A/N: This is in response to a LJ prompt to use snow in the story. Thanks very much to Daphne for all of her help. I share all the postive feedback with her, but all criticism should be directed at me alone. Daphne could only do so much!! Unfortunately, the characters aren't mine. Spoilers thru Leaving Las Vegas.

"If there is a God, he is certainly laughing at me." Grissom turned off the television, suppressing his desire to throw the remote control across the room. The Weather Channel had just reported an overnight storm had dropped six inches of snow on the ground in Las Vegas. The prospect of snow was part of the appeal of the teaching offer in Williamstown. Living on or near the West Coast for the better part of his life, he always looked forward to an opportunity to experience a change in the seasons.

Ironically, while Las Vegas was in the midst of a bitter cold snap, the Northeast was unseasonably warm. Although the outside temperatures were moderate, Grissom couldn't quiet the chill that gripped his body. It was as if Sara was the sole source of his warmth and in leaving her, he had been drained of his life's blood. Grissom knew he would miss Sara, but the depth of the emptiness surprised him.

Thankfully, his sabbatical was nearing its end. The professorship had not provided the mental recharge he expected. He found the students lacked his passion for the subject matter and their disinterest left him uninspired to teach. Despite his longing for home and for Sara, he intended to honor his commitment.

Grissom sighed heavily as he rose from the uncomfortable chair. Seven more days, he thought to himself, ignoring the creaks in his knees as they straightened into a standing position. He selected a beer from the refrigerator and retrieved his laptop from the small kitchen table. The leg of his pants caught the sharp edge of the scarred end table as he returned to the armchair. Scowling at the tear in his pant leg, Grissom set the laptop on the worn ottoman in front of him.

His mood instantly lightened at the sight of an email from Sara. The joy of simply reading her name brought temporary relief to his heart-numbing loneliness. Solitude was once a welcome refuge from the unending morbidity of his life's work, but, since Sara accepted him into her life, a day or night without her company was barely tolerable.

Grissom's breath caught in his throat as he read her message.

I found something else to keep at warm at night….

His hand trembled as he opened the attached file. The picture loaded with excruciating slowness. When it was finally complete, Grissom let out an uncharacteristically loud belly laugh. The picture was of a smiling, rosy-cheeked Sara standing in their backyard attired in hat, gloves and heavy winter coat. Her arm was draped around a large snowman dressed in Grissom's CSI vest. A field kit hung precariously from one of the snowman's "arms." A magnifying glass was in the other. Grissom recognized an old pair of reading glasses adorning the snowman's face. Atop his head was the straw hat Sara so deplored. The picture was, indeed, a site for sore eyes.

Closing the email and the laptop, Grissom strode into the bedroom and began packing his belongings. Commitment be damned. He was going home to his snow angel.