"Stop trying to cover it up, Gil, we all know that you're attempting to hide from the fact that you were on a date last night..."

"Catherine, please." Gil Grissom's grim tone was heard in a splitting silence that echoed through his office, as he absentmindedly rubbed his neck. "We both know how I received this-this mark," he said hesitantly.

"I still think it looks like a hickey," Catherine Willows laughed, her blue eyes dazzling as they roaming his neck. The past day, they had encountered one of the `strange suspects.' And this strange suspect was actually bold enough to attempt some sort of harm to come upon Grissom. Lucky for him, security was standing by, ready to do their job-which they did quite well.

"So, you find anything?" he asked. It was clear to her that he was striving to change the unwanted subject. Catherine shook her head, her straight and luxuriant blond locks swinging behind her shoulder.

"Nope, just these blood-stained clothes. You know, what's the use of bringing them in for analysis if the case is solved? Our work here is done, and considering that we've pulled a couple extra shifts, I'm ready to go home and relax." She sighed and collapsed in a chair near Grissom's desk.

"By all means, you are excused then. Go home and get some good rest," he told her, refusing to look up from some files he was intently studying.

"Well, I was actually talking about you too," Catherine explained, scooting the chair over to his desk. She rested her elbows on the surface of his desk and put her chin in her hands, curiously watching him discern in his files. "So tell me something good." He looked up and their blue eyes met; Grissom observed her childish expression and smiled.

"My words fly up, my thoughts remain below," was all he said, smirking and looking back down at the paperwork he was studying.

"Subtitles, please?" she asked, rolling her azure beauties in disgust.

"In other words, Catherine my dear, I'm sorry-I have nothing good on my mind right now to share with you," he said in a precise tone. "I'm caught up in these cases...they're quite interesting..." his words trailed off. Now curiosity had gotten the best of her and she leaned forward and peeked over the papers he was carefully observing.

"World's Most Dumbest Crooks," she read aloud. With a hesitant smile, Catherine continued. "Gil, sometimes I wonder what goes on in your mind all day." He looked up into her deep, Prussian eyes and smiled. It was then that he realized that their faces were nearly a few inches apart. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked quietly, not a clue as to why she was whispering. Clearing his throat, Grissom withdrew his gaze and looked down to the papers.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought..."

"About what? I wanted to know what was going on in your mind, so tell me. What's it going to waste?" she asked, running the tip of her fingernail across the edge of his papers and pushing them down so that she had a full view of his handsome features.

"Catherine..."

"I thought we agreed to no more secrets," she interrupted to his doubtful response. Her taunting grin brought him to no wavering agreement as he gazed deeply into her eyes. As always, he gave in.

"Oh, I was just thinking about the whole incident with me being pinned back and nearly strangled until I was out of oxygen." With that, Grissom pulled back up the papers and continued reading.

"There's more to your story, Gil." Catherine pushed the articles back down, almost as if they were children fighting over what they would do for their next activity.

"Well, fine then, since you're so persistent..."

"Indeed I am."

"I was thinking about my life-what would've happened if I had died in there from lack of oxygen." Suddenly there was a chilling prickle that ran up his arm as she placed her hand over his. He realized that she wanted more out of him; she was digging down into his depths where she could unleash all that he had been hiding from her-from everyone. "Do you ever wonder how the people or world around you would act if you were gone?"

"I suppose I have, but never really openly pondered it," Catherine replied. She stroked his hand, entangling his fingers into hers. He's hurting, he really is, she thought in surprise. "Why, Gil, is that what's bothering you?"

"How can you t...nothing's bothering me, Catherine," Grissom replied abruptly. He lowered the stories from his sight and brushed her hand away. When she realized that he was attempting to struggle free from the subject by standing up and moving on to another activity, Catherine immediately took action.

"Gil Grissom, I have known you for about twenty years now and this what I get? As if I can't tell when something is on your mind-because I can," she added, pacing to his side and taking a hold of his shoulders with a tight grasp. He looked away, refusing to meet her eyes. "Look at me," she ordered. He did as he was told and blue met blue. His expression was cold and blank. "Now are you going to tell..." her words were cut off by the sound of her cell phone ringing. "Damn."

"Suppose you better take this one too," he said blandly, feeling her release the grasp that she had previously held on him. Nodding casually, Catherine pulled out her phone and turned around. He could barely discern a few mumbled words of hers, making it clear that it was the same "friend" that had called earlier.

"Sorry." She turned back to face him, her cheeks red with embarrassment. He couldn't tell whether or not the source of her abash was the fact that a phone call had interrupted their serious conversation, or if it was just the meaning of "friend" she wished not to reveal. Then he realized that there was something different about her features...

"It's okay. But, Cath, I really have to get..."

"Really?" she asked, a few tears forming in her blue-tinted eyes.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize how important this was to you," Grissom explained, seeing a single tear fall from the depths of her eye and roll down her cheek, followed by a few more. It was then that he had realized that difference in her tone of emotions had been sadness. She was sad, and over what, he was afraid of knowing.

"No, it's not you, it's-it's..." her words trailed off over a few sobs that were set free, something that he rarely saw from the Catherine Willows he knew and loved-strong, brave, stubborn. This was not like her at all.

Suddenly, Grissom felt the sudden urge to comfort her and he pulled her into a firm embrace. For a few moments, her arms were wrapped carelessly in front of her, trying to shield her face from his sight, but his warm embrace caused her to bring them up around his neck and hold him tight.

"You're going to be just fine, Cath," he told her, the form of his smile imprinting on her ear as he held her firmly.

"Oh, Gil..." was all she managed to spill out of her trembling lips. And all in a moment, she fell to the ground, quivering and shaking in between sobs. Naturally, he was unable to stop her fall and slid down next to his desk with her still in his arms. For the first time since she had began crying, he looked into her eyes and saw pain and agony. Grissom reached up his hand and gently stroked a few stands of hair, which had been glued against her wet face, behind her ear.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked carefully, hoping not to disrupt her sorrow from its climax, which was deepening as the moments ticked by. She shrugged, looking down and wiping away some newly released tears.

"I-I just want t-to get away. I need to take Lindsey w-with me...we need to get out of here," she stuttered under her breath.

"Please don't leave, Catherine, please," he pleaded, stroking her cheek gently.

"Gil, you're the only one keeping me here," she told him, suddenly leaning her blond locks against his chest. He felt her now quieting sobs vibrate against his chest as she cried into him, inhaling his scent as she did so.

"Catherine, is there something going on in your life that..."

"Oh, it's just a mess right now!" she exclaimed, tilting her head to the side so that she could look up and stare at his facial cast. "I'm so s-sorry, Gil, I really am."

"For what?"

"For lying to you...this "friend" of mine isn't just a friend. I loved him, I loved him so much, but this is what I get in return? Why is it that every man I've been with has no respect for a woman? They cheat on you, turn you down, do terrible things behind your back, and even beat on you. Oh, Gil, I can't take it..." she cried, her sobs growing with heave.

"I respect you, Catherine. And for every time that I haven't, I am truly sorry."

That was all she needed to hear-all she wanted to hear. Gil Grissom told her himself that he respected her. With respect came dignity; with dignity came honor; with honor came love...but did he? Did he love her? Would he admit it if he did?

"Gil?" she asked quietly, wiping away the remaining tears. "I haven't shown respect to you for the past week or two..."

"Of course you have..."

"No, I've lied to you. This new man that was in my life-Chris-I had...oh, Gil, it all started while I was still on the clock, if you know what I mean." Catherine looked deep into his inner being, trying to read his mind as best as she could.

"What? You mean that you had literal contact with him during the scene?" Grissom asked in astonishment. She hesitantly nodded. "Well, it doesn't matter right now, Cath, that's behind us, and I accept your apology. But would you like to explain to me exactly what caused you to break down like this and brought us both to the floor of my office?" There was almost a hint of humor in his voice as he thought of their situation.

"It was Chris! He called me by another girl's name-Laura-and then told me he had business to attend to and couldn't come to breakfast with me. The bastard! He's been cheating on me all along and I was too stupid to see this right under my nose. Hell, if I would have..."

"Shh, Catherine." Grissom took a few breaths before continuing. "I know that you've been hurt well more than you deserved in the past and right now as we speak, but that does mean that there won't be a man who will treat you the way a woman should be treated?"

"I don't think I even know how that is," she murmured, leaning into his embrace.

"Well..." his words dubiously trailed off. Leaning down, he gently planted a kiss on her bare collarbone and whispered softly into her ear, "Like this." She looked up at him, amazed by his action, which had caught her off-guard. And then, with some hesitation, their lips came close together, merely centimeters apart.

"Gil," she murmured in a hushed tone.

Their lips met, but only for a brief moment as he quickly withdrew.

"I'm sorry, Cath. I-I should've..."

"God, Gil, for once you do something sensible and you're sorry for it?" Catherine teased, smiling as their lips were yet inches a part, moisture arising in their mouths.

"So y-you don't mind?" Grissom asked, their lips brushing against each other.

"Not at all," was her reply, which was barely audible before their lips crashed together and they openly exchanged their unanticipated love. He parted her lips, entering into her mouth. She did the same.

Gil moved his hands on top of hers that were resting lightly on her stomach. Their arms were entangled, and she leaned heavily against him, nestling up to his warmth and security. They were one-one body, one soul, one being; they were inseparable. Well, almost.

The two CSI's actions were ceased at the sound of a phone blaring in both of their ears, the high pitched ring signifying that it was Grissom's phone from his desk. Quickly parting their lips and looking up, both of them widely smiled as he reached up to grab the phone off of the reciever. He answered it in his usual tone of voice, which soon changed in to a more disappointed resonance.

"Yes, of course-right away," he concluded, hanging up the phone and moving into a higher position, and shifting his weight onto his knees. "Dammit."

"What's the matter? Why are you leaving?" Catherine asked, wiping her eyes from the smeared mascara and eyeliner that defined her azure beauties.

"You should be asking `why are we leaving?'," he told her grimly. Seeing her pained look, he added, "Another case, Cath-another long, long case."

"Sometimes I wonder why I sacrifice more than twenty-four hours on this job," she told him, pulling him back down to the floor. For a moment, they both just sat in the still dimness, her head inclined upon his shoulder as he stroked her ravishing locks. "Hey, Gil?" she asked with a smile.

"Yeah?"

But before she could answer, he felt her lips smothered against his neck on the opposite side of his bruise. She drew his skin into her mouth with passion, her lips having a tight grip on him; in her mere stubbornness, she refused to let go. He felt a surge of electricity run up his spinal cord and he shivered undyingly at her action. The wetness of her lips against his skin also made him moan under his breath. Finally she parted from him and casually licked her lips with pleasure.

"How was that?" she asked, smiling as she touched the new mark on his neck with her fingertips.

"God, that...that was f-fine," he replied. His mind was completely in a daze of shock.

"I'm glad to hear it," Catherine told him with a large smile on her lips. She stood up. Gil rubbed his neck and sighed.

"So now what's my excuse for this?" he asked, wincing in thought as he ran his fingers over it.

"You mean my mark?" she asked with a giggle. They both had returned to their normal height, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rubbed the middle of his back line.

"Yes, your mark." Winking, Grissom leaned down to plant a last kiss on her lips and he smiled. "Is this good enough respect for you?" There was a smirk forming on his lips from edge to edge of his mouth.

"It is." She smirked back at him, her blue eyes dazzling as she did so. She reached up her hands and ran her fingers through his peppering-gray and chestnut hair. The curls tickled her fingertips.

As they each divided in their separate ways to analyze different sections of a new crime scene, both investigators working well into their fourth shift, they each had a thought in common: breakfast together. After planning the morning for the two of them, there was nothing more encouraging to get them both through a tiring and hard case.

"Hey, Griss," Warrick asked, lowering his camera after taking a few shots of the scene. "You get another bruise, or had I just missed that one too?" he asked, burrowing his eyebrows as he studied `the new mark.' Grissom self-consciously tugged at his neckline, trying to hide what Warrick was observing.

"It's just another mark," he added, refusing to meet gazes with the dark and mysterious eyes of his worker. When Warrick nodded and turned away to capture the murder weapon with the camera, Grissom added, "her mark."

** THE END **