Greg is getting on my last nerve these days, poor guy. I'm bound to vent on him one of these days... I need to get myself together I suppose, not give the guys a hard time because I am heart sick. But I know I should not retreat to this office the way Gil used to. But the temptation to hide within the walls he found shelter in, is so strong. So tempting.

"Grissom? What is this? What are you doing?"

I'm dreaming again, it's the only way he could be here. I've dreamt this so often that the images have managed to work their way into my waking hours.

"Writing you an email."

He doesn't usually talk in my dreams. He doesn't usually look so afraid.

"Is that you?"

"Of course, Cath. It's me. I wanted..."

"You're here?"

I move towards my dream of Gil, afraid of waking up but desperate to touch him. Desperate to enjoy this nightmare, because the come down tomorrow morning will be awful. But worth it if I get to touch this beautiful illusion.

"You look tired Cath."

"You should really say nicer things than that to me, why would I make you say something like that to me?"

"This isn't a dream. It's just me, Cath."

"Promise?"

"It's me."

This time I do move closer to him, he is sitting in my chair. He's sitting the way Gil used to. He smells like Gil.

He smells like Gil.

"Why are you here?"

"I told you, I was writing you an email."

"You don't need to use that machine for the email to get to me."

"I know, calm down. I'll leave, okay? But read what I've written. Please."

"Why should I?"

"Because I always read what you write, I look forward to it."

I don't know what this means. What does he read? I email him about cases and paperwork, or sometimes how Linds is doing. I never sent those other ones.

"You look forward to reading about my workload? Times must be slow in your town Grissom."

Was that me flirting? I need to get control of myself, need to figure this out. Why is Gil Grissom in this room, in this city, writing to me. Why is he playing country music. That must mean this is one of my crazy dreams.

THE WORD 'IF', JUST TWO TINY LETTERS
SAYS SO MUCH FOR SOMETHING SO SMALL
THE BIGGEST LITTLE WORD IN EXISTENCE
NEVER ANSWERS, JUST QUESTIONS US ALL.

"Times are slow in any town you are not living in, Cath."

"Stop. Stop with that right now. You can't be passing through here and flirt a little with your ex, it's not fair."

"I'm going across the street to get some coffee Cath, read my email then come and join me. Or not. Your choice. And that's not flirting that's just conversation."

He's left. I had Gil Grissom in the same room as me, the man I've been yearning for for months, and I manage to make him want to leave my presence as soon as he could. Have to stop that. I have to read this email, what if he has Grace with him? What if he wants us all to be friends? I'm not that good an actor, the pain of that could not be borne by my shoulders. But I should read what my friend wants me to read. Or is he my ex friend as well as my ex? Maybe that's what he wants to know.

I have nothing to say. Or I have no words forming in my throat, my heart seems to have lodged there and is preventing any other action but the thumping I feel in my chest. Gil has just written to me asking if he can come back to me? There is no way I could be articulate enough to answer that question in the way I want to. Is there?

Do I just say yes? Do I just ask him to come home? I've always found it to be very dangerous to achieve all that your heart desires, and Gil coming back would mean exactly that. Would it be better to simply live with the beautiful pain of seperation?

Yeah right.

BUT IF ONLY YOU WOULD JUST COME BACK
IF ONLY, DARE I ASK
OH, IF ONLY

"Can I get some coffee, Cath?"

"No, I'm good thanks."

"You're beautiful."

"A few minutes ago you said I looked tired."

"You do, doesn't mean you don't look beautiful as well. So..."

"So."

"You came."

"Well, I would say that you were the one that came. I just crossed the street, you got on a plane."

"I did. I was so confident when I got on that flight, but now..."

"Now?"

"Now, I need to know you want to taste my skin as much as I want to taste yours."

This is going to be quite a public place to have an emotional conversation, or to do the stuff I have been dreaming about for months.

"Don't say that, please."

"Why? You know why I'm here. I know that you want me to be here, what is the problem?"

"Are you kidding me? We broke our own stupid hearts, we don't get a happy ever after. You know that."

"I know that you and I are the only people to decide if we get a happy ever after. I know it's what I want, you have to tell me what you want."

"We can't go back, Gil."

"You want me back, you wrote me that you want me back."

"You weren't supposed to read that, I was living in my head, you know? It was just my random thoughts, you were not supposed to read that."

And I was doing okay, I was believing what I was telling him, I really was. And then he took my hand in his and brushed his lips across my knuckles, an act that used to take my breath away when we were together. It still takes my breath away, and he knows it.

"Stop smiling. Can I have my hand back?"

"I can't stop smiling, I'm sitting here with you. I never want to give you your hand back, I like it here."

He brings his lips to my hand again, tasting my skin with the slightest touch of his tongue. I pull away, this is too much. I'm feeling too much again.

"Why are you here? Tell me."

"Cath, how many times? I am here for you if you still want me. Or even if you don't, I'm still going to be in your city. In Vegas."

"What about your job?"

"I quit."

"You left for a reason, Gil."

"I can't remember what it was, can you Cath? All I know is that I am without you, and that does me no good."

"What if I do you no good when you are here."

"That's impossible, Cath."

"I'm trying to be sensible here. You know I love you, you know..."

And he's done it again, the touching thing. But now he is less restrained and he has joined me on my side of the booth, crushing me to his body as I fight the urge to enter into the embrace. I know that he is wondering about my hesitancy as he places a kiss on my forhead, I'm glad that I can still tell what he is wondering.

"Catherine, don't be sensible. The only words that matter in your previous sentence is the 'I love you' part. Anything else will just be excuses, and I'm so sick of excuses. I love you, when did that start being something you didn't want to hear, something I shouldn't say."

"When you left."

And at these words he loosens the hold he has been maintaining on my waist, but the contact is still there, he is tracing patterns on my lower spine - seducing me all over again inspite of himself.

"I'm back and I'm never going again. It might take me the rest of my life to convince you of this, but that's what I'm offering. The rest of my life Catherine, it's your decision."

All this and it's not even 7am, life would certainly never be boring with him. Will never be boring.

"You know my decision."

And for the first time we both look into eyes that reflect hope, or perhaps even the promise of happiness - the sadness of the last year is losing it's battle for supremacy. So I kiss him, remembering that I want this as much as he does, maybe more. It's the fear of wanting him more than he wants me that has led me here, but at least I am in his arms. But fear is what split us up, that must disappear if we are to have any future.

"Cath, I want you to say the words. I need you to say them, don't be afraid, it's me. This is you and me."

I hope so.

"I want you to come back to me. I want you, you know this. I love you. And that's it, there's no but this time. I love you."

"I love you too, I hope that's the appropriate response Cath."

"Always, though this is better."

And we kiss again, blurring the boundaries of where each of us begin and end. But we need to remember where we are, I need to remember I'm supposed to be working.

"You need to go?"

"I do, but shift is nearly over. Will you wait?"

"No more waiting, sweetheart. We do have to talk, but mostly I just want to hold you for a while. So go to work, and then we get to do all the things we've been denying ourselves for the last year."

"No more regrets, no more wishing I'd loved you better, no more what ifs,okay."

"Okay. You have to go."

"I like holding your hand."

"I like you holding my hand, but we can do that all day when you finish work. I'm letting you go cause I know you're coming back to me this time."

"I never left."

"I know."

This time we will be honest, I just know it. He came home to me, and I breathe. And he'll stay this time because we've learned our lesson the hard way, we've learned the cost of denial.

Being apart has taught us that, well being apart and country music. I don't know what I should be more grateful for, the music or the lonliness. But I don't need to wallow anymore, I just need to be held.

THE END

A/N

Note to self, never write while under the influence of cheap red wine as you just drone on, and on, and on...