Heather found them at Catherine's apartment later that afternoon. When Catherine opened the door, the two women quickly exchanged warm hugs.

"Where's our man?" Heather asked, glancing about the room. "I want to congratulate him!"

"In the bathroom. I have to change the dressing on his back," Catherine said.

"Is he alright?" Heather was concerned.

"Yes. But we did something stupid today," Catherine began. "I had a panic attack, and Gil picked me up and carried me to the rig, putting pressure on his stitches. I'll just be a minute."

Heather felt no compunction about following Catherine to the bathroom to watch.

"Heather!" Gil said, split between being glad to see her and being embarrassed at his state of undress.

"Don't bother blushing, Gil," she said. "Isn't anything there I haven't already seen."

It was Catherine who blushed.

Heather watched, amazed, as Catherine tended the wound and then carefully wrapped the bandages around Gil's ribs.

"He took quite a beating," Catherine was saying, but that wasn't what was on Heather's mind.

"What? Oh, yeah," she agreed. The bruises were heeling, but still clearly evident.

"There you go," Catherine said, securing the bandage and giving Gil a quick kiss on the cheek. "Now get dressed. We have company."

He smiled and shut the door as the women left.

"Catherine, how often have you done that?" Heather asked.

Catherine frowned.

"I don't know. Three or four times, I think. Why?"

Heather thought a minute.

"I need to tell you something, in complete confidence, and you must never let Gil know that I told you," she said.

Catherine, curious, perched on one of the kitchen stools.

"I'm listening," she said.

"Gil never lets anyone bind him, in any way. He has a phobia about it. That's why I was so anxious to bail him out of jail. I didn't know how long he could tolerate being handcuffed and locked up before completely losing it. I can't believe he just stood there and let you wrap him up!"

"It's his bandages," Catherine argued. "He tried to do it himself, but he couldn't. He had to let me help."

Heather nodded.

"He must trust you with his life," she said. "He would never let anyone else do that."

Catherine didn't know what to say. "Why?" she finally asked.

"That, I can't tell you," Heather answered. "He wouldn't even tell me. As you know, most phobias have their roots in childhood traumas. Hopefully, someday, he'll open up about that."

The women quickly changed the subject of their conversation when Gil joined them.

"Are you women talking about me behind my back?" he asked, grinning.

"You bet we are!" Catherine said, giving him a big kiss.

*******

"I want to see the evidence," Gil told Brass that night. He was sitting in the police captain's office.

"What evidence?"

"The 'conclusive' evidence you found in Eckley's apartment. The evidence that cleared me," Gil explained. "I went to the evidence locker, but it wasn't there. They told me you had it."

Brass leaned back in his chair and looked uncomfortable.

"Nah, you don't want to see that. Carol's case is closed. Let it go."

Gil's eyebrows shot up.

"I'm investigating Eckley's murder, remember? The two are connected. I need to see the evidence."

Jim Brass was quiet a minute, chewing on his thoughts.

"Trust me, Gil, you don't want to see that evidence," he said, quietly.

Gil sat up in the chair, trying to figure out what was happening.

"I'm conducting an investigation, here, Jim What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to keep you from self-destructing," Brass said.

"By impeding my investigation?"

Jim leaned forward and sighed.

"You want evidence against Sam Bruan. We don't have any. Let it go."

Gil was starting to get angry.

"I'll be the judge of that!" he said.

"So be it," Jim answered.

Silence settled between them as Gil tried to unravel this new mystery.

"At least tell me what it is," he said, at last.

Jim thought a minute before answering, turning all the angles over in his head.

"A video," he said.

"Of the murder?" Gil asked.

"Among other things," said Jim.

Gil felt as if the bottom of his world had fallen out.

"Let it go," Jim said. "You don't want it. And you sure don't want anyone else to get it."

Gil leaned back in his chair, pale.

"I swear, Jim, Carol was alive when I left," he said.

"Yes, she was," Jim said, "but she was in no condition to fend off her attacker."

Gil felt like he was going to be sick.

"Atwater saw the video?" he asked.

Jim nodded.

"Then why....?"

"You didn't kill her. Eckley did. It's all on there."

"But what about Bruan?"

"Bruan did you a favor," Brass said. "With Eckley dead, and the video in hand, they had to let you go."

Gil leaned forward and buried his head in his hands.

"Who else saw it?" he said.

"Atwater, the prosecutor, and myself. No one else. I swear."

Gil pressed his hands together, as if praying for mercy.

"I shouldn't have left her like that," he said.

"You're right, you shouldn't have."

Gil's eyes met Jim's.

"That's why you've been so mad at me," he said.

Jim shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Let me just say this," the captain warned, "if you ever do anything like that to Catherine, I will come after you personally, and there won't be any place you can hide."

*******

Catherine was busy getting dinner ready at her place, when a bouquet of flowers arrived at the door. Sure they were from Gil, she didn't check the card until he got home.

"Who are those from?" he asked, studiously avoiding her eyes. His encounter with Jim had left him shaken, and he didn't want her to know it.

"I thought they were from you," she replied, checking the card. She read it aloud: "All my love, pumpkin. Your father."

It was the last straw for Gil. He swept the vase off the table, shattering it on the floor, flowers and glass and water flying everywhere. His fury shocked even him, but it shocked Catherine, more. She flashed back to her step-father and his drunken rages. She flashed back to her ex-husband trashing the house and beating her. Stunned, she quietly began to pick up the flowers, one by one, and put them on the counter.

"You're not going to keep them, are you?" he yelled.

"They were mine, Gil," she said, her voice sharp. "You had no right."

He stared at her.

"Do you realize the hell that man put me through?" he asked.

She glared up at him.

"I was there, remember?"

Part of him wanted to apologize, but a bigger part of him was so enraged, he couldn't think straight. Without saying a word, he turned and walked out the door, leaving her to clean up the mess and eat dinner alone. She had barely finished when the phone rang.

"Did you get them?" Sam asked, trying to sound casual.

"They were beautiful," she said. "But I'm still not leaving Gil."

Even as she said it, she realized she wasn't so sure, anymore.

"That's okay, pumpkin. I just wanted to make you feel better. I'll call you later," he said, hanging up.

Sam leaned into the shadows of the backseat of his car, parked across the street from Catherine's apartment. He had seen Gil arrive, and he had seen Gil leave, and he had read the look on the man's face. It told him all he needed to know.

Gil marched into his apartment to find Sara putting slip covers over his sofa.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped.

"Cleaning up," she replied, frowning at him. "What's the matter? Catherine throw you out?"

He stopped dead center in the middle of the room and stared at her.

"Don't start with me, Sara," he warned. "I'm not in the mood."

Sara stepped back from him, unsure what to do. Gil opened the fridge, looking for something to eat, but it was cleaned out. He slammed the door. He opened a cupboard, but didn't like what he saw and pinched his finger slamming it shut.

"Damn!" he yelled.

He pulled open several drawers, not even sure what he was looking for. Sara stood by and quietly watched. Something clicked in his head. An idea, or a fear, and he began tearing everything apart, searching in every corner of every room of his apartment. When it looked like he had exhausted his search, Sara finally spoke up.

"What's the matter, Grissom?" she asked. "What are you looking for?"

"Cameras," he said, turning on her. "Where are the cameras?"

He seized her by the arms and slammed her up against the wall.

"Where are they, Sara. I know they're here. You put them here, didn't you? Where are the cameras?"

Sara slammed her knee into his groin and yanked herself out of his grasp when he doubled up. He was on his knees on the floor as she headed out the door.

"You need serious help, Grissom," she said, before disappearing into the night.

Gil groaned and curled up on the cold concrete floor floor.

"Oh, god, Carol, I'm so sorry," he cried. "I'm so sorry."

In the penthouse office of the Rampart Casino, Sam Bruan leaned back in his chair and watched the video of Grissom and Carol for the tenth time.

"Don't worry, Catherine," he said to the empty room. "I won't let him hurt you."

-- TBC --