It's been a year. That's twelve months... 52 weeks... 365 days. That's 8,760 hours... 525,600 minutes.... and 31-million, 536-thousand seconds. Aside from being a lot of calculations and poorly used brain power, that's also a hell of a lot of time. Multiply all of that by eighteen and it becomes even more. That's a hell of a lot of time to tell someone you love them... but for me? There's not enough time in the world.

It's been a year since my surgery, and seventeen more since the day we met. I love her with all my heart and soul, and am completely convinced that I will love her until I take my final breath on this earth. She is everything to me... my deity. And it's not just about who she is or how she looks... it's about what she represents.

She's my strength. A simple look from her can make me feel as powerful and invincible as Superman. But without her? It's like I'm suddenly being buried... in a casket made of Kryptonite. She's my joy. My reminder that no matter how cruel and grotesque the world seems on one side of the yellow tape, on the other it's filled with love and happiness and wonderful things that I have yet to experience. She shows me all this with her smile.

But most importantly, she is love to me. She's the epitome of that simple, four-letter word. Of course, she's my soul mate, but it goes so much deeper than that. She's the embodiment of trust, friendship, and everlasting devotion.

As I make my way down the corridor and into my office, my heart nearly bursts at the sight before me. She's there... my deity... stretched out across the leather sofa in my office, feet propped up on the opposite end as if she were in her own home, relaxing after a long day's work. My grin widens, and I unconsciously bite down a bit on my tongue... a strange quirk of mine that only Catherine herself seems to find endearing.

She hasn't noticed me yet... or if she has, she's pretending not to. Either way, I'm awarded with more time to gaze at her, to appreciate her like art patrons would appreciate a private viewing of the Mona Lisa. She's glancing down at a case file of some sort, her strawberry blond hair cascading over one side of her face... lit in a honey-gold halo from behind thanks to my desk lamp.

Eighteen years of loving her, of spending every waking moment with her, and she still can take my breath away. It's at this moment that she turns her eyes up to meet mine, and for awhile I get lost and dive into the aquamarine depths, trapped in a moment of weakness. Her lips perk up into an almost smug smirk... and I know I've definitely been caught. "Can I help you?" she asks, glancing up at me through her lashes.

Gulping as quickly and discreetly as I can, I nod, fighting to keep up the banter that's been a staple of our relationship for the past eighteen years. "You're in my office," I inform her, as if she didn't know this already.

"And your point is?"

"That if you're going to lolligag in my office, the least you could do is straighten up a bit." My eyes catch on the mess of my desk, papers covering every inch of the mahogany surface, and I idly wonder if my sloppiness amuses her or if it disgusts her.

She grins that wonderful grin at me and swings her legs over the edge of the couch, rising to her feet. "Oh please, Gil..." she murmurs, and my heart catches in my throat at the sound of my name from those beautiful lips. "Nobody uses the word 'lolligag' anymore. Besides..." She steps right up to me, toe-to-toe, and stares into my eyes, her own twinkling with a hint of... mischief? "You don't pay me nearly enough to be your CSI *and* your maid."

She's too close... far too close. All it would take is one slight movement and I could have my hands on her hips... and it would just take one slight tilt of the head and my lips would be touching hers. But she'd push me away... call me crazy. It would be coming out of the blue. For now I can just stare into her sea-blue eyes and wonder if I'll ever get up the courage to tell her I love her.

A soft giggle escapes her lips, and I realize once again that I've been caught staring. "Gil?"

"Huh?"

"Are we gonna have a staring contest, or are you gonna give me a new assignment?"

"Uh..." I'm struggling to form coherent thoughts and sentences... and my brain fights to remember what exactly I'd had her doing before. "Did you finish the case you were working on?"

She nods. "Warrick and I just closed it up. That male DB at the Monaco? The wife confessed... it was an insurance scam. She just wanted the money."

"Ah." Another stare passes between us, and for the first time in eighteen years, I don't know what to say to her.

"So? Is there anything else Warrick and I could work on?"

"Umm..." My eyes flit to my messy desk, missing the sight of her already. "There's a stack of paperwork that's calling your name."

"Oh God, I'd rather play with your pet tarantula than do THAT," she mutters, and I turn back to her with a grin on my face.

"Well then I suppose I can just put you two on-call until something new comes up." I shrug. "It's kind of a slow night tonight, anyways. I'm technically on-call too." I nod toward the door. "I let Nicky and Sara have the 419A in Red Rock."

"A 419A?" She repeats incredulously, "In Red Rock? How--"

"Don't ask," I cut her off, holding up a hand to stop her. The case I'd left my young CSIs with was far too strange for explanation. Besides... for right now, I just want to focus on her.

"So what should we do until something new comes up?" she asks.

I shrug once more, my mind conjuring up plenty of possibilities for what we could do to pass the time. Outwardly, I sigh. "I dunno... hang out?"

"Hang out?" she balks. "What are we, fifteen? Did you wanna make out, too?"

My eyes snap to hers, and both of us turn red as an electric stare passes between us. Maybe that was on *both* of our minds this evening. "We could," I nonchalantly reply. Maybe this is the window I've waited eighteen years for. "But maybe we should talk first."

"Sure big boy, then afterwards we can light a cigarette," she teases.

I can't help but laugh at the husky tone of her voice and the goofy look on her face while she wiggles her eyebrows at me. She's just so darn cute. "Cath, I'm serious," I concede, and with a sigh, her expression sobers.

"What do we need to talk about?" she shrugs. "The weather? Sports?"

"Us."

My words... well, *word* actually, stops her cold, and she just studies me for a moment. "Us..." she repeats.

I reach for her hand. Eighteen years is plenty of time. I need to get this out before I run *out* of time. "Yes." I gently squeeze her hand as I lean on my desk, and pull her slightly, drawing her toward me. "Ever since I've had my surgery on my hearing, I feel like you and I have become very close."

"Closer than ever," she quickly agrees, not fighting my affection in the slightest... rather encouraging it as she steps closer.

I reach out with my other hand and sweep it through her hair, being awarded with a million-dollar smile for doing so. "And... with how close we're getting, it's getting hard for me to not--"

"Grissom?"

We stare at each other for a moment, knowing my name didn't come from either of us, and slowly turn our heads to my now-open office door, meeting the questioning eyes of all three junior CSIs, Sara standing front and center. My hand doesn't drop Catherine's, and the other doesn't leave her hair. We just stand together, staring at them expectantly. "Yes?" I raise an eyebrow, wishing I'd locked the damn door.

"We're all finished with our cases," Sara informs me, eyes full of disdain as she glances at Catherine... an action that makes me smile.

I'm well aware of her little 'infatuation' with me... but I'd made it quite clear several times that I have no interest whatsoever in her. I look at her like I would look at a teenage daughter. "And?" I press on, gaining eye contact with her once more, hoping I look stern as I peer over my glasses at the three of them.

Sara seems to shrink back against the two men standing behind her, her voice growing smaller. My intimidation tactics are working. "Well... we were just wondering what you wanted us to do now."

I smile. They're just like little children, always awaiting Daddy's instructions. "For right now run along and play, little cubs," I instruct them, hiding my grin. "Mama and Papa Bear are in the middle of an important discussion."

Nick and Warrick, my two 'teenage sons,' share a look and smirk behind Sara's back and nod their understanding, heading off toward the breakroom, while Sara just stares forlornly at us for a moment before following after them. I turn to smile at Catherine, reluctantly removing my hand from hers to go close the door.

"It's getting hard for you to not... what?" she asks, picking up our discussion where we left off, her eyes following me as I make my way back over to her.

My hands resume their previous positions, one disappearing into her hair while the other grasps her hand, and once again I pull her close, her grin urging me on. "It's getting hard for me to not tell you how I feel."

"So tell me how you feel..." she whispers, and as I search her eyes, I know I won't be rejected.

"I love you..." I tell her softly, and feel my shoulders relax... the eighteen-year-old weight on them suddenly dissipating into thin air.

Her eyes shine with unshed tears of joy, and she whispers her sentiments back to me as she closes the remaining distance between us. Our lips meld, and my heart explodes. As I kiss the sky, kiss my way to heaven, I have to ask myself... why was I so afraid? For eighteen years I missed out on these lips... these kisses... and what for? For fear of rejection?

I never should've doubted her. I never should've lost faith in believing she felt the same... I should've just automatically known that she did. As she pulls away to smile at me, she wraps her arms around me and I make a solem vow to myself.... to never lose faith in my deity again.

THE END