TITLE: Value

AUTHOR: Gomey (grissomsgnome@yahoo.com)

ARCHIVE: Anywhere . . . just let me know, so I can brag. Heheh. J/K

TYPE: GCR (what else?)

RATING: R (some sexual themes)

SPOILERS: *shrugs* I guess . . .

DISCLAIMER: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.

SUMMARY: Catherine worries over a rather distracted Grissom.

NOTES: Tis the end, folks. Thanks for reading and reviews! Cheers!

----------Value - Part Seven----------

Gil walked slowly down the deserted corridors, soon to be bustling with the night shift crew. His left shoulder twitched unconsciously in the dark blue sling that was slung over his right shoulder, cradling his left arm. He turned into his office and dropped some cases on the desk. Sitting, he opened the drawer and pulled out a tanned, see-through bottle. He popped two pills in his mouth and reached for his bottle of water. He looked up and grimaced, noticing its absence. "Shit." He said, though muffled by the now acidic taste the pills were leaving in his mouth.

"Here."

He looked up just in time to see a glass of water dangling in front of him. He smiled at Catherine and took the glass, downing it and smacking his lips when finished. "Thanks." He breathed out.

She smiled and sat down in front of him. "So, how are you feeling?" She asked, concerned.

"Never better."

She raised her eyebrow and looked at the bottle of pain killers, which he quickly grabbed from her line of view and pocketed them.

He shrugged. "Been better." He glanced at her shyly then picked up his crossword puzzle. Neither of them had spoken about the events transpired in his townhouse. It was as if it had never happened, the only memory now lying in an out-of-commissioned state, limp in a sling. But he could still feel her skin under his touch, her breath against his lips, her hair like silk caressing his hand. Those memories could not be washed away, and he soon realized that he needed them to survive. He almost lost her and for three days now, tears washed over his face at night. The realization hit him, and it hit him hard. But he couldn't bear to be away from her. Her presence gave him comfort, took away the physical and psychological pain.

"So, was it Justin or Timothy that killed the victim in the restaurant?" Catherine asked.

"Both." Gil offered.

"So Justin Lemox created Timothy Hales when his wife called out that name in bed?" Catherine asked.

"He wanted to please her, so he often became Timothy at night."Gil nodded. "And then one day, Timothy just took over." He looked at Catherine. "This Timothy fell in love with Mrs. Lemox. Jealousy and lust can be a dangerous combination." He went back to his crossword.

Catherine sighed, thoughts of Gil running in a frenzy through her head. She knew he loved her, but she wasn't sure if that was just an 'in the moment' moment. She smiled inwardly. He loved her, and she began to feel it. It emanate from his being but why hadn't he made a move? Why were they back at square one? Why wasn't she in his arms at this moment? «I know he loves me - he knows I love him . . . » She let her thoughts trail. «Does he know?» Her eyes snapped to his face, now deep in concentration over the enigma printed in black and white. She opened her mouth to speak, just as his eyes shot to hers. "I'm going to get some coffee." She offered lamely, turned and scrunched up her face at her weakness. She stopped at the door. "Gil." She didn't turn around. "I love you." She let out a chuckle. "In love." She waited for a response but when none was received, she opened the door only to have it pushed closed. Her hand stayed on the doorknob; head bent, concealing a victorious smile.

"Cath." Gil stood behind her, his right arm holding the door shut. He waited for her to turn.

She turned around and looked directly into his eyes. She quickly glanced down at his lips, resting in a pout, and then back at his eyes. She let her hand float up to the base of his neck, and gently pulled him down. They both stopped, inches away from touching.

"We seem to end up in this," he paused, "limbo, quite a lot." Gil's voice was breathy.

"Change is inevitable." Catherine stated, drawing closer. She brushed her lips lightly against his, and withdrew. She charged again, a little more aggressive this time, capturing his lower lip with her teeth. "God, your lips drive me crazy."

Gil bent down and let his tongue glide across the smooth skin of her neck, making his way along her jaw-line up to her ear lobe. He nibbled on the end, causing her to moan. He made his way back to her mouth, and she allowed his tongue access, giving him a lifetime pass to all the main attractions.

Catherine wrapped her arms around his neck as she felt his slide up and down the side of her waist. She pulled him to her roughly, her back banging against the door behind her.

Gil let out a groan and leaned against her.

She held her breath. "Your shoulder?" She felt him nod, his face buried in her chest. "I'm so sorry." She dropped her hands to her side. "Are you okay?" He didn't answer nor move. "Gil?" Came her concerned inquiry.

It was a few moments before he spoke. "I love it when you were low cut shirts." His voice was muffled.

She threw her head back as she felt his tongue glide over the top of her exposed flesh. "Gil!" She giggled, surprised at his playfulness. "Seriously, how's your arm."

He pulled back, the pout back on his face. "It hurts." He stuck out his lower lip even more. "A lot."

Passion danced in her eyes. "Want me to make it better?" She took a step towards him.

He took a step back. "You'll probably make it worse." He teased her.

She continued to advance until she was pressed up against his body. She could once again feel his arousal pressed against her, and this time she had no doubt as to who was the cause of it. "Well, you know the saying, 'pain is pleasure'?" She wiggled her eyebrows, smiled mischievously and turned on her heel, exiting the room.

Gil stuck his head out of his office and watched her retreating form - hips swaying side to side, taunting him. He let out an aroused growl and tossed the bottle of painkillers over his shoulder, and headed out, hunting for Catherine.

– Finis –