"So?"

"So what, Cath?"

"So what were you going to say before we were interrupted by Warrick?" Catherine looked impatient and eager. They had walked down the hallway and were standing before the double doors leading out to the parking lot before Warrick had run into them, obviously in a daydream, something completely unlike him. They had stopped him and questioned him before letting him return to his thoughts. They had gotten no information out of him, just simple grunts of 'yea' and 'uh-uh.' Grissom seemingly understood what Warrick had meant and Catherine figured that this was another display of "men being men." Wanting nothing more to resume the conversation, Catherine was in need of something to hold over Grissom's head in case of another one of their fights. Hopefully something insightful or even better . . . something embarrassing, would come out of this discussion.

"Remind me again what we were talking about." Grissom said, feigning innocence. Honestly, Grissom knew exactly what they had been talking about, but hoped to God that Cath had forgotten and was now solely worried about Warrick. He'd have to thank the boy later . . .

"You know exactly what we were talking about Gil Grissom . . . BUT I can tell by that scowl on your face that you'd like to change the subject. Hmmmm . . . should I let this go?" Grissom prayed she would but Cath continued to play with his mind . . . "I wonder . . . how much would changing the subject be worth to you?" Grissom pretended to go for his wallet, knowing full well what Catherine was doing. "NO! I could let you pay me off . . . but insight into Gil Grissom's twisted little mind . . . well, my dear, that's priceless, so I think I'll take the latter. and since you are pretending to forget what we were talking about . . . the question posed was this: 'What is your greatest fear?' "

Grissom felt sick. 'My greatest fear. Oh brother, the questions will be pouring in if I answer this honestly . . .' Grissom tried to think of a way out, but with no avail, he told her . . .

"I'm deathly afraid of live chickens."

Catherine had to keep herself from laughing outright. It seemed like he was serious . . . but it was Grissom. After a few moments, she couldn't help herself . . .

"Chickens?!?!" She screamed; how bizarre?

"Yes, chickens. You really don't have to laugh at me. It was a very traumatic experience . . . and to this day, I cannot look at the little devils without a feeling of deep-seeded hatred. Which is exactly why I delight in eating chicken for dinner . . . it means there are less chickens out there roaming around, looking for innocent people to . . . peck." Grissom's face contorted and a look of disgust was evident on his face. He'd really thought playing "21 Questions" with Cath would be no big deal. Big mistake on his part. He'd asked stupid questions like: favorite season and worst pick-up line. She pulled out the big guns with him.

"I'm sorry . . . really; it's just, I've never thought of THAT as a fear! Much less 'greatest fear.' Tell me . . . what happened?" Catherine could barely speak between fits of laughter. Chickens . . .

"No, no, no . . . you only get 21 questions and that was your 21st! We're done with this stupid game . . ." Grissom was insulted. How dare she laugh at him? Chickens are frightening.

"Oh, c'mon Gris, you can't tell me THAT without telling me why you're afraid of them . . . it makes no sense in my mind right now. If you want me to stop laughing, just tell me . . ." Catherine called after his retreating back.

"Fine, fine. I'll tell you, but you can't laugh." Grissom looked into her eyes before beginning. She'd stopped laughing but her eyes were clearly doing all the laughing for her. Nevertheless, he told her. "When I was about 5, my parents took me to a farm for a few days in the summer, so I could experience all different walks of life . . . they were big into letting me experience as many jobs as possible---content on making me something other than a scientist. Well, when they were walking around the grounds with the farmer's wife, they let me look at all the animals. I wandered into the chicken barn and well . . . a chicken was loose. It was evil looking, it had beady little eyes and an evil little stare. It started toward me and I tried to back away, but I couldn't because there was a wall behind me. As it closed in on me, it started pecking at the ground until it reached me. Then it flew up to my shirt and clutched onto me. It was pecking at me and I flailed around but it wouldn't stop or let go. It finally detatched from me and I started to run. Cath, it followed me. It chased me all the way to the car. Then it started to peck at the door and the tires. It was so scary, it's feathers were so big and ruffled and they just kept coming at me. I was only 5 for goodness sakes! It poked a hole in the tire and my parents finally found me. The farmer's son took the chicken back to the car and my dad changed the tire. My arms were bleeding and I got a scar on my neck from it! The chicken attacked me!" Grissom could hardly contain himself and he started to pace.

Catherine held in her laughter as she walked up to him. She stopped him and made him face her.

"Gris, that was . . . well, a long time ago. Chickens now-a-days aren't like that. Their tame and fenced in. Plus, you're in Las Vegas, did you forget? There aren't any chickens around here. You're safe, don't worry." Catherine teased him lightly and couldn't help but let out a hearty chuckle at Grissom's apparent restlessness.

As they turned to exit the building, Greg came walking down the hallway. He held out a caged chicken to Grissom and Catherine.

"Look what I found guys. Isn't it cool? Gris . . .?" Grissom flew out the doors and into the parking lot. Catherine let out a laugh and playfully hit Greg in the back of the head.

"Good one, Greggo." Catherine winked at him and exited the building in search of a frightened Grissom, thinking to herself how childish he seemed at that moment, but how much she loved to see that side of him . . . even if it was over a chicken.

The End