It's been so long since Grissom and I did anything fun together, I can't believe he actually agreed to this. I think he's been frightened of facing me for the past few weeks. Actually, if I'm honest, make that months. But now that I've got him to myself, we're gonna talk. Right after the movie. The movie that seems to have already started. Why am I always late to these things?

"So what did I miss?"

"Murder, seduction, deceit - the usual."

Is it wrong that I get goosebumps when I hear Gil use the word seduction in a sentence. Probably... Anyway, while I can still find the words I make fun of him a little for dragging me into his noir world.

"Actually, I'm not a big fan of noir."

"What do you like?"

"I like silent movies."

I'm so not gonna let that one pass, I'll let it slide for now... But we're talking about his cute little comment later. But for now I'm watching Bogart.

"So did you like the movie, Cath?"

"I did, I love it. It's always been one of my favourites."

I've managed to keep hold of his company for a little longer, persuaded him to come have coffee with me. And I know his game, keep the conversation safe, and that's okay. I'll play his game for a while.

"You like Humphrey Bogart, Cath?"

"Well, what's not to like? But that's not the reason I love In a Lonely Place so much. It's all about Gloria Grahame, I love her. I love her in this, and The Big Heat. She's cool, and beautiful, and very underrated."

"I didn't know you were such a movie fan."

"I like what I like, Gil."

"That's good. So we agree that was a good movie. But I thought you liked happy movies, not ones filled with despair, and about lonliness and solitude."

"Are you insulting my taste here?"

"No, but usually you make me watch Sandra Bullock movies."

"And there's nothing wrong with that, there is room in this world for all kinds of movies. Don't be such a snob, for your information I thought Koyaanisqatsi was trite and condescending, but While You Were Sleeping was sweet and lovely. Different strokes, Gil."

"Okay."

"So is that what we are doing today, talking about movies?"

"Sure, if that's what you want."

"I can do that. But it felt like you wanted to talk to me about other things earlier, or was I wrong?"

"I don't know what you mean, Cath? Have you been looking for subtext where there is none?"

"Maybe, but you must know the subtext I've picked up on, or you wouldn't have mentioned that just now. Or am I wrong?"

"This conversation is getting too complicated for me to follow Cath, I thought this was supposed to be fun. I thought you promised me we would have fun. Let's talk about movies some more, okay."

I can do that, if he wants to pretend, I can do that too. Who I am kidding, it's good just to be with him like this. It's good to see him smiling, it's good that I've got him to myself for a little while. So I can enjoy that, for now.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Your top five movies of all time."

"No way, that's too difficult."

"Come on Cath, indulge me."

Whoa, boy. If I got tingles at him saying the word seduction, I can't tell you what the thought of 'indulging him' did to me.

"Okay, but you first. I want to know what Gil Grissom watches on a lonely night at home. Tell me all about these silent movies you love so much?"

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Yeah."

"Fine. Okay. I love anything by Murnua, but especially Sunrise. It's beautiful, a sappy love story, beautifully shot."

"Yawn. Seen it, hated it. No dialogue."

"Really, who would have thought, what with it being a silent movie? You have no soul, Catherine."

"And you have no taste Mr Grissom."

"Right. Okay, what about Battleship Potemkin, a great movie, you've got to like that..."

"Don't really like it, have watched it once, but really don't get it. I didn't get any real sense of feeling from it, I thought it was an empty technical exercise. What?"

"Okay. Have you been taking some film courses in your spare time?"

"I can't have an opinion?"

"Sorry, I forgot about you and your opinions...What about Citizen Kane then, you must like that. It's one of the greats, right?"

"I like it, but I think you are giving me movies you think you are supposed to like rather than movies you like."

"That's nonsense."

"We have watched movies a number of times together, you've never made me watch any of those movies... Don't think about it, just say the names of a couple of movies you love. Don't think, just say it."

"Spinal Tap and Steel Magnolias."

"Hah, see good movies. Why do you like them?"

"One makes me laugh, and one makes me cry."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being honest."

And I try to make him see we are talking about more than movies here. I try to hold his gaze, but he knows what I'm trying to do. Or I think he does, he has that sad look on his face that he has worn so often lately. He is retreating from me again, and I know we are in trouble. It's been such a horrible year, a year where Grissom and I have let each other drift. But I'll stop it now, I want him to tell me what is going on with him. And this is not just for him, I want my friend back, I need my friend back. And this is where we start.

"Cath..."

"Okay, do you want to hear about movies I like?"

"Sure."

"The Apartment. Witty, sad, sweet, and Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine. Great movie. And then there's the Philadelphia Story, Cary Grant, Katharine Hepburn, and James Stewart. It makes me feel better every time I watch it, and it always will."

"It's a good movie. I like Katharine Hepburn, she reminds me of you."

I think that may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

Ever.

"I remind you of Katharine Hepburn?"

And he's avoiding my eyes again, because we are in danger of crossing that line again. The line we seem to have moved away from over the last few months, and I'm terrified, but I want to hear what he has to say. I always want to hear what he has to say.

"Of course, she was beautiful, and opinionated, and she always played women that you wanted to know. She seemed like she was a remarkable woman, strong and intelligent, and fun. Like you. She seemed like the type of person who would be a good friend."

"Are we friends, Gil?"

"Of course we are, where is that coming from?"

"We're friends who keep secrets, Gil."

"I admitted that I love Steel Magnolias, Cath."

And he's smiling now, but his eyes tell me a different story. They tell me he is afraid, afraid to be here, afraid of this conversation. So I'll let him breathe for a few minutes.

"Okay, I know. Right I didn't get to finish talking about my movies did I?"

"Carry on then."

"Well I love Toy Story, cause Linds makes me watch it at least once a week. And I don't hate it, now that is a remarkable movie. And then there is The Way We Were, cause it's the best weepy of all time. And Robert Redford is too beautiful for words in it."

"I can't believe you're that shallow, you like a movie because you think someone in it is attractive?"

"Yeah."

"That's so sad."

"Shut up."

"Always wonderful to have an intelligent discussion with you, Cath."

"Shut up, you haven't let me tell you about my favourite movie of all time."

"I'm shutting up."

"Okay, my favourite is 84 Charing Cross Road."

"I don't think I've seen that one."

"It's lovely, breaks my heart every time. It's a true story, about a English bookselller and a New York writer, and the letters they exchange over the course of twenty years. They never met, but they loved each other. They were very different, they led very different lives, but in their letters to each other they could talk about anything. Their hopes, their fears. They were friends, and that was very important to them. They probably shouldn't have been friends, but they were, and for what ever reason it worked. They meant everything to each other, as friends should."

And that was my best shot at getting him to speak to me about what is worrying him, I hope he takes the bait.

"We're still friends, Cath. I hope we are, anyway."

"Me too. But if we are friends, why won't you talk to me?"

"I don't know how."

"Just tell me what's wrong. Tell me, and I'll help you, whatever it is. Gil, it can't be any worse than what I am imagining. Let me be your friend, I miss being your friend so much. I miss you."

And the urge to just hold him is almost overwhelming. He looks so sad, so alone, at my words.

"I miss you too, Catherine. But you can't depend on me, you shouldn't do that."

"It's too late for you to say that to me now, years too late. I've depended on you, needed you, for as long as I can remember. I thought we could talk about anything, please? Please, Gil?"

And I take his hand and place a soft kiss on his knuckles, a kiss that tells him I am still his friend. That I love him. I hope that is what it says.

"You don't give up, do you?"

"Never on you, Gil."

"Can we go somewhere to talk, somewhere private. There are too many people here. I just want to talk to you, okay?"

"Of course it is, come home with me."

"I'm afraid, Cath."

"I know. Me too. But we'll be okay, I promise."

And I do.

So we're on our way to my home, on our way to share secrets. And as frightened as I am of what they might be, I am glad that we have found a way back to each other.