The glass walls rattled as Catherine Willows slammed the door to her office. She flopped down in her desk chair and clenched her eyes shut, anger surging throughout her body. She rested her forehead in the palm of her hand and let her blond locks cascade carelessly down her cheekbones. Slightly opening her blue eyes, Catherine reached over and adjusted a picture of her and her daughter Lindsey on her desk. For some reason, having the reassurance that a child of nine- years would always be there to cheer her up when she arrived home was her motivation for continuing on with it all. And it all was worth it. But the man down the hall wasn't.

"Another argument?" Warrick Brown asked. He glanced over to an attractive woman, brunette ringlets encircling her chocolate eyes. Directing her attention to the flustered CSI who had made an abrupt leave to her office, Sara Sidle shrugged.

"That's what I'm guessing," she answered.

"Those two have got to straighten out, or sooner or later, their behavior is going to affect their work," another added, his Texas accent dragging through the hallway of the Las Vegas Crime Lab.

"Sooner or later, Nick? How about now?" Warrick burrowed his eyebrows and sighed. "Grissom told me that he was going to have to take Catherine off of this case two days ago."

"And he's just doing so now?" Sara asked. Her eyes scanned a file she was holding. "Well, whatever is going on, I have to head on over to the morgue. The doc has postmortem on my homicide."

"Aw, Sara's working solo again," Nick Strokes joked with a chuckle. Sara shot him a piercing glare and shrugged.

"Hey, well at least I'm responsible enough to do so...unlike some," she quickly added. Glancing both of her co-workers a impetuous grin, Sara made her way further down the hallway, heading for the morgue where Al Robbin's waited with the cause of death on her most recent case.

"Do you think we should make up some sort of excuse to interrupt Catherine in her sulking?" Nick asked. Warrick shook his head.

"No," he answered. "With our luck, she'd suspect that we're just nosing around." Warrick smiled and handed Nick a folder. "This is for you - looks like Griss is assigning us to the assault case."

"Female, late twenties," Nick began, studying the files that he had been given. "Suffocation, bruises, left-handed killer...doesn't look to complicated." His brown eyes crinkled into a smile.

"Oh, don't worry. I think there's more to the challenge then meets the eye," Warrick said reassuringly. "I'll stop by Grissom's office and look into that search warrant. In the mean time, stay away from Catherine's office, okay?" Nick nodded and sighed.

"While you're with Grissom, try to get as much out of him as possible - and make it subtle," he spoke, catching Warrick's attention by a wave of the hand. Warrick rolled his dark eyes. "Subtlety is my specialty."

******

Gil Grissom, head of the Las Vegas Crime Team, casually paced his office. Anger was evident on his face as he grit his teeth to hold back any cursing that taunted his lips. Looking over his shoulder, he glanced at the form on his desk - the mediator of it all. Slowly striding over to it, he sat down in his chair and studied the paper cautiously. His eyes read far too many things that caused flashbacks of the previous ten minutes to erupt in his memory. No, the case itself wasn't the mediator - she was.

"You can't just hide from it all, Gil! You have to step out of your own little world and into reality," she had said.

"Reality? What is reality if all it consists of is anger?" he asked, his voice raised a slight bit higher than he had intended it to be.

"If you weren't caught up in your hermetically-sealed condo all day, doing crossword puzzles and watching the Discovery Channel, then maybe you would be able to figure out that reality consists of much more than that. In fact, are you helping yourself from your definition of reality right now?" she shouted back.

"Well, how about you? Just humor me and say that you are always happy - there is never a hint of anger in your heart. Shakespeare once said..."

"You know something, Grissom? I don't give a damn as to what Shakespeare says! Stop burying yourself into comebacks and quotations of famous poets and writers and start to realize that you can't live your life like this! God, I hardly know you anymore, and I've technically known you since I can remember. What does that tell you?" she had interrupted in a holler.

In the present, the more and more he thought about it all - about the argument - the memories all became more clear. Now he could even picture himself walking to his door and shutting it, afraid that the whole crime lab would hear of their situation. And then he remembered her question - why couldn't he have answered it, and answered it solemnly? He could have spared them their friendship from then on by a simple apology.

"You say you don't know me, Catherine, then why do you judge me? There is more to my life than what you think. You just don't take the time to get to know me. That's your problem," he had told her, pride in his tone.

"I don't take the time? So you're saying that you do?"

"I didn't say that..."

"But you meant it. Gil Grissom, for the past twenty years, I have been patiently trying to learn more about your personal life. I only repeat the things that I already know about you, from past experience. If you don't like it like that, then I have two options for you: give me something or tell me to leave!" she hollered, her voice raising in volume.

"Catherine..."

"I know that you're sick and tired of this all; so am I. But hiding is not the way to escape from your troubles," she said.

"Catherine..."

"And dammit! Stop saying my name!" Catherine had ordered in dignity. "A man has to earn my respect before he can do so. And you, apparently, have lost all respect that you once had. In fact, I think I've lost the Gil Grissom I once had," she explained, looking deep into his blue eyes, which were clouded with frustration.

"Did you ever have me? I don't remember you labeling me as yours, Catherine. And yes, I will say your name because I have the authority here!" he had yelled, slamming his fists down on his desk.

"Do you? If I report that you are getting emotionally involved in this case, then I'll be on top of the..."

"Oh, so you're not emotionally involved, Catherine? The whole reason we're in here, is because you're attitude has been a problem. I can remove you right now from the case, and I also have the authority to remove you right now from this job."

"You wouldn't do that, Gil," she said in a hushed tone. "And don't worry, you wouldn't have to..."

"I would remove you from this case, if that's what you mean..."

"No, you wouldn't have to remove me from this job, because I'm doing so myself. As of tomorrow, there will be no more Catherine Willows, level three CSI - because she quits!" Catherine had hollered, her voice blaring throughout his office.

"If that's the way you solve your problems, then fine! Hide away with your daughter and that bastard 'friend' of yours!"

"I'm not hiding, Grissom! You should know what hiding is since you've been doing it since..."

"You gave me two options, Catherine. Leave!" he had ordered. Her face turned blank and she nodded, throwing the case file at him. She had opened the door, slammed it, and left - for good. He remembered watching her slim figure stomp down the hallway, taking her ID off and throwing it in the trash can.

"She's not hiding," Grissom said, his mind shattering from his flashbacks. "she's running."

******

"Willows."

Catherine smiled, despite the abrupt answer to her cell that she had made.

"Hey, baby - it's me. Are you almost off?" It was Chris - she could recognize his sexy voice anytime, cooing flattery and flirtatious remarks in her ear.

"Actually, I'm off for good. Just couldn't take this shit anymore..."

"Did someone hurt you?" he asked in a stern tone.

"N-no, I'm fine. Hey, do you want to come over to my place for some supper? Linds is riding the school bus this evening, and she'll be home from school in about an hour. I'd hate for her to come home to an empty house," Catherine suggested, twirling a strand of her golden hair around her finger.

"Sounds good. I'll come by to pick you up. Maybe room service will be an option for next weekend," Chris said, grinning widely as he made his suggestion.

"Okay. Bye."

Catherine shut her cell and sat back in her chair. The lingering guilt in the back of her mind surprised her. A few minutes from now, she'd be relaxing with the 'friend' she had told Grissom about, when what she really should be doing would be out of the question.

Catherine knew that by quitting her job of being a CSI for so many years, she would never be able to return. And as soon as the grudge she held on Gil Grissom washed away, she would wish that she never even pondered the subject of quitting. But technically, if the fight had carried on any longer, he would have fired her, she decided. But was that any better of a motive?

"God, what am I doing?" she asked herself, resting her elbows on her desk and putting her head in her hands. She shook her head and felt her eyes fill up with tears. But she couldn't cry - she was Catherine Willows. It just wasn't like her. Though none of her behavior had been like her lately. What exactly was happening in her life?

"Good question. But don't worry, I don't know what I'm doing half of the time. Sometimes I wonder why they made me the lab technician...but anyway, did you want to check out those DNA results right about now?" Catherine shot her head up, her gaze channeling over an all too familiar figure: Greg Sanders.

"Greg," she mumbled.

"And you might want to be ready for something a little strange," Greg added. He ran his fingers through his golden hair with brown and dirty-blond highlights. As usual, his hairstyle consisted of nothing but hair gel.

"When isn't your testing strange?" Catherine asked in sarcasm. He smiled.

"If you're too busy, I can send them over to Grissom..."

"That might be good," she sighed. The urge to tell Greg that she was quitting wasn't nearly close to her lips. But yet, the thought pressured her over and over as she watched his figure stand in the doorway, his white lab coat swinging in the air current from below him.

"Okay, then I'll be on my way." Seeing her nod drearily, he paused. "Hey, Cath, you feeling alright?"

"What?" she asked, snapping out of her daze. "Oh, y-yeah," she answered. Giving him a slight and abrupt smile, Catherine nodded. Greg returned her with his usual grin and began to make his way down the long hallway, his destination Grissom's office.

******

"Hey, Beautiful. You ready?" a voice from behind her asked. Catherine turned around and smiled widely with a flirtatious grin.

"Yeah, I'll be right with you," she answered, disappearing into the locker room and emerging again with her purse and jacket. "Hi," she said dreamily. She leaned up and planted a kiss on his lips. When he began to pull her into an embrace and a deeper and more passionate kiss, Catherine quickly withdrew.

"What's the matter?" For a moment, all she could do was stare in ignorance. For some reason, she felt guilty when she had kissed him - something strange, some uncanny feeling lingered in her heart; she could not put her finger on what exactly that emotion was.

"I don't know," Catherine answered blandly. "I guess I'm just disappointed that I couldn't offer you a better suggestion for us to spend the evening together."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Cath. I'm just glad that we can be together." Chris' arrogant smile turned to a smirk. "Now, is it safe to kiss you?" he joked. Catherine hesitantly nodded. Their lips crashed together, and she cooperated in a compassionate feel. But still, something didn't seem right to her. It was so much different from the last time Chris had kissed her. She felt guilty - she felt some sort of barrier between both of them. But what, or who, was it?

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting anything?"

Both Chris and Catherine immediately broke apart. Catherine stared in disbelief at the man before them, his blue eyes narrowed and his hands in his pockets.

"Gil," she murmured. "What the hell..."

"I'm sorry, Catherine, but I had to give you your resignation statement to fill out before you're officially resigned from this job." His face showed no emotion as he spoke with abruptness. Then Grissom's attention turned towards an unfamiliar man, whom Catherine had been deeply positioned with.

Chris cleared his throat and spoke, "I'm Chris, uh...her...uh..."

"Boyfriend," Catherine added with a stone-hard voice. "We've been dating for over a month now."

"Aw, I see. Congratulations, and nice to meet you, Chris," Grissom said. He was desperately trying to do everything he could to keep from blushing in his unusual stage of awkwardness. "You're one of the few lucky men around." Hearing this statement, Catherine glanced at Grissom in amazement. She tilted her head, her mouth slightly dropping. She knew what he meant - of course she knew what he meant; they had known each other for ages. In fact, it was getting to the point in time where she could nearly finish his sentences. So why was she giving this all up?

"Oh, no one has to tell me that," Chris said with pride ringing throughout the room.

"Can you have that statement filled out to me by tomorrow morning?" Grissom asked, his hands still buried in his pockets. Catherine nodded and looked at the ground. Now she was the one trying to hold in a blush, which had already begun forming at the indents of her cheekbones. "Okay." With that, Grissom began to walk away from Catherine and Chris.

Chris wrapped his arm around Catherine and asked, "You ready to go, Lynda, baby?" Grissom raised an eyebrow and stopped right in his tracks, turning his head to view Catherine's reaction. She looked up at him and before Chris could apologize, her hand slapping across his cheek.

"Lynda? Is that the other lucky girl who you've been seeing?" she asked, gritting her teeth as she spoke.

"I...I..."

"You bastard! Is she also the reason you've been unavailable the past couple of weekends? Have you been cheating on me?" Catherine asked, her voice raised an octave higher than before.

"Catherine..."

"Get the hell out of here! I've gone through this once, and hell, I'm not going through this again!"

"Catherine..."

"No man who cheats on me deserves to say my name, especially if he's willing to replace it with," she paused. "Lynda." Grissom could almost see tears forming in her azure beauties as she cursed and swore, showing the man who was boss.

"Why you...h-how do you know I've been cheating on you?" Chris asked in shock. "Which, I haven't," he added casually.

"Eddie did the same things to me. Too busy, calling me other women's names. And the funny thing is, I didn't feel comfortable when he held me or kissed me after a while. Just a few minutes ago, I felt the exact same awkwardness that I felt years ago. So damn you and your girlfriend, and get the hell out of here!" Catherine hollered.

"No, Catherine, I won't..."

"Then I will!" She began to walk away, her walk quickly turning into a slow run. But Chris reached out and grabbed her arm, refusing to let go of her. He tightly grasped her wrist, tears beginning to cloud her once beautiful, blue eyes. "Get your hands off of me, you bastard! Let me go..." Catherine desperately attempted to release from his grasp, but had no success at all.

"Let go of her."

Chris looked up in disbelief to find Grissom still standing at the end of the hallway. Catherine was as well surprised by his presence yet lingering.

"And if I don't?" Chris snickered, shoving Catherine's figure aside and letting her slam against the wall. He grimly stared at Grissom, his brown eyes raging with competition.

"Get out of here, Catherine!" Grissom hollered, realizing the danger that she would be in if Chris decided to backfire his strength on her. But the force of her fall had given her a disadvantage to the situation. She helplessly clung to the wall, trying to get off of the floor and on to her feet.

"Oh, what's wrong, honey? You scared or something?" Chris asked, turning around and stepping towards Catherine's weak figure. She clenched her face together in disgust and gathered the adrenaline to stand up. Facing him, she looked him straight in the eye and cursed under her breath.

"I would never be afraid of a man with your behavior. I put up with it for longer than I can remember, and you're no different than the last," she said in a hushed, but angered, tone.

"If you lay one hand on her, this is not going to go the way you had planned it," Grissom snapped from behind, making Chris form a fist on his side. Suddenly, he whirled around to face the CSI and sent his fist towards Grissom's jawbone. But Grissom ducked out of the way and immediately grabbed Chris' arm and twisted him around, forcing him to the ground and holding him there tightly.

"I can have you arrested for this...this treatment!" Chris yelled, trying to wriggle out of Grissom's grasp.

With a chuckle, Grissom answered, "Well, I was thinking something in that order, but the other way around." A smirk formed upon the crease of his lips as security rushed into the scene and immediately handcuffed Chris. "That's the funny thing about being in a crime lab - there's police everywhere." Grissom's blue eyes sparkled with mischievous consent.

Chris sputtered and swore as security led him off, their figures slowly fading into the distance. When his eyes could no longer visualize Chris and the police team, he turned around to find Catherine staring at him, her arms crossed, and a blank expression on her face. Her eyes were still moist with tears and she casually rubbed her wrist where Chris had once tightly grasped her.

"Um..." he began, unsure of exactly how he would break through the sullen awkwardness. "I'm sorry about all this. I know how much trouble you've had in the past and I..."

"Thank you," was all that escaped her lips. She managed a slight and quick smile before brushing herself past him and exiting the building. All he could do was watch her get into her Denali and pull out of the parking lot. He had let her go once again.

******

)) She's walking, but walking and knowing nothing of her destination. She had thought it best that way, for no living soul would no of her whereabouts if she didn't have the slightest idea, herself. Something is drawing her into a certain direction. She is willingly following it, giving into every power that has captivated her soul. It's then that she realizes that tears are streaming down her face, and the cool, spring wind is drying them and plastering them to her skin. Her blue eyes search for something oblivious to her mindset. She, in fact, is oblivious to the world. But then, amidst all her sufferings and pain, there's someone standing in her path. He reaches out his arms and azure eyes glow in the dim light. Only the flickering streetlight from a nearby alley is there to haunt her steps as she approaches the figure before her. He seems so familiar, but yet some lingering doubt in her mind is telling her to stay away from him. She doesn't listen. She looks at his stretched out hand, and she realizes that he wants to help her. But just as her fingers entangle in his, he disappears... ((

"Willows," answered a weary Catherine. She had barely enough strength to grasp her cell phone in her hand. Glancing over at her digital clock, she sighed with disgust.

"Hi, Catherine."

"Gil?" she shrieked, her voice crackling as she did so. "What the hell? Do you know what time it is?"

"Yeah, I do."

"And let me guess, you're just coming home from the base as we speak." Rolling her azure eyes, she sat up halfway in her bed. "It wouldn't be the first."

"Actually, would you be upset if I told you that I was right outside of your house?"

"Oh, please, don't tell me you're coming to my house at 3:30 AM to persuade me not to quit..."

"I wish I knew the reason I was here right now," he said. "But truthfully, I took a wise poet's advice and wandered mindlessly." There was a long moment of silence before he spoke once again. "Do you mind if I come in? It's cold standing on your porch with no jacket."

Catherine sighed, "Why not? But I'll tell you now - I'm sleeping!" With that, she threw her phone at the opposite end of her bed and slammed her head on her pillow. Her blond locks were flattened around her head, seeming to outline her beautiful features. Moonlight spilled into her room through the blinds and illuminated her fairness. There was a knock at her bedroom door.

"I'm sleeping," she said.

"I know." Grissom peered into her bedroom, slightly opening the door only a crack. "Is Lindsey sleeping?"

"Well, honestly, what do you think? No, she's watching TV at three- thirty in the morning, Gil!" Catherine said sarcastically. She threw a pillow over her head. Grissom opened the door fully and answered.

"I just wasn't sure if she was spending the night somewhere. You don't have to be so apparent about the subject," he retorted, emerging from the shadows of the doorway and into her bedroom.

"So tell me again, why are you here? Because I was sleeping until someone interrupted me..."

"If you want me to leave, then just say so. I told you already: I don't know why I'm here. Just felt the urge to come over. Is selfless wandering a crime? I didn't think so until this very moment." Grissom stood in the silver path the moon had shed on her floor, his arms crossed, and his handsome features silhouetted.

"You don't have to leave," she answered quietly. Sitting up in her bed, she reached over and turned on her lamp. "Do you want anything? Coffee, juice, a screwdriver?"

"No, I'm good."

"The guest room is open, if you're looking into spending the night," Catherine suggested. Her tone was sharp and quick. It was evident that their previous fight was having an impact on their normal relationship. "In fact, I'm surprised that you came to me, of all people," she mumbled under her breath, hoping that her comment would not be audible to him. But her hope diminished.

"So I guess we're no longer friends, just because we argued and you're quitting your job?" Grissom asked.

"If that's what you assume, then so be it."

"I didn't assume anything..."

"Oh, but you did, Gil Grissom - you really did."

"I'm sorry then," he said abruptly. Apologies had never been something he enjoyed.

"For what?"

"Well, what do I have to be sorry for that can spare our friendship?" he asked.

"Spare our friendship? I think it's a little late for that..."

"Catherine, I don't want you to quit your job." Grissom looked at the ground and fidgeted with his shirt.

"It didn't seem that way earlier today," she replied coldly.

"That's because I was angry...and I still am, although not as much. In fact, I really shouldn't be angry. That was probably the largest argument we've ever had, but tell me, Cath - have we ever let an argument get in the way of our relationship?" he asked solemnly.

Catherine hesitated and then answered, "What you did for me tonight - is that why you're over here?"

"Probably."

"I owe you," she said with a slight laugh.

"Then let's not have you be in debt. How about we fix our friendship tonight?" he suggested.

"I don't know if I'm ready to take that step yet, Gil." Catherine threw the comforter aside and stood up, stretching and yawning as she did so. She walked over to him and stood inches apart from his figure. "What happened today is unforgettable and it may take a while to repair our friendship."

"So are you saying that you don't want to repair it?" he asked, burrowing his eyebrows in concern.

"No, I didn't say that. See? Here you go again with your assumptions!" she snarled, throwing her arms up in the air.

"Yes, I am assuming because your tone of voice gave me far enough evidence!"

"Don't treat me like a crime scene, because I ain't one! And damn every man on this earth who has thought of me like that! No man that I have ever known has been any different; they've mistreated me, beat me, cheated on me...why should I believe that I'll meet a man who won't do these things to me?" she stormed, tears falling selflessly out of her azure eyes, which were clouded with mixed emotions.

"Catherine, now whose the one assuming?" he pressured, taking a step away from her and gesturing with his hands towards her.

"And tell me, what exactly would you suggest that I'm assuming?" Catherine snapped.

"The fact that I'm like every other man who you've been with. Just because the rest have been bastards, doesn't mean that I'm one. Have I ever even dared to lay a hand on you? No, in fact, I stopped someone from doing that this night!"

"Wait a second. Stop and rewind...did you just call every other man that I've been with a bastard? How dare you?" she shrieked, her face red with anger. Grissom again stepped back, crimson flaring throughout his cheeks.

"You heard what I said..."

"Yes, apparently I did. Hell with my job, hell with Vegas, and hell with you - I'm getting out of here!" she shouted, pushing him on the shoulder and causing him to stumble backwards a bit. "Don't expect to see me and Lindsey around here any longer. As soon as I can get us packed up and enough money for two plane tickets, I'll be on my way to somewhere where bastards like you don't hang around!"

"Catherine..."

"See, why is it that when you're trying to stop me, it's always my name? If I..."

"At least I don't cuss you out like your old boyfriend, Catherine. Whatever you say or think, you're not a bitch in my eyes."

"Then what exactly am I?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips and impatiently waiting for an answer.

"You're more than you can imagine." Suddenly, Gil turned around and headed out her door. For a few moments, Catherine waited in silence until she heard the rearing of his engine and the sound of his Tahoe driving off into the distance.

More than you can imagine? she repeated silently. A single tear rolled out of her eye and Catherine sat down on her bed. Maybe he wasn't just another one of those bastards waiting to cheat on her and take advantage of her. Maybe he really did care. But why had she been blocking that out of her mind?

******

"Could you arrive at a scene any earlier?" Brass said in a mocking tone, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His attire consisted of his usual black suit and his badge.

"I had some business to take care of," Grissom explained, bending down and observing a body of a male in his early teens. "Now tell me, any ID on him?"

"Yeah, the names Jacob Baker, fourteen-years-old. I mean if I was a fourteen-year-old teen hot-wiring cars, I wouldn't be surprised if one of my convicts stalked me down one day," Jim said with a shrug. "The kid was asking for it."

"Yes, but I believe that his convict did more than stalking, Jim," Grissom said with a smirk. He shined his flashlight over the boy's arm, revealing a few marks and bruising. "I think these are first degree burns - most likely from the process of hot-wiring."

"Oh, by the way, we have two witnesses," the detective said, rolling his brown eyes. "But with different stories."

"I could have guessed." Grissom reached into his field kit and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. He slid them over his hands and began to observe the victim's head wound. "And these witnesses," he continued. "Were they taken in for questioning already, and their statements filed?"

Brass nodded and answered, "Yeah. One claims that she heard brakes screeching from her apartment room and then hollering, followed by a loud crash. The other says that she was checking for her mail and heard a gunshot."

"Isn't it funny how two people can hear two totally different things?" Grissom asked with a chuckle. He glanced up at the detective with his dim, blue eyes and smiled. "Truth is merely a subject of probability; a motivation of chance waiting to be bet upon."

"And tell me this truth, Gil - where the hell do you get these wise sayings?" Jim asked sarcastically. "Anyway, I've been meaning to ask you this. I rang Catherine this morning, but..."

"But you got no answer, right?" he interrupted. The detective nodded and sighed.

"Yeah, and then I tried her beeper and I never got a reply. Besides that, I checked back at the lab to see if she had taken the shift off and you're not going to believe what I found."

"Actually, I think I will," Grissom answered solemnly. He glanced behind him and Jim leaned down to speak closer into his ear.

"Did you fire her?"

"Would I do that? She quit."

"And you authorized this?" Brass demanded, squatting next to the CSI. Grissom nodded and shrugged.

"I think we've all had enough of her temper."

"Temper?"

"Yeah, she's been carrying on like this for weeks. I just couldn't take it anymore," Grissom explained.

"So you did fire her?" Jim pressured.

"No, I told you already - she quit," the CSI replied.

"But why, Gil? It's not an unusual thing for Catherine Willows to have a temper. There's got to be more to her story then quitting because of her temper," Brass said.

"Well, it's a long story…"

"It takes a long time to contain a crime scene. So start talking."

******

"Mommy?" Lindsey asked, attempting to meet her mother's defiant gaze. "Why do you and Uncle Gil fight?" Catherine immediately shot her head up, channeling her blue eyes over her daughter's blank expression. Her mouth seemed to turn dry with hesitance, and she was left speechless.

"Baby..."

"You and Daddy always fought, and Daddy hurt you. Would Uncle Gil ever hurt you?" Lindsey continued, seeming to ignore the fact that her mother was in a stage of complete shock. The girl's face had no emotional ongoing towards the subject, and Catherine wondered how much of her and Grissom's conversation she had heard the previous night.

"Now, Lindsey, baby, why..."

"Don't worry, I'm used to it. Remember? Daddy and you always hollered at each other while I was sleeping," Lindsey interrupted. She looked back down at her paper, and continued to color in the picture she had been drawing. "But I just want to know why." For a moment, all Catherine could do was stare at her daughter in complete ignorance.

Why, of all times, was Lindsey confronting her about this? Was it true - had she and Gil been fighting that much?

"I-I," Catherine stuttered. She looked down at her magazine and set it gently on the table. "I'm sorry, honey," was all she could manage to escape from her lips. Lindsey shrugged.

"It's okay, Mommy."

"Lindsey, Uncle Gil would never hurt me, or you, or anybody. Why? Do you think of him as your father used to be?" she asked, watching as her daughter intently focussed on the picture she was coloring.

"No, Uncle Gil is a lot nicer, but I still miss Daddy," Lindsey responded. When she still didn't look up from her coloring, Catherine leaned over and cupped her daughter's chin in her hand and lifted her head up.

"I know, baby. I-I do too," Catherine answered calmly. No matter how many times Eddie had lied to her or beat her, she still couldn't help but loving him for the man that he once was. But he was dead now - she had to move on. But that wasn't the easiest thing to do.

"Mom, why do you and Uncle Gil fight? I thought you loved him," Lindsey spoke softly, reaching for a yellow crayon. Catherine realized that she had been ignoring her daughter's question, and it was finally time to come through with the answer.

"I do love him, honey. He's one of my best friends in this whole world...just like a brother to me. But, s-sometimes adults just get mad at each other and we loose control of our temper." She sighed and placed her chin in her hands, engrossed in the young girl's work, her actions merely hypnotizing her being into a trance. Lindsey reminded her so much of herself - too much, actually. And she hoped that Lindsey would one day turn her life into something better than she would ever accomplish; take the right turn, where she had gone wrong so many years ago.

"When I got into a fight at school, you were mad at me. I thought that grown-ups weren't supposed to get into fights," Lindsey said, setting her crayons down and studying her picture. With satisfaction, she quickly picked the picture up and held it beneath her crossed arms while she awaited her mother's unspoken answer.

"Lindsey, it's hard to explain..."

"Do you really love Uncle Gil?" the girl pressured, a slight smirk forming upon her lips.

"Yes, I told you..."

"No, do you like him, like a boyfriend?" she giggled. Catherine jokingly stuck her tongue out at her daughter and answered.

"No, sweetie, he's just a friend...just a friend," she added underneath her breath for reassurance. No matter how much she tried to convince herself, there was a still lingering doubt in the back of her mind. Just a friend, she repeated mentally. Who am I kidding here? Is that really all he is?

"I think Uncle Gil likes you," said a beaming Lindsey, who stood up from her seat and held the picture she had been coloring in front of her mom. "And this is you, Uncle Gil, and me in front of our house. See? You two are holding hands and I'm holding his butterfly collection." Catherine tilted her head as she studied Lindsey's artwork and a slight smiled formed upon her lips. But it was a dreary smile, as she pondered what her daughter had said.

"Do you really think he does?" Catherine asked, looking at Lindsey in curiosity. She nodded her blond locks with excitement.

"Mom, duh!" she giggled. "Mommy has a boyfriend, mommy has a boyfriend," Lindsey sang with a taunting tone. Catherine laughed and sighed.

"No, I don't," she said in a hushed voice. "Uncle Gil and I are just friends, baby."

"Will you put my picture on your desk at work?" Lindsey asked with a grin. Catherine nodded.

"Of course I will - I love it..." she said hesitantly, realizing that there was no 'desk at work' anymore

"Do you think Uncle Gil will like it too?" Lindsey asked impatiently.

"I know he will, honey." She leaned down as her daughter wrapped her arms around her neck, gathering Lindsey into a tight embrace.

"Hey, Mommy?" the little girl asked, pulling away from Catherine's hold and gazing at her with sparkling, blue eyes that much resembled her own.

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"Can you promise me one thing?" Catherine nodded and pushed a strand of Lindsey's blond hair behind her ear. "Try not to fight with Uncle Gil anymore, okay?" Tears began to form in Catherine's eyes as she agreed to Lindsey's wish. She forced a smile out, along with a reply.

"I'll try, baby, I'll try."

******

A tear fell from her cheek as she wandered, her blue eyes had turned a misty-azure. Her lustrous golden strands slapped against her cheek as the wind swiveled around her. It seemed as if all was scolding her, disapproved of what she had done. Wandering mindlessly, she thought to herself. It wasn't as stupid as it had seemed the previous night.

But then a certain little girl entered her mind. How in the world was she supposed to tell her one treasure in the world - the one thing that meant everything to her - that she had quit her job, they had to move, and Uncle Gil would never be a part of their lives anymore?

There was one answer: she just couldn't. For a few minutes, all Catherine could do was ponder excuses in her head, trying to make some sort of dumb metaphor sound reasonable to a nine-year-old girl. The hardest part would be telling her baby that she couldn't see Uncle Gil anymore. And after just saying that he would never hurt anybody, what was she supposed to tell Lindsey? It was obvious that lying about how he was dangerous wouldn't go through. Lindsey loved Uncle Gil…so did she.

Taking the time to inhale her surroundings, Catherine realized that she had found her way into a park off of town. It was one of the few peaceful places of Vegas. She guessed it was the only. Everything was contoured with greenery; the park ground was completely healthy, violet flowers popping up, out of the ground as spring momentarily approached. In the middle of the park was a marble fountain, and just offset was a trail leading into the woods. Surrounding the trail, here and there, benches were spread out. They were convenient for a short rest during an enjoyable hike. Turning her head to the right, a small playground came into view. She had even taken Lindsey here before to play. This is where they went when she was off of work…with Uncle Gil.

Catherine motivated her destination towards the trail, deciding that a short excursion away from everything was what she needed. She tightened her jacket around her, feeling a cool breeze enter upon her skin. Her strawberry-blond hair was carried upon her head in a messy bun, the ringlets dancing out of the hair tie. But as she walked, the words 'mindless wandering,' which Grissom had mentioned, kept coming back to her. She wasn't ignorant enough to not know that that was what she was doing, but what was the meaning of it sauntering in her mind? When she looked up from the ground, it all became clear.

"Grissom," she mumbled under her breath, seeing the form of an all- too-familiar-character. He was sitting on a bench, watching the children frolic around on the playground. It seemed as if he was staring blankly, caught up in his own thoughts - just as she was. For a moment, she pondered whether or not to approach him. Maybe it would be best not to even let him know of her existence at the park. "No," she murmured, fighting off any doubts. Taking a deep breath, Catherine slowly made her way over to the bench he was sitting on.

Gil Grissom was almost tempted to let his eyes drift shut as he was left in a daze. He could hardly bear to watch other children play in the same spot that he and Catherine had once brought Lindsey to run off some energy. She would be gone any time now, and he didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to his little Princess. She meant the world to him - she always had. And as much as he hated admitting it, Catherine meant more than the world to him. That's what he had told her the previous night. Whether or not she had taken it seriously, it didn't matter. At least he had time to express his thoughts to her before it was too late.

Suddenly, a movement in the corner of his eye caused him to completely wake up from his daydreaming. He turned his head and, in complete shock, found the mediator of his thoughts sitting beside him. Although she was sitting as far away as possible, she was there. Maybe he was dreaming…no, this was real. But how had she found him? He noticed that she hadn't taken one moment to look at him, but rather stared off straight in front of her. He knew that she could tell his eyes were plastered to her figure. After all, it was more than a surprise that she had ended up next to him on a park bench.

As if reading his thoughts, Catherine quietly spoke, "Mindless wandering." That was all he need for an answer - mindless wandering. "Catherine…" he murmured, still taken into shock by her presence. "W- what are you doing here? I thought you and Lindsey would be gone by now." His voice was hushed, but audible to her ears.

"I don't know how to do it, Gil," she began, folding her hands in her lap and fidgeting with the buttons of her jacket to keep her occupied. "What am I supposed to tell Lindsey? Uncle Gil and I are ending our friendship…we have to move away from here? I just couldn't do it, even when she almost had me in a trap to tell her."

"So you just mindlessly wandered…here?" he added, trying to position his face, tempting her to look at him. But she still stared blankly ahead of her.

"Yeah, and I came to a conclusion." He watched as she wiped an old tear off of her cheek before it rolled down her neck.

"And what's that?"

"That I'm not going to tell Lindsey anything, because we're not moving." For the first time of their conversation, Catherine turned her head and met eyes with Grissom. She gave him a slight smile that lasted for nearly a second, and was then erased.

"Y-you're not?" he stuttered, overwhelmed with joy of the news.

"No." Grissom smiled in reply and glanced over towards the forest.

"Catherine? Would you like to take a walk?" Grissom asked in a charming voice.

"I would love to," she replied, her smile widening and remaining a little longer than the definition of 'temporary.' "After all, that was my plan in the first place." Her blue eyes dazzled as she stood up and again met his gaze. For a moment, they just held each other with their eyes, contemplating what exactly was happening between them. Would their friendship be repaired sooner than they had expected?

There was a definite awkwardness as they began to take their walk down the trail. Silence remained between both of them, as did a large space. It wasn't until they had been afoot for at least a few minutes when Grissom took the lead of assertiveness and moved closer to her, fumbling for her hand. Feeling his fingers brush against her own, Catherine smiled in her stead and entangled her and Grissom's hands together.

"Grissom," she quietly spoke, stopping and turning to face him. "Now it's my turn to give you my apologizes. You gave me yours last night, and I didn't accept them. I hope you can forgive me for that and accept mine." He nodded, looking down and releasing her hand from his. He brought both of his hands up and placed them on her shoulder, looking deep into her blue-tinted eyes.

"I can definitely do that…"

"And, Gil, one more thing. What did you mean when you said that I meant more than I could imagine?" she asked inquisitively. He hesitated before answer, as if deeply pondering her question in his head.

"I meant it just as I said it, Cath. You do mean more than anything on this earth to me," he explained, reaching over to brush a strand of strawberry-blond hair behind her ear, bringing his palm back to stroke her cheek. "And to live this life without you…I just can't picture it. I don't think I would be able to live without you, Catherine." She looked down, arching up to cover his hand with her own. It was apparent to him that red was slowly creeping upon her cheeks in embarrassment. "Want to know the funny thing?" he asked. She glanced up at him and nodded. "I believe that this rough ride through our friendship was what made me realize this."

"I think so too," Catherine replied, grinning from ear to ear. "You want to know what I found from our fighting?"

"Sure."

"This…" her words trailed of and she stood on her tiptoes, brushing her lips against his and holding there for a few moments. Pulling back, she smiled. "Sorry, but I thought I'd get that over with. I guess there can be good outcomes to fights after all," she laughed, watching as it was his turn for his cheeks to flush.

"I may have to agree with you on that one." He paused. "Catherine?"

"Yeah, Gil?" But before he could answer, she felt his lips devouring hers once again, but this time, more passionately then before.

"I love you," he whispered into the skin of her collarbone, caressing her neck gently with his tongue.

"Mmm…I love you too, Gil." She pressed her mouth against his cheek and planted a soft kiss. "Would you care to wander mindlessly back to my place?" she asked, in between her lips being smothered against him.

"I'd enjoy that. After all, I think we'll be pretty occupied on the way." He grinned, wrapping his arm around her waist. They turned to walk the way they had came, wandering mindlessly through their preoccupations.

**Part One**