Title: The Magic of Christmas
Summary: 'twas the night before Christmas, and Sara Sidle sat alone on a beach.
Spoilers: Ehh... pretty much season eight in general.
Disclaimer: Still not mine, even after Christmas. But I do have the full collection of season one to eight, and am SO EXCITED!
Author's Note: I wanted to post this before Christmas, but I ran out of time. I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and New Years, and here's to a 2013 filled with tons of CSI!
It was Christmas Eve, and Sara Sidle was alone, on a beach in San Francisco. The waves crashed onto the shore, and she could hear bells jingling and strains of carols coming from the homes farther down the beach. Blue Christmas started up, and as she laughed at the sad irony, tears sprang to her eyes. As hard as she tried to keep them in, they forced their way through her lashes and left track marks on her pale cheeks. She swiped at them angrily, but they just kept coming. A gust of wind swirled up around her, and she pulled her coat tighter, though it didn't do much to alleviate the chill that had settled in her bones. She shivered.
"Are you alright there, miss?" came a deep voice. Startled, Sara whipped around and saw an older gentleman strolling across the sand toward her. She squinted to see him better, but it was too dark and she wouldn't be able to get a good look until he was right in front of her. When he was a few feet away, he spoke again. "I said dearie, are you okay? I could hear you crying a ways back."
Sara wiped at her eyes once more and nodded. "Yes sir, I'm fine. Thank you."
He stopped in front of her. "Mind if I sit with you?"
Normally she would have gotten up and left the man to his own late night musings, but she wasn't ready to return home and face her mother just yet. Instead, she nodded again. "Not at all." She patted the sand next to her, and as he sat down she could finally get a better look at him. Older, with a white curly beard, and piercing blue eyes that made her heart ache. She didn't get the chance to see much else before another shiver wracked her thin frame.
"You're not dressed for the weather," the man said. He took off his jacket, which she could now see was red.
"Oh no, I couldn't," she began, but he'd already draped it over her shoulders.
"It's okay," he said, flashing her a smile. "I've got enough to keep me warm." He patted his belly, which stretched his white shirt and suspenders. "Plus I'm used to the sea air. You though, don't appear to be."
Grateful for the warmth the big red coat was providing, Sara shrugged. "It's my hometown, but I haven't lived here in a long time."
"Where'd you go?" the stranger asked. He now had a travel mug and two paper cups in hand. "Hot chocolate?"
"Vegas," she answered slowly, eyeing the mug with caution.
He caught her suspicious look and laughed. It was a belly laugh, one Sara knew came from his toes. It instantly warmed and relaxed her. "It's hot chocolate," he said, pouring some into a cup and placing it in her hands. "Peppermint flavored, too. The misuses made it for my trip."
"You're going somewhere? On Christmas Eve?" Sara asked, blowing gently to cool it down.
"Oh yes, it's an annual thing. I don't take any trips the rest of the year; she understands." He took a sip of his own drink before catching her gaze. "But enough about me. Why are you, such a beautiful young woman, crying on Christmas Eve, all alone on a beach?"
She sighed. "It's a rather long story. I don't want to keep you from your business, especially if you're on a time restraint."
He pulled out a pocket watch and checked it. With a smile that made his eyes crinkle, he said, "I've got time. Tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help."
She sighed. "It's not really anything you can help with," she said quietly. "I am just... missing my fiancé. A lot." Another tear slipped out.
"Where is he?" the man asked.
"At work, probably." She thought about Grissom and how he would be working the next week straight, just to avoid being alone in their home.
"Why is he not home with you?"
"I left him," she whispered. "In Las Vegas."
"Oh." He thought for a moment. "Why not go back to him then?"
"I can't go back. Too many..." she struggled for a word that would adequately describe her problems with the city without having to delve into why she left so abruptly. "Too many demons," she finally said.
"Ahh." A knowing smile crossed his face, and he topped off her hot chocolate before speaking again. "Well, have you spoken to your fiancé today?"
She shook her head sadly. "We haven't spoken for over a month. I think... I think he might hate me."
He placed a hand on her knee and squeezed gently. "Look at me, dear." She looked up, clutching her drink tightly. "Your fiancé, does he love you?"
More tears escaped. "Yes. More than anything."
"And you love him?"
Sara's heart tightened in her chest as she thought of the love she held for that man. "I do."
"Then call him. It's Christmas Eve. He'll want to hear from you. It's the time of year for love and hugs and happiness and forgiveness. If you can't be together this year, there is always next year. No one should be alone on Christmas Eve, crying. I've never met this fiancé of yours, but I am sure he wouldn't want you out here alone, crying. And I'm sure he wouldn't want an old guy like me comforting you."
A watery laugh escaped Sara. "You've known me for less than half an hour and have comforted me well. He'd be grateful."
The gentleman squeezed her knee again. "Call him. I know for sure that he'd appreciate it. I'd even bet it's on his list for tonight."
The way he said it made Sara look at him for a long moment. "How do you know?" she questioned.
Another knowing smile. "I just know." He stood up then, and checked his pocket watch. "I'm so sorry to leave you on such short notice dear, but I do have business to attend to."
She nodded. "Of course. Thank you for the hot chocolate, and listening to the rambles of a crying woman."
He winked. "Not a problem at all. The missus always said I was a good listener!"
This brough a smile to Sara's face for the first time in months. "I don't doubt it." She got up too, and held out the man's jacket.
"Oh no, love, keep it, I insist," he said, when she tried to push it into his hands. "I've got lots more at home, just in case of an emergency."
"Well, thank you... I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"
"Nicholas," he replied. "Now, go home. It's late and cold."
"I will," she promised.
"Good girl." He squeezed her shoulder and began to walk away. At the very last moment he turned and gave a little wave. "Merry Christmas, Sara."
She waved back. "Merry Christmas to you too, Nicholas."
Soon after her mysterious visitor had left, she returned to her mother's small home. Quietly she crept in, and found her way to bed. She checked the time, and knew Gil was at work. She picked up her cell phone, and dialed his number.
"Hello?" his warm voice answered.
She sucked in a breath. "Merry Christmas, Gil. I love you."
For a moment he was silent. Then he finally spoke. "Merry Christmas to you, sweetheart."
Her heart swelled. "It's late, but I'll call you tomorrow?"
"Of course," he replied. "We'll talk tomorrow. I love you, Sara."
"I love you too."
And they hung up. It was only then that she realized she was still wearing the big red coat, and it smelled, silly as it sounded, like magic. As her head hit the pillow, a thought occurred to her; she had never told Nicholas her name...
-end-