Overtime.

Catherine Willows emerged into the breakroom, swiveled her vision around the empty area, and flopped down on one of the nearby couches. A few days ago she'd cursed this piece of furniture after stubbing her toe on it numerous times, but now she was suddenly grateful for a place to relieve the tension her body had been weakly sustaining-for the past forty-eight hours. Talk about pulling overtime.

She clamped her eyes shut, dreading to even take into mind that clock across from her, smiling 5:00 with two black hands on the opposite wall. She had always mentally inquired why they were called hands; they resembled arms, more or less to her. It was just the scientist in her, she figured. Always wanted an answer-always needed an answer.

Men.

It was just then that she remembered exactly why she had ended up in such a dreaded position in the breakroom, flopped over the small couch, her legs and head dangling off separate ends. Damn that Chris.

She hadn't been officially seeing him anymore since that night she'd walked in on him screwing some showgirl of his choice, but it had only been before shift the other evening when they'd initally broken up.

Her mind quickly snapped back to the reality about when she realized that sleep barely seduced her. Her eyes shot open, heavy lids becoming dull, blue eyes, and her pupils shrunk as light splashed into them.

If she had fallen asleep, it would've been the first in two days, and no one was exagerating anything. Two days-forty-eight hours-whatever you wanted to call it.

She shut her eyes once again, just as they read that dreaded clock. If she could pull off just five minutes of darkness for her mind to rest...

"Catherine?" came that all-too familiar voice overloading the room of silence she had just been indulging herself in. "You alright?"

And her list was just updated with a subcategory...Gil.

"What the hell?" she asked, sitting up on the couch and rubbing her eyes, probably smearing makeup while she was at it. She glared at him and waited for an answer.

"You alright?" he repeated, leaning against the door frame, his glasses on crooked, and a manila folder in his hand. Absent-minded professor...

"Sure," Catherine answered. "Can't anyone take a decent five minute nap around here? God." She stood up, stretched, and approached him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him, "And don't you even dare tell me that those DNA results are back, `cause I am not getting another lead. Every lead we've had so far has led us...well, not in a lead."

"Actually, the DNA results aren't back. In fact, they were sent over to Trace. It wasn't blood on the wrench," Grissom explained, handing her a report filed from Mia. Catherine snatched it up and tried to focus her blurry vision over the file.

"Sticky? That's a lovely Forensics word," Catherine snorted. "This sucks-this really sucks."

Obviously, someone was not having a good day.

"I thought you said you didn't want another lead from DNA, and we didn't get one..."

"Shut up, Gil. You're ruining whatever you're ruining," Catherine said, sighing and grumbling under her breath something about how he needed a life.

"Are you alright?"

"Geez, you've asked me that like a hundred times already!" she stormed, entering into the DNA lab, shaking her head in realization that she'd taken a wrong turn, and exited, approaching Trace from across the hall. She was also sent a crooked look from a confused Mia, who had been analyzing something of uninterest.

Grissom shook his head.

"Should I assume it's that time of the month?" he whispered, before the two of them entered the lab to find Hodges with his nose stuffed into a microscope.

"Assume nothing, Gil," she said through grit teeth. Catherine nudged him a bit harder than friendly and crossed her arms. "Hodges."

He looked up, a broken smile contorting his lips. "Why, Catherine. Nice to see you here. Boss," he acknowledged with a nod. "What can I do for you two?"

"Someone woke up too early," grumbled Catherine.

Gil coughed, then interrupted, "We'd like to know if you have those results back on the red substance found on our supposed murder weapon."

"Ah, yes. Well, I found traces-ha, traces; guess that's why I'm in the trace lab..." His words trailed off as he saw the dull look on the two CSI's face. "Sorry, bad pun. Anyway, here's the results." He handed a sheet their way, which Grissom reached for, but Catherine snapped at it first-like an awaiting vulture, Grissom thought.

"Active ingredients: Na, CH²O, tomato paste..."

"Ketchup," said Grissom.

Catherine looked up and shot him a glare. "Yes, Gil. Ketchup. Now would you like to do the hotdog or should I?" As dry humor as it was, there was no ring in her voice. "Nevermind. Hodges, did you find out anything else about this ketchup?"

"Nope," he answered, again burying his nose in the microscope.

"You didn't?" she asked.

"Nope," he again answered.

"I..." Her adrenaline was pumping.

"Catherine, why don't we step outside and discuss our next option," Grissom said, smiling and gesturing towards the door. She was not at all willing to leave, but he guided her with his hand on the small of her back.

"Gil, he-he didn't even locate anything significant about the ketchup...he-he...oh, whatever," she grumbled, sitting down on a bench and setting her chin in her hands.

And another subcategory was created under "Men"...Hodges.

"You need some sleep. Badly," he told her, peering at her with heavy blue eyes, much like her own-heavy from lack of sleep. And the truth was, she wasn't the only one that needed sleep; he was guilty himself.

"Uh huh," she mumbled.

"You know, why don't you finish up you're paperwork, which I know is very little, Catherine, and then you can head home for a few hours. You need to pick up Linds from school anyway, don't you?" he asked.

"Two things. First of all...paperwork? My eyes are dead. Second of all...Lindsey? She wouldn't have me seen with her around her friends," Catherine said disgustedly. "And thirdly...paperwork?" That reminded her to add to her list...

Paperwork.

"You can't count."

"I know. But so what?"

Grissom shook his head and reached over to tap her on the shoulder. She immediately opened the eyes she had momentarily shut and looked at him. "Get to work."

She grumbled, stood up, stretched (again), and headed over to office. She entered and closed the door behind her, flipped on the light, and sat down. She smirked at the "small" pile of paperwork Grissom had reminded her of. In fact, Catherine may have even began working on case reviews if she could have found that one, damn pen...

Organization.

Ever since the crime lab had been going down hill, everyone assumed it had been because of Ecklie...Conrad Ecklie-added under "Men"...and his splitting up the graveyard-shift. Damn him. Splitting them up? What was he thinking?

But when the lab had received a 425 a couple of days ago, involving a body count of fourteen, swing and grave-shift had pulled together, and the skills of both Grissom and Catherine supervising had become advantage.

"Hello?"

Catherine looked up into the eyes of Sophia Curtis. She had shut her door on the way into her office, hadn't she?

"Uh, hi," she said, quickly flashing her a smile before looking back down to find her pen. She continued digging through drawers.

"Looking for this?" Sophia asked. Catherine looked up and the graveyard-shift CSI handed her a pen, which had been lying on the floor.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks," managed Catherine. She began writing, almost completely ignoring Sophia altogether. "You need something...Ms. Curtis?"

"Actually, I'm just evaluating your office," replied the CSI.

Catherine blinked long lashes, then looked up. "What?"

"You're office-I'm still the internal affairs handler, you know, even though Ecklie demoted me to graveyard-shift." Demoted to graveyard-shift...sounded like a diss, Catherine thought. She simply nodded for Sophia to continue. "And now the DA would like an organization proficiency check to take place every month. Conrad has put me in charge of this." There was pride in her voice-too much pride for Catherine's sake.

Sofia Curtis. Added.

"He's still kicking," Catherine mumbled, jotting down a note on the review she'd been working on. But it was only then that she noticed her words had been spoken outwardly, when meant inwardly...

"What?"

"Sorry, I was thinking outloud. Case review. I suppose you know how those go, since you were once acting supervisor, but now that you're demoted..." Catherine said smugly with a sly smile. Sophia returned the smile brightly and nodded.

"Yeah, they're a pain. Anyway," Her smile, as well, demoted. "I need your signature here." She gestured towards a single line on the proficiency check.

"Right," Catherine replied briskly, jotting down her chicken scratch and focussing, again, on her paperwork.

"So you like swing shift supervision?"

"Huh?" She looked up at Sophia and shrugged. "Why not?"

"I know you wanted days...I wanted days too." The CSI sat down across from Catherine at her desk. "But graveyard-shift isn't that bad, I suppose," she said, raising her eyebrows and letting them fall back down again, across her forehead.

"Uh, why are we having this discussion...?"

"And Gil is a good supervisor," she commented. "Gil does what's best for the lab. I suppose that's one thing Ecklie can't see in him. Boy, Gil and Ecklie are like oil on water."

Catherine cringed, reality stopping in place for her own advantages.

First of all, who's side was this woman on now-Gil or Ecklie's? Second of all, she'd just stolen her own definition of the two men...oil on water. And thirdly, why the hell was she claiming Gil that way? Gil-that was her name for him. With the exception of a few homicide-peps, Gil was her way of expression her voice of his name. Everyone-the kids, the lab rats-called him Grissom. Only his right hand called him Gil...oh shit.

That's when reality came back and struck her on the head like a bolt of lighting. The truth padlocked her brain and she could not find the key to open it back up.

Sophia Curtis was Gil's right hand...

Sophia Curtis. Added again.

She'd double-add that woman to her list. She's triple her name. In fact, she'd go to the limits of clearing everything but her name. Well, maybe Conrad Ecklie was an exception.

"Don't you agree?"

Catherine looked up at that woman. Damn her. "Sure."

"Do you even know what I asked?"

"Uh, to be honest...no," replied Catherine gingerly, shaking her blond locks. She looked at her paperwork, anger raging through her veins.

"I asked you what you thought about Gil, expressed my opinion, then asked you if you agreed..."

"Don't call him that," she suddenly stormed.

The whole office went completely silent; even the ticking of that obnoxious clock didn't stir up a sound. Just silence.

"What?" Sophia blinked. She was ignorant to the situation-how she was stealing her traits, her position...her Gil.

Catherine cleared her throat and casually shrugged. But red continued to seep into the pigment of her skin and onto her cheeks, visible for the whole world to see.

"What do you mean?" she pressured.

"Uh...sorry. I-I really don't know...?" But the end of Catherine's phrase became more of an inquisition for Sophia than anything else. She was a swing-shift supervisor and a CSI for about twenty years and she couldn't even clarify a single statement. This is sad.

"Ms. Willows, who must I not call what?"

"Grissom...I mean...Gil...ugh!" Catherine said. She felt as if she was falling deeper into her seat, cowering away from the world-and from Sophia Curtis. But she had to stand up against this woman who was stealing her Gil away from her. She had to do something besides show any sort of gullibility towards her.

"Grissom? What shouldn't I call him?"

Geez. She'd gotten all the clues, all the hints. She'd been a CSI for years, and now Sophia Curtis could not even get the picture. This woman did not deserve to work with her Gil.

"Gil. He likes Grissom."

Wow, that was easy...just a simple statement to clarify the whole conversation.

"You call him Gil," CSI Curtis answered.

Maybe not so easy...

"That's because Gil and I are tight," Catherine replied. She was feeling proud of herself, coming back with such quick answers-and true answers.

"Gil and I are tight, too," Sophia said. "I'm the one who's responsible for his stay at grave-shift supervisor."

Sophia Curtis. Added. Again.

"And for the splitting of the teams, your demotion..."

"No, that was Ecklie," Sophia said. She smiled slyly and continued, "Gil has showed me gratitude for what I've done. In many ways."

Screw this woman. Screw her, screw her, and damn her just for the random hell of it.

"Gratitude?" Catherine began, playing along with Sophia's little game. "Right. I bet my ass he did nothing more than give you a few extra good notes on your first few evaluations."

"Oh, he did more."

"Seniority rights?" Catherine asked.

"In the first day."

"Second-hand privledges?"

"Also in the first day," Sophia replied.

Catherine was almost getting worried. "Yearly triples?"

"He worked that in, too. Why can you relate, Ms. Willows?"

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "What about an office?"

Sophia paused, before adding, "No, but Ecklie will see to it that I have one before the end of this month."

Well, at least it was something Gil hadn't given her. What the hell had he given her, anyway? A seat at his right-hand, just like she had been before Conrad split them up?

"And, Catherine, you should know that he lets me work in his office when I have paperwork to attend to." She was smirking. God, she was smirking and it was just to get to her and tick her off. Had she added Sophia Curtis to her list yet? If not...

Sophia Curtis.

Oh yeah, and she also was adding Ecklie again, times three; Gil once more, just for giving into Sophia's seducing professionalism. Seducing professionalism...that was going in there too. How many was that now? Seven, eight more than the ten she had originally picked? Oh well. Sophia deserved to be in their as many times as she could silently curse her.

But back to reality (again), Catherine's jaw had absently dropped open, causing Sophia to smirk even wider. Gil used to do that with her. They'd sit in his office after shift, discussing the cases and just opening up to each other over a mild screwdriver. Mild...unless the next day was scheduled for on call. Then there would be a little extra voldka...

And now her Gil was doing this with Sophia Curtis? She was finding this hard to believe, yet she knew it was true. Was this woman, sitting across from her-smirking-replacing her?

"It's not happening," Catherine said aloud, causing that red to seep into her pigment once again. Damn her mouth.

Overtalking. Added.

"What isn't, Ms. Willows? Because if you're referring to the fact that I am now Gil's sidekick, and well, you're not...get over it, because it's true." Damn it. Sophia Curtis was reading her mind. Maybe she was a better CSI then assumed... "Right hand," she mouthed, "Gil's right hand."

Catherine Willows was sent over her edge. She was pissed.

"DON'T CALL HIM THAT!" she stormed, standing up. Sophia mimicked her actions and stood, as well. The two of them rounded the desk, meeting in a happy medium. Well, the medium may have been happy, but the two women weren't.

"And why not?" sneered Sophia. "Ecklie says that Gil and I suit each other."

"Who gives what Ecklie says?" Catherine shrieked. She rolled her blue eyes and layed them astute on the CSI's figure, who was doing the same to the supervisor.

"You should. You work for him," Sophia said.

Sophia Curtis...added. Again. And again.

Catherine went blank for a moment. Come on, I need a response...response... "You bitch-you want Gil so badly that you can't even take Ecklie out of the picture. He's your only connection between you two. Without Conrad-the bastard he may be-your whole reputation would be ruined. Gil and I would-would be together right now...you would be screwed and screwed for good..." Her words trailed off.

Maybe they trailed off or Sophia interrupted her completely.

"Together? Kiss my ass, Catherine. That is BS. You and Gil would never be..."

"Who would want to kiss your ass?" asked Catherine.

They were inches away from each other, pupils flared, blood pumping, anger building up, faces red.

"Gil would. Just ask him...he may have done me a few times already," Sophia snorted. Her blond pony tail flung around as she spoke.

"Done you? Now that's BS! Gil wouldn't do any woman but..."

"Catherine? Sophia?"

Busted.

Both women turned their heads towards a newcomer, who stood in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed.

"The whole lab can hear you-what the hell is going on in here?" Grissom inquired, walking in and shutting the door behind him. "Last I heard, you two were discussing my sexual life..."

"God, no. Sophia was just claiming you've done her a few times..."

"Catherine!" Gil exclaimed. She shut up-immediately. "I thought you were going to be heading home..." He shook his head and continued, "Nevermind that. I would really like to talk to both of you-separately-in my office. Sophia, you come with me. Catherine, stay here and just...just cool down," he said, again shaking his head. Crows feet had plastered his eyes, as he continued to narrow them.

Grissom walked briskly out of the office, assuming Sophia on his heels.

Before she exited, she turned and said, "By the way, you failed your organization proficiency." Catherine snorted. "And if it makes you feel better, so did...Gil." She left, following Grissom's stalky frame down the hall and into his own office where only heaven knew what went on.

Catherine sat down in her desk chair, inwardly cursing herself for loosing control like that. It was just that whenever one of those items on her list was activated, the reason it was there suddenly became clear. And ten reasons had just become clear that evening.

Damn Sophia Curtis times seven.
Damn Conrad Ecklie times two.
Damn Gil Grissom times one.

Shit. She'd left out Hodges, as well as all those original things she'd written down in her list. Well, she'd highlighted the main ones, and that was all that mattered.

"Catherine?"

She peered up, her blue eyes slowly traveling up his form, almost afraid to meet his eyes. When blue met blue, there was an awkward silence that filled the office-much like the silence that had sustained between herself and Sophia earlier.

"Hi, Gil." She smiled then immediately turned her attention back to the paperwork atop her desk. Avoiding him was a good option, but out of the question...

"Catherine, look at me," he said, walking into the office and closing the door behind him. When she refused his orders, he pressured, "Catherine. I want you to look at me."

She finally gave in to that longing voice of his-gruff but full of desire. Well, the desire may have been opposite motivations of what she would have liked, but it was desire towards her.

Blue met blue. Again.

"Do you want to do any explaining to me?" he asked, crossing his arms and giving her a curled-up lip. Was that a smirk? Is he smirking at me?

"Uh, not really. All I can say is that your right hand came in here, starting toying with my emotions, and claimed untrue facts," Catherine explained. She flipped a cluster of her strawberry-blond hair behind her shoulder. "That's it."

"My what?"

"Huh?" Catherine's face was blank.

"What did you call her? My...right hand?" Grissom asked. His face was just as puzzled as hers.

"Oh, uh, yeah."

"Catherine, why would you call her my right hand? Is that how you see her-as my second...my acting?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed, blue eyes keen on her face, waiting for any kind of response.

"Because she is, Gil. She's everything that I-I used to be," Catherine sputtered out.

Her list had just grown to eleven items. Officially. Overtalking was re-added; it seemed to be the culprit of everything bad happening to her tonight.

"Cath," Grissom began, approaching her and rounding the desk. He stared her deeply in the eye. "You were fighting over...me...? About who was my right hand? Whether or not I'd done Sophia? I heard more than you know, and I just don't understand it...yet..."

"Gil, bottom line is that she replaced me. And I don't give a damn to what Ecklie has to do with it anymore; you're the one responsible for all the things that..."

"The things that are replacing you? Her privledges? Her seniority advantages?" Grissom smiled and shook his head. "Actually, I'm not in charge of any of that, as much supervision as I may have over Sophia. In fact, I'm no longer her supervisor-neither is Ecklie our director."

That smile was never leaving his lips...what the hell?

"In fact, neither of them are asscociated with the lab anymore."

"What?" Catherine asked.

Grissom squatted down in front of her and began explaining, "You see, there's a reason why graveyard and swing shifts pulled together for this case; even though the case is a difficult one, that isn't the reason." He paused and tilted his head, blue eyes washing right through her being like the ocean does during a tide.

"And this is relevant because...?"

"Because Conrad Ecklie does not have a scientific bone in his body. He was playing us-the lab-and all of it's consistencies. There was a scam, Cath, and he was heading it up," Grissom explained.

"A scam?"

"Yeah, because of Ecklie's selfish behavior," he said with a snort and roll of his eyes. "The graveyard-shift is the team that headed up the crime lab to number two in the nation, Catherine; not the day shift, which is exactly why Ecklie became selfish and applied for the promotion to assitant director. He was determined to get that position so he could ruin the grave-shift's reputation."

"And he failed to do that."

"Yeah, he sure did. He convinced Sophia to do a check-up on our team, as the internal affairs director, and when she scraped up nothing that could be considered inconsistent with procedure, Ecklie became mad. He was bribing her with all these seniority advantages...she was in his lap, Catherine, until she joined my side and gave him a good report about the graveyard-shift."

"She had a crush on you, Gil," Catherine said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I know. But Ecklie didn't like that-he demoted her but continued to bribe her. They scammed us by breaking up the teams and therefore raising financial issues within the lab. These last couple of cases have been bad because the graveyard-shift hasn't been working together to bring Las Vegas to peace..."

"Or at least letting it rest in peace," joked Catherine. She smiled and added, "I get the message, Gil. So Conrad and his bi-otch sidekick Sophia Curtis are gone?" she asked.

Grissom cringed. "She's not a bi-otch, Cath. She's a talented CSI-and so are you," he said, standing up and motioning for her to do so as well.

"And we're back together?"

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Define `back together,' Cath."

"I mean the graveyard-shift...back together," she laughed, smacking him in the arm.

"Oh, yeah. But so are we."

"Excuse me?"

He leaned down and whispered into her ear, "Don't worry, Cath. You're the only woman who can call me Gil, work in my office after shift, be worthy of my right hand, and, Catherine," His words trailed off.

"Yeah, Gil?" They both approached the door.

"You're the only woman I want."

She smiled, just as she was reaching for the door handle. Her hand dropped to her side and she turned around, finding herself pinned between her Gil and the doorway. Her smile was intertwined by his, and their lips brushed against each others.

"So you didn't do Sophia Curtis, behind my back?" she whispered. Her warm breath tickled his lips.

"The only thing I did to her was fire her."

"Oh...right." Catherine dropped her smile, as well as her eyes, and she let them roam Gil's neck. Suddenly her blank expression evolved into curiosity. "Uh, Gil, why are you wearing a bowtie...and a...tux?"

He shrugged, noting that heaviness in her eyes. Heaviness of desire or sleep-deprivement? "Maybe I have a funeral to attend."

"A funeral," she stated.

"Well, sort of. Word travels fast-we're going to celebrate the demotion of Ecklie Conrad and the promotion of Catherine Willows to days. Day's supervisor, that is."

Catherine's breath suddenly stopped short and was caught in her throat. "I-I'm being promoted?" she asked, almost in a gasp.

"Yeah. After we got these two arrested for the scam-mostly money-wise-it was set that you were going to be promoted. Just not formally, I mean. This is a private ceremony," he told her, smiling a hundred dollar smile that she could not turn down. "And I decided to dress up for it."

Catherine pressed her lips against his own and two mouths collided. The kiss was simple, as she pulled back and gazed into his blue eyes. But suddenly, that excited, lust-washed face turned to a frown.

"What's wrong?" he asked, relieving the pressure of his body against hers. He backed up.

"I-I..." her words trailed off. Silently, she was adding a number twelve addition to her list.

Promotions.

"Catherine?" he asked, seeing her dazed look.

"I don't want it."

"You don't want what?"

"A promotion. I want to be with you-on the graveyard-shift," she explained, glancing down and shrugging. "I mean, it's not just you, but the team. We're meant to work together-all of us are-and I would hate to break it up. I never thought I'd feel this way, but I do," she told him, looking up at him and sighing. "Are you upset?"

"Of course not, Cath," he answered. "Hey, can we still celebrate Ecklie's funeral?"

"Gil!"

"Sorry...I mean mourn over Ecklie's death...uh...demotion," he corrected himself.

"I'm in," she said, grinning.

Again, their mouths collided. This time, Gil deepened the kiss with his tongue, slithering it out and parting her lips. Their tongues entangled in each other, as did their body limbs.

As they continued on with their intimate actions, Catherine mentally envisioned her list. Damn Gil Grissom, she thought. Damn that tongue of his...those lips...

She sighed, realizing that she had just added a thirteenth item to her list. Well, thirteen items or not, she'd be beginning another type of list soon: a wish list. And three wishes had already come true-she'd gotten her Gil back, she become his Catherine, and Sophia Curtis was out of the picture. For good.

But how many total items did she have on her list of things that ticked her? Thirteen, forteen? Oh God, was it fifteen, or even more than that? And how many times had she screwed Sophia? So many that she'd lost track.

Damn that list of hers.

The list. Added, times ten.

The End