AN: a short fic told from catherine's pov.

Spoilers: Kiss-Kiss, Bye-Bye

I Understand

I walked briskly, quickly down the halls of the Las Vegas Crime lab with my mother's words ringing in my ears.

We were young together. Someday maybe you'll understand.

How can four words justify her renewed relationship with Sam? How can she think that those words can just click in my head and I'll understand?

I don't understand. I mean, I know that they were young together, obviously, otherwise I wouldn't be here, but how does that help explain why, after all this time, they decided to start anew. Are they just chasing youth? God knows that both of them have done enough of that over the years. It's not unusual for either of them to date people half their ages. Or are they merely wishing for old times? Or are they back together because of me? The very thought makes me smirk. One big dysfunctional family. Great. Just what I've always wanted.

I've passed the break room and am merely a few feet away from my final destination. I can see him sitting at his desk through the glass window. His brow is furrowed in thought as he reads through a folder of papers. I enter his office without knocking, which has become customary over the years. He looks up upon hearing me enter.

"Autopsy reports," he says, putting down the folder, "Tell me you have something, Cath."

"Just a hunch," is all I say. He looks up at me and I can see understanding in his eyes. I know he knows what I mean without me having to elaborate. It's a testament to how long we have known each other.

"Sam?" he asks. I nod. He is right on the nose.

"His handkerchief was in Lois O'Neil's bedroom," I explain. He exhales.

"DNA?" he finally asks.

"My mother," I deadpan. He is silent and I know what's coming next.

"Catherine-" he starts and from his tone, I know that I was right.

"Gil, I know how it looks. Just let me talk to him, and then I'll recluse myself from the case," I say. He looks at me and I look at him.

Silence.

Blue eyes lock with blue as we stare at each other. It is a silent battle of wills as neither of us blink or break eye contact. He knows I'm determined and I know he's conflicted. Then there was a flash of a memory of a similar situation. I was on stage at the French palace and he was alone at the bar. We were both much younger. Our eyes met and oddly enough I felt the same feeling that I feel right now as we have our silent battle.

He breaks me out of my memory with a simple sentence, "Go talk to him."

Could my ears have deceived me? Was he really sacrificing the integrity of the lab for me?

I looked at him and saw sincerity in his face. From this I know that he has always had and always will have my back.

"Thanks, Gil," I say softly. He offers me a rare smile and I take it as my cue to leave.

As I walk down the halls of the lab, it hits me. We were young together.

I understand.

End