::

"Lying here with you, watch you while you sleep
Dawn is closing in with every breath you breathe..."

::

I roll over on my side and am nearly startled when I find her still figure beside me—entangled in my arms, to be exact. But when I recall the events from the previous evening, my mind is pleasingly settled. I find an odd satisfication in watching her sleep as her shoulders heave up and down every time she breathes. The tone of her skin slightly illuminates within the rays from the rising sun that escaped through a few of the unclosed blinds on the window. To me, she's an angel.

::

"I can feel the change, the change you made in me
But will I ever see all the things you see in me?"

::

As I lay in complete silence with still fascination of observing her in the deepest of sleep, I experience realization of how different I feel from last night. It's almost as if the Gil Grissom once known to the world has been suddenly erased from all records and replaced with a new somebody. A somebody she created when she gave a part of herself to me last night. From now on we'll be of mutual existence.

A thought is suddenly unleashed into my mind.

My whole life have I lived under the burden of reclusiveness—science, logic, method...and bugs. And my whole life have I constantly suffered under the repercussion of being alone. The only means had of being sociable is questioning a suspect in an interrogation. The only opportunity for physical contact is handing someone a test tube in a baby blue lab coat. But then again, I've known Catherine for twenty years of my life. What did she see in me that nobody else saw?

And a better question yet: will I ever see it for myself?

::

"When you say that I'm one of a kind
Baby, I don't see it, but you believe
That I'm so strong and true, I promise you
I'll try to be that kind of man
Because you loved me like I am"

::

It's been approximately three days since she made me a knew somebody. I wish I could give an exact answer, but ever since she transformed me, accuracy doesn't prioritize my agenda anymore. I still do like to be precise—especially during an investigation—but besides that, I never doubt and I never look back. She taught me that one.

Naturally, being a CSI I ask questions. I'm not void to curiosity either. I think curiosity makes a great scientist, but you just have to be careful what curiosity drives you to inquire. Today I asked her what she saw in me.

She says I'm different than any other man she's known—she likes the unique personality, the strong will that I have, which enables me to press on through each case with such perseverance. "Frankly," she tells me, "I admire that."

It doesn't matter how much she loves me the way I am; I'm desperate to become a better man than she already has made me. I want to do this for her, to meet her needs and eternally quench everything she longs for. My motivation for doing this is her and how much she already has loved me. Just the way I am.

::

"When it comes to love I may not know the rules
But there's one thing I know, my heart belongs to you
Just to you"

::

Because of my experiences prior to this, love is just a game that people besides me play. Before Catherine, the need to love another human being was not present in my life. I didn't want anything to do with it.

I recall the first time she kissed me—when her lips tenderly caressed my own. I precisely remember the sensation that grew throughout my body and seemed to numb everything I once had considered "male vulnerable." She renewed it all and let me know that just because this wasn't something I took activity in daily, she'd always love me; I had nothing to be abashed about.

At this moment I'm watching her process the crime scene. Again have I found a grave interest in observing my Catherine, but this time she notices. Her eyes flash up to catch mine in their intruiged activity. I slightly blush as she sends me a raised eyebrow and priceless smirk.

"You like what you see?" she whispers in a sultry tone that tells me what will happen after work.

All I can do is nod in reply, with realization padlocking my brain: Catherine is mine, and her heart belongs to me.

::

"When you say that I'm one of a kind
Baby, I don't see it, but you believe
That I'm so strong and true, I promise you
I'll try to be that kind of man
Because you loved me like I am"

::

Sometimes I find it hysterical that the one woman I ended up with is the one woman I spent twenty-some years with...half of those years on the job. Why is it that it's taken nearly fifteen years for me to take a step out of my isolated life in a hermetically-sealed condo? Again I'll say—I sometimes find it hysterical.

It's a mystery how true love works. I ponder those joyous twenty years and realize that if she and I didn't have such a strong backbone with each other when we jumped into this relationship, it may have never been anything more than a one-night stand. And those regrettable fights we've all had—they're forever in the past, but thank God they happened or the little things we argue about now would destroy us altogether.

I feel like our romance is out of the Beauty and the Beast—or even the Phanton of the Opera. It's practically the same thing in a metaphorical tense. I'm this mad scientist who can't find anything better to do than sit at the crime lab and prove myself a workaholic. She's a beautiful angel with a sassy edge and has managed to break my beastly spell; Catherine has forever unmasked me, and even if my true colors aren't the most well-favored, she knows them and accepts them.

All of her passion and tenacity has only encouraged me to improve my true colors.

::

"You showed me
You love me with a fire that burns deep inside
When you say that I'm one of a kind
Baby, I don't see it, but you believe
That I am strong and true, I promise you
I'll try to be that kind of man
Because you loved me like I am"

::

It's a vow of assurance, a vow of all the consecration I can offer. It's simply the truth. And as the words leave my mouth of how much I appreciate her and love her, her diamond eyes turn to glass. A tear runs out of her eye and down her cheek.

She slides the golden band onto my finger. At the touch of her skin against my own, I suddenly wonder how she expects me to wait to kiss her. Those full lips glossed in something delicious taunt me, and she subtly licks them just to make me suffer.

When there's a moment of silence between us, she casts me a pointed look, and I straighten up, searching in my pocket for what will signify our bond of unity. Fear that I left it in the bathroom or some other insigificant place enters into my mind. But my fingers suddenly enclose around the object, and I pull it out of my pocket to reveal it to her for the first time. Sure—I had her finger sized, but I wasn't stupid enough to use the official item. That was just a fake. A backup.

I reach for her hand and feel the warmth emanate throughout my fingers as our skin once again unites. This time it's my turn to slide the ring onto her slender finger. When the band merges with the engagement ring, I feel her shiver under my touch, as if she has just realized we belong to each other.

We hold each other's gaze for what seems like an eternity before the priest coughs and repeats what he apparently had spoken before.

"You may now kiss the bride."

I don't react this time either, even though I actually heard his statement. I've waited for this moment where I'd capture her lips against my own for the first kiss we'd share as conjoined beings. I see her eyes glued on me in curiosity.

So much for thinking how I was going to perform this miraculous act. In a second squared do I swoop down and wrap my arms around her waist, impelling her lips to my own. I hear an intake of breath from the audience before us, and then progressing applaud. Whether or not they're responding yet, all I know is that I'm still kissing my Catherine. And she really is mine—just as I really am hers. Really really.

We finally break free. I interpret the anxiety that had built up within her..the anxiety of response to her first minute of being a Mrs. Gil Grissom. I love the sound of that, and I'm sure she does, too.

We take each other's hands as the music begins and follow procedure down the carpeted aisle. A tear slips out of my eye, and the aftermath of this action being public does not strike me. I'll cry a million tears for Catherine. She's my wife. I glance over at her smiling face and find tears of her own. See? Like husband, like wife.

"I love you," I whisper into her ear.

"You don't have to tell me that, Gil," she snaps, as her hand flutters up to wipe away a few tears from her face. And she told me she didn't need waterproof mascara...

"Why's that, love of my life?" I ask, not flinched by her sudden retortment.

"Well, honey, you just married me," she answers. I see a disgusted look run over her face when she realizes the tears have defeated her; there's too many for her to wipe away and hide from the world. Anyway, they're tears of joy. And it is her wedding day—our wedding day. We both have a right to cry. "I love you, too," she tells me with a returned smile over the crease of her lips.

"You don't have to tell me that."

She looks up at me, puzzled. "Sure I do."

"Remember, Mrs. Grissom? You're the one that got married to me. That says an awful lot," I say, smirking. I turn to her and wipe the tears from her cheek. Well, not all of them, but as many as I can personally manage.

She clings on to me tighter. "Well, I'm so screwed up right now that I don't know what I just did! Anyway, I still love you."

I look down at her. She looks up at me. Blue meets blue. We share another moment of long silence before our lips adjoin in another passionate kiss.

::

"I don't think I'll ever understand why you love me like I am"