I thought we were getting along, I thought we had become... I can't put a name to it, for there is no one in my life I have such intense feeling for. So I thought, well it doesn't really matter, but I felt that Catherine and I were friends again, truly friends. After a period of drifting from each other, when we became merely colleagues, we seemed to have found each other again. That is what I thought.

I was wrong. I am a figure of fun to her. I know I am judged on my personality, my quirks, but never by her. Well, actually Catherine would always judge me, but there was laughter in her eyes when she looked at me like I was crazy. But that was past tense. Yesterday. Today I know she mocks me, today I know she laughs at me and I don't know the punchline. Though, of course I do... I am. I am the joke. Catherine thinks I am a joke. I want to cry at the knowledge of this, I want to lay my head down on my desk and cry.

Does that sound a little too dramatic? Does that sound like words I would not say? Well, maybe they are, and maybe I shouldn't... But they're true and I want to tell them to her. And I will. This time I'm going to tell this woman what I think and feel. Who am I kidding, of course I won't do that. I'll avoid her eyes and tell her I have to work. She'll try and persuade me to come with her, that she wants me to spend time with her. Maybe she does, maybe she gets a kick out of being with her hateful boss. Maybe...

"Grissom, I thought you were right behind me?"

I don't know how she can divide her emotions up like this. She is my friend right now, and I believe it. But friends don't make fun of each other, I know that much. I mean I don't have very many friends but I know how to behave with the few I have managed to acquire in my lifetime. The woman sitting down next to me has always been the most precious of that select bunch, until today.

"Grissom, I though you were ready to leave? All the trees will be gone if we don't get out of here, so can we go?"

"I don't think I can."

"Are you kidding me? Come on Gil, you promised. Linds expects me to have a Christmas tree in the house by the time she gets home from school, so you really have no option, my friend."

It hurts a little that lies slip from her tongue so easily. I can't believe I'm thinking like this, but Christmas always manages to make me a little crazy.

"I'm not coming, Cath. I have work to do here."

"Grissom?"

See if this had been a few hours ago, I would have melted at her words. Well, not at the words, I don't melt when Ecklie says my name... But it's the way she says my name, it's as if she takes pleasure from my name on her lips. Well, that's what I like to imagine anyway...

"I have work."

If I keep it simple then she'll just think I'm being me. I have to work, make her believe this is about work.

"That's not a viable excuse today. It just isn't. We are spending today shopping for Christmas type goods. Now come on..."

If only that were true, Catherine. Imagine the luxury of being able to go home with her, and to spend the holidays in the warmth of her small family. Or maybe that would be a lie too, maybe I would be indulging in one fanatsy too many. Why did I have to read that stupid list?

Why did she have to write it?

"Sorry, Catherine. I really do have to work. I'd like Christmas day off, and if I do..."

"Right."

"Really, Catherine. You should get out of here, last minute Christmas shoppers can be brutal."

"Which is why you were helping me."

She's looking at me like I've hurt her, like I'm the one who's done something wrong. Like I'm the one who doesn't love her.

"Sorry."

And there's that look again. But it's more than the look, it's the battle going on within her now. I recognise the signs of one who is holding words inside, words which are desperate to escape. I know she will win the battle, it's one of our rules.

"So there's nothing I can say?"

You've already said too much, my dear. Or written too much. I have to be careful at this time of year, Catherine. I'm a sentimental man, I try and hide it, but Christmas seems to break down my guard. All the things I want, but cannot have, seem that bit further from my grasp now: and thats makes me pull away all the more. But I did try this year, tried to open myself a little... I was wrong to do that, maybe even wrong about Cath.

"Grissom, are you still with me? You drifted there for a minute."

"Sorry, I'm tired. I'll see you tonight, Cath. Our last one before Christmas, hopefully Vegas will be at peace for a few nights. Get some rest, don't spend the whole day shopping."

"Why are you trying to be sweet when you've just dumped me?"

I admit that sentence caused a little intake of breath.

"I haven't ..."

"Dumped me?"

"Yeah, I haven't. I have obligations, Catherine."

And I know I've won, or do I mean lost? She has turned to leave, her sigh of resignation being her only attempt at farewell. And then she stops.

"Okay, you win, Gil. You win."

But she doesn't seem to be talking about any kind of victory. I resist the urge to open the wound further, I'll let her go.

"Bye, Catherine."

"Bye, Grissom. I just need my lists, I think I left them in here earlier. You remember, when we were planning to spend the day together."

Why are you pissed, Cath? Why are you the one who gets to be upset, allow me that at least.

"Do you mean these?"

The list.

"Yeah. I wish I hadn't left it so last minute, if I get half the stuff I've got down here I'll be pleased. Actually, I'll be amazed."

"Really?"

"You said it Gil, Christmas shoppers can be brutal."

And with that she smiles for the first time since she came in the room, at least now she is offering a smile above a sigh.

She is leaving, almost out the door, when she stops. I can tell what she's doing, I can tell even though I can't see. She is reading what she has written. Reading what I've read.

"I thought you were leaving, Catherine?"

"Did you read this Gil?"

"..."

"Did you?"

Her voice has a quality to it now, which has been absent for months, years maybe. Is it fear?

"I did, Catherine. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have, I know. I thought I might find some ideas for what to get you for Christmas, but I was thinking perfume rather than my resignation."

"Gil?"

"It's okay, Catherine. It was private, I should've kept my nose out. Lesson learned. Have a good day."

It would be better if I put an end to this, so I move to leave. If I can get someplace where there are more people then this will be bearable, or a little less uncomfortable.

"Wait."

There is fear in her voice again, and the pressure of her hand on my arm.

"I have work to do Cath, even if you wish that were not so."

Again I am taken back to where I was a few minutes ago, and I want the sanctuary of my desk and the absence of this woman. That I would live to think those words astounds me.

"Gil, sit down."

And she offers me not choice, dragging me back into the room.

"You read this?"

"I'm sorry."

"You read this?"

Tears. Those are tears in her eyes, I want to reach over and wipe them away for her. Is that wrong?

"I did. I'm sorry, Catherine."

"You weren't supposed to do that."

"Now she tells me."

Okay I was trying to lighten to mood. I am capable of doing that, Catherine knows that better than anyone.

"I'm sorry, Gil."

"It's okay, our wishes are not supposed to be exposed to the outside world."

"You read my list for santa, Gil."

"So it's santa who has the power to promote you now?"

"Is that what you think?"

She's getting angry now, her cheeks are flushed and she looks magnificent. I am a weak man.

"I can't remember the exact words you used, Cath, but I'm sure my removal from this building was the main plot."

"You didn't read it right."

"Oh, I'm sorry, do the words you wrote mean something else in your eyes? Let me see."

And I am unlike myself now, grabbing the fabled list from her hands.

"Okay, let me get it word perfect this time, Cath. ' I want Gil to not be my boss. I want Gil to not work at the lab anymore. I want Gil to leave.' Did I get any of that wrong?"

"All of it."

"Really, so you don't want me gone then?"

"It was just something I wrote, Gil. Linds and I were fooling around."

"And you thought first of me?"

And I know as soon as the words have left my mouth, they were a mistake. The fear has gone, and has been replaced by rage. Catherine in a rage, not good.

"You know what, Gil, I did. I wrote my list to santa, with my daughter, and I thought of you. I wake up and I think of you, I go to sleep thinking of you. I spend most of my waking hours with you, thinking about you. Which is weird, cause I'm never sure the things I say to you in my head are real or imagined. I discussed what we were doing for Christmas day with you last week, I'm still not sure if I agreed the details with the real you or the imagined one. I wrote that list, Gil, because I think about you too much and I want to stop."

Her words are getting louder, I hope no one can hear this. But I know Catherine, and I know she won't let this go now. She has something to say and she'll express all that is in her mind now. I don't want to hear her rationale for wanting me gone, I just don't.

"Did you read all that I wrote, Gil?"

"I got the main point of what you were trying to say, Catherine. I tuned out when I started reading about perfume and boots."

"Well, I had to put something on there Linds could actually get me."

"Lindsey is buying you boots?."

"No, the boots are from santa. Linds likes to surprise me."

"Smart girl."

"Yeah, she is. But you didn't read the whole list, Mr Grissom. Read what's over the page."

She is sitting on my desk now, quietly simmering, waiting to explode. I don't have a choice, so I read.

"'I want Gil'. I don't get it, you want me to what?"

"Nothing. Just as it's written, I want you."

"To?"

"Nothing, Gil. I want you not to be my boss, I want you not to work at the lab, I want you to leave, because I want you. You. That's what I was asking for: you. I was indulging myself, asking an illusion for something I could never ask for in reality. I was asking for you."

Oh.

"Why?"

I could have said so many things there, so very many wonderful words, but no.

At least she's smiling now.

"Why? You know why, I think. Did you not hear me talking about thinking about you all the time? I'm helpless beside you, my feelings get the better of me and I can't control them. It's the holidays, Gil, you need to be with the people who mean the most to you. I need to be with people who mean the most to me. Can you believe that?"

Yes.

"So you don't want me to leave?"

"Not really."

"You want me?"

I just realised how stupid that sounds coming from anyones' lips other than Caths. I sounded quite pathetic there.

"I don't know why."

She really has a beautiful smile.

"Do you like the real me, or the one in your imagination?"

"I like both of you."

"But you prefer?"

Am I flirting, I thought I'd forgotten how.

"You, Gil. I prefer you."

"Okay."

Again with my wonderful words of seduction...

"So?"

"So?"

"You're not making this very easy, Gil."

"We've never been easy, Catherine."

"No, I don't suppose we have."

"I don't want to say something to make you change your mind. My fantasy woman has just told me she wants me, and I'm not entirely sure it's real or imagined."

And then she makes it real, and all the more fantastic. She leans over to me, rests her hand on my shoulder, and whispers

"I'm real."

And she is.

"So, are we Christmas shopping Mr Grissom?"

"Is that what you call this, Cath?"

My hands closes around the one resting on my shoulder, and I know there is joy reflected in both of our eyes. And suddenly it all seems to appropriate, we find this - whatever it's going to be - during this period of joy.

"Let's get out of here, I need to buy a Christmas tree for my daughter."

"I have a question first."

I am all about the questions, after all.

"Okay?"

"When you asked my imagined self about his plans for Christmas day, what did he say?"

"That he was spending it with me."

"And you were happy with that?"

"Of course, he was bringing dessert so it was a win win situation for me."

"So I can come stay with you guys for Christmas?"

And this time she is back to the Catherine I recognise, back to the woman who inspires such wonder and love.

"Honey, you can stay forever."

Maybe this Christmas will be the start of more happy days. I'll write a letter to the big guy in the red suit to make sure I get what I want next year too.

The end.