Summary: (GC) Gil and Catherine have a birthday dinner at his townhouse.

Notes: Wow, it feels good to get back to these characters. I didn't realize how much I had missed them. Also, Gil is not with Sara in this fic.

Rating: G

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with the television show CSI.

Flickering

Gil's smile is a beautiful thing.

I don't get to see it much anymore. Too many cases, too many deaths, too many sleepless nights searching for that one last piece of evidence to nail the bad guy.

It is a precious privilege now, a delicious surprise, to see his lips turn up in a quirky grin or a shy smile.

I see it now, as he sits in front of me, waiting for me to blow out the candles on my cake -- the cake he baked for me. Those gorgeous blue eyes of his stare up at me, the flickering in the candles reflected in the cerulean depths, mixing with other things that remain unspoken, yet fill the air with their nearly tangible presence.

Aside from Christmas, birthdays are one of my favorite times to be with Gil. The mood is happy and light -- work talk is not allowed -- and jokes and real talk unfailingly abound.

"Are you going to make a wish?" he teases, his lips still turned up in that grin that I love so much.

I wonder if he knows what an affect that simple gesture has on me. He probably does.

Our eyes meet and hold, and I can't help but hold my breath.

He wouldn't take offense if I told him he was beautiful. He's a scientist, he would take it objectively.

But still, I hold back. Some things are better left untouched, unsaid, undone. If you're looking for proof, just ask Pandora.

"Yes. And I want to make the perfect one, so be quiet while I think."

"Just make sure the candles don't melt on the cake while you're making your decision." His tone is dry, and I shoot him a smile that is vaguely disguised as a playful scowl.

It's like an old movie, I decide. Most of the time, my life is average, a little dark, a little messed up. And then Gil smiles, and the screen goes a bright, gossamer white for a second, and I am blind to everything else.

I love that feeling.

I close my eyes tight, ignoring the part of me that feels like a foolish little girl. And I blow, all the while aware that Gil is still watching me. It's a comfortably high feeling.

I open my eyes.

Every last candle is letting out a minuscule trail of smoke, their tiny flames easily extinguished.

But the movie isn't over yet.

Still, the screen flickers.

The End