Title: Connections

Author: Summer Reign

Rating: T

Disclaimer: CSI belongs to the world! But I still don't get residuals.

Spoilers: Well, everything and then some. Butterflied, Suckers and One to Go—to name a few.

Summary:

"A hidden connection is stronger than an obvious one" Heraclitus of Ephesus (a pompous way of saying I have no idea how to summarize this)

Author's Note: I've been "blocked" for a very long time. And then I got this rather strange idea for a series. I don't want to call it a work in progress because each story will stand on its own. However, I do want to follow a certain structure and theme, so…whatever. I hope you like it.

Connections I: Catherine

January, 2004

He stepped out of the lab and into the bright Vegas morning.

Too bright. Too hot. Too…everything.

He was a creature of the night. He was…a creature. Period.

No. Not a creature. Creatures, after all, were made of flesh and blood. He was more like a machine. A crime investigating machine.

One who couldn't even find enough evidence to put away a man who slashed his lover's throat and cut up a man up, ziplocking his remains in over 20 plastic packages.

There should have been…something.

There wasn't enough.

Grissom raised his hand to his eyes and tried to rub away his mood.

Fifteen minutes and he'd be home. In twenty minutes, he'd step out of the shower and go off to bed.

And he'd sleep, hopefully, for fifteen hours, and wake up feeling like a man again. A dedicated scientist. That's what he was, really. Not a creature. Not a machine.

A scientist.

VERY dedicated.

He moved his hand away from his eyes to his jacket pocket, hoping he remembered his sunglasses.

And that's when he saw her.

She was standing by her car. Leaning against it, actually.

And, as had happened many times before, she instantly turned her face and looked at him.

She didn't register surprise. Her face didn't change expression at all. Much as it hadn't when he searched it three shifts before. Searched it for life, for energy, for everything that woman inside the house would never show signs of again.

But Sara's eyes…this time…they seemed…

Knowing, hurt, resigned.

And he was very, very tired.

And his imagination was running overtime.

She couldn't possibly have a clue of all he had been through in the past two days. All he had felt.

All he knew, all he really knew, was he couldn't look at her right now. Not right now. Not without weeping, or screaming or…losing control in some way that was dark and intense and scarier than anything he could define.

He put his sunglasses on, got into his car and left her without a backward glance.

____________________________________________________________________

Thirty hours later, he was back at the lab.

Back to being a dedicated scientist. A dedicated supervisor.

Missing one of his team. Probably the most important member.

"Catherine, have you seen Sara?" He asked as he entered the breakroom.

"Yes, she's just putting away her things. Just got here a minute ago."

Grissom double-checked his watch. Sara was always early. He frowned.

"Your Timex didn't poop out on you. She got stuck behind a three-car pileup. Besides, she almost pulled a double last night. I caught her midway through her second shift and made sure someone sent her home."

"Yesterday was supposed to be her day off, too," Grissom said.

"Yeah, well. In a way, I can understand it. She was kind of a freaked out over the Debbie Marlin thing."

"She…didn't work much of it beyond the lab." He had made sure of that.

"Well, someone needed to get the woman's toe prints. And, that someone was Sara. She said she didn't notice her but, believe me, she noticed, all right. Must have been freak-ee. Anyway, work is part of who Sara is, so I guess it was good therapy for her to nearly pull a double yesterday. Get that vision out of her head and replace it with other grisly stuff."

Grissom nodded.

In all honesty, he was relieved. Something external caused that look he saw in the parking lot the other day. The fact that that 'something' might very well be traumatic…well, he supposed that made his relief a bit selfish. But, he could take care of that. He needed to take care of that. For her sake…and for his.

Ten minutes later, he was handing out assignments.

"DB in a pool. Sara…you're with me…."

________________________________________________________________________

March, 2009

Catherine Willows walked down the hall of the crime lab, feeling the heat of appreciative male eyes warming her bodacious booty.

Not bad for a woman completing a 10-hour shift.

One more task for the day and she could go home. Home to her complaining mother and whining daughter. Still, they were family and she loved them. Damn it.

With a little wiggle in her walk (a gift to a lurking Bobby Dawson, if truth be told) she entered her office. Not that she'd ever fish off the company pier. Stuff like that just didn't work as she had told…

Oh.

Perhaps that had been a mistake.

Maybe. The jury was still out. For all she knew Grissom and/or Sara could have finished each other off in the mountains of Mongolia or wherever the hell they were now and they'd never be heard from again. Both of them could easily pull off an evidence-free crime and they were smart enough to "lose" themselves afterwards, too.

Maybe that's what they already did. After all, she hadn't heard from either of them….

She clicked on the crime lab's email server.

Brass…ignore. It was probably some dirty joke he forwarded. Ecklie…stupid administrative meeting. Ignore till later tonight. Mandy—animal pictures, for sure….

"Holy crap!" the volume of her own voice nearly knocked her off her chair.

A Yahoo address. 'grissomandgrissom.' Well, gee. What was the point of reading the freaking email? They gave it all away in the address. Of course, maybe it wasn't Sara that was the other Grissom. After all, they hadn't hauled in Lady Heather's black-laced-butt in nearly half a year.

She double-clicked.

"Dear Catherine,

I must apologize for not being in contact with you for these past few months. You were very helpful and supportive of me when I made the decision to leave and I didn't mean to seem ungrateful.

I just haven't quite known where to start. When I left the lab, I wasn't entirely sure what life would hold for me. I did know what I wanted it to hold. Well, I knew whom I wanted to hold. Although, I suppose that's a little too much information, but…if anyone would understand the complicated workings of the human heart, I know it would be you.

Sara and I resumed our relationship the moment we saw each other again. She's a remarkable woman and I am a very grateful man. Not only for her unconditional acceptance, but for agreeing to be my life partner. We married shortly after our reunion. And, yes, we're just getting around to announcing it to the world. Actually, we're not announcing it to the world. We're telling you and hoping you'll spread the word.

It's a bit awkward, socially, to not have a wedding or a reception to share with others. But, this route was explored and rejected. It's just not "us."

Please tell everyone at the lab that might be interested and let them know we are healthy and happy. And we hope everyone is well. Someday, we will come to visit. For now, we are making arrangements to move to California. There is some research being done on sea life in the Pacific that fascinates us both. And we feel we can make a significant contribution. They aren't bugs, but…they are still interesting.

I won't ask how you are doing at this time (although I'd welcome hearing about it). I have every confidence you are doing a wonderful job.

Take care of yourself, Catherine.

Best Regards,

Grissom…and…Grissom

Shit.

She hit reply.

To: GrissomandGrissom

From: CWillowsLVCL

"Best regards," my ass! You dog! I mean, shit.

OK. I'm not making sense. First of all, congratulations. Second, WTF, Gil? (ask Sara what that means if you're not up to speed on internet lingo). We're family! And you tell me you got hitched months ago. I'm so angry with you, I could spit.

OK-now that I wrote that sentence, I feel instantly better.

You're a jerk, but you can't help yourself.

You better thank your lucky stars that you got someone as lovestruck as Ms. (excuse me, MRS) Sara. Any other woman would have kicked you to the curb years ago.

I'll tell everyone. Not the first time I did your dirty work for you.

And, you know, if you two decide to have kids, please try to tell us before we're invited to their college graduations, 'k?

I wish you both happiness.

And I love you both, even though I hate you at the moment. (That goes for Sara, too. She doesn't know how to email?)

Don't get bitten by any rabid mosquitoes out there. And hurry back home so I can kick you both in the behind myself. Right before smooshing the hell out you.

Love,

~Cath

P.S. You bet your ass I'm doing a bang-up job as supervisor. I thought you'd never leave…

She hit send.

Well, okay.

Married.

Didn't get sick of each other after all. And they had even known each other before she hit Vegas, too. Although, God forbid Gil would ever spill details about how long.

She should ask Lindsay if Sara had a twitter or facebook account. Maybe she'd get some dirt from her.

Oh, who was she kidding? They were hardly BFFs.

Fishing off the company pier…

She walked out of the room. Maybe, just maybe, she'd ask if Bobby Dawson wanted to join her for a beer after work.

….

Nah.

_________________________________________________________________

He was still chuckling over Catherine's response, when Sara walked into the hotel's business center.

"Catherine?" she asked.

"Yes. She writes the way she speaks."

"Uh, oh."

"Her response was a mixture of censure and sentimentality. Quite touching, actually."

"I'm sure," Sara said.

He looked up at her. Her eyes were anything but sure. He knew she didn't always get along with the hotheaded blond but he thought they were friendly enough.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just—well, she's more your friend than mine. And I'm sure my leaving the way I did didn't win any brownie points with her. Plus, 'taking' you away from the lab…"

"She's not a woman's woman. She never has been and never will be. She's far too competitive for that. But, she liked you. And she liked us. The idea of us. She was…on our side a very long time ago."

Now the look he received was downright skeptical.

"I'm not kidding. I remember a time when I was … resigned to letting you go. And she told me to get my head out of my microscope and…I did. For a little while, anyway." He smiled softly, picturing the moment in his mind. "She also told me you were a survivor at a time I really needed to remember that. And she told me to go after you, long before I felt the time was right. She was…probably right about that. No, she was definitely right about that."

Sara quietly nodded and they shared a look over the computer monitor.

One last Catherine moment came to mind. One he appreciated, perhaps, more than any other.

A wink. And a smile.

Her version of a blessing.

"I am a part of all that I have met," Grissom said and looked up at his beloved…wife.

Wife. A word so new, yet so…right.

His beloved Sara…the warmth of her brown eyes, the softness of her hands as he took both in his own, before slipping his grandmother's wedding band on the third finger of her left hand…

The touch of her lips as they sealed their promise in a small Costa Rican church, with a nun and a gardener as witnesses…

"Tennyson?" she asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

He nodded. She was getting incredibly good at identifying his quotations. No matter how obscure.

He had an effect on her. Just as she had on him. Just as Catherine had had, and Jim and Nick and …

Grissom was glad they knew.

Because they were all connected. And all had an effect on him. On them.

And for that, he was grateful.

It's what turned the creature—the crime-investigating machine…

Back into a man.

The End.