Catherine felt a burning sensation. She heard Gil for some reason, he was shouting at her. She tried to yell back, telling him she was in the same room and there was no need to shout. But for some reason her lips would not complete her brains request.

She felt herself shiver, someone was holding her. Why were they doing that? The burning became more intense; she tried to focus her mind on what was the cause, but failed.

Gil was shouting her name again. Her head felt heavy, all she wanted to do was sleep, why wouldn't he just talk like everyone else did. There really was no need for all of this shouting.

The burning intensified, seemingly impossibly; she surrendered to the dark cloud that wanted to swallow her.

********************************************************************

It was raining as Catherine arrived at the lab. She hurried to the door from her car, her jacket pulled over her head in the hopes of preventing her hair from becoming soaked and losing the curls she'd taken time to work into her hair, in favour of the natural waves. As she pushed the door open, she shook the jacket from her head, bringing it around her body mimicking in some small way the matador as he swirled his cape to entice the bull. Holding the damp piece of clothing across her arm, she hurried to the locker room. Opening her locker, she found a hanger, carefully placing the jacket on it, hoping to prevent another trip to the dry cleaners to have the creases steamed out of it. She then examined her appearance. Giving her hair a quick flick with her fingertips, she smiled at the image in the mirror. Then kissed her fingers before placing them over a picture of her family, a ritual begun long ago and one she now feared to have some ill effect if broken. Her hand caught hold of the locker door swinging it shut. She walked confidently towards the break room knowing she was a little early and would have precious moments to catch up with the rest of the team, before the shift started.

"Hey Cath." Nick greeted her with a smile.

"Hi. How was your day off?"

"Good." He smiled at her. "So how's Lindsey doing? Last week she was struggling with Spanish right? If you need a tutor I have a friend, who could help out."

"Thanks Nick. I'll keep that in mind. Her parents' meeting is next week. I'll see what they say first, you know Linds, she could be failing Spanish this week and acing her tests next week." She smiled.

"Yeah, I know all about that. Of course with me it was to do with some girl I wanted to tutor….me…err…I'm sure that's not true of Lindsey, really she's how old now?" His face contorted into an anxious grimace as he hurriedly tried to back track, swallow his previous confession.

Catherine chuckled. "Don't worry Nick, I did the same, and I think Lindsey not only got my brains."

"You think… Lindsey?"

"Just another joy of being the parent of a teenager."

Nick smiled at her. "But at least you are no longer alone. I mean there are two of you now to watch over her."

She sighed, "That's what worries me. He's so protective of her. I…I… oh never mind…"

Nick moved his chair closer to her, putting his hand on her shoulder, hoping to offer a semblance of comfort. "Hey, he'll get better at this, it's all new for him and her."

Catherine put her hand over his. "I know. Thanks Nick, for listening."

"No problem. And if you do need that tutor, James is my age, fluent in Spanish, with five children, a safer option than a teenage boy." He winked at her.

She couldn't help but giggle. "Thank you."

The mood was lifted by the appearance of Sara, Warrick and Greg. They were trying to decide on a venue for Greg's upcoming birthday. The others immediately disapproved each suggestion he offered, on seeing Nick and Catherine, the three of them launched simultaneously into their suggested venues. Catherine couldn't help but laugh.

The appearance of Gil Grissom, to hand out assignments, caused the temporary cessation of the argument. On the face of it, the shift for Catherine was going to be relatively light. The evidence from the previous night needed processing, another gun crime during the run up to elections, she knew the sheriff would be eager for a timely resolution to the case. The one light to the prospect of spending hours proverbially chained to the microscope was the fact that she would spend that time with Gil.

A small smile had taken residence on her lips since she discovered they would not be going out into the field, even though that was her preferred assignment, to be at the heart of a case. Only the anticipation of working methodically through the evidence with Gil could coax a smile from her when she was assigned to the lab.

She watched the others leave for their assigned cases, her smile widening as she was left alone with him. He raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"What?" She smiled.

"Oh nothing."

"Uh huh. That smile, I know hides a secret. By the end of the shift I'll find your secret Mr Grissom."

"Really? Is that a bet? A challenge?" His smile widened.

She half coughed half laughed, her eyes temporarily leaving his; only to suddenly seek them out, holding his attention as she spoke. "You don't think I can do it do you?"

He chuckled. "I didn't say there was a secret withheld. It was you my dear who assumed there was."

She narrowed her eyes, "You're bluffing." She speared him with her best mom look, the one that had scored countless confessions from a nervous Lindsey.

He didn't falter, didn't look away, instead he grinned at her. "That's the question then, do you want to take a chance?"

She stared at him intently; trying to weigh her options, seek the truth a few moments beforehand she'd been sure of. There was a slight glint in his eye. She narrowed her eyes as if this act would enable her to read his mind. Then suddenly she sat back a small smile on her face. "If I agree to this what's the forfeit?"

He mirrored her actions, sitting back, contemplating her words. "Ok, loser buys the winner dinner at a place of their choice."

She smiled. "I've been aching to be taken out for dinner. It seems like years since I got dressed up, and sat at a table to indulge in adult conversation without French Fries in sight." Her smile broadened, seeing that glint in his eye. "Okay. You have a bet."

He chuckled. "You are pretty confident."

"I have every reason to be."

"Is that so?" He raised one eyebrow in question.

She smiled wickedly. "It's quite simple, I know you." That said she quickly left the room heading for his office.

He followed swiftly behind her. Catching hold of her arm and spinning her around. "You can't devote the whole shift to destroying my office." At her pout, his grip relaxed slightly. "The case first. At the end of the shift I'll let you explore my office. I promise."

She considered this for a moment, before relenting. "Okay. So where are we going to start?"

He took hold of her elbow, steering her towards the morgue. "Doc Robbins has the results of the autopsies. If we hear his report we should be able to establish which victim was shot with which gun."

She smiled, facing him as they walked along the corridor. "Then we can establish whether we've recovered all the guns, or if we're missing something."

Gil grinned. He missed working with Catherine. Although they were poles apart in terms of temperament when approaching a case, Catherine often becoming emotionally involved with the victim or their family, while he took a more analytical approach, he knew their minds worked in tandem. When she was by his side, he knew the conversation could be kept to a minimum, there would be little need for the explanation of the minutia of his decision-making, however he still revelled in the opportunity to talk through his thoughts with her, knowing that she would often substantiate his thinking. But more than that he wanted to hear her voice, a brief indulgence of his in his workday, a snatch at reality, knowing someone he valued was safe, beside him.

Opening the heavy door to the morgue, with his left hand, he made a grand gesture with his right, swirling it around like a knight of old, before saying. "After you m'lady."

She smirked, raising her right index finger and waving it before him. "Now I know you're up to something."

He cocked his head to one side, a smile gracing his face, as he watched her saunter into the morgue, appreciating the view her body was treating him to. He sighed contently before following her.

"Hey, Al, what do you have for us?" Catherine beamed at the coroner.

"Catherine, good to see you. Gil."

"What do you have on our victims?" Gil asked.

"The three victims had between them eight bullet wounds, mainly centred around the chest area." He walked over to the first autopsy table where the outline of a slightly built person was covered by a sheet. "Victim number one, identified as Michael Duprec, an otherwise healthy seventeen year old male. Three entry wounds, one bullet penetrated the chest cavity and lodged in his heart, another bullet entered higher, puncturing his lung, the third bullet hit his shoulder, smashing into the scapula which prevented further penetration."

"Death would have been instantaneous." Gil commented flatly.

"That's right," Al Robbins confirmed. He moved to the next table, pausing a few moments to allow Catherine and Gil to walk to meet him. He pulled back the sheet to reveal a similarly aged blond male of slightly stockier build. "The second victim, James Moores, also seventeen. Two bullet wounds. One bullet severed the aorta, the second lodged between his fifth and sixth rib."

Neither Catherine nor Gil commented on the victim. No words were necessary, the cause of death was abundantly clear. They watched as Al Robbins leaned heavily on his crutch, a sign of his growing weariness, while he walked to the third body, covered like the other two with a simple sheet.

As they joined him at the table, he withdrew the sheet to reveal a third young male. "Ryan McRaynolds, eighteen years old. Three bullet wounds, two entered his chest cavity, one lodging itself in the left ventricle, the other severing the vena cava. The third bullet lodged itself next to his oesophagus." He let out a small sigh as he finished.

"Are you all right Doc?" Catherine asked concerned.

Doc Robbins rubbed his eyes with the pads of his thumb and forefinger before looking up at her. Offering her a weak smile. "It's been a long week. I've met too many people due to the powers of firearms. It seems such a waste…. I don't know, maybe I am getting too old for this, maybe retirement is an option."

Catherine was momentarily lost for words. The morgue without Al was not a concept she wished to contemplate; he was a fixture of the lab, someone she depended on. "The lab wouldn't be the same without you. This will calm down, you'll see. The election doesn't help matters. Once the mayor is in place the feuding will stop, it always does."

"True, but only until the next election." He sighed again, and then gave a half laugh. "Don't mind me Catherine, there's still autopsies left in me yet. There's nothing a good scotch and pleasant company won't resolve."

Catherine smiled. "Well, we can fix that can't we? After shift tonight, you, me, Gil and Brass. We'll find a bar and unwind, okay?"

Al chuckled. "You sure he'll be good company?" He gestured towards Gil.

Catherine hooked her arm through Gil's. "I'll guarantee it." She winked at him. She redirected her attention to Gil. "We done here?"

Gil nodded. "Yes, thanks Al. Are the bullets with ballistics?"

"Yes. I made sure Bobby got them as soon as the autopsies were complete."

"Thanks Al. And as Catherine here seems to be in charge of my social calendar, I'll see you for drinks later."

Al chuckled, not for the first time envious of Gil and the hold he seemed to have over Catherine.

As they left the morgue, Catherine stated. "Ballistics, right?"

"Yes." Gil confirmed. "We need to see whether the bullets recovered match the firearms we recovered."

Catherine sighed. "Always the way. I treat myself to a manicure and suddenly target practice is needed." She smiled wryly.

Gil chuckled. "Well I can't have you wasting your money like that. I mean you'll need to make sure you have a good bank balance after tonight." He winked at her, trying not to laugh, as her mouth opened, no sound emitted, then closed, before opening once more and then clamping shut.

They entered the ballistics firing range, quickly gathering goggles and putting them on.

Bobby Dawson was equally attired. "Catherine, Grissom." He nodded at them. "Ehmm, the bullets Doc Robbins retrieved, I've cleaned them. I was about to fire the weapons you recovered so that comparisons could be made, but would you?"

Gil smirked. "Catherine?"

She smiled. "Err, I though you said…"

He picked up the first gun, "It's loaded?"

"Yes." Bobby confirmed.

Gil put the gun down momentarily, to put his earphones on. He checked Bobby and Catherine had theirs on. He aimed the barrel into the water tank and called out. "Firing once." Then squeezed the trigger.

There was an explosion, not the normal sound of a gun being fired. The world seemed to slow down. The weapon in his hand felt hot, he'd felt something move past his body as he'd fired. He turned, quickly pulling his ear phones from his head, seeing before him Catherine, a shocked look on her face, as her hands tried to press against her midsection, the blood clearly visible as it seeped through her fingers.

He screamed her name, as he took two steps towards her, trying to catch her before she fell.

*********************************************************************

Catherine heard voices calling her name. Strange voices this time. Not the familiar sound of Gil. The pain was still there. They were asking her to open her eyes. She tried, but her eyelids seemed to have been weighed down in some way. The voices started to fade as the blackness took hold.

It was some time later when she felt strong enough to attempt to open her eyes once more. They were still heavy. The pain was still there. But the voices had gone. She forced her eyes to co-operate, slowly opening them to be greeted by a soft light. She turned her head slightly, aware that someone was with her, beside her. Her gaze fell upon the figure of Gil. "Hey." She rasped, surprised at how weak her voice sounded.

"Cath. Hang on honey I'll call the doctor." He reached beside her bed, fiddling with something she assumed to be the call button.

She blinked, finding the effort of opening her eyes once more exhausting. A second blink, and she could no longer open her eyes, drifting back to the blackness she'd become accustomed to.

She slowly moved back towards consciousness, this time the effort of opening her eyes was not so exhausting. The light was still soft, and the presence was still there. She looked across at him, registering the fact that his hand cradled hers. She squeezed it gently, watching as his eyes opened, a smile taking residence on his face.

"Hey sweetheart."

"Hey." She whispered.

"Are you going to stay awake long enough for the doctor to see you?"

"I'll try." She rasped.

He pressed the call button. Within a few seconds a nurse arrived, seeing Catherine conscious she uttered a quick. "I'll be right back." Then bustled out of the room.

Gil squeezed Catherine's hand. Then with his free hand, gently traced the outline of her face, stopping to cup her cheek. He leant forward, kissing her forehead, as he pulled back, he was surprised to see tears welling in her eyes. "Shhh sweetheart, it's okay, you are going to be okay." He wanted nothing more than to hold her, but knew that right then that form of comfort could cause her more harm. He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, while squeezing her hand, hoping these mere touches would comfort her as his heart intended.

There was a small cough behind him; he turned to see Dr Ellie Whittle standing behind him. She put one hand on his shoulder. "Mr Grissom, I need to examine your wife, I'll need you to step out of the room for a moment. I promise to call you back in as soon as we're done."

Gil nodded. He gave Catherine's hand one more squeeze, "I'll be right outside sweetheart." He stood, leaving the room to stand outside it. His body resting against the wall not trusting himself to stand unsupported and not wanting to venture as far as the chairs at the nurses station.

It seemed a lifetime before Ellie Whittle allowed him to return to Catherine. With each second that passed, his stomach seemed to tie itself in yet another knot, a lethal combination of fear and guilt threatening to consume him. He'd shrugged away the comfort and consolatory explanations that had been offered by his friends, family and team members over the last forty hours. He knew it was his fault. Knew he was to blame, was all too aware that he'd come too close to taking her life.

As the nurse opened the door to usher him in, he sucked in a breath. He stood nervously at the foot of Catherine's bed, suddenly unable to move to her side.

Dr Whittle smiled at him. "Mr Grissom, I was just telling Catherine here how pleased we are with her progress. She will be in pain for a few more days, tomorrow I'd like to start her on a PCA pump, allowing her to control her pain relief. The wound is clear from infection. I see no reason why she should not be discharged by the end of next week, if she maintains this progress."

Gil nodded and smiled weakly, unable to speak, as the reality of what had happened seemed to start to overwhelm him again.

"I'll leave you now. Catherine has been given another dose of morphine, she will probably sleep for the next few hours if you want…"

"No." He surprised himself with the force of his voice. "I need to stay, stay with her."

The doctor smiled at him. "Okay." She was aware of the circumstances of the shooting, and for now knew that this man needed to reassure himself that the accident had not had the horrific consequences he'd feared. For now he could stay, there would be time enough to enforce the rigidity of visitor regulations.

As she left the room, Gil resumed his earlier position. Kissing Catherine's hand as he once more cradled it. Hoping that now she'd woken and seemed to be doing well the nightmare replay of the ballistics lab would cease. Slowly his eyelids failed in their battle to stay open as he kept vigil at her side.

As dawn with her rosy fingers, began to play across the hospital room, Catherine once again woke. Her slight shifting in the bed, alerted Gil, whose eyes suddenly became alert. "Hey there."

"Hey yourself." She half croaked. "Thirsty."

He reached to the cabinet beside the bed, pouring a little water into the plastic cup. He put a straw into it, and guided the straw to her mouth. "Small sips now." He watched her, their eyes locking as they met. Sensing her thirst had been somewhat satisfied, he asked. "Enough?" At her slight nod, he gently removed the straw and placed the cup back on the cabinet.

As his hand reached for the call button, she caught hold of it stopping him. "What?" He asked.

"I just need some time for us."

He shuffled nervously in his seat. He knew he'd have to face this conversation, but had hoped he could delay it for a little while. "I really think…" He tried to release his hand from her grip.

"What? God Gil, I don't need the nurses and doctors prodding and poking me to tell me I hurt. It hurts, but I'm here, I'm alive. I'm more worried about you."

"Me?"

"Yes you. It seems each time I wake you can't wait to bring some stranger into this room. I haven't had a chance to talk to you. I don't even know what happened." He tried to pull his hand from her grasp, only to be surprised by the grip she maintained on it. "What is it Gil? Why don't you want to be alone with me?"

Her words seemed to suck the life from him; he fell back against the chair, defeated. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"It's my fault. My fault you are here."

"No, honey. No that can't be true. I remember…" She screwed her eyes up concentrating, trying to extract the memory from the cloak of darkness she seemed to have been living in for an age. "We were in ballistics…you were testing the firearm then…" She closed her eyes, her brow creasing into a slight frown. "…then darkness, and people shouting at me. What happened?"

He cradled her hand, kissing it, then sought out her eyes. He did not know if he had the strength to maintain control, but he knew by this simplest of connections, she'd empower him. "Yes, that's right. But you missed one detail. I shot you." The confusion on her face was his undoing. Silently the tears he'd fought to withhold over the past couple of days finally broke through, slowly descending down his face unheeded. "I'm sorry, I hurt you, I…."

There was a brief silence, which was slowly broken by the soft sobbing of Gil. Catherine, bit her lip, knowing he needed her, but able to do little to provide him comfort. She tested her ability to move, but when greeted with a sharp pain, causing her to suck in a breath as stars danced on the edges of her eyes, stopped that course of action. Instead she pulled on his hand. "Come here." He moved closer, resting his head on the bed beside her. She stroked his hair, hoping to soothe him with this small act.

Eventually his breathing evened out, he sucked in a shuddering breath, before raising his head to face her once more. His eyes were wells of sorrow and hurt, she'd never seen him appear so broken, it frightened her.

"I'm sorry." He half whispered. His voice was hoarse with emotion.

"It's is not your fault. It could so easily have been you lying here and me in your place, if I wasn't so worried about a damn manicure." She smiled sadly.

"I would swap places in a heartbeat."

"I wouldn't. I may hurt now, but…" She stopped suddenly realising what she was about to admit would serve to harm rather than heal.

He smiled, squeezing her hand. "I understand. You'd rather hurt than hurt me."

She nodded slowly, having to swallow to stop her own tears. No longer able to face the intensity of his eyes.

He stroked her cheek; she closed her eyes, revelling in his touch. "I love you Catherine. You have left your handprint on my heart. If I'd lost you…."

Her eyes opened, meeting his, her bottom lip quivered, before the tears she'd held back broke free.

"Shhh, don't cry my love." He brushed away her tears with the pads of his thumb.

"I love you Gil. I'm…I'm okay. I'm going to be okay. I'm alive; I'm here with you."

He smiled at her, before leaning down and kissing her forehead. "Don't you think of going anywhere, you hear? I can't contemplate my life without you in it."

"Me neither. I promise I'm not intending on being anywhere but beside you."

"Good."

There was a brief silence in the room, as they each digested the words of commitment they'd been promised.

Catherine tried to shift again, audibly sucking in a breath as she did, which caused Gil to once more try to reach for the call button, only to have her stop him.

"Cath? You're in pain, let me get someone."

"It's okay." She hissed.

"No. It isn't. They have medication to stop this. Let me please…"

Her fingers on his lips prevented further argument. "It'll pass, give me a few minutes. You can talk to me, that'll help, hearing your voice always soothes me."

"Okay, what do you want to know?"

"Anything. No, tell me about the surprise and my forfeit."

He was in no position to argue with her, or continue the game they'd started what seemed a lifetime ago. He reached inside the pocket of his jacket, withdrawing a small velvet pouch with a woven gold coloured string. "This was my surprise. I bought it many years ago, just after we first met. I never found the time to give it to you. Two nights ago, do you know what it would have been?"

She shook her head slightly. "No."

"October 24th 1987, the first time we shared a meal."

She smiled as reality dawned. "Steak and eggs. That little diner around the corner from the French Palace."

He grinned. "That was it." He cleared his throat and studied their joined hands for a moment. "I always thought of that as our first date." Slowly he raised his eyes shyly to meet hers.

"Me too." She softly replied.

"You never said anything."

"Neither, did you." She countered. "I thought you were so out of my reach. I was beneath you. What would people think? You a respected scientist with someone who took their clothes off for a living." She turned away, trying to hide her fears; part of her still had these old insecurities, something years of loving and being loved by Gil had failed to fully erase.

The gentle touch of his hand as he coaxed her to turn towards him, made her shiver. "You have no reason to doubt yourself. I'm the lucky one. You have no need to be ashamed, what's in your past is what made you the woman I love, the woman I gave my heart to forsaking all others. The woman I am proud to share my name with."

A small sob from her was his only reply. "Hey, hey, what's this? No tears. I'm not doing a very good job of this am I? I'm trying to make you feel better, but only making you cry."

"It's okay." She sniffled. "So the surprise?"

He smiled, pleased that she offered him a distraction. "Well, I bought this that evening. I was going to give it to you as a token at the meal. But I was called away to that Hanson crime scene, before we had a chance to finish. So I kept it. I always intended to give it to you. Then about three months ago I found it, amongst some papers I brought over when we first moved in. It brought me back to that night as if it were yesterday, so I planned to wine and dine you, give you a real date to remember our first one, and end it by giving you this."

He laid the pouch in her fingers. As she hesitated before opening it, he encouraged her. "Go on."

Her fingers untied the knot in the thread, and searched out the inside of the pouch. She grasped hold of something metallic and pulled it out. She gasped as she saw what it was. "Gil, this must have cost a fortune." Her fingers examined the heart shaped diamond pendant. She watched fascinated as the early morning sunlight played with it, hitting off the diamond only to disperse in a myriad of coloured patterns. "What were you thinking?"

He shrugged. "That I love you. That this heart symbolized your heart, yet was not so precious, and by giving it to you I'd enable you to seek out your dreams and not be held back."

She smiled. "Thank you."

He grinned back. "You like it."

"I love it." She grinned, playing with it once more. "I did it anyway."

"Did what honey?"

"Sought out my dreams. I have you in my life, loving me, caring for me. There is no other dream or wish I could ask to be fulfilled. You complete me."

He leant towards her, his lips brushing hers in a chaste kiss. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, thanks to you. I told you I didn't need a doctor or nurse. So what's my forfeit?"

He smiled. "I really think we can forgo the forfeit."

"But that wouldn't be fair. A deal is a deal. Anyway I have my outfit planned. I saw the perfect dress when I was at the mall last week, and…"

He chuckled. "I might have known shopping was involved."

She pouted. "You'd like it, and I'd make it up to you." She winked at him.

Gil chuckled. "Well seeing as you asked so nicely. I really can't make you pay for the meal. After all I was the cause of you not completing the bet. So how about a compromise?"

"What sort of compromise?"

"My choice of restaurant and I'll foot the bill."

She smiled. "I love you." Then yawned.

"You tired." At her nod, he kissed her forehead. "Sleep well my love. I'll be here when you wake. There's nowhere I'd rather be. I love you."

"I love you more."

The End.