Gil Grissom watched steadily as Catherine's slim figure disappeared through the door. His blue eyes were narrowed together in a glower. The words that she had spoken were still ringing through his mind for what seemed an eternity, though milliseconds had barely enough time to skim by.

Above reproach?

Shaking his head, he ran his fingers through his short, peppering hair and continued dialing digits. But it wasn't only the words that kept coming back to him, rather the look she had given him in return for his own glare. Of course, at that moment, he hadn't intended for his expression to be so harsh, although that was the way it escaped onto his features.

She has to accept that her reputation can't always be the way she wants it to be, he mused to himself. But the truth was, maybe he was the one giving her that impression—maybe she had a right to be angry with him, and to say sarcastic comments. After all, it wasn't a secret that their relationship had been hazardous for the past month or so. And it was also apparent that this case, like many others, was only creating more tension between both of them. It felt as if everything was going to explode at any moment.

Above reproach?

Her comment, once more, dispersed through his head, and finally got the best of him.

Grissom sat down and peeled off his latex gloves. He rested his chin in his hands and heaved a stout sigh. It was merely useless to attempt continuing with his work, when his mind was being distracted by agitated thoughts. And just to think that Catherine was the culprit of his agitation—it wasn't something that he found pleasure in.

"Maybe I need to talk with her," he murmured softly. Leaning back in his chair, Grissom crossed his arms and burrowed his eyebrows. A confrontation was what he least wanted, but what he needed the most.

******

Catherine pushed a strand of her strawberry-blond hair behind her ear. She felt so much guilt, passing by Nick and Sara in the locker room, but giving no word in return. She hoped they wouldn't take it personal; it wasn't a good time for interacting, and she was not feeling up to it.

She and Grissom were tight right now—it was nothing new. So what if the world found out about it? Their fights were all that had been occurring between them lately. No one would consider their tautness strange. If that was the case, why was she reckoning it unusual?

She reached into her purse and searched for her keys. After a few moments of rummaging, Catherine rolled her eyes and felt like screaming out loud.

"Damn," she cursed under her breath, looking into her Denali through the tinted window. There, in the ignition, were her keys. She silently scolded herself for being so reckless, but her reprimanding was revealed through her clenched expression. And of course, after testing the driver's door, she found that the doors were locked. There she was—in the middle of the parking lot, with her keys locked in the SUV. Stranded.

"Something wrong?"

Catherine pivoted around in one abrupt movement and gazed deep into Gil Grissom's blue eyes. She shrugged and shook her head.

"No, just the fact that my keys are locked in my car…I'm fine," she added quickly.

"I know you're upset about this case, Catherine. It must be hard to have your father the prime suspect in a case…"

"God, just because he slept with my mother does not make him my father! A father is someone who cares—someone who's actually around for you when you need him; not out stabbing one of his showgirls!" she exclaimed, flailing her arms to her side in disgust.

"But, technically, Catherine, he is your father, whether you want to accept it or not. He may not act like it…"

"Will you just quit making my life more miserable than it already is? I mean, honestly! I was just thinking that nothing else could go wrong, and then here you are, trying to convince me who Sam Braun is. That's…no, no…I'm going to catch a taxi right now!" she shouted. But despite her familiar obstinate behavior, Grissom made no reaction of indulgence to her previous words.

"I think you've been walking away from me enough today, Catherine. And you know something? I'm sick and tired of it," he said sternly, although his voice remained calm. Walking towards her, Grissom positioned himself inches away from her, and he grasped her arm. "I'm sorry…"

"For what?" she asked. Her voice was now a whisper. "For taking me off a case that I wasn't allowed to be on? If it's my place to say, I don't think you had a choice."

"No, that is true, but I had a choice of reactions to everything that went on between us today. I should've handled this in a different way ever since it all started," he explained sympathetically.

"Could you please let go of me?" Catherine asked quietly, looking up and meeting his gaze. When she tried to back up, she realized that there was no where else to go; her back was plastered against her Denali.

"If that's what you want. But I fear that if I let you go now, I'll never get you back," he said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Catherine, I have to agree with you. I am above reproach— above reproach of letting you go," Grissom told her, a slight smile creeping onto his lips. "Friends?" He patiently waited for her reply.

"Gil?" she questioned. "You're always above reproach. I've looked up to you for that reason. And it's that reason that puts you where you are today."

"Cath, don't say things like that…"

"But, what if I mean the things I say?" she asked in an enticing tone, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll still consider it flattery." He leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. "Again, I apologize, and whether or not you can accept that apology, I'm still giving it to you." With that, he began to walk off, heading towards his Tahoe.

"Hey, Gil? Um, do you think I could get a ride home with you… my character above reproach?"