what would you do without this job? This is part of who you are, you fought for this, you have gained respect from those who barely cast you a glance before. If not this, then what? Could you really return to your previous life? Could you make a living in that way? Could you keep your family together?

Family, that was it. That was what had started this off, her love of her family, her need to make the family successful. But who were her family? She'd grown up with a mother, stepfather and sister. Her sister was the one constant, the person who had stood by her when her parents had turned their backs. She'd tried to repair the damage with her mother; only gaining an uneasy relationship once her stepfather had left. She'd discovered the identity of her father, only when he'd been facing murder charges; she'd not trusted him since and tried to distance herself from him. After all, the man had known her all her life and only deemed to confirm her suspicions when he felt she could aid him in some way. Her father wanted to use her that was clear. He'd accepted her true relationship to him for his own means; he'd tried to buy his way into her life, knowing that she and her family were the only method in which his empire could remain with his blood.

There was her daughter, at the heart of everything, yet now one of the causes of this dilemma. The only good thing to come from her marriage to a man who saw her as a possession treating her as something he could cherish or admonish, yet not truly love. She wondered sometimes how she'd not seen through his web of promises and lies, not discovered earlier the cruelty behind his eyes before it was too late. It hadn't all been bad, no, in the beginning she was certainly cherished, treated like a princess, held up on a pedestal, but the force of his fist, smashing the fairytale she believed she was living, soon erased all that.

The soft whirr of the printer, working on delivering her results interrupted her thoughts. She snatched at the paper as it was released, reading the results she sighed heavily.

"Hey Cath, those our results?"

"'Fraid so, nothing unusual in the blood sample. So now what?"

Sensing her frustration, Warrick, her partner for the evening, smiled sympathetically, "We'll need to wait for the results of the autopsy, see if Doc Robbins can find anything for us." He watched her carefully; she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her eyes heavy, obviously needing sleep. "Look, Robbins has signed out, won't be back in until later this afternoon. We've nothing at the moment that can tell us where this case is going. How about we go home get some rest come back fresh this afternoon?"

Catherine raised her eyebrow, "Are you saying I can't handle overtime?"

Noting the barely concealed anger in her voice, Warrick knew he needed to tread carefully, "No. But what I am saying is without the results of Robbins' autopsy, we've no lead, no way to know what to test, what evidence to look for. Staying here is going to be pointless. If we come in a couple of hours before shift, we can meet with the Doc, and at least have an idea of where this is going."

"Sorry Warrick. I guess, I'm just a little on edge, you know?"

"Hey, don't worry." Without waiting any longer, he pulled her up, hugging her, "Anything I can do?"

"No...no, I'll be okay." She sniffled, wiping her eyes to clear the tears that had started to gather. "You go, get some rest I'll meet you back here at what, four?"

"That'd be good. You sure you're okay?" At her nod, he added, "Take care and get some rest."

The tall man strode out of the lab in the direction of the locker room. Catherine, gathered the evidence she'd tested, ensured it was labelled, she then took the printed results and placed them in the file, before taking both items to the evidence vault to be safely stowed away. She quickly walked to the front desk asking if she'd received any messages, no further messages, a brief moment of relief.

She went to the locker room, hastily gathering her bag and jacket, not bothering to put the latter on. She quickly checked her appearance in the mirror, brushing a few errant hairs, with her fingers, back into place. She quietly closed the locker door and headed towards her husband's office.

She knocked on the doorframe, before entering, but found the room strangely empty. He would have told her, before he left. She caught sight of Nick passing, and called out to him, "Nick, you seen Grissom?" She found this endearing, the way they had names they used in their sanctuary, home, and the professional identities, the way they both came naturally to their lips depending on the place, the occasion.

Nick stopped in his stride, and turned. He leant on the doorframe, "Sara and Grissom are still out on the arson case. They'll probably be another couple of hours. Are you going to wait here for him? I could make sure no-one disturbs you."

"That's sweet Nicky, but I really need to get home. I'll leave him a message, then head out."

"Okay. I'll make sure he reads it. You take care now." He gave her one of his ten-gallon smiles before continuing on the journey she'd interrupted.

Catherine scribbled a quick note for Gil, leaving it in the centre of his cleared desk, before leaving the lab building, getting in her Denali and starting the drive home. The soft classical music soon filled the interior of the vehicle. It was something few would have thought would touch her so. It had all started when she was pregnant, Gil having read some article about the developing baby, had insisted the usual pop music station Lindsey listened to, when being driven by her mom, was abandoned in preference to Mozart. Catherine had at first indulged him, knowing this was his first child, and thankful for a break from Britney. The more she'd listened the more she'd enjoyed it. Gil introducing her to different symphonies and sonatas by Wolfgang Amadeus helped this; she found them very calming, even Lindsey had stopped her protests. Since George had arrived, Mozart was still played, but Gil took great delight in trying to introduce her to the different classical composers. Each Monday as she first started the Denali, the orchestra of choice would greet her, introducing another composer. Some seemed familiar, having been sampled in pop or rock songs. Some held a familiarity through their beauty. This week it was Smetana the haunting strings normally enough to calm her, but not today.

She was going home, her sanctuary, she should be happy. So why did she feel this over powering guilt pressing down on her like a vice?

She loved her family, would fight to keep them. They were so much a part of who she was; yet they were also the cause of her current state of mind. She counted herself as truly blessed to have another chance at creating a family. There was no doubt in her mind that she would love her husband, Gil, for the rest of her days. He left her in no doubt that he felt the same for her. To complete their happiness, there was George, an eight-month-old bundle of joy. They were happy, yet she felt guilty.

She turned onto her sister's road, stopping outside the house, and then hurrying up the path to greet her son. She smiled in relief to hear that he had woken early and was becoming sleepy. Maybe, if she got him home quickly, he'd allow her some sleep, she could do the chores later. She thanked her sister, taking George to the back of the Denali, ensuring he was safely secured in his baby seat before giving her sister a final wave, and completing the journey home.

As she stepped into her house, she first checked the messages, before slowly walking upstairs, George in her arms. He relaxed against her, laying his head on her shoulder, the soft; dark curls of his hair, gently brushing her neck.

Entering the nursery, she gave him a little squeeze, "Are you going to be a good boy, let mommy get some sleep?" He sighed, as if understanding her, "Well later on we'll try out your new bouncy chair, that'll be fun. Then I'm sure when daddy comes home he'll have a story for you."

She laid George, a little reluctantly in his cot, pulled the blanket over his legs then turned on the musical lullaby mobile, in the hopes he would settle. She partly closed the door, waiting outside for the count of twenty, before deeming it safe enough to retreat to her bedroom.

She settled on top of the bed, pulling the phone onto her lap and dialing the lab's number. After what seemed a lifetime the phone was answered.

"Stokes."

"Nick, it's Catherine, are they back yet?"

"I talked to Sara what...ten minutes ago, they were about to leave. They should be here in the next twenty to twenty-five minutes."

"Thanks."

Something in her voice prompted Nick to ask, "Do you want me to get Grissom to call you?"

"No, not unless he's not going to be home in the next few hours."

"Are you sure? Do you want me to give him a message?"

"No...no, Nick it's fine. I'm just going to get some sleep. I'll see you tonight."

"See you Cath."

She decided to find one of Gil's old shirts, if she couldn't have the man himself, at least she could wrap herself in his scent. She quickly cleansed her face of make-up, brushed her teeth, then her hair, before seeking the bed.

She'd just pulled the covers up, over her body, when she heard the unmistakable wail of George. She sighed, getting up and walking to the nursery. He was laid on his back, kicking his legs. His face was screwed up and rapidly turning red with each new wail he released. His small arms were furiously waving. His anger having found a voice, he seemed determined to use it.

"Hey, shhh, George, mommy's here." She gently picked him up from his cot, patting his back, as his head came to rest on her shoulder, "What's the matter? Hey? Did you have a bad dream?"

George's cries didn't lessen, prompting her to take him to the changing table. She settled him once again on his back, wrestling with him to release his clothes as he kicked his limbs in fury. Catherine kept her soothing tone, in an attempt to settle her son, but he wasn't about to be influenced by her. She quickly changed him, in the hope that by doing so he would forget his anger, but no, if anything his cries became more piercing.

"George, are you hungry? I know you're not wet, you've now got your favourite sleep suit on, so are you hungry?"

She once again lifted him, carrying him close as she walked across the room to the rocking chair; she unbuttoned her shirt and tried to get him to settle to her breast. He wasn't overly interested, making a halfhearted attempt at suckling, before once again persisting in his cries.

Catherine sighed, "So you're not hungry. Do you just want mommy? Did you miss me?" She tried to pull him close, his tiny fist caught a clump of her hair and tugged. "Hey! George, honey, let go please."

Her quick shout had alerted him, and he let out another piercing scream. "I'm sorry honey, but you hurt mommy pulling her hair like that." She kissed his cheek, and started to gently rock her body in attempt to calm him. However today George Andrew Grissom had different ideas, he wasn't happy and he was determined to ensure the whole world knew it.

Catherine couldn't help a yawn escaping, and she tried to stretch her body without upsetting her son further. She wasn't in luck however, he let out another scream of frustration, she was sure was directed at her. Catherine was beginning to become concerned, maybe he was sick, she stood carefully heading for the bathroom, once there she found the pack of thermometer strips, and quickly pulled one out. She put it on George's forehead, waiting the required couple of minutes, partly in trepidation. Was this some divine justice sent down on her for previous thoughts? Relief washed over her on seeing the colour of the band adorning George's head, no temperature. So what was it? He was still fussing, although his screams had tapered to cries interrupted every few minutes by baby hic-coughs. Maybe he had just missed her, a plan started to form in her mind, if she could manage to keep him in his current state until she got to her room, maybe he would settle snuggled next to her, allowing her to gain some of the yearned for sleep.

"Shhh, George, how about we go to mommy's room and try to sleep together? Mommy's really tired, will you let her get some sleep?"

As if in answer, two watery blue eyes stared at her, while George's fist reached for her mouth.

They'd nearly made it; Catherine was sat on the bed, rocking George gently while rubbing his back and humming a melody to him. Carefully, to cause as little disturbance as possible she raised her legs onto the bed, then shuffled down so she was now lying down, George on top of her. He hadn't settled, but he wasn't screaming either, hope started to fill Catherine. She gently laid him next to her ensuring all of the time she maintained contact with him. At first George seemed to marvel at this new position, this change in scenery. Then realisation seemed to hit him, he was being expected to sleep, he filled his lungs with air then let out another ear splitting scream. Catherine quickly gathered him in her arms, trying to once again settle him, part of her thankful her neighbours would currently be at work, as surely hearing her son's protests they would contact the authorities.

"So you're not going to sleep, huh? Well we might as well go downstairs and do some of the chores, hopefully you'll be ready for a nap when daddy comes home."

Catherine slowly rose from the bed and carried her son downstairs, letting him rest on her shoulder, his fist full of her shirt, while his dark curls once again tickled her neck. She headed for the laundry room and attempted to put George in his baby seat while she sorted the laundry into loads. As soon as his mom lost contact with him, he let out another wail of protest, followed quickly by a second and third. Catherine was concerned he was going to make himself sick with the state he was getting himself into. She relented to him, lifting him so he was once again held close to her shoulder; she rocked her body gently, as much to calm herself as her son. Tears of frustration were starting to form in her eyes, "George, I wish you could tell me what was wrong. Let me help you. I hate to see you like this. I'm worried you're going to make yourself poorly."

She gave up on the idea of completing any laundry. Instead, she went to the lounge and sat on the sofa. She gently stroked her son's back, cooing soft words to him in an attempt to calm him. The most she managed was to get him to a state of soft baby whimpers and hic coughs.

It was this scene that Gil walked in on fifteen minutes later. He sensed something was amiss as he entered the room; Catherine was sat on the sofa with an obviously disgruntled George, yet she made no attempt to acknowledge his presence. He quickly put his briefcase down by the door, and went across to the sofa. He knelt down in front of his wife, his hand covering hers that was stroking his son's back, momentarily stilling it. "Hey, honey, what's wrong?" he half whispered.

This simple act was enough to break the dam of emotions built within his wife. Silent tears started to make their path down her face. However before she could answer him, George realised he had a new audience to hear of his anger, he let another piercing scream break the silence.

This had two effects, Catherine on hearing her son once again start his angry tirade started to openly sob, her body shaking. Gil meanwhile reached for his son, holding him up to his face and calmly speaking soothing words to him. He gently rocked on his heels, until George calmed himself.

"Now that you've vented your temper, how about we get you to take a nap so mommy and daddy can talk?" Gil carried his son back to the nursery, gently laying him in his cot mirroring the actions of his wife earlier in the day. By the time he left the nursery George, exhausted from all his crying and satisfied that both mommy and daddy were aware of his mood, fell into a deep sleep.

Gil's concern now turned to his wife. As he carefully descended the stairs so not to wake his son, he came aware that his wife had not moved from her position on the sofa. Her body was still shaking, alerting him to her current state of mind. He went across to the sofa and gently lifted her, carrying her close to his body as he returned upstairs, this time heading for their bedroom. He didn't let her go, not even when he sat on their bed. He kicked off his shoes, and then shunted his body so his back was against the headboard. Catherine was curled in his lap, her head against his shoulder, her knees drawn up to her chest; he suddenly had an overwhelming sense of how fragile she was. He gently stroked her back, kissing the top of her head, "Shhhh, honey. Whatever it is we'll get through it together, as always."

He pulled her tighter wanting, wishing, hoping to take away her hurt. He would give anything in the world right now just to have his wife happy. She deserved happiness. A long time ago he'd promised himself to make her smile, see her happy for the rest of her days, seeing her as she was now, hurt.

After what seemed to him to be hours but was merely a couple of minutes, her sobbing slowed, then stopped. He looked down at her, she was still curled in his lap but her eyes were now searching his face.

"Sorry." She sniffled.

"Sorry, what..? Why...? Cath, honey, what is it?"

Catherine bit her bottom lip, casting her eyes down she half mumbled, "I've failed you. I've failed us, our family."

Gil took in a deep breath, trying to comprehend what his wife was saying. "Catherine, you could never fail me. What makes you... I mean... how could you think that?"

Two red-rimmed eyes searched his face. Was he mocking her, how could he not see it? "You were there. You saw. George."

"I saw our son being fussy, wanting to have our undivided attention. How does that make you a failure?"

"Don't you see? I'm his mother. I should be able to calm him. But all I saw this morning was a crying baby he wasn't even my son. He was someone who was stopping me from getting sleep. That's how I failed, this morning he wasn't my son." Tears silently started to make their path once again down her face.

Gil quickly turned her face, holding her chin with his left hand so her eyes met his. With the thumb of his right hand, he gently brushed away the tears from their source, then gently pressed a kiss on her forehead. "One thought of our son as a baby demanding attention does not make you a failure. You could never fail me. George was probably upset I was late; remember this routine is as new to him as it is to us. He's used to having us both arrive at the same time and give him the attention he deserves. If it's anyone's fault it's mine, for being so late."

Catherine's eyes searched his, looking for any crack, any waiver that could indicate he was only saying this to reassure her, but all she found was sincerity. She decided that now was the time to reveal her deepest fear, once again lowering her eyes in an attempt to hide her vulnerability she half muttered, half whispered, "But I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Tell me what's worrying you, what has you frightened? I promise we will find a solution together."

Catherine bit her bottom lip and took in a deep breath. Having opened up the dark pit she'd been residing in, she now needed help crawling out. There was no going back, she knew her husband better than that, there was no way he'd let her comment rest. "I just can't do this, all of this. I can't be a wife to you, a mother to Lindsey and George a partner and friend to everyone at the lab. It's too much. I have to be back at work by four this afternoon, which means if I'm lucky I'll get four hours sleep. I feel like I haven't slept in weeks. I've only been back at work less than two weeks, while Linds has been at camp. I can't cope now what's it going to be like when she's back, needing me, needing help with homework, rides to friends' houses, friends over to stay? What will I do then?"

"Can I just say one thing?" Gil waited until his wife looked up at him, "You are not alone. I'm here. I'll help. If Lindsey needs a ride, I'll take her. If she needs help with homework, I'll be there. We are a team, we will work it out."

"I'm sorry. I know you do so much. I know you help but I don't know what to do it's not just home, our family. It's work, being a CSI. Each evening as I'm working I think about what I'm missing. I want to be there for George, I want to hear his first words, watch his first steps. I resent working overtime as it takes me away from him, and Lindsey as independent as she pretends to be she still needs me. But that can't happen, part of the job is being flexible with working hours."

"It doesn't have to be."

"What? And be the only one working regular hours. I hated that when I was pregnant. I know they didn't hold it against me, but each morning, as I signed out, I felt guilty knowing that as tired as they were they had to work more hours partly covering for me."

"Well we have options, you don't have to work you know. You could stay at home, be with Lindsey and George full time." He took in her puzzled expression, "Honestly we can afford it. The rent we receive from my old townhouse meets the mortgage payments, I'm so glad you persuaded me not to sell it, but rent it out. All we need is our general living expenses, and my salary more than covers that. We can certainly afford it if you want to stay at home."

Catherine pondered this new information for a couple of minutes. To be fair, it was not an option she'd ever given consideration to. Now it was laid before her she had to give it due contemplation. But why was she hesitating? What kind of mother was she that she didn't think she could stay at home all day? What would her husband think of her? "Really? I could do that?" She asked a little nervously.

Gil picked up on her hesitation, "If that's what you want, yes. But I will not think any less of you if you decide that is not right for you. I know not every mother could stay at home all day, even if they are financially secure. There are other options."

"Such as?"

"You could have a career break. Take a couple of years out; be with Lindsey and George, then when you're ready return full time. Or you could work part time, it would still mean being flexible if you want to be in the field, but we could work it out, if you wanted steady hours we could have you lab based, there are a number of options. You do not have to do what you are doing now. It's not good for you or your cases; you'll burn yourself out. I don't want to see you do that."

Catherine nestled her body closer to her husband's for a moment just enjoying the feel of him next to her. She pulled back slightly so her eyes could once more capture his enabling her to seek the truth within them. "So, I'm not a bad mother if I want to work." She searched his eyes for a flicker, something to indicate he disapproved, but only found pure love reflected back. "I love George, I really do. Spending time as a family is so precious to me, but I honestly don't think I could be a full time stay at home mom. I respect mothers who do that, but I need something, something outside of the family. I love my work, I love solving the puzzles and I know I'd miss that. Being a CSI is part of who I am."

Gil smiled. He'd expected this, now he needed to reassure her, let her know the decision she'd just made was the right one. He did the one thing he knew would show his support, he reached up with his hand, capturing her chin again, raising it, so he could capture her lips with his. As he pulled back, he stroked her hair and whispered, "I love you."

For the first time since he'd arrived home that evening, Catherine smiled. It was the kind of smile that lit her eyes, and made his stomach somersault. "Thank you." She whispered in reply.

"So what do you want to do?"

After a slight hesitation Catherine answered. "Part time would be good. I love being in the field, and although regular hours hold some sway on me, it's working through a case from start to finish, which I find most satisfying. How could you work that out?"

Gil idly stroked her back as he replied, "Well, I could have you rostered on for three or four nights a week. There would need to be flexibility within that, so some weeks you may work alternate nights or a couple of consecutive shifts that would all depend on our workload. The other option involved you using your expertise, which would mean you wouldn't necessarily see a case through from start to finish. You would instead work the blood spatter cases, giving your opinion on that part of a case, but not automatically work the case through to its conclusion. There would still be occasions when you'd need to work overtime, but overall both of these options will give you more time with George and Linds. You don't need to give me your answer now. If you want you could start one option and see how you like it and then revert to another one if it's not working."

"I'd like to try the first one. I know you probably think I'm jumping in, but I know I'll sleep better if I've not got this to worry about. But won't you be seen as favouring me?"

Gil chuckled, "No, actually, I'll be doing the department a favour. Do you remember that meeting I went to last month?"

"Not really, no."

"Well, anyway. Our dear sheriff was showing concern for equal opportunities within the work force. He wants his departments to try different ways to encourage valued or experienced members of staff, especially working mothers, to stay within the department by being flexible with their working hours and environment. So as a valued and experienced member of my department you certainly qualify."

Catherine smiled in reply. Sending Gil's stomach into another somersault, no roller coaster could quite have this effect on him.

"As you need to be back at the lab by four, how about you try and get some sleep. If George wakes I'll see to him."

Catherine turned in his lap, so she was facing him. She took hold of his face with both hands, and then leant in kissing him deeply. As she pulled back and slipped from his lap, laying herself down next to him, she whispered. "I love you Gil Grissom."

Gil settled himself next to her. He put his arm across her stomach, pulling her closer, and then gently stroked her hair. "Sleep well my love."

The End