Hello again. I think this defines as fluff – if anything. I came up with that idea one evening while contemplating Grissom's "Since I met you." I hope you will enjoy it.

Thanks to BC for beta-ing this story. Any remaining mistakes are mine and only mine.

Please read and review. I am always open for constructive criticism. But, please, no flames, as one can hardly learn from them.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own CSI nor do I want to profit from it in any way.

When Beauty Was Defined

Autumn. The trees were giving the day a beautiful golden hue. The sun bathed everything in a wonderful light that brightened up even the old, magnificent buildings of the university.

She was young. She was barely over twenty. She was enjoying life. She was smiling at her friends. Her soft features were brightened by the warm autumn sun.

I watched her from a remote position beneath the big oak trees across the campus, envying her friends who were on the receiving end of her gap-toothed smile. I don't know exactly what drew me to her, but whatever it was, she turned that beautiful day into a glorious one.

This was my third day during this year's lecture week. The Dean of the Forensic Department asked me to do a week-long lecture series which was supposed to feature crime scene investigation including my favorite topic–entomology. I had arrived last Friday and lectures were to begin today, Monday.

On Saturday, I saw her for the first time. Later, I actually bumped into her during a walk through the park near the hotel where I was staying. I hadn't expected to see her again, but there she was in all her beauty. At that moment, she defined beauty for me. Beauty had always been an abstract concept for me but then there she was, this wonderful young woman who was in the same park at the same time as I.

I enjoyed my walk through the park and while I was looking at a butterfly, I accidentally walked into something incredibly soft. Instinctively, I reached around this object in order to steady myself.

"Hey!"

Disoriented, I looked around, and my gaze met the most wonderful brown eyes I had ever seen.

"I'm sorry!" I reluctantly let go of her. "I wasn't looking where I was going." I was sure I was blushing. I may be in my mid-thirties but dealing with people had never been my forte–especially strangers–and even worse, incredibly beautiful strangers who stole my breath away.

She smiled at me and motioned to the book in her hand, which she must have been reading when our little accident happened. "I hope you're okay," she continued.

She also had an amazing voice, many layers combining together to create one of the most enticing sounds I had ever heard.

All I could do was nod my head. Obviously, I had lost any ability to speak as there were no sounds coming out of my mouth though I clearly remember trying to form a sentence, just some words, anything but this stupid fishlike gulping.

"Take care."

And she was off again.

And there I was beating myself up about the fact that I hadn't offer to buy her coffee as a kind of peace-offering even though all I had done was bump into her. But I was just unable to do or say anything. I followed her with my eyes until she vanished around a corner and disappeared behind a high blooming bush.

The Oxford Dictionary defines the word beauty as a combination of qualities that delights the aesthetic senses, whatever those are, considering that aesthetic is defined as being concerned with beauty or the appreciation of beauty. I knew this, because I had read the definition many times. Whenever my mother told me that she loved the colors of the sunset at the beach – when everything turned into an orange-red landscape – she said that that was real beauty.

I looked the word up when I was about ten years old. The magnificent colors of the sunset were produced by the reflection of the sun's rays in the earth's atmosphere. It was just a matter of optics. And I also looked up beauty in the dictionary. The word had just been an abstract term to me and nothing more. Whenever someone pointed out: This is beauty! I couldn't understand what they meant, because all I saw was the scientific explanation behind it.

I came to believe that science was able to explain everything. And it really had been able to explain everything until last Saturday, but there was just no explanation for this woman.

At that moment, she allowed me to truly understand the word beauty. She defined my understanding of the word. She filled it with meaning. Beauty would always be the woman I met in the park that Saturday afternoon.

And then two days later, I saw her on campus again. I followed her for some time. Wherever she moved, she was surrounded by a bright aura. It reflected on everyone and everything near her. I wanted to bathe in her light, but being the ghost that I was and will always be, I didn't dare tarnish this... this…her. I just wanted to keep the image of her in my mind as long as possible.

"Gil!" It was Dean Robert Thompson interrupting my reverie. "Are you enjoying your stay with us?"

Slowly, I diverted my look from my true beauty. I focused on my benefactor and smiled slightly at him. "Yes, Robert, immensely. It is always lovely to come to San Francisco at this time of the year."

"I agree. San Francisco is beautiful in the fall. You will have to tell me about your cases in Las Vegas one evening over a nice dinner. I find it so amazing what you see in Sin City."

I grimaced. This is what I didn't like about people who have no-to-hardly any experience in the field. "It is never amazing what we see."

Robert patted my shoulder. "Oh, Gil, you can't fool me with that attitude. You are a scientist by nature. You find these crimes just as fascinating as I do."

"Robert, I could never find crime fascinating. I find it astounding what a human being is capable of doing, and therefore find solving a crime fascinating. There is a difference."

"Tom-ah-to, Tom-ay-to, Gil. You are a scientist." Dean Thompson left me with another friendly pat on my shoulder and a hearty laugh. As he walked away, I turned back to where she had been. But she was gone. Nevertheless, I hoped that I might get to see her again in the upcoming week. I looked at the tree I was standing beneath and decided that this would be my favorite spot for the next five days.

With one last searching look across the campus, I decided to head to the lecture hall to prepare the night's presentation. I had to sort through some slides before I could begin.

The light in the lecture hall was already dimmed, and I was getting a little bit nervous. I always get nervous before a lecture. I enjoy the dark, which is why I, on the one hand, work the nightshift, and, on the other hand, prefer to give my lectures in a darkened hall. I like the anonymity it offers.

As the students were gathering in the lecture hall, I tried to keep myself busy. Once it was time to start the lecture, I turned to my audience for the evening. The dimmed light actually allowed me to look the students over and see who might fall asleep in the upcoming two hours.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Gil Grissom. I am a doctor of entomology, and I work as a crime scene investigator in Las Vegas. I will present my lectures every evening at six o'clock sharp, and I'll be telling you a little bit about collecting and analyzing the evidence you find at a crime scene."

Roughly an hour and a half later, the auditorium lights were turned up again. Not to my surprise, I saw quite a few students looking around disorientated. No surprise indeed, considering the snoring sounds I heard during the lecture.

"This concludes my part of the presentation for tonight. Now, it's your turn to ask questions."

And there it was. The voice again. The one that makes the hair at the back of my head stand up. The one that gives me goosebumps.

"Dr. Grissom, you talked about ..."

I zoned in on the corner where I thought she was sitting. And indeed, there she was, her hand raised so that I could easily identify her as the speaker in the crowd. It was her. The beauty. And suddenly, the whole room seemed to brighten.

"That is a very good question, Miss..."

"Sidle. Sara Sidle. Post-graduate physics."

"Miss Sidle."

And there it was – my definition of beauty.

Sara Sidle.