I think I may have ended something which existed only in my imagination. And don't ask me how that's possible, because it would mean I'd have to go over it and examine my actions from the last few days. Except, that's what I'm doing now I suppose; that's what I've been doing all night. And I wish I could force these thoughts from my mind, but not for the first time, Catherine refuses to leave my consciousness. I say that as though the blame were hers', when I should really accept the guilt as my own. And that's what I need to do, I need to wallow a little more in what I've done. So I won't go home, I'm going to sit in here and hide. It's what I do best.

Catherine is outside these walls, I think. She is finishing up for the night, or morning; anyway she is getting ready to go home. And I am here, in my office, wishing I didn't feel the need to hide from her. But I do need to hide, I'm so embarrassed I can barely even think about what I have done. About what I said to her, how I abused her with my words; my thoughts. I want to run away, but I don't know where to go. I can't remember what my life was like before Catherine was a part of it, but that is not something I should blame Catherine for. But I did, and that's why I hide.

It was supposed to be a fun night, a night when all of us could let loose and enjoy each others' company. I don't know what that means either, that's what Nick said the night was about; I just went along because it was expected. And Catherine made me. Which is why I go to all of these things, whatever they are, where we all get together and drink too much beer and make fun of Greg a little too much. There is another reason, actually, but that is why I got myself into this particular situation.

I don't funtion very well at these things, but there is a reason, and a different one from that which everyone imagines. I admit I'm not at my best in a Vegas bar or any bar for that matter, the list of places I would rather be is long and varied ; but I enjoy beer and the cruel taunting of a co worker as much as the next guy. But what gets me about these nights is the end of them, and of the battle I endure to keep quiet. To let Catherine speak. And you know what I did wrong this time, I didn't let her speak... Well I did, but this time I offered words in reply.

I can't tell you how much I regret my inability to keep my mouth shut. First time in my life I let fly with an emotional response and I completely lose... Everything. I've lost everything that I had, and the most pathetic thing is that everything I had was of my own imagining. I haven't lost anything, because it was never mine... But I have lost her words, those she offered me every couple of months. Those that I have come to depend on, and now I will probably never hear them again.

Does all of this sound a little, I don't know; self indulgent? I think it is, well I know it is, but it's all I have left now. And believe me, I do know how pathetic that makes me sound. But I need to do this, need to wallow a little in the events of the night that took me away from all that I wanted. And all that I thought I could depend on.

We spent the night drinking more than we should, even me. I wanted, I don't know, I was going to say oblivion but that's not what I mean. I was a little woozy, but only in the way that I had maybe one beer more than normal. I was still myself, still the one who organised cabs to get everyone home in one piece. So that what I was doing when it happened, when I spoiled all that I have come to depend upon.

It was the end of the night and everyone was long past the stage of going home, if I were a more sensible man then I would have left earlier and this wouldn't have happened. But I brought it on myself, because I wanted to. I wanted her to tell me again, and if the outcome is not the one I wanted then I have no one to blame but myself.

I will go over this last conversation we shared for a long time to come, knowing that it was the final time I could imagine a future that can never be. And it was the final time I could imagine a woman in my life who is not mine. I will go over these sentences today because twisting the knife in my heart is the only way to pretend that it could have finished any differently. That I might have managed to keep my counsel and I would still have my friend. But I did not, and every time I replay it the conversation is the same.

*****

"All the kids have gone, Gil."

"Really, Catherine... Then what do call that."

"Oh yeah, I meant all the kids except that one."

"Greg really can't handle his drink."

"No not so much."

"Do you think he's conscious?"

"He is, he just tried to hit on that waitress who tried to prize the bottle of beer from his hands. I think I'm going to have fun getting him home tonight."

"Yeah..."

"Thanks for tonight, Gil. Thanks for coming, but thanks more for staying. They appreciate it too, even if they don't show it."

"Okay, no problem Cath. So I should get our young friend into a cab. Are you going to be okay getting home?"

"Of course, I thought I would be the one stuck with Greg, so a whole cab to myself is an unexpected treat. Thanks Gil, you're the best, and I don't tell you that enough. I love you."

*****

And if only I had kept my mouth shut it would have been okay, I would still number Catherine amongst my closest friends. But I can't now, because apparently I couldn't keep my mouth shut, and I just had to respond. And I can't tell you how stupid that was of me, because after all I had been counting on her words all night. They were the reason I went out, they were the reason I stayed to the end, they were the reason for everything. And they are the reason I am hiding here now. But they are not, not really, none of this is Catherines' fault. It was mine. The fault was mine for daring to speak, for daring to answer back.

*****

"Are you sure you're going to be okay Cath, I think maybe you should come with us."

"No I'm okay, and I'm pretty sure I can handle the journey home on my own."

"You sure, it's no trouble."

"Are you kidding me, Gil? I'm a big girl."

"And you've had too much to drink."

"Are you kidding?"

"No, I'm concerned."

"Cause you think I've had too much to drink?"

"I know you have."

"And why is that? I'm on my feet, I can handle conversation, and I look a lot better than Greg over there. I think you should save your concern for him. What makes you think I'm so out of control, Gil?"

"The same reason as always, Cath. You said it, the sentence I come on these little outings to hear. You said it, so I know you've had to much wine or vodka, or whatever it's been tonight. You said it, Cath..."

"What, what did I say that's so awful?"

"What you always say, you told me love me. And you only tell me you love me when you're drunk. No matter what I do, I only get to hear that endearment when you are not in control of what you're doing. And I can't tell you how sorry that makes me."

*****

And that was it, that was the end of the night. Who would have guessed that the person to make a fool of themselves would be the most sober one in the room. I should have let it go, I should have wrapped myself in her words and gone home with them ringing in my ears. But instead I went home with the memory of her face when I challenged her, her sadness and her distress so clear. And it was me, it was all me. I couldn't just have taken her words for the gift that they are, and now they are lost to me forever. I've lost the little part of Catherine which I allowed myself to believe was mine.

She has told me she loves me many times; twelve if I were counting... All of these times have been like this latest instance, she had drunk too much and had her tongue loosened by the alcohol and the general feeling of euphoria in the air. And I lived for them, longed to hear her confess her feelings, even if I knew she meant them as a friend. I could live on her words for weeks, months even, convincing myself that this situation was better than nothing. To hear the word 'love' from Catherine was too precious to be ignored, and I was too greedy for any little sign of affection. But I got careless, of her feelings more than anything, and I ruined it all with reaction. I should have kept quiet, and been grateful for what she was offering. Telling me that she loved me, even in friendship, was better than nothing. Which is what I have now.

"Are you hiding from me, Gil?"

I'm not up to this, not prepared to have this fight where others might hear our raised voices. And I don't want to see disappointment in Catherines' eyes again, knowing that the disappointment is because of me.

"Is that a yes?"

Of course it is, Cath.

"I'm working, I had some paper work to catch up on. And maybe I was avoiding rather than hiding..."

"Well, you've been doing it all night, boss."

"Sorry."

"It's your choice, Gil. I'm just saying."

"Okay, well I should get on."

I'm a fool, even I can see that. She's came here to make amends perhaps, and I'm as aloof as always. Why is it so difficult to talk to this woman when all I want to do is listen to her voice and know all her secrets. Would it be too awful to mention that to Catherine? Of course it would be...

"Can I talk to you, Gil?"

She is braver than I could ever hope to be.

"I don't think we should, Cath."

"You think I won't be able to articulate a thought without the help of alcohol?"

"Of course not, I can't believe I said that to you."

"Well believe it, cause you did."

And she has cornered me now, the door is closed and she's making her way towards me. Ready for a fight perhaps, or to put me in my place.

"Can I sit down?"

And I can't help it, I smile. This is new, Catherine asking permission if she can barge in and disrupt my thoughts.

"Sure, but there is nothing more to say. I'm sorry, I was rude and hurtful, and I'm not drinking again for a long while. Are we okay?"

"No, Gil. We're not."

And those were the worst sentences I've heard in my life. I was right to worry, right to chastise myself for the other night. I have ruined whatever it was we had, live with that Gil Grissom.

"I'm sorry."

Because I am, and there is nothing else to say. I want to go home, want to be away from here and the reminders of all that is not mine.

"I'm sorry too, Gil. But not the way you think. I'm sorry I hurt you, because I know I did hurt you. And for that I'm more sorry than you know."

"Look, we're arguing about nothing. You were being my friend, and I was being disagreeable because I'd had too much to drink. So can we agree to be friends again. It was nothing, can we forget it?"

Please.

"You think love is nothing?"

"What?"

"I told you I love you, you think that's nothing?"

And suddenly there are tears in her eyes, and I don't know where this is going. But it's out of my control. Catherine is not content, she can't remain seated and is now pacing the room. And I don't know what's happening. Again.

"Cath?"

"What you said hurt me..."

"And I'm sorry."

"Let me finish, okay. Let me say this. What you said hurt me, because I upset you. And I never imagined what I was doing would upset you. I thought was safe, you see. I thought I'd found a way to get away with it. Because you were wrong, you know. Wrong about what I said, about my intentions..."

"I know, I can only apologise so many times. It's how you are, gregarious and loving; and I had no right to make you feel bad for that."

"No, I felt bad because you misunderstood, because you thought I was treating you the way I would everyone else. But you were wrong."

I don't know what this is, I can't understand. There must be a subtext to her words which offer the answer to what is happening here. I can't take this, she is pacing so fast that the room is starting to spin. I really need to sleep.

"Cath, can you sit down? You're making me nervous."

And she does, but it makes me no less nervous. She is sitting on the edge of my desk now, looking about as uncomfortable as I feel. I don't know what's happening here, but she seems unwilling to meet my eyes. Her hands are clasped, and she is staring at them now as though the secrets of the universe could be found there.

"Cath?"

"You were wrong, Gil. I only drink... I only get drunk so that I can tell you I love you. That's the truth."

"I don't get it?"

"No, you don't ever seem to, and I've given you enough opportunities. I tell you I love when we are out because it's the only chance I get to do it. I convince myself that one night you'll tell me too. I convince myself that you'll look at me and understand, and you'll tell me you love me too. And it takes vodka to give me that courage. So that is why I'm usually a little drunk when I tell you my feelings, but understand that the love was there before."

"And now?"

"And now what, Gil?"

"Where has the love gone?"

And for the first time since she sat on my desk, Catherine meets my gaze. I think I must have misinterpreted her words... Because I thought they were good, I thought they were ones I wanted to hear; but that is not what's reflected in her eyes. She looks sad, and it really doesn't look good on her. I hate that I am the one to make her look so sad.

"Gil..."

And now my hands are being held in hers, and I want to hope but I can't let myself... I can't let myself believe this is happening.

"Gil, it's here."

As she said this, Catherine kissed my hand which was held in hers and raised it to her chest, resting it above her heart.

"You love me?"

"Are you kidding, do you want me to tattoo it on my forehead. I love you. Was that clear enough? I love you."

And I can't help it, I'm laughing... Probably in relief more than anything, but I'm laughing.

"Are you laughing at me?"

NO.

"No, Cath, of course not. I'm laughing because I feel like it for the first time in forever , and because it's better than crying. You love me?"

"Yeah, I mentioned that. But you, Mr Grissom, seem to be staying away from any mention of the L word."

"I'm afraid that when I say it I'll wake up, and in reality I'll be passed out on my bed beside Greg."

"Hhm, you want to confess anything to me now?"

"That wakening up next to Greg is my nightmare, and having a beautiful woman tell me she loves me is something of a dream of mine."

"So is that any beautiful woman in particular?"

"Well, it would have to be someone I'm in love with."

"Gil, I swear to God, if you think this is cute then you're way past wrong."

I don't know how this is going to be, but I do know it will never be boring. So I try and convince her of my intent, of the truth behind my words and my emotions. I lean in to her, purposely grazing my lips against her neck as I make my way to her ear. And I whisper the words I was afraid I would never get the chance to.

"I love you."

"Gil Grissom, are you drunk?"

And I'm laughing again, but this time Cath is too.

"No, should I be?"

"Probably, I'm kind of hard work you know."

"I love you."

"About damn time, Gil, about damn time."

"So we're going to try?"

"Count on it honey. Now take me away from here, actually take me home. I'm tired and I want to sleep, and it would be nice if someone I love sleeps beside me."

"Okay, so where do we pick him up?"

"Gil, I thought we established what was cute and what wasn't? Take me home."

"This is real?"

"It's been real for years, honey. But today it got right."

And there is nothing more I can add to that. Because it did.

The end.