The Locker Room.

She was unaware he was there. He'd heard her enter the locker room and not wanting to be drawn further into the argument that tonight was Catherine Willows, he'd made himself disappear.

As he heard the unmistakeable sound of her crying, his resolve had nearly broken, but he'd stayed hidden all the same. He managed to position himself so he could see her, a part of him wanted to check that she was indeed okay.

He watched as she sucked in a deep breath, and then blew her nose. She flicked back her long strawberry blonde hair, before taking a step towards her locker. She opened the door and a soft gasp of "Oh" escaped her lips, before she stepped back her hands cradling a yellow rose.

He watched as she brought it to her nose; take a deep breath, revelling in its scent, her eyes closed. A smile started to play around her lips, which broadened into a grin. She closed the locker, and walked determinedly to the door, before disappearing from sight.

Warrick let out the breath he was holding. He shook his head, the architect of Catherine's anger seemed clear to him, as only one man knew the combination of her locker, only one man knew the effect a single rose could have on her.

Her Office

Nick had been assigned to work with her that night, a fact the other members of the team were relieved about. Nick however had not been so pleased. They'd spent the evening collecting evidence, working efficiently but quietly. Nick, to his credit, had tried on several occasions to get her engaged in conversation. But found that even talk of Lindsey drew the simplest yes or no answers. He had given up, deciding instead to weather the storm, to try to gather the evidence as quickly as possible, and close their case.

He was returning from trace with the results they'd been waiting for. She was ahead of him, heading for her office, a mug of what appeared to be coffee in her hand. He followed behind her, watching her walk, purposeful, but something had changed from earlier, her shoulders were no longer hunched, her hair swung across her shoulders as she held her head high.

As he followed her into her office, he smiled. "Hey Cath, I have our results. Seems like the boyfriend was behind it after all. Brass is bringing him in."

He was aware she was not looking at him, doubting she was even listening to him, as her gaze was focused on a golden box the name Godiva embossed on it's lid, a grin spread across her face. He noted a vase with a single yellow rose on her desk and could have sworn it had not been there earlier.

She suddenly seemed to notice his presence, looking up at him, her eyes more alive than they had been all shift. "Sorry Nicky, what was that?"

He suppressed a chuckle; she only called him Nicky when she was in a good mood trying to charm him. "Brass is bringing in the boyfriend, it seems he did it." He half-heartedly held up the results he'd brought her, almost like a flag of surrender.

"Good. So that's our case closed. Good work Nicky." She smiled at him.

Nick chose that moment to leave. He placed the trace results on her desk, and quickly retreated, seeking out the relative sanity of the break room to complete his report.

His Office

Greg Sanders had changed, or so he insisted to the rest of his work colleagues. So when he came across them in Gil's office, he watched, not for voyeuristic pleasure, but to ensure that life as he knew it in the lab was once more restored to it's normal axis of emotion.

He'd observed his boss that evening, the anxiety with which he'd bustled around the lab, his short temper and impatience, his constant referrals to his watch, as if he had an appointment elsewhere to be kept.

Greg had grown increasingly concerned about Grissom's erratic behaviour. He'd on more than one occasion walked towards his office to offer some sage advice, but each time he'd got close enough, the words he'd practiced seemed inappropriate. So instead he'd tried to show his mentor that he cared in the few ways he could. He'd ensured all the evidence that Gil submitted was fast tracked through the lab. He'd foraged through his locker for the reserves of Kona Coffee he kept there, placing those beans in the coffee machine.

It was during one of his attempts to approach Gil, that he'd seen Catherine enter the office. He had no doubts that the current tension within the lab was caused by a collapse of some sort in the relationship between the two supervisors. The relationship itself was too complicated for Greg to succinctly describe.

So he took the role of an observer, a point he would argue to all who would be informed of the events he saw unfold before him.

Catherine had smiled as she entered Gil's office, which to Greg could only be interpreted as a good sign. Gil had stood, and smiled at her, another good sign. He'd passed her something in a jewellery box, Catherine's eyes had widened in surprise, joy, or if Greg is to be believed love. She'd leant in and kissed him lightly on the lips, before pulling her hair to one side, and turning her back to Gil as he fixed the gift around her neck. The sparkling circle had attracted Greg's eye, it was something he was familiar with as he'd contemplated buying his fiancé something similar, a circle of diamonds to symbolise love had no beginning nor end, attached to a gold chain. As the chain was attached, Catherine turned to Gil; they leant closer, their lips joining.

Greg carried on walking past Gil's office, as there was clearly no need now to approach him and offer advice. And as Greg would later validate, he was not a voyeur, just an interested observer.

The Restaurant

She watched as they came in, trying to slink into the booth she was sat at. To be honest it was the last thing she wanted to witness, Gil and Catherine together.

She'd seen the storm that had settled over the couple, and the jealous part of her heart hoped it was their undoing, while her head told her it was only a minor impasse. It seems her head was right, she saw a new piece of diamond jewellery around Catherine's neck. She observed the way their fingers constantly sought each other out, completing some intricate dance, she studied the way their eyes held each other oblivious of the world around them. She knew then that he was forgiven, her faint hopes sank as she recognized for the first and final time that the two of them deserved each other, deserved their happiness, and for her Sara Sidle, love lay elsewhere.

The Bedroom.

As Catherine lay in his arms, her fingers fiddled with the necklace he'd given her.

He kissed the top of her head. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean to forget."

She kissed his chest.

"I mean, Valentines Day, it's just…."

"Gil, you've been forgiven for forgetting; the rose, the chocolates, the meal, this." She fingered her necklace once more. "Please don't say it's just a day..."

"Well…"

"Gil." Her tone warned him to stop. "You need to understand, being in love requires you to remember these things, and me to remind you. This day may just seem to be some huge marketing exercise to you, but to me it's special. A chance for us to show each other yet again how much we love each other." She sighed. "I knew I should have reminded you."

He chuckled. "Are you taking some of the blame my dear?"

"Did I say that?" She smiled.

He pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. "I love you. I honestly don't need a day marked on the calendar to remind me how much I love you, or you me. But I understand, you want this celebration, so for you I will try not to forget again. I really do love you Catherine."

"I love you Gil."

The End