As always, Sara Sidle had a complaint and was unhappy. She walked down the hallway with purpose. An impromptu meeting had been called and she was in no mood for it, so that added to her pleasant demeanor. Her straight dark brown hair hung loosely about her dropped shoulders. Her large dark brown eyes were focused. In the rare instances when she smiled, it revealed a gap between her two front teeth. Dressed in a white button down, navy slacks and a pair of chunky black clogs, she was every bit a tomboy. She rounded the corner and discovered that she was the last to arrive. Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders, and Warrick Brown were settled in chairs, reports ready. Nick smiled his larger than Texas itself smile. Greg blushed a bit and cleared his throat. Warrick stood as Catherine came in.

"Gooood evening, all," she chimed in her sultry voice. She meant business, but was kind and fair. She wore a black leather blazer, a low cut, cherry red tank top and black, form-fitting flare leg slacks. Her boots clipped merrily on the floor. Her shoulder length, reddish-blonde hair shone and was softly waved. Her blue-green eyes were focused and sparkling. Only one who knew her well would have detected the pure sadness behind her bravado this evening. "Let's get down to it, shall we?"

Nick, Greg and Warrick settled in.

"Where's Grissom?" Sara whined. All she needed was to have Catherine running shift tonight. Catherine ached to tell Sara everything, rub her face in the fact that she was Mrs. Gil Grissom, but now was not the time or place. No one knew about their marriage and that's how they liked it. As soon as people knew, they'd be in their business, interfering and asking for all the gory details; not something they wanted. Nick shot her a look. Greg looked away from her and Warrick and Catherine exchanged a smile. They should have become used to her acerbic ways, but they hadn't.

"Nicky, my boy," Catherine smiled, turning to him, "What do you have for me tonight?"

Nick proudly stood up to his full height, ready to start. With his crew cut brown hair, sparkling, kind blue eyes and chiseled features, he looked more like a GQ model instead of a highly trained CSI. He wore a simple black tee shirt, dark blue jeans and black boots.

She paired Nick and Warrick. She instructed Sara to stay and do her paperwork, expecting backlash that, surprisingly, was limited to a deep sigh. She asked Greg to join her at her scene.

******************************************************************************

Catherine gladly closed her locker door after taking out her jacket and purse. It was time to get home to her husband and daughter. Wisely, she took I-15 around the Strip, pulled onto Flamingo and headed into the Brentwood Estates neighborhood. The small white house was more than a home now. She pulled into the driveway and locked the Denali's doors with her remote. She climbed the three stairs onto the porch and opened the door. The house was still and quiet. She settled her purse and jacket on the ivory couch and locked the front door behind her. The kitchen was clean and Lindsey's backpack was loaded with her homework ready and inside. She smiled. She clicked off the table lamp as she passed going into the hallway. She quietly opened the door to Lindsey's bedroom. The 9 year old blond was peacefully asleep, a smile on her pink lips, her freckled face relaxed. A stuffed grey bunny was snuggled in her arms. She quietly slipped across the room and kissed her forehead.

"I love you, mommy," she heard in a small voice barely above a whisper as she eased up.

"I love you, too, Lindsey," she returned with a smile.

Catherine brushed her cheek and left the room. She made her way down the hall. As silently as she could, she opened their bedroom door and closed it behind her. She knew any noise or light would bother him. She felt bad that he was ill with a migraine. It had been a long time since he had one. She managed to quickly undress and pull on her baggy white tee shirt and a pair of his boxers in the dark. She gently climbed into their bed and settled softly. She gingerly turned to face him. She sighed sadly, hoping that rest and dark and quiet helped him to get over the worst of it. All she wanted was to hold him and take the pain away, but touching could make it worse. She closed her eyes and inched as closely as she could to him without actually touching him. The next thing she knew, a protective arm wrapped around her waist and a strong body pressed against hers. She felt a light kiss on her lips, his beard tickled her chin.

"Hey," she said.

"Hello, dear..." he whispered.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she said.

"No, it's fine, Cath... I'm glad I get to say I love you before you fall asleep."

That was a beautiful sentiment. "I love you, too, Grissom," she returned tenderly, wondering why God had decided to bless her with him and his love. "You feeling better? I've been so worried..."

"Yeah... The initial edge has worn off... How'd shift go?"

"Hey! NO lab talk in our bed, remember? At the table, maybe. On the sofa right after we get home? Perhaps... But in this bed, in our bedroom, it's forbidden," she chirped, nudging him.

"Sorry..." he giggled. They grew silent, enjoying the loving warmth they radiated. "I've been thinking."

"A dangerous pastime," she teased. "What about?"

"We already grew old together... Now we can just grow older together."

Another wonderful, heartfelt sentiment. This one could NOT go un-repaid. "Speak for yourself, Methuselah," she chuckled. "I intend to fight aging up until the second I die and you lay me in the ground."

He shuddered violently at that thought and drew her closer. "What makes you think you'll go first?"

"You're gonna work me to death," she smirked.