It was new, and the first thing Gil Grissom noticed when he walked into his office and found Catherine Willows bent over his desk. The sound of rustling pages filled the room, and through the rustle he could hear the faint mutterings of his coworker as she arranged the contents of his in-box.

"I see I was missed." At the sound of his voice, Catherine spun around, and what had first been evident to him became more so as curls the color of whiskey bounced over her shoulders to frame her face. "And there have been changes."

"Yeah. When Atwater saw me doing all of your paperwork, he decided that I was doing your job better than you were." Eyes rivaling the color of Jackpot's pollution-free skies gazed at him over a manila folder, and followed him as he moved to the leather couch in the corner. "How was your trip?"

"It was...interesting." He slipped off dusty hiking boots and shrugged out of his jacket to settle back into the well-worn cushions. Dust mites hovered in the stream of light that crept through his partially opened door, and he watched them with intense fascination until the rustle of papers brought him back again. "When did you change your hair?"

"Oh." Shock flickered over Catherine's features as she let the observation sink in, and she sat her folders aside. "You noticed. Tuesday."

"It suits you." It did, the warm, sensual brown perfectly complimenting the smooth, ocean blue of her eyes, accentuating the color even further than before. It was a new woman with the same experiences that stood before him, and Grissom struggled to conceal his attraction to that new woman.

"Thanks." The couch mass shifted as Catherine perched her lean figure on the arm. She wore a red tank top and faded jeans, briskly rubbing her hands over her bare arms. "It's colder over here."

"Is it?" Amused, and strangely fascinated, Grissom leaned forward to lay his jacket over her shoulders. As she turned to shrug into it, he caught the faint scent of cigarette smoke mixed with jasmine, and arched an eyebrow as Catherine's face turned his way. "You've started smoking again."

She smiled, slipping from the arm of the couch and into his lap with one, fluid motion that had him rapidly pinned down before he could react. As her hands slid up his chest, and back down to his navel, Grissom's eyes fastened upon the full pout of Catherine's raspberry-painted lips. He felt the blood drain all the way down his torso, and into the part of his anatomy he was certain was about to destroy his brand new Dockers.

"I started last week. The stress of all this paperwork got to me."

"I see." He couldn't ignore the feeling of her weight on his body, and was finding it more difficult to concentrate as her hands began to creep beneath his t-shirt. "Are you still cold?"

"Ohh, I think I'm getting just a bit warmer." She smiled, pressing her lips to his forehead, and the tip of his nose, before pulling her face back, and simply watching him. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've finally found the evidence I'm looking for." The need for concentration diminished, and he lifted his own hands to cup her breasts through the thin tank top, working his fingers gently over her now taut nipples. "This is the evidence, Catherine. Evidence that I'm in love with you. You bring out things in me that no one has ever seen before."

"Well, Mr.Grissom, it looks like we're about to compromise the evidence." As she pressed her lips to his, Grissom moaned, pulling her close and feeling the aching need to drive himself into the hot, wet opening concealed beneath her Levi's. "You know, I've heard that it's amazing what you can absorb through the penis. Should we find out together?"

"/What/?"

"I said, 'it's amazing what you can find in AFIS. Should we put it together?" Catherine's voice penetrated the haze of sleep, and Grissom rapidly launched his body into a sitting position. He was on the couch in his office, breath rapid and eyes glazed as he struggled to focus on her smile. A smile that grew as she slipped quietly into the room and closed the door in her wake. "Greg spent five minutes with our prints and already sent them through AFIS."

"He's talented."

"I'm sure he'd love to hear /you/ say that sometime." Mischievous blue eyes ran the room and landed on his face once again. And moved down. "That must have been a pretty wild dream."

"Wh-" Grissom followed her gaze, his skin flushed as the evidence of his dream became clear. "It...was."

"I see." Smile broadening, Catherine fell to her knees before him and ran a delicate, questing hand over the prominent member peering at her through the opened zipper. "Well, if you tell me all about it, maybe I can see about making this dream come true."

"Catherine..."

"Shh, Mr.Scientist. Shh..." As her mouth began to work, Grissom's head lolled back into the soft, low back of the sofa, and he let her ministrations and the smell of her jasmine shampoo lull him into a satisfied stupor. He just couldn't believe his good fortune...

"Shh, Gil...stay still." It was Catherine's words that brought Grissom into the light of the interrogation room. The floor was cool through his thin CSI windbreaker, and against his neck he felt the chill of a moist cloth. "Shh..you were dreaming. The suspect attacked you, and you lost consciousness."

"What am I still doing here?"

"We didn't want to move you until you woke up." Catherine's gentle hands pushed him back as he attempted to sit up, and she shook her head. "Take it easy, Gil. You've been out for a few hours."

"The suspect...?"

"He's dead. Doc Robbins has him now- we won't know the cause of death for a while. You know the officers used force..."

"But that may not necessarily be the cause." He agreed with her unspoken assessment, and obediently remained on his back, allowing her to sponge resolutely at his neck wound.

As her movements continued and the silence ensued, he began to notice the scent in the air. She smelt differently- and that was to say that she had a smell at all, which was uncommon for work hours. Catherine smelt of sultry perfume, wafting from the fabric of the black dress that clung to her, cut low in the bodice and accented by a blue teardrop on a thin gold chain. She was beautiful and capable, dressed to the nines while she watched carefully over him, and it was not for the first time that Grissom felt a pang of regret, mixed with envy and remorse, as he realized that wherever she was going dressed like that- she wasn't going with him.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Concern tinged the low, musical tones as Catherine ceased her ministrations, and he could feel her fingertips cautiously probing his throat. "Your pulse seems steady."

"I feel fine. Go- you're going to be late." He couldn't ignore the surprise registering in her eyes, and smiled. "I know. Have a good time."

"How did you-"

"I'm paid to be observant, Catherine. Now go, and don't worry about me." He sat up as she rose, tugging gently at her dress and reaching up to fluff her silky golden curls. "And thank you...for taking care of me."

"I'm a mom, Gil. It's what I do." She hurried out as he looked on, the pangs of regret returning in full force. She was a mom, she was a CSI, she was a beautiful woman out on the town. But what he wanted her to be, for him, was what she would never know. Perhaps not everything he had dreamt of...but certainly, he wanted more than to have her in his dreams.

He wanted her to be his.

~The end