Title: A Catherine Christmas Carol

By: Annie Lune

Summary: Catherine, four ghosts, the past, the present, the future and some plum pudding. Need I say more?

Disclaimer: Have a little Christmas (and Hanukah) cheer, won't ya?

Spoilers: I'm going to try really hard not to slip any spoilers in for season four and beyond. I know I have been 'spoiled' enough already, and I might unknowingly put something in, so I am so sorry in advance.  Up to season three, though, is fair game by me.

A Note: Oh, Catherine, Catherine, Catherine. What are we ever going to do with you? Sure, someday we all love you, but more often than not, we can only seem to find faults with style (Or, maybe that's just the people at UtB? Hmmm…). I mean, you only single handedly blew up the lab. And then you were the cause of that man's death in one of those first episodes. Who would have saved Lindsey from the sinking car of doom if you weren't there? Who would have discovered that Sam Braun really killed that girl, and that he really is your father? Who would have done that but you Catherine?

Right. So the bottom line is that Catherine is one very intricate character with very complicated problems and even more elaborate clothing.

In spite of all of that, it seems that for a while now, everything has been Catherine Catherine Catherine – or maybe that's just the people at UtB again. So what exactly could open her eyes and make her see the light of day compared to those awful blue lights of the crime lab?

I don't know about you, but I see definite similarities between Ms. Willows and Mr. Scrooge. So, this is a story about Catherine, a character I know and love, hate and unwillingly acknowledge some times, and often even really want her clothing. But not those pirate pants. God no.

Also, I've been working on this for a very long time, and I hope all of my hard work has paid off. Please, as always, review and tell me what you think of it. And Flames? Keep them to yourself please. They'll just melt all the pretty snow we get up here at this time of year. I want to go and make a snowman. Please don't melt my snow.

Thanks to all of the people Under the Bridge (where those flames will be mocked, just to let you know.) for critiquing Catherine in such a great way. :-)

{P.S., remember, I am a Grissom and Sara shipper.}

And… For my 7th grade English teacher, wherever you are. Thanks for pounding this story into my head so many times so that I can still remember it after all these years. I owe you one Ms. C.


"'Twas the Night before Christmas, and all through the lab…"

"Greg," Catherine snapped, "My results? TODAY?"

"…Not a creature was stirring, why, they'd all taken cabs!"

"Greg, I am getting impatient." Catherine snarled staring at him as he danced around the DNA lab.

"The suspects had all gone home, some set free on bail. The funny thing is that none of them were female!"

Catherine took a deep breath, "Greg, this really isn't funny. It's late, and I want to know what that substance is."

Greg paid no mind to her. "The DNA tests were all sung with their cases, dreaming of finding suspects that matched the sketch artists faces…"

"I'm going to count to three."

"With the lab music blaring and I in my coat, why, I had just decided to go home, and yes, that was the vote…"


"When down in Ballistics there arouse such a clatter! I sprang from my lab to see what was the matter! Away down the hall I flew like a flash, I was running so fast with Jacki I crashed!"


"The papers that she had dropped in our collision lay all over the hall, I wasn't my fault, but she still gave me the eyeball… But then what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a lively old man with six tiny reindeer!"

"Greg, don't make me do this. You've seen me mad and I don't think you want me mad right now." Catherine threatened as Greg pranced around waving his hands in the air and chanting.

"In his little lab coat himself, so lively and quick, I knew at once that it was Grissom, and no, this wasn't optic. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, and he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name…"

"I'm serious…"

"Now Sara! Now Nicky, now Warrick and Cather-."

"GREG." Catherine screamed and it stopped Greg and his singing. He stood there in the middle of the lab with a Christmas wreathe on his head and a Santa tie tucked into his coat. He stood there, just staring at her speechless.

"Thank you Greg. Now, will you give me my report?"

"Bah-humbug." Greg replied as he shuffled his way back to his seat.

"Bah-Humbug your self." Catherine replied as Greg hit one of the buttons on the printer and a piece began to print out.

"Excuse me Catherine, who ruined my great song and dance? Uh, you did." Greg replied dryly not looking over at her.

Catherine took the paper off of the printer. "Sorry Greg, but it's late and I want to get home. You were just dawdling."

"Dawdling? No Catherine, I'm in the Christmas spirit. There's a difference." He mumbled as he sat back down in his seat and took the wreath off his head.

"You think what you want to, okay Greg?"

"At least admit that you liked my little rhyme." He added, glancing over at her as she made her way out of his lab.

"I'll see you later Greg." She replied not turning around.

"Merry Christmas then!" Greg shouted. "I'm heading out now." he said to himself as he watched Catherine walk down the hall towards the break room. "Scrooge." He mumbled and turned back to his machines to turn them off. It was Christmas Eve, and he was more than ready to go home.

Catherine made her way down the hall way and towards the break room where Nick and Sara sat deep in conversation. She breezed into the room, and both of them looked up to acknowledge her presence, and then turned back to their conversation.

"What are you talking about?" Catherine asked settling into a seat next to them.

"Oh, just Christmas plans." Sara stated, pushing her chair out and getting up. "I'll see you tomorrow Nicky."

"Wait, where are you going?" Catherine asked surprised. She looked down at her watch. There were still two hours left of shift.

"I'm going home, Catherine." Sara replied glancing over at her. "It's Christmas Eve. I've got to put out those cookies for Santa." She added with a little smirk.

"You just can't leave." Catherine shot back. "Who said you could anyway? Crime doesn't stop just because it's a holiday you know."

Sara exchanged a quick glance whit Nick, who sat confused at the table. "Uh, Catherine," Nick ventured, "Grissom told us earlier that if it was a slow night we could head out early."

"There hasn't been anything in for the last three hours. I've finished all my paperwork and I can't do anything else on my case until Archie gets me back those results. Since I just saw him leave, there is nothing else for me to do. I'm going home." Sara stated making he way towards the door.

"I'll call you later, Sara." Nick called to her as she exited through the door.

"Okay, see you tomorrow. Merry Christmas Catherine." Sara turned to look at Catherine and smiled, then quickly made her way down the hall.

"You're leaving too?" Catherine cried as she say Nick get up form his seat and take his coat off the couch.

"It's Christmas Eve, Catherine. It's time to be with family and friends. Where's Lindsey?" Nick slipped both his arms into his coat and buttoned it up.

"I can't believe this. The whole lab is taking a vacation just because it's a stupid holiday tomorrow." Catherine stated sarcastically.

"What's gotten into you?" Nick questioned, "What do you mean, 'stupid holiday?' It's anything but that, Catherine."

"Well, maybe I'm not in the Christmas spirit at the moment, Nick. Maybe I have a reason to be this way." Catherine snapped.

Nick shrugged his shoulders "No one has a reason this time of year. Look, I'm going home. Are you coming tomorrow or what?"

"Coming where?" Catherine asked, falling back onto the couch and crossing her legs.

"Were you not paying attention when I invited you all over to my house? Grissom's brining a turkey, Sara a pie, Warrick some salad, God knows what Greg's brining…remember? I told you yesterday?"

Catherine shook her head.

"Well, you're welcome to come if you want to. Bring Lindsey too; I haven't seen her in a while."

"Aren't you on the schedule for tomorrow?" Catherine wondered as Nick opened the break room door.

"No Catherine, I'm not." He replied turning to look at her.

Catherine grabbed a magazine off the table in front of her. "I am. So I guess I'm going to have to decline your invitation."

"Fine then. Merry Christmas."

Catherine heard the door slam shut, and turned to look in that direction. Nick was walking slowly down the hall and when he passed by Grissom's office, he stopped and stuck his head in. Nick said a few words to him, and then continued on his way. Catherine couldn't believe him, or Sara for that matter. Not only had they both left early from work today, but now Nick is taking the day off to open some lousy presents and drink eggnog?

Catherine sighed. It's her fault that she's not in the Christmas spirit. To her, it felt like just another day. She would leave at the end of shift, go home, see Lindsey and then climb into bed, and do the same exact thing tomorrow. Sure, she had bought Lindsey a few things for the holiday, but nothing big. Catherine never got anything big for Christmas growing up, and she felt that Lindsey didn't need anything more than what she already had.

Out of the corner of her eye, Catherine caught sight of a brown fro. She looked up to see Warrick standing in the hallway talking to one of the interns who was still hanging around. Catherine thought this a good time to talk to him. The intern was a nobody in the lab, while Catherine on the other hand was a somebody. And besides, it was Warrick. Of course he was going to give Catherine his full attention. 

"Here, Rachel," Warrick said handing the intern a card, "Wish your brother Merry Christmas too."

"Warrick," Catherine stated placing her hands on her hips. Warrick turned to look at her.

"Hold on a sec," He said as the intern leaned forward and gave him a hug.

"I'll be sure to tell my brother that." Rachel was saying handing Warrick a small wrapped gift.

"Warrick." Catherine said a little more sternly, but Warrick still did not divert his full attention to her.

"I'll talk to you towards the end of the week." He said to Rachel, as she began to walk down the hall.

"I'll be waiting." She replied, smiling at him and then sauntering off.

"Warrick." Catherine said one more time as the intern walked away.

"What?" He cried, throwing his hands up into the air in defeat. "You have my attention now, what do you want?" Warrick turned and began to walk down the hall towards the locker room.

"What did she give you?" Catherine asked trying to peek over his shoulder.

Warrick turned into the locker room. "What does it matter to you?" he asked opening his locker and taking out his coat.

Catherine pouted. "I want to see."

"Well, it's going under the Christmas tree." Warrick placed the bag into his coat pocket.

"What is with everyone and this stupid Christmas cheer?" Catherine cried, slumping down onto the bench.

Warrick stood there staring at her. He was in no mood to sit him self down and comfort her like a good comrade. All he wanted to do was get him self home and not think about work for a good two days.  If Catherine was going to try and keep him from his destination, well, she had another thing coming.

"I think you just stopped believing in Santa." Warrick replied trying to make an exit.

"I think I just stopped believing all together." Catherine hung her head. 

Oh god, Warrick sighed to himself. "Don't say that." He said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, you should head out too. What about Lindsey?"

"She's at home with the babysitter."

"You should get home. She probably wants to be with you." Warrick said reaching the door. "I'll make sure to bring her a good present."

"Hum?" Catherine looked over at him. "Present?"

He gave her a quizzical look, "You're coming to Nick's tomorrow, right?" he asked, stepping though the door.

"No, I'm working."

"For crying out loud Catherine, it's Christmas. Be with your daughter, not with the escaped felons." Warrick said, watching her shift uncomfortable on the bench. She didn't reply.

Warrick sighed, taking a step thought the door. "I guess you're right. You have stopped believing." And he turned down the hallway towards Grissom's office, leaving Catherine in the locker room by herself.


The sounds of A Kenny G Christmas filled Grissom's lab. Warrick sauntered down the hall and stopped in front of his door. Grissom sat at his desk behind the piles of paperwork.

"All I want for Christmas is for this to disappear." Grissom grumbled putting his pen down and looking up at Warrick.

Warrick took as step into the office and walked over to Grissom's desk. He picked up one of the files and opened it. "Gris, this stuff goes back a couple of months, why have you put it off until now?"

Grissom leaned back in his chair. "Because it's Christmas and everyone is at home with family, not committing murder around town. It's been a very slow night." 

"I'm going to head out, is that okay with you?" Warrick asked, as Grissom stood up and clicked off his music.

"I was just about to do the same. Nothing else for us to do here." He walked over and took his coat off one of the chairs and slipped his arms into it. "Catherine still here?" he asked as he flipped off the lights and he and Warrick walked back out into the hall.

"Does she always get this way around Christmas?" Warrick asked as Grissom shut and locked his door.

"What, you don't remember last year?"  Grissom asked surprised, turning to look at Warrick. "Catherine showed up for work all week dressed as Mrs. Clause. She tried to get me to wear a red suit. She normally gets eccentric around this time of year."

"Not this year." Warrick mumbled, as the two of them began to walk down the hall. "She's all depressed and moody."

"Usually this is the only time of the year when she isn't that way." Grissom quipped as they passed the break room. Catherine was once again inside and sitting at the table with the paper spread out in front of her. "I'll go have a talk with her. See you tomorrow, Warrick. Merry Christmas."

The two men parted ways and Grissom pushed the door to the break room open. Catherine didn't acknowledge his presence until Grissom had sat himself down at the table in front of her. "I don't think your going to find that Barbie that you got for Lindsey on sale now." He quipped.

"I returned it." Catherine said flatly and turned a page.

Grissom sighed. "Catherine, go home. You're just going to become even more disheartened sitting here in the lab all by yourself."

Catherine folded the paper and put it on the table. "And where do you suggest I go to brighten my mood?"

"I'm not going to fight with you." Grissom said standing up. "I'm here to tell you to go home and I don't want to see you back here until New Years."

"No, Grissom." She stood up and in the process the chair flew back and crashed to the floor. "I'm going to be back here tomorrow, whether you like it or not. Enjoy your Christmas turkey and I hope you have a merry holiday." Grissom expected her to sit back down and open the paper, but instead she stormed out of the room and down the hall. There was nothing else keeping Grissom at work. So he exited the break room and made his way towards his Denali. He wasn't going to let Catherine ruin his spirit.


By the time Catherine left the lab two hours later, it was raining. Not hard for this time of year in Vegas, but it was definitely perception. If this was New England, it would have been snow, but it was not. It was Vegas on the night before Christmas.

Catherine drove home in silence; she didn't want any sounds disturbing her thought. She pondered many things as the navigated through the silent streets of Vegas. Mostly everyone else was at home with family celebrating and singing carols and decking the halls. But not the Willow family. Lindsey was at home with a babysitter, Eddie was dead and Catherine was a single mom working the graveyard shift at the lab. She wondered why her life had come to this; it didn't seem real any more. She felt like a robot working every waking moment and doing the same tedious routine day after day.

And if her working life felt surreal, then her home life was a total dream. The fact that Sam was her father still hadn't set into her mind. Catherine knew that sooner or later she was going to have to do something about him (and all of his money) but that would have to wait until next week. Too much was already happening this week.

The Babysitter's car was in the driveway, and Catherine pulled in along side it. She turned off the engine and rested her head back against the headrest. Catherine felt as if she didn't have any strength to get out of the car and go inside, but it was late. Catherine knew that the babysitter, Mary, needed to get home.

"Hello?" Catherine called as she pushed open the door. The house was quiet. The Christmas tree that her and Lindsay had decorated in an hour a week ago stood in the corner, all lit up. The smell of cookies reached Catherine's nose as she placed her purse down on the table inside. She didn't remember giving Mary permission to make cookies with Lindsey. Lately Mary had been doing things that Catherine really didn't approve of, but it was hard to find a babysitter willing to spend a good portion of the night with Lindsey while she worked, and Catherine was not about to fire her now.

Mary came around the corner, "Your home Ms. Willows." She said walking over to the couch and picking up her bag. "Lindsey has been sound asleep for some time. As you can probably smell, we made cookies. I hope that's okay."

"Why did you make them?" Catherine wondered walking into the living room and sitting down on the couch.

Mary looked puzzled. "It's Christmas Eve. You have to have cookies for Santa."

"Oh, don't tell me Lindsey still believes in that." Catherine snorted, picking up one of the magazines lying on the coffee table.

"She's a little girl, of course she believes." Mary replied, slipping her coat on.

"Yeah, yeah, Marry Christmas, Mary." Catherine opened to one of the pages. How to Lose Fifteen Pounds After the Holidays it read.

"Um, Ms. Willows?" Mary asked a little sheepishly. Catherine looked up. "I'm going to be gone next week, remember?"

Catherine shook her head. Mary had informed her that she was going to Bermuda with her boyfriend and wouldn't be able to work for a while. "Yes, I remember."

"You said last week that you would pay me today."

Catherine looked startled. "I did?"

"Yes, you did." Mary answered back.

"Fine," Catherine put down her article and walked over to her purse. She pulled it open and took out her checkbook. "How much do I owe you again, two hundred dollars?"

"We agreed on a price of eight dollars per hour."

"Yeah, so how much did you work this week? Wasn't it twenty five?" she began to scribble out the check.

"Ms. Willows, you didn't pay me last month. So, you owe me for seven weeks."

"How much could you have worked in seven weeks?" Catherine retorted, starting to get annoyed with this whole exchange.

"Well, I worked six days a week, for seven weeks. That's forty two days, and I worked about seven hours every time, and then eight dollars per hour." Mary said, scuffing her foot on the floor as if she was embarrassed.

"Stop trying to confuse me with the math and just tell me Mary!" Catherine cried about to lose her temper.

"You owe me two thousand, three hundred and fifty two dollars." Mary replied curtly.

Catherine's jaw dropped. "That's before taxes, right?"

"Ms. Willows, please, that's how much you owe me. I've been keeping track if you really want to do the math yourself, but it's late and I want to get home."

Catherine hastily wrote at the check, cringing at every number. She handed it to Mary, who, with one last Merry Christmas to her and Lindsey (thought tucked away in bed), turned and walked out the door. Catherine slammed it behind her and stocked into the kitchen. She wanted a cup of tea.

After Catherine had placed a pot of water on the stove and turned it on high, she shuffled off to her room. All the blinds had been drawn closed before she left for work and they were still that way when she entered. The room was pitch black.

Catherine stripped down to her underwear and then pulled a pair of flannel pajamas on. She wanted to be comfortable after a long day of work, and wearing her favorite pair of pajamas would definitely do the trick.

A sound from the hallway caught her attention, and she ducked her head through her doorway and looked around. Lindsey's door had creaked open a little. For some strange reason, Catherine had a sudden urge to go into her little girl and giver her a kiss on the cheek. She took a few steps towards the door and gently pushed it open. Lindsey lay there under the covers all sung as a bug. Suddenly, Catherine heard her water boiling, so she turned away from the sleeping Lindsey and walked briskly out of the room. How could she have been so stupid to leave the water boiling on the stove? Catherine scolded herself for doing such a thing. Bad situations can happen when you leave a liquid next to a hot surface. She should know that.

Catherine got an herbal tea bag out of the cupboard and poured her tea into a cup. From there, she retreated to the couch and put her feet up on the coffee table. I'm going to sit here for a minute, then off to bed… She thought pulling a blank up over her legs, Just to relax for a little while…


Catherine sat up with a jolt.


"What the…?" she said standing up quickly. At some point, Catherine had drifted off and tangled her legs up in the blanket, so when she stood up, or more tried to, she instead fell crashing into the coffee table, smacking her now cold cup of tea.


Catherine pushed herself up off the table now, tossing the blanket down into the spilled tea. She knew she was going to have to clean that up sooner or later, but not right now…something was…


Something was dinging. It sounded like a grandfather's clock, but Catherine didn't own one. She didn't even have a clock that chimed at the hour.


Where is this stupid thing coming from, and what time is it anyway? Catherine had come home at the end of shift, which tonight would have been five in the morning, since the shifts were all screwed up this week. But the clock had just chimed five times…


And was still chiming. This is strange. Someone is messing with her. Nick is probably standing outside her front door with a clock trying to scare her or something. Yeah, that was it. He's feeling upset about the fact that I blew off his Christmas invitation, and he's trying to scare me…


But with a clock? This wasn't adding up to Catherine. It had to be at least six in the morning, but the clock, wherever it was, was telling her that it is seven….


Make that eight in the morning. Catherine straightened her self up, and walked into the kitchen to grab a paper towel to mop up the spilled tea.


The clock continued to ding. This is not a finny joke. Catherine knew that she was going to have to hurt someone because of this. Whatever time it truly is, she knew that it was time for bed. Sleeping on the couch had not been fun, and now her back hurt. She would mop up the spilled tea in the morning. It wasn't going to go anywhere.


"STOP THAT!" Catherine cried aloud as she made her way to her room. "STOP IT, STOP IT!" she bellowed, and then remembered that Lindsey was asleep. Maybe she shouldn't yell any more.


Catherine opened the door to her room, stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind her.

The drone seemed to be just as loud in here as it was out there. This was some really cruel joke. Catherine threw back the covers on the bed and climbed in. Pulling the covers over her head, she heard one more ding, but this time, fainter.


But it was still loud. Thinking back, Catherine tried to recount all of the chimes that had gone off. There were twelve, but it certainly wasn't midnight, or noon either. She pulled the covers up over her head, and sighed. At least the chiming had stopped. Now, it was time for bed.


Catherine stuck her head out from underneath the covers and peered around the room. Something had just fallen. "I'll get it in the morning," she sighed to herself, and pulled her head back under.


Once again, Catherine's head came back out. "Lindsey? Is that you?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbows. "Lindsey?" she called again, but received no answer.

The first sound droned again, but this time it was louder. A lot louder.


Catherine leaned forward in bed. "Lindsey, cut it out. It's not funny. Fist it was the chiming clock, and now this?" she called into the darkness, but there was still no response. The sounds seemed to be getting closer.



It sounded like someone was walking across the wooden floor in the kitchen.




And they were coming down the hall now.


In a flash, Catherine had gotten out of bed and dove for her closet. She kept a bat in there for that just in case instance. This would be one of those instances.




The sound reminder her of metal against wood. So the attacker is wearing metal books, great, she thought, gripping the bat tighter. Catherine crept across the floor and stood behind the bedroom door. The sounds had stopped now. Catherine looked down at the door handle, and saw that it was slowly turning. She gripped the bat tighter. The lock on the door clicked, and it creaked open. Catherine stood there, bat in hand waiting for the mysterious person to reveal him/her/itself to her.

The door continued to creak open, so now Catherine stood behind it and the mysterious intruder on the other side. It was now fully open. Catherine could see the shadow of someone on the floor. She took a deep breath. Here goes nothing…



Catherine lunged forward, slamming the door behind her and swung at the stranger in the doorway. She felt her bat come in contact with something, but she heard no sound. Catherine stumbled back and lost her footing. She fell onto the side of the bed, bat still tightly in hand. It was then that she looked up at whom was standing in the doorway.

It was Grissom.

But it wasn't Grissom.

It looked like Grissom had been hit by a bus and then dragged behind it for fifteen miles, then tossed into a swamp and then walked through a cornfield. His hair was a mess, his clothes were ragged, and for some strange reason his legs and arms where chained together with heave metal links.

"That hurt." Grissom stated rubbing his head where Catherine had obviously hit. "You could have at least asked who was there before you decided to attack me."

Catherine gaped at him.

"What? Is something wrong?" Grissom asked as he walked across her floor and took a seat on the bed next to her. Not only did Grissom look bad, but he also didn't smell like roses.

"Grissom, you're…" Catherine searched for the words to explain her thoughts.

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Dead? Tell me about it."

"Dead?" Catherine squeaked out. How could Grissom be dead?

"Do you want to hand me that bat?" he asked instead eyeing the weapon still in her hands. Grissom didn't wait for an answer. He reached out and took it from her. Then, with a wave of his hand, the bat disappeared into thin air right in front of Catherine's eyes.

There was then a moment of uneasy silence between the two of them. They were certainly a funny looking sight. Catherine sitting there in her flannel pajamas gawking at the dead Grissom, and Grissom dead and sitting on the edge of her bed. It was definitely a Kodak moment.

"Grissom…what?…why?…how?…" Catherine couldn't form coherent sentences any more, and resorted to hand singles that consisted of her pointing to Grissom and then at the floor and at herself and at the ceiling and then at where the bat had just disappeared.

"That's not important right now." Grissom said shifting to look at her.

"Grissom, your dead." Catherine said raising an eyebrow at him.

Grissom ignored her. "Catherine, I'm here to warn you."

Catherine folded her hands cross her chest. "First, tell me why you are dead."

"The powers to be struck me down with a bolt of lighting." He mumbled through clenched teeth. "Happy now? Can I go on?" Catherine shook her head yes.

"Catherine, I'm here to warn you." He said sighing.

"Well gee, aren't we a little late for that? Not only did you somehow break into my house but then you scared the crap out of me…you don't think that needed a little warning?" Catherine stated sarcastically. 

"You need to take this seriously." Grissom said now standing up off the bed. He pants left a nasty muddy mark on the bed and his chains clanked against the floor as he walked. "I'm not Grissom, Catherine. I'm the ghost of Grissom."

Catherine tried really hard to hold back her laughter, but it didn't work.

"I'm serious!" Grissom bellowed, and she became silent. "Now, are you going to listen to my warning?"

Catherine nodded her head, now a little bit frightened.

"Catherine, I'm here to warn you about the errors in your ways. I could not stop my fate and this is why I am here now." Grissom looked down at his pitiful appearance.

"And what were your errors, Grissom?" Catherine asked a little curious. Grissom didn't answer. "And what where your errors, Grissom?" she asked a little bit louder.

Grissom glared at Catherine. "Fine, you want to know? The powers to be punished me because it took me so darn long to so do seething about THIS! And then, when I did do something, it just left a lot of uncomfortable moments between Sara and I. And how about when I snapped at her? And when we were on that rushed case…god that was uncomfortable…" Grissom realized that Catherine was staring wide eyed at him. Clearing his throat, he continued. "You will be visited by three ghosts tonight."

"Three?" Catherine said aloud. "As in, one, two, three?"

"Yes, that's is how you count, Catherine." Grissom quipped.

"You're not the first ghost?"

"No. Well, yes. I am the first ghost. But there will be three more. So, I guess you can say that there will be a total of four ghosts tonight, including me."

Catherine put her hands on her hips. "Well, why didn't you say that in the first place?"

"Look, Catherine, I can make it eight ghosts if you really want to make this hard on yourself…"

"Fine, Gil, fine." Catherine said standing up and going over to her nightstand. She picked up a brush and ran it through her hair. "And why are they coming?"

"To show you the ERRORS IN YOUR WAYS!" Grissom roared. Catherine dropped her hairbrush and looked at Grissom in the mirror reflection.

"Look, I've got lots of people to see now that I am dead, and you are just holding me up. So, I'm going now." Grissom turned and began to walk towards the door.

"Wait!" Catherine cried running after him. "When will these ghost come? What should I dress in? Should I wake Lindsey?" 

"One, two and three o'clock." Grissom replied turning back to look at her. "Wear that for all I care. It's not like someone's going to see you," he said gesturing towards her pajamas. "And let Lindsey sleep."

"Bye Grissom." Catherine called as he walked once again towards the door.

"Yeah, by Catherine. Have a happy life." He moaned, and took a step forward, his chains clanking behind him.

"Uh, Grissom, shouldn't you-"

Catherine was about to say open the door, but Grissom had already tried to walk through the wood and failed miserably. Instead, he fell back with a THUD and he and his shackles crashed to the floor with him.

"Yeah, I know. I've got to get used to this ghost thing. I guess you really can't walk through walls." Grissom grumbled and now opened the bedroom door and stepped through it, leaving Catherine all alone once again. She heard him go clanking down the hall and could only imagine the damage he was doing her wood floors. Then, just as abruptly as the sounds had started, they stopped and everything was once again quiet.

Catherine stood there for a moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Her mind was still spinning when she climbed into bed and pulled the covers up over her head. Three ghosts are coming to visit me? To show me the errors in my ways? She thought as she settled down against her pillow. Whatever. Catherine shut her eyes and fell asleep.