"I'm sorry, Gil. But you don't have that choice." She glared back at him as the anger built steadily within her. "You show up here, at *my* house, half-drunk, at 3 in the morning, because you're upset about something. And I'm ok with that because I'm your friend." The words were rushing from her mouth and Catherine had to pause to catch her breath. "But what I'm not ok with is you, getting completely plastered, at *my* house, at 3 in the morning, and not talking about what brought you here in the first place."

Catherine turned away from him, grabbed the bottle of scotch from the table and stormed into the kitchen. She put the bottle back where she had found it and slammed the cabinet shut. After a few minutes and some deep breaths, she was able to calm herself down. When she re-entered the living room, Gil was still standing by the window. She could see that he was very angry. His body was shaking and his fingers gripped the windowsill so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

But she was angry too.

"So?" Catherine snapped at him, her voice wavering as nervousness crawled over her body. She wasn't afraid of Gil. He would never hurt her. But she had no idea what was bothering him. The one thing she did know was that it had to be something pretty bad. She'd never seen him this upset before, and she wasn't exactly sure how he would react to her probing him for information.

"So." Gil turned to face her. His face was tight with anger, but she could see the pain reflected in his deep blue eyes. "So, fine. You want to know so bad...I'll tell you. I'm going deaf."

"What?" Catherine wasn't sure she had heard him correctly. "You're going deaf?"

"That's what I said."

The words finally clicked in her head. Gil's mother had been deaf. She remembered their conversation as if it had taken place yesterday. The day he had old her about it ­ about the disease that had stolen his mother's precious hearing.

"Otosclerosis." Catherine felt sick as the word floated out of her mouth.

"How am I supposed to do my job? How will I be able to interrogate someone if I can't hear the way something is answered?"

"Gil." She walked over to him and placed her hand lightly on his arm. "It'll be ok."

Gil jerked his arm away from her as if he'd been burned.

"Did you hear what I said, Catherine? Deaf. I won't be able to hear anything."

"Yes, I heard you. But I think you're being a little bit fatalistic about it. It's way too early to feel that way, Gil. There has to be some treatment ­ some way to slow it down."

"There isn't."

"You don't know that for sure."

"It doesn't matter." His voice was growing icier with each word he spoke.

"It *does* matter, damnit!"

Gil spun on her. His face was flushed red. Eyes burning with rage. In a matter of seconds, he had grabbed her and pinned her against the wall with his hands. His fingers dug into the tender flesh beneath her pajama top. The weight of his body forced her shoulders roughly into the hard surface behind her. Gil's face was inches from hers ­ she could smell the scotch on his warm breath.

"Don't you understand anything?" His voice was a hiss against her ear. "It's over."

"Gil."

"My career is over." Gil pressed his body into hers. Catherine could feel his growing erection pressing into her thigh.

"It's not."

She began to squirm beneath him. Dull pain throbbed throughout her body, but heat was building within her as well. The second Gil's body made contact with hers, she felt it pooling in her stomach and spreading warmly outward through her veins. The air between them was crackling with electricity. Her breathing sped up to match the rapid beating of her heart. She heard his breathing quicken in tandem with hers.

"You should know better than anyone that it is, Catherine." His fingers tightened on her shoulders and Catherine groaned softly. "So stop trying to argue with me. You know you won't win." His lips hovered just above hers.

"Please, Gil." Catherine paused, her eyes meeting his. He was so close to her now that when she spoke, her lips brushed against his. The contact sent a wave of shock through her and her arousal deepened. She wanted him badly. She had since the day they had met. But this situation was getting out of hand. He was starting to freak her out a little. His grip tightened further and she could actually feel the pads of his fingertips digging grooves into her skin.

That was the moment when her feelings of pleasure turned into those of pain. She gasped and lifted her hands to his chest. She tried to push him away.

"Gil, stop."

Gil's mouth curled into a smirk. Before Catherine could react, his lips covered hers. His kiss was very rough ­ unyielding. His lips crushed against hers and she felt her teeth scrape into the tender skin within her mouth. Gil pressed against her, pushing his tongue between her lips. He thrust his pelvis into her and Catherine knew she had to get control of the situation ­ right now. She wasn't going to allow Gil to do something he would regret later ­ simply because he was upset.

And drunk.

Catherine closed her lips, halting Gil's kiss, and braced herself against the wall. She balled her hands into fists within his shirt and shoved forward with all the strength she could muster. Their kiss broke with an audible release of suction.

Gil, who was caught completely off guard, stumbled backward and began to fall. His arms pinwheeled as he tried to keep his balance. His hands brushed the sofa as he tumbled to the ground. He hit the floor with a loud thump, his head barely missing the sharp edge of the coffee table. Gil quickly sat up and turned his sharp gaze to Catherine.