AT MY DOOR THE LEAVES ARE FALLING
A COLD WILD WIND HAS COME
SWEETHEARTS WALK BY TOGETHER
AND I STILL MISS SOMEONE

I GO OUT TO A PARTY
AND LOOK FOR A LITTLE FUN
BUT I FIND A DARKENED CORNER
CAUSE I STILL MISS SOMEONE

Well that could have went better tonight.

I don't believe I was such a fool and actually cried. Or maybe I'm not a fool, maybe I'll get away with it because my friends know how hard tonight was. I don't think I've ever had to do anything quite as difficult as walking away from all of them. And the best I can say about my performance is, at least I walked away. I got the hell out of there before I completely lost it. So I cried a little? That's understandable. Right?

I can't keep going over this, if Lindsey finds me down here crying then she will ask me questions I don't want to answer. But I can't go bed, so I sit on my sofa in my most expensive dress and drink wine straight from the bottle. Not my finest hour, but I need - physically need - once more to wallow in my sadness before I can let go.

Before I can let him go.

Finally.

I thought tonight would be an ending. I knew at some level it would destroy part of me, but I think - perhaps naively - I was expecting an element of closure. I would make my peace with leaving, and my friends would let me go. And, you know, maybe that's what wrong - they have. They let me go.

And I know I am destroyed the most because it seemed so easy for Gil to let me go, I always pictured our goodbye a little more emotional than it played out. I think it's why I am here now, drinking and feeling sorry for myself. Part of me thinks I should have stayed at the party, I could have joined the drinking session and made a fool of myself. If I held them all a little too close, and clung to Gil a little too tightly, then I could have blamed it later on the alcohol. But I would have gotten away with it, I could have clung to them and they would have excused it. But I missed out on all that, because I was as sensible as I could have been under the circumstances. Like I said before, I got out of there before I completely lost it.

Only just, though.

That poor cab driver who brought me home, I don't think he'd ever seen that many tears. I lost it in the cab, perhaps more than I ever have before - certainly in public. I was okay for a few minutes, I think I was still so numb from Gils lack of reaction to my leaving... And then I saw a couple holding hands, it looked like they were walking home after a night out, and it got to me more than I can say. I wept and I couldn't stop.

My tears were for my friends, for Gil, and for all that I am leaving behind. Because right now I can't make a case for leaving, all I can think of is what I am losing. Now I know rationally that I am doing the right thing, and there is the chance of a better life for my family in New York. But in New York my family is the two of us - my beautiful daughter and myself - but here... Well, in Vegas I have a big family and I love them all.

And then there is that couple I was talking about...

I cried so hard when I saw them, breath stealing sobs I had no control over. They looked happy, they were walking and laughing, and talking to each other. They have all that I want, but remains out of my reach. And there, did you hear? I just admitted the real reason for my tears... Something was within my reach tonight. Someone. And I let them slip through my fingers.

Is it wrong that I'm weeping for Gil?

Is it wrong that I have thought of calling another cab, and going over to his townhouse and begging him to let me in?

I won't do it though, I've made my exist. I've made my choice.

I miss him though, I miss Gil Grissom.

I wonder if I say that often enough I will start to feel better. If I acknowledge this ache I am nursing then perhaps it will leave me that bit quicker. And now I know that is the drink talking. I've known Gil Grissom for years, and the ache I carry for him has been a constant all that time. It would destroy me to lose it now.

So I'm clinging to it tonight. I miss him and we're still in the same city. How will I be able to do this all the way from New York?

OH I NEVER GOT OVER THOSE BLUE EYES
I SEE THEM EVERYWHERE
I MISS THOSE ARMS THAT HELD ME
WHEN ALL THE LOVE WAS THERE

The act of letting go reminds me of all the good times we had together. I want to wrap myself in them and find comfort in their warmth.

I remember his hand on my back whenever we left a room together. I can't remember when Gil stopped doing that, I must have been looking somewhere else at the time. I've done that a lot over the last few years. I can still feel it there, though - I can detect the echo of his touch. It burns my skin, encouraging more tears to fall. I miss his hand on my back, and I miss the comfort and support it offered. I miss the knowledge that this touch spoke of Gils tenderness towards me. I miss his touch.

I miss Gil.

I know I am pathetic, I know but I need to feel like this tonight. I need one night of being absolutley miserable so that whatever else happens over the next few weeks, I have dealt with the worst and started to recover. I know packing up my house will hurt, I know getting on the plane will hurt, but hopefully the pain will be muted by then.

I miss Gil.

I miss his face. I used to watch him when we are at work, to my eternal shame. For a man who believes he is closed off from the world, he has the most expressive face of anyone I know. You could tell the story of his life from the sadness in his eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes of his reflect the price he pays to do the work he does. They have almost got me into trouble so many times.

When he worked too hard, what am I saying? He always works too hard. But sometimes when he worked too hard and he was so exhausted that he could not stay awake, I used to find him sleeping in his office. He didn't mean to, fall asleep I mean, he would be sitting at his desk as if he were doing paperwork. I loved to find him like this, I was greedy for the opportunity to observe Gil without the barrier of how I should be around him. I would sit on the edge of his desk and just look at him.

I'd just look at him.

And I'm crying again, thinking about it. Thinking about how handsome he looked, and how much I wanted to hold him. I plucked up the courage to touch Gil on three of those occassions. The first time I held his hand and wished for his health and his long life. He frightened me so much when he told me of his hearing problems, I will never get over seeing him in the hospital when he was in recovery. So my reward to myself for not breaking down then, was to touch his hand in the silence of his office, and the safety of his dreams. The next time I rested my hand on his cheek, stealing his warmth when I felt at my lowest. I wanted to crawl into his arms that night and ask for his stength and protection. I did not. I touched his face and left him to his dreams. And then the final time I got a little too into it, I was hungry for all of his skin. I remember almost falling off the desk when I leaned over to trace the lines on his forehead. I should have stopped then, but I could not. My fingers danced over the soft skin under his eyes, itching to kiss him there. I moved on to his lips, those beautiful lips of his, the subject of many of my imaginings. I kissed the pad of my thumb and placed it on his lips, and I felt guilty about it even then. I should not have taken advantage of him like that, but I wanted to tell him how much I love him... I couldn't tell him with words, so I did the best I could. This brief contact was more intense for me than the attention of any of the men I have gone home with over the years.

I miss Gil.

This will get better soon, I know it will. All of this is too intense right now, too raw. And I have too many regrets to concentrate on what was wrong with my relationship with Gil.

Because it's a romantic notion to watch a man while he sleeps, but if we were normal, if we were healthy; I would have touched him while he was awake. I would have touched him when he had the chance to reciprocate. I did not, and that should tell me all I need to know about the rightness of my decision to leave.

And of course, Gil tells me that I am right to leave.

Not in words, of course, that is not his style. But tonight, when he had the chance to hold me and he did not... When he had the chance to express regret, and he did not... He has let go already, closed off his emotions and moved me out of his heart; if I was ever there.

And I need to not do that, I need to not speak ill of Gil Grissom. I love him, after all. But I'm so mad at him right now, and I want to scream at him... And I want to smack him upside the head for his carelessness in letting me go... And I want him to hold me. And I want to tell myself to shut up and stop being such a pathetic fool.

In the morning I will blame it on the wine.

And on Greg. Blaming Greg usually works.

I need to go to bed, I think I have wallowed enough for tonight. Everything will look better in the morning. Right?

Right?

"CATHERINE"

What?

"CATHERINE"

There is someone screaming outside my door. I think. Or I've had more wine than I thought.

"CATHERINE."

Now there is someone banging on my door. Am I dreaming this? Is this a nightmare?

"CATHERINE."

This is my fault. I wished for this, afterall.

So I inch my way to the door, trying to pretend that my name is something other than Catherine.

Could I open my door and claim that Catherine is not at home?

Probably not. Be careful what you wish for Catherine.

So I do it. I open the door.

"What do you want Grissom?"

I WONDER IF HE'S SORRY
FOR LEAVING WHAT WE'D BEGUN
THERE'S SOMEONE FOR ME SOMEWHERE
BUT I STILL MISS SOMEONE
OH, I STILL MISS SOMEONE.