Title: The Weather in Paris
Author: DolittleMD

This is has been sitting around for awhile, fueled by the gossip of an episode in Europe. I thought it time to put it out somewhere. No betas were harmed in the writing of this AU fic.

"You've never talked about this."

"I didn't think that I needed to."

She rolls those blue eyes at me, "well it might have been nice to have some insight."

"Ahh, but that would spoil the air of mystery about me."

"Grissom…" she warns.

"OK then," I start, spinning her lightly around to the mournful strains of the piano. "When did it start? I don't know. I never was this cold. I was always an outcast, but I know that it's grown worse. I've managed to fumble all opportunities for love away so. I just decided to try more."

"Then you saw that Sara was changing."

"Yeah," I smirk. "She warned me that one day I'd be ready and…"

"She'd be gone."

"Exactly."

"So, I'm plan b then."

"No!"

"Sorry but that's how it feels."

"Catherine…" the words fail me. Looking at her, in this dimly lighted jazz club in Paris, thousands of miles from home, and I know if there's a time to be honest it's now. But for the life of me I can't seem to find my way.

Letting out a deep breath, she pulls away from my arms. "Let's go. I need some air."

We head to the table, collect our things and wade our way to the door. She doesn't pause at the door, and I don't try to catch up. I know she needs this space and frankly so do I.

Wrapping my coat tighter against the November chill in the night air, I wonder, how do I tell her that she can't be plan B. She's not even close. How do you explain that the woman before you was your choice long before you could even guess that you had the right to ask?

When I look up, she's stopped down the street, waiting for me to catch up.

"You've got some of the shittiest timing, ya know!"

I snort, "All my life."

"Gris, we've been at each others throats lately. My career, whatever it once was, has taken a dive. Hell you wanted me gone."

"No I didn't."

"You sided with Sara. I insulted your leadership, your obsessions with science."

I don't know what to say, the sad look in her eyes, I see hurt that I never knew existed.

"You've alluded to some less than flattering aspects of me, that while true, make it hard to believe that you'd actually want me. I've been possessive and bitchy, playing those damned lab politics you hate. God knows I lost out in the genetic pool."

Her cheeks are pink in the cold fall air. In habit I watch her lips move as she prattles on. I want to stop that mouth. I wonder…

Her lips are warm and surprised. I'm surprised. This was impulsive and rash, but it feels so right. With a soft groan she glides her hand to the back of my head, fingers in my hair. I pull her closer and marvel how well she fits against me.

Her hair is fiery and soft through my fingers, not the warm chestnut of my older fantasies. 'No,' my mind tells me, 'but you dreamt of this before Sara Sidle campaigned her way into your heart then left when the reality of who you are was not what she had dreamed.'

She pulls away, just so our lips are barely touching, "this is going to get messy," she sighs.

"Isn't it always?" I ask.

"We're asking for a lot of trouble."

"No regrets remember. No looking back."

"God how I regret telling you that."

"Catherine, this isn't impulsive."

She looks up at me again, an arched eyebrow raised.

"Ok it is impulsive, but what I feel, what I want? I've wanted for a long time." Cupping her cheek in my right hand, I run my thumb over her lips as she closes her eyes in a sigh.

********************************

I watch her dance atop me. I never understood how Eddie could stand to sit there as strangers salivated over his girl's nearly naked body. I always sat entranced as she twirled around the bar. I was their friend, both of them, and how I lusted after her.

But now as she moves her body in pleasurable circles fueled by our desire, I've never seen anything quite as beautiful or natural in my life.

Her climax flushes across her chest, her eyes so bright. It's like someone has turned a light on inside her. I feel a rush of pride that it was I.

Sex can be a spectator's sport. It is for me. Sometimes the sight of a person in the throes of their pleasure is just as arousing as a caress. Tonight I want to participate. I have a gorgeous, responsive partner in my bed. It's intoxicating that we know each other, yet are learning more.

Her skin, that pink flush of rising blood, the signs of her orgasm, I felt like artist with a broad canvas. I want to test her limits. Would she let me?

********************************

Later, after the content smiles, the playful smirk she gave me, as she dozed, I watched still. Feeling the way she clutched against me, soft at first then strongly.

I wish that I could erase her fears, brush away some of her scars. Not the large ones like the pain of her father, the betrayal of Eddie, and the shame that still hides from the coke and stripping. Those deep hurts make her the woman I adore, even love. No, I kiss my way over the little scars on her skin; the faint mark at her temple from that lawyer at the bar, at her hairline when the perp decked her trying to escape at a scene that wasn't secure. The line on the side of her thumb when a knife sliced too easily during one of our after shift breakfasts, her other palm that had been red and swollen after she shot and stopped Syd Goggle from making me his next victim.

There were so many and although I couldn't remove them, or even prevent more in the future, I wanted her to know I was there, and she wouldn't face these without me.

"I know you." I whispered in her sleeping ear.

"And I know you." She intoned back.

I couldn't stop the smirk, "When did you wake up?"

"Reflex of a single mother. Always catch the kid trying to sneak out."

I want to frown at the burden she must have felt with Lindsey all these years.

"Hey, Linds learned from the best. I can't blame the rebel when I started the rebellion." She snuggles closer to me. "What was with the kisses, taking inventory?"

"In a manner, yes. I know you better than anyone"

"I could say the same, since I know only what you've let any of us know."

"Catherine, I know I haven't been open and I can't say that will change."

"Hey," She stops me with a hand against my chest. "I know you. This is you and if I can't accept that, then this… whatever this is, will never work, no matter how fucking good it feels."

"Why is it that you understand?"

"Ahh… and so we move back to the reason for this little jaunt across the pond." She sighs, propping her head up against her bent arm. "Was it really to be Sara here with you or maybe Lady Heather?"

Inexplicably I find that I want to explain, to voice all those thoughts, reasons and theories that have been churning about in my head.

"The appeal of Heather is that she's straightforward with what she wants. There's little question, little room for speculation because she demands little from me. That's what makes the escape so appealing, and frankly the loss of control, for us both.

"I began to see that while she wasn't demanding, I was. I was forcing myself to keep up my emotional distance, that impartiality that was slowly breaking down every relationship in my life, the team, my mother, you. That was hard, Heather was comfortable."

"And Sara?" she prompts.

"Sara," I take a deep breath. "Sara was flattering at first. She gave me a part of myself back that I thought I had lost. It was uncharted territory for me again: love, affection, the better parts of myself. I once told her that I never knew what beauty was until she came back into my life. That was a lie. She was a good excuse to forget about the pain and loss of my life and take what she offered me a face value."

"What I didn't offer you," She interrupted.

"How?" I ask.

"I might have been wrapped up in my own issues Gil, but I'm hardly blind."

Looking at her with wide eyes, her sleep-tossed hair, swollen lips, the picture of her after a night in bed, I'm stuck dumb. I have to fight to keep the weight of guilt from pressing down to tightly on my chest. I could be crushed by the power she has over me.

Catherine runs her hand through my hair, kissing softly on the mouth.

"I can't promise much beyond tomorrow, but I'm willing to try. You?" she asks.