Would You Love Me Too?

Rating: CSI-2
Summary: Would you love me too, if you only knew?
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. The lyrics used are "If You Only Knew" by Lari White.
A/N: Thank you to Alza and Angie for reading this through for me. Originally written years ago. I just forgot to post it here!

... ...

~ If you only knew the way I love you
~ Don't I wonder what you'd do
~ Would you look at me and say you love me too?
~ If you only knew

... ...

His heart skips when he sees her standing beside the ambulance. He had only allowed Warrick to get as far as "Catherine was attacked" before he'd interrupted, asked where she was, and driven straight there.

All the way across town his mind had been filled with possible scenarios, most of them involving losing her. His heart was breaking with every minute that passed, and his anger – at himself for not being there, at Warrick for not protecting her again, at whoever had dared to touch her – multiplied with each second as he swerved through traffic.

And now, as he watches her laughing at whatever the paramedic has said, he swallows down the lump of fear in his throat and drops back against the car, relief washing over him. She's alive, she seems okay, he hasn't lost her. This time. It's irrational, he knows, to live in fear like this, but he is so terrified that one day she'll be taken from him – by incident, or by another man – but he cannot bring himself to tell her how he feels. There's too much at stake.

She notices him and lifts her hand slightly to wave in his direction, her bright smile across her face, but her brow creased slightly, obviously wondering why he's just standing there.

He smiles back and pushes away from the car, crossing the space between them, all the while trying to decide if this should be the day he takes the chance.

The paramedics step aside as he approaches and Catherine shakes her head slowly. "You didn't have to come all the way out here," she says. "Warrick would have told you I'm fine. If you'd let him speak." There's a small smirk on her face, and he wonders if she senses why he had to come; why panic was his first response.

He shrugs. "I just wanted to check for myself. As your supervisor, your safety is my responsibility."

She offers no verbal reply, just observes him as if she doesn't believe a word of it.

He could tell her the truth.

Or he could say: "I'm glad you're okay."

... ...

~ If you only knew I'm dreaming of you
~ Every night, the whole night through
~ Would you make my wildest dreams of you come true?
~ If you only knew

... ...

He wakes suddenly, sitting up and trying to calm his breathing. It takes him a moment to get his bearings, and then he realises he is in his office. He looks around the dimly lit room, trying to remember why he would be asleep there, and jumps when he sees Catherine sitting behind his desk.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she greets him.

"Cath? What am I – "

"Triple shift," she explains, "You'll remember when your brain wakes up. You needed the rest. I needed one of your books." She holds said object up for him to see.

"Okay," he says, swinging around so his feet drop off the sofa, and he sits up.

"Did you have sweet dreams?" she asks him, the mischievous lilt to her voice making him instantly fearful of what he may have said while he was sleeping. He was having sweet dreams. But he'd rather not have to tell her what they were about.

"I don't remember," he lies, still able to feel the touch of her hands running the length of his bare back, still able to taste her skin on his lips, still as turned on as he was in his dream. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and placing his chin on his hands, hoping to convincingly shelter that area until he has calmed down.

She smirks a little, but says no more, returning her attention to the book, and asking him something about tarantulas.

He watches her fingers play with the edge of the page, and her eyes glance between him and the book as she speaks, and he watches her lips move. Lips that, only moments ago, were trailing along his neck… And he wonders what she would say if he did tell her the truth.

... ...

~ I pretend I'm just a friend
~ But now and then I wonder what you'd do
~ Would you love me too?
~ If you only knew

... ...

"So, is Catherine single?"

This is all he needs. The fact that he's sitting in a bar with half the police department was bad enough. Having the new detective start this line of questioning is just really brightening his evening.

He looks across at the other man, and wishes that he could say 'no'; that he could say she was with him; or that it didn't even need to be said, because the whole world would know how happy they were. Unfortunately, all he can say is, "I think you should ask her that."

This receives a smile and nod, and the detective vacates his seat and crosses the room to where Catherine is standing with Jim. He knows he shouldn't watch, but he can't tear his eyes away.

He watches as Jim moves away, and as Catherine laughs at something the detective says, and as they talk and talk and talk. And then she glances in his direction and he looks away quickly, hoping that she would just think he had been looking around the room. He can't look back after that.

Minutes later, her drink lands on the table in front of him, and she drops into the empty seat.

"You could at least pretend to be having fun," she says.

He manages a smile, because he always can whenever she's around. "I thought I was doing. Not convincing?"

She laughs and puts her hand on his arm, "Gil, you look like you are experiencing the direct opposite of fun – whatever that is." She giggles again and lifts her drink to her lips, and he just smiles and looks down at where her fingers still rest on his arm.

He knows she's drunk enough that she probably doesn't even realise they're there though.

... ...

~ Wonder what you'd do...

... ...


His name from her lips snaps him out of the daze he was in. "Yeah?" he utters quickly.

"You weren't paying attention," she scolds.

"Yes I was." It isn't a complete lie. He always pays attention to her when she's in the room, but maybe he wasn't actually hearing what she was saying.

"Well then you weren't listening," she amends – ever the observant CSI – with a small smirk.

He smiles apologetically. "My mind was elsewhere," he says quietly.

He realises this was a bad choice of words when her smirk widens and one of her eyebrows creeps towards her hairline.

"Not there!" he insists, a reprimanding tone to his voice, but a smile across his lips.

"What else could you have been thinking about that could be more important than how I single-handedly solved my case?" she asks teasingly.

Gil shrugs. "I was just… thinking…" he trails off, looking down and sitting back in his chair.

"About?" she persists.

He flicks his eyes up to hers – in part, to show her that he isn't amused by this interrogation; but also to give himself a moment, a few seconds, to judge whether or not he can build up the courage to tell her.

He holds her gaze for a matter of seconds then says: "Nothing… I just… Wonder, sometimes…" He trails off again, his eyes falling once more to his hands.

But this doesn't stop her either. "What do you wonder?" she prompts.

... ...

~ Would you love me too?

... ...

He looks at her one more time. There are some risks in life that he would take without hesitation – anything to save Catherine's life, for example; there are some risks he had taken without even realising that he was putting himself in danger – the Syd Goggle incident still plays on his mind; but Catherine is the most important thing in the world to him, and their friendship is something he won't put on the line. Smiling, both in fondness for the cute look of confusion on her face and in longing for what could have been, he shakes his head dismissively and replies: " Nothing."

... ...

~ If you only knew

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