X-Ray Vision (And Other Superpowers)

Rating: CSI-1
Summary: I think the title just about sums it up :-)
Disclaimer: The CSI characters and premise belong to the fabulous people who make the show, and not to little me. I am borrowing their creations for entertainment purposes only, and make no money whatsoever from this story.
A/N: My letter X :-) Angie, this is for you :-) Many, many, many HUGE thanks to my friend Kelly for reading this through for me. You're a star :-)

Catherine's knees buckled slightly as Grissom made only a slight attempt to actually walk for himself. She gripped the hand that was round her shoulder, and urged him along with the arm she had behind his back.

"You're very beautiful," Grissom slurred, for the third time, once again trailing his fingers along Catherine's cheek.

"So you've said," she muttered growing increasingly impatient with the fact that him turning towards her was delaying their movements, and putting increasing pressure on her from his weight. They only had a few steps to go, but it seemed that it was going to take an eternity to get there.

"Catherine…" he said, stopping completely, thus rendering her immobile also.

"Gil, we need to get you into the house," she said, tugging determinedly on his arm as she tried to step forward.

"I think I need the fresh air," he giggled. Yes, Gil Grissom giggled.

Catherine sighed and turned towards him. "What you need is sleep."

Grissom shook his head fervently. "Superman doesn't need sleep," he grinned.

"True. But you're not really Superman… And you do need sleep," she insisted.

His head shook once more. "No, Cath, I am… I really am… There must have been something in whatever I was drinking ­ "

"Yes, alcohol!" Catherine interrupted him. "Now, please Gil I don't think I can hold you up much longer…"

"Then don't," he announced, quickly dropping himself from her embrace on to the step of his townhouse, catching her hand as he moved, and dragging her down to sit beside him.

She cringed as the concrete was cold through her outfit, and shifted to try to get herself comfortable. She was tired, and that was tripling her impatience, and Grissom really didn't seem to be planning to go anywhere.

She sighed heavily, and rubbed a hand across her brow when he let his body fall backwards, and he lay on the ground staring at the sky. "Gil…" she said, exhaustion slipping into her tone.

"Or maybe it's the planetary alignment or something…" he mumbled. "But I really have Superman's powers."

Surprised that he had remembered what he had been talking about, Catherine slowly turned her head, and regarded him over her shoulder.

Sensing her watching him, Grissom rolled his head to the side, and smiled at her.

"So, you can fly?" Catherine asked, scepticism dripping from her words.

Grissom's forehead creased. "I haven't tested it, but I presume I can… Wanna try it?" he asked, sitting up with an excited grin on his face.

Catherine couldn't help but laugh, and she shook her head, "Not tonight," she said, softly.

"Oh, come on!" Grissom pleaded, gently tugging on her arm, and looking at her with those puppy dog eyes that ordinarily she wouldn't be able to resist.

"I don't think it's a good idea… You shouldn't be flying under the influence."

Grissom nodded solemnly. "Good point… You take good care of me."

"Well somebody's got to," Catherine laughed, but stopped when she caught the look in Grissom's eyes.

He was gazing, an intense determination gleaming at her, and he was leaning in closer.

Despite the fact that she knew he was drunk, her heart rate increased as she felt his body heat seeping through the material of her cat suit, and her breath caught in her throat. Then when his hand raised and moved to her cheek, she knew what was coming next, and was brought back to the reality of the situation.

"You're very beautiful," he whispered, gently running his fingertips down her skin.

She gave a short awkward laugh, and adjusted in her seating so she was facing forward again. "Thanks," she said quietly. "So," she tried to change the subject, "What makes you think that you have superpowers?"

It worked. Grissom's eyes lit up, and he returned to their earlier topic. "Well, earlier tonight, I was in the bathroom and I was washing my hands, but the water was cold, so I stared at it really hard, and it got warmer." He finished his sentence with a nod to confirm it as fact.

Catherine tried to hide her smirk, pursing her lips to keep it under control, and she looked at Grissom. "Wow!… Now, that's proof if ever I heard it," she commented, turning away when her control mechanism failed, and a smile spread across her face.

"Oh there's more…"

Her head shot back round to face him when she was startled by the proximity of his voice to her ears, and she found her face mere centimetres from his. Immediately the air seemed to crackle with electricity and Catherine's heart and breathing reacted as before, as Grissom's hand moved and trailed along her arm that was between them.

"For example," he continued, "I feel more self-confidence than I ever have before," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "Like Clark Kent did when he was in his Superman persona, I feel that I'm no longer my geeky, clumsy self ­ "

"That was Clark Kent's cover, he wasn't really clumsy, and neither are you," Catherine cut him off, needing to be speaking so her mind was preoccupied from watching his lips moving so close to hers as he spoke.

"What I'm trying to say…" And he slipped even closer to her. "… Is that, right now, I feel that I can tell you everything I have wanted to for the last twenty years, but have been to afraid to say ­ "

"Er… That isn't a superpower…" Catherine interrupted nervously. "You're supposed to be telling me about your powers."

Frowning slightly that she was changing the subject, Grissom nevertheless acquiesced. "Okay, if I wanted to, I could see right through this cat suit," he whispered, his fingers once again playing with the material of her sleeve.

At this Catherine pulled herself away from him and stood up. "Oh… Okay, now you really need to get some sleep… Get up, I'm taking you inside and I'm going home."

Grissom stood in front of her. "I didn't mean for that to sound…"

"Perverted?" she finished for him.

Tensing slightly at her choice of word, Grissom continued, "… Yeah… I'm not looking… Well I caught a glimpse earlier, but that was an accident, now I've got it under control, and unless I concentrate on it, I can't see through anything."

Catherine shook her head. "Gil, you do not have x-ray vision! You are not Superman! And I hope for your sake that you don't remember any of this in the morning, because you will regret what you almost said ­ "

"I won't," he said resolutely. "Everything I've said, everything I nearly said, I mean it all… And I want you to know… Now, while I have the courage to tell you."

"I don't want to know!" she exclaimed, her patience finally running out. "I don't want you to say anything to me while you're in this state. If you have something to say, say it when you're not intoxicated! ­ "

"But I'm always intoxicated around you, Cath… By your beauty, by your mind ­ "

"Gil! Stop it! Go inside, go to bed, sleep for hours, then drink lots of coffee and come to work tomorrow night as yourself…"

"Cath, I'm being myself now ­ " he said, taking a step towards her.

"No you're not! You're drunk, and until such time as you are completely sober, I'm not going to believe a word you say ­ "

"I'm telling you the truth, Catherine," he responded, reaching out to take her hand in his.

She moved her hand away from his, and stepped backwards. "Gil, you're trying to convince me that you're Superman… I'm not going to believe anything else that you say tonight."

"But it's true, Cath, and I want you to know ­ "

"Then we'll talk about it when you're sober," she cut in.

The pout of a hurt child formed on his lips, and he muttered: "But we never talk about it when I'm sober." Then he turned from her and walked up to his house.

Watching his slumped-shouldered, dejected form walk away from her tugged at Catherine's heart, and she felt her tough, protective shield slipping from her. She had erected it because it hurt to have him talking about his feelings ­ a conversation she had wanted them to have for so long - knowing that he wouldn't remember any of it in the morning; so she was determined to brush off his words, lest permanent damage be done to their friendship.

Now it looked like she had hurt him, and while she knew it was partly because he was drunk, and therefore hypersensitive, she still couldn't ignore it.

Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths and then followed him to his front door, where he was still standing, trying to figure out which key to use. She took them from his hand and selected the appropriate one, briefly glancing at his tight fancy dress outfit, and wondering where he had kept them all night, but quickly deciding that she didn't want to know.

She unlocked the door and let it swing open, then indicated for Grissom to go in ahead of her. He stepped inside, but turned in the doorway to prevent her from following.

"I'll be fine from here," he said, swaying slightly, and then leaning on the doorframe for support ­ this action contradicting his words.

"I want to make sure," she said, her tone gentle, but insistent.

"I don't think that's wise," he said, sadly. "I've already said too much tonight, who knows what I might say if you stay any longer."

Catherine smiled, tenderly. "Gil, you haven't said anything that ­ "

"But I'm not fully in control of what I'm doing… So, it's best that you leave."

"Gil ­ "

"Catherine ­ "

"I'm not leaving until I know that you are safely tucked up in bed… And there is absolutely nothing that you could say that would change my mind on that… So stop worrying your drunken little head off about it, and move out of my way," she smiled.

Grissom frowned at her, and crossed his arms across his chest, standing up straight to show he wasn't intending to move.

Catherine smirked, and raised an eyebrow. "You do kinda look like Superman when you do that," she teased. "Of course it could be the outfit," she added with a cheeky grin.

But he still didn't budge.

So she tried a different tactic, letting her face be serious again. "Gil, come on… I'm tired and I'm starting to feel the cold now, please, just humour me? Let me tuck you up in bed, and then we can both get some much-needed sleep so we'll be alert and ready for work tomorrow."

"I'm fine, honestly. You don't need to tuck me in," he insisted, his still slurred speech really doing nothing to aid his cause.

"Oh, you're fine?… That's why you couldn't open your own front door? …" she said, sarcastically. "Step aside, or I will move you by force!" she ordered.

"You couldn't," he replied. "You're not strong enough."

"Ah, but I'm Catwoman ­ she's stronger than she looks."

"But is she strong enough to move Superman?" he challenged.

Catherine's eyebrow quirked again. "Let's see, shall we?" And she stepped up close to him.

For a few seconds they simply stared at each other, each trying to get the other to back down. Then when Grissom dared show a tiny smirk of smugness, Catherine's hands shot out and tickled his sides. He immediately crumpled, and stepped backwards.

Catherine grinned victoriously and walked into the house. "So, Superman is ticklish when he's drunk?… Always good to know," she commented.

Grissom just glared at her and closed the front door. "You must have some Kryptonite hidden about your person," he commented, moving further into the room.

"Where exactly?" Catherine asked, twirling around, giving him a nice view of her tight-fitting black costume, before walking into his kitchen. "Just admit defeat, Superman, and go and get changed for bed, while I get you a glass of water."

She opened one of the cupboards, and reached up to retrieve a glass, but just as her fingers were about to wrap around the vessel, two hands grabbed her waist and the fingers began tickling her furiously. As she screamed and pulled backwards, her hand caught the glass, and it dropped from the cupboard, shattering on the countertop below.

"Gil!… Stop it!… Stop it!" she screeched, squirming in his grasp, and trying to think clearly enough to avoid the broken glass.

He continued to tickle her a few seconds longer then let her go but pinned her between him and the counter.

Breathing heavily and experiencing some residual giggling - despite all her attempts to not enjoy what he was doing - Catherine gave him the best glare she could muster. Even as she did it, though, she knew that it was lame.

"Revenge is sweet, Catwoman," Grissom whispered evilly. "… But look at the mess you've made." He shook his head, reprimanding. "I'll clean it up," he said, stepping away from her.

Hating the way her body was responding to him whenever he was close to her, Catherine mentally chastised herself, reminding her that he was drunk. Once she was composed, she stopped him as he was about to start brushing up the glass.

"I'll clean it up," she said adamantly, her hand on his arm. "I think you're a little too inebriated to be handling broken glass…. Go and get changed… I'll bring you an intact glass of water through in a few minutes."

He turned to leave and she began to sweep the pieces into a dustpan. After about thirty seconds, she put the dustpan down on the counter, let out a small sigh, and turned around. "What are you doing?" she asked Grissom who was leaning against the opposite counter, watching her.

"Nothing," he shrugged.

"You're supposed to be getting changed."

"Are we okay?" he asked, seemingly ignoring her comment.

Slightly surprised by his change of subject, but not too concerned given his current state, Catherine frowned, but smiled to him, reassuringly. "We're fine… We won't be if you don't go to bed so I can go home and sleep…" she added, jokingly.

"I did mean what I… wanted to say," he said, apparently still dismissing her attempts to stop this.

"And I meant what I said when I told you I won't believe you while you're drunk," Catherine smiled again, to make sure he knew they were okay.

"But when I'm not drunk, we won't ­ "

"If you remember this tomorrow, then we'll talk about it."

Grissom didn't look pleased with this agreement.

"I promise," she added to assure him.

He still looked uncertain.


He looked nervous as he said: "It'd just be easier for me to do this now."

"We've been through ­ "

"There's a chance I won't remember your rejection if we discuss this now," he said, quickly, lowering his eyes from hers.

"Similarly, there's a chance you won't remember when I don't reject you… That's why we're not doing this now," Catherine smiled, then she turned back to her cleaning task.

"Sorry?" Grissom asked, looking up, convinced that he had misheard her.

Catherine responded without turning round. "One of Superman's powers is super-hearing. You know exactly what I said… And, yes, I meant it… Now the sooner you go to bed, the sooner we'll find out how much you remember… So use that super-speed of yours ­ " She stopped when she turned around and found that he had already gone. A smile crept across her lips, but there was apprehension in her eyes. She was excited at the thought of them finally having the conversation she longed for, but she intended to stand by what she had said. If he didn't remember what they had to talk about, then she wouldn't raise the subject. She wanted it to come from him ­ sober ­ that way they would both know exactly where they stand.

She spent a minute or so, staring at where he had been standing, and then turned back to the cupboard and carefully grabbed another glass.

Stopping by the fridge, she took out a bottle of water, and left the kitchen.

The door to his bedroom was slightly ajar when she reached it, and she could hear him moving around. She reprimanded herself for the urge she felt to peek inside, and respectfully knocked on the door.

"Grissom?… You decent?" she called, her hand on the door handle, ready to go in if he was.

"Just a sec ­ whoa!"

There was a loud thump, and then silence.

"Gil?" Catherine asked, her face creased with concern. "Gil?!" her voice rose a few decibels when he failed to reply the first time, then when there was no response to that either, she swung the door open. All she could see were his feet sticking out from behind the bed, his blue `tights' tangled around them.

"No!… No!… I'm fine!" he shouted to her. "Don't come in yet!"

Desperately trying not to let her laughter sound, Catherine stepped back out of the bedroom and pulled the door closed behind her.

Minutes later she was still chuckling to herself when the door opened and Grissom stood in front of her dressed in a t-shirt and some shorts.

"You okay?" she asked, unable to keep the grin from her face.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm fine."

"You sure?… You didn't bang your head?"

"No, I didn't… I think the fall sobered me up a bit though," he said, rubbing at his forehead.

Catherine smiled. "Not as much as your hangover will, though… Whatever possessed you to join Greg in that competition?"

"I think insanity may be setting in," he grumbled, walking over to his bed and sitting on the edge of it.

Catherine gave a small laugh at his words as she placed the water and glass on his bedside table. "I'll trust that you can make it into bed yourself from here… I'll see you this evening."

"And we'll talk?" he said as she was about to leave.

Turning to smile at him, still torn between happiness and sadness, she said: "And we'll talk."

As she started to pull the door closed, he lay down, groaning slightly at how dizzy he felt. She couldn't help laughing again, it was a rare sight to see Grissom drunk ­ and it was rather entertaining.

"I heard that!" he called, an unamused tone to his words.

She popped her head round the door and smiled innocently. "Heard what?"

"Your laughing… I have super-hearing, remember?"

Catherine grinned. "Oh, of course, how could I forget?" she laughed. "… Sweet dreams, Superman."

She ducked back out, still giggling internally, and was about to head for the kitchen to finish tidying up when he shouted to her again.

"Yes?" she smiled sweetly, stepping back into his room.

He opened his eyes and locked them with hers, then with a wink he said: "Pink suits you."

Catherine's brow furrowed, and, with a puzzled smile, she shook her head. "Okay… Night, Gil."

Closing the door behind her, Catherine took two steps away from the room, pondering what Grissom had said, and then she stopped. Still frowning, she looked down at her all black outfit, and then thought carefully back to earlier that night when she had been getting ready. Her eyes widened, and she checked to make sure that her bra straps weren't showing, then remembered she was wearing a strapless bra. A glance at her chest, assured her that there was no way he could have seen down her top, and running her hand around her backside confirmed that there weren't any splits in her clothes. Simultaneously shocked, intrigued and disbelieving, Catherine's eyes were wider than they'd ever been before as she looked back to Grissom's bedroom door.

"No…" she said quietly to herself, turning back to her initial route. "No… It's impossible… Impossible…"

She continued muttering as she walked back into the kitchen, and if she'd have had super-hearing, she would have heard Grissom comment that nothing is impossible, before he rolled over and fell into a deep sleep.