They aren't fooling you. You see it every time. They hit their wall and then they leave. God alone knows what happens when they do leave, either to ride Grissom's roller coasters, or maybe to play with her daughter. Every time you see their faces, tight and drawn, but intensely focused on something - anything other than the job. Granted, you've all got your ways to blow off steam. You sometimes take Warrick down to the practice range to release the floodgates. Just the simple act of destruction of a paper target can do wonders for your mood. Or conversely, sometimes you'll both go out to a hockey game. It's the same principle with seeing grown men beat the shit out of each other. Sara will tag along if you're going to a game, and you always welcome her. It's good for her to get out once in a while.

But now you're getting off the subject.

You saw them again today, striding down the hallway with the utmost confidence - not something you usually see on Grissom - and sailed out the door with barely a nod to the guard. It was almost like they caught a case or something, but you got the feeling that it was something else. Even though no one had gotten much sleep, that feeling just announced itself to you, and you wonder what ticked them off this time.

Your question was answered when you saw Ecklie wandering down the hall. Turning around, you ducked into the DNA lab, hoping that Ecklie would just pass you by. You wondered what the hell he was doing here so early when you caught a glance of the clock hanging over Greg's computer. Day shift had started two hours before. Rubbing your hand over your face, you felt the stubbly growth there that signaled that you had been here for too long.

Greg looked up from a microscope. "Hey, Nick. What are you doing here?"

"Avoiding Ecklie."

A sympathetic look crossed his face. "Good luck," he muttered before turning back to his slide.

"Don't you ever go home?"

He looked at the clock. "As soon as I finish up this last test. In about ten minutes."

You peeked over your shoulder and let out a sigh of relief when Ecklie was nowhere in sight. Looking back at Greg, you smiled and felt as though you were looking at a little brother.

"Go home, Greg," you admonished. "We've all put in enough overtime this week as it is."

The dark haired head bobbed up and down, a vague acknowledgement of your words. Wandering back out into the hallway, you make your way to the locker room, feeling the weariness the case had kept at bay creep into your bones. Your grandmother used to say that age and weariness crept up instead of blindsiding you. You got a sudden pang of homesickness and wished that Texas was underneath your feet again. Running a hand through your hair you told yourself to call home tonight before you went into work. You passed by Catherine's locker and stare at it for a moment.

You can't help but wonder what they do when they disappear like that - they always disappear for the night, and then come back the next like nothing had ever happened. But you can tell that something did happen. The lifting of the stress from their shoulders was plainly visible for all to see. No one let on that they saw the sudden change, content to let Grissom and Catherine continue blowing off steam in their own way, only to watch it build again.

You slam a mental door on those thoughts, ready to get out for the day. You'll think about it tomorrow, you tell yourself, after you've gotten some sleep. Walking outside into the bright sunshine, you wince and slip on your sunglasses. Looking around, you notice that both Sara and Warrick had left, their cars no where in sight. Greg's car was still parked in its usual spot, as was Catherine's. You frown, more unbidden thoughts popping up. Shaking your head to clear it, you remind yourself that you'll think about everything tomorrow.

You called home after you had taken a shower and gotten dressed for the night. After you hung up with your mother, the homesick feeling faded away to the familiar dull ache in your heart. You take your time heading into work, after all the overtime you've put in; the least you want is to be able to take your time. Stopping in at one of the many 24-hour eateries, you place a to-go order for everyone, knowing that the food will help dissipate some of the tension that's been hounding everyone recently.

Flashing a smile at the waitress-slash-cashier as you left, you piled the goodies in the passenger seat of your truck. You spent the rest of your trip smiling occasionally, tapping and humming under your breath along with the radio. You pulled into your usual spot just as you saw Warrick's car do the same. Hopping out, you called him over to help you cart the food inside.

"What do you have?" he asked.

"Breakfast," you answer, watching some of the sleepiness fade off your friend's expression.

"Great, I'm starving."

You smile. "It'll probably help everyone cool down a bit, too."

"Speaking of which, you up for a game Saturday night?"

"You bet. You mark an extra ticket for Sara?"

"Sure did. Game starts at seven."

"Something smells good," a female voice spoke up.

Another smile, this one aimed at the younger woman standing in front of you. "Let's at least get into the break room before you tear in."

The three of you move to the break room, the delicious smell of food tempting your empty stomachs. You pass by Grissom' office, but the door's shut, indicating that he's most likely not in.

You three share a companionable breakfast, excited about the upcoming hockey game. You try not to be obvious about it, but you're constantly on the lookout for either Grissom or Catherine, and you berate yourself for not looking to see if their cars were parked out in the lot. Cleaning up the table, Sara immediately went to the coffee pot and took an experimental sniff. Wrinkling her nose, she poured the contents of the pot down the drain, and then gave the pot a through scrubbing before starting a fresh batch of coffee for the night shift. Meanwhile, you stare thoughtfully at the brown sack containing two uneaten breakfasts. Telling Warrick and Sara that you're going to leave the extra food in Grissom' office, you gather up the unused napkins and forks, toss them into the bag and cart it down the hallway.

You stop by the DNA lab first, and toss Greg the large donuts you picked up for him. His eyes light up in gratitude and you give him more good news by telling him that Sara's making fresh coffee. You shoot out into the hallway, Greg seconds behind you. Chuckling, you continued down the hallway, and found yourself treading softly, eschewing making any extra noise. You wondered why you should be so concerned with noise in the silent hallway, but continued to walk softly.

When you first glanced at his office door, you thought that the lights were off and the door locked, but now that you looked closer, you saw a thin strip of yellowish light peeking out from the bottom of the door. Assume nothing, you remind yourself. Grissom' office was one of the few rooms that didn't have a multitude of windows, allowing him some privacy. Even though you knew it was another assumption, you thought that Grissom was probably just catching up on paperwork, and understandably didn't want to be disturbed. Hitching the sack up and grabbing it much like a football, you silently turned the knob and pushed the door open. Sticking your head in your mouth was already forming the first syllable of his last name. But the words died in your throat at the scene before you.

If you were a Hollywood director, you would cue the cheesy romance music right about now - except this wasn't cheese. Grissom and Catherine were locked into a kiss, their bodies melded together as if they had been made for each other exclusively. Catherine's hands were tangled up in his hair, and his hands rested comfortably on her waist.

This wasn't a fictionalized Hollywood romance; this was real, unadulterated passion flowing between them. You did something you rarely ever do - you blushed. Quietly shutting the door, you set the bag down on the floor next to his office door. Hanging onto the knob, you reflect for a moment. You recognized the feelings emanating from the office - whenever you were home, you still occasionally caught your parents kissing, and the resulting feeling was the same as now. But Grissom had been trying for a couple of years to teach you to ignore feelings and concentrate on the evidence. The evidence spoke in concrete facts, feelings did not.

The evidence was indeed talking to you, and you got that jolt of adrenaline that came with you fitting all of the pieces of a case together. You knew with a stunning clarity that they weren't riding roller coasters, or playing with her daughter. You suddenly smiled. You were the only one to know their secret, and you intended to keep it that way.

They could go on fooling everyone else, but they wouldn't be fooling you any longer.

-fini