A Little Bit More
Summary: Christmas was never a season of joy for Sara, but that was in the past. Grissom/Sara first Christmas story.
A/N: This is for ashmeadows, who responded to my holiday offer to write stories for anyone who wanted one. She asked for a Grissom/Sara Christmas fic. I'm currently beta-less, so please excuse any typos that made it through – feel free to let me know if you any, and I'll fix them.
Rating: PG seems safe enough
Disclaimer: Yes, of course I really own all the rights to CSI. That's why I write fanfic instead of making the show better. That was sarcasm…
Despite current appearances to the contrary, Sara Sidle wasn't really a Grinch – at least that's what she kept telling herself.
She had nothing against the holiday season, but she could never bring herself to get lost in it like almost everyone else did. It had never been a time of happiness for her growing up; if anything, it confused her because her classmates went crazy for reasons that went beyond the days off from school. And why would anyone in their right mind want to spend more time with their family?
Even the television specials baffled her. To Sara, the depictions of happy and loving families were some crazy Hollywood fantasies, and Pottersville was far more realistic than Bedford Falls could ever be.
It wasn't until after her father's death that she came to learn just how different her life was from the norm. Even then, Christmas seldom meant happiness; a good year was new socks and underwear from a foster family that halfway cared. The difference was she knew then that Christmas was supposed to mean something more than the aching loneliness she felt.
Her college years were spent pretending it didn't matter. Part of the reason for going to Harvard was to get away from her past; no one there knew her background, so no one pretended to care if she spent her holiday breaks in a cheap motel because she didn't have anyone to share them with.
By the time she joined the San Francisco crime lab, Sara had realized there were plenty of children out there who knew about Christmas and wanted a better holiday, and she became active in the department's charity efforts. Every year, they adopted a couple of needy families and provided food and gifts. Even her enthusiasm for that faded as one of the recipient families would inevitably complain that there weren't enough gifts, or they brought the wrong brand of food, or even that the wrapping paper wasn't pretty enough.
After years of working in forensics and seeing the ugliness and depression brought out by the holidays, the only Christmas wonder Sara had left was wondering why anyone put up with it.
But from the crowds currently surrounding her, she had to admit it meant something to plenty of people. And for all her cynicism, she knew – deep down – that it should have more significance for her. But that required hope, and that was something life had burned out of her a long time ago.
She leaned against the rackety shopping cart, trying vainly to keep her exasperation in check. Wild children ran unchecked through the narrow aisles while their mothers stood by, oblivious to the havoc their supernumerary offspring were creating. Even the music was getting on her nerves; if they had to play Christmas songs non-stop, then at least play Christmas songs. But, she decided privately, that would only remind shoppers that the stores had turned a once-solemn religious holiday into an over-commercialized shopping orgy.
Muttering "Bah, humbug" under her breath, Sara took a calming breath. Kids should be excited by Christmas; it was a normal part of childhood, and just because she'd been denied it was no reason to begrudge others having fun. It was a decision she'd reached years ago, but it wasn't always easy to follow.
After she had finally accepted that the holiday was never going to have the emotional connection that it held for other people, she tried to make the best of the situation. She always dropped her spare change into the Salvation Army kettles and donated money to a local food bank. At work, Sara joined the Secret Santas and enjoyed the office parties.
And then there was Grissom.
From her very first year in Vegas, they'd exchanged gifts, and he always managed to find something unique to give her. Not that unique was always the same as nice, but he never grabbed some clearance item from a store shelf; he always put an effort into what he got her. His thoughtfulness alone meant more to her than any other holiday gift she'd ever gotten, and she often wondered if she could explain that to him, how a textbook or insect specimen always made her Christmas.
It was all the more moving because it came from Grissom, a man who seldom tried to connect to others.
That hadn't stopped her from hinting – now that they were a couple – that something a little more romantic would be nice this year. He'd just given her one of those enigmatic smiles of his and said she would like his present.
As it was, he was the only reason she was putting up with a crowded shopping center on Black Friday.
"Look, Grissom, I know tacky and Christmas go together, but don't you think you're overdoing it?" she finally asked impatiently.
He looked up to stare at her in confusion, the strands of gold-and-purple and green-and-pink garlands forgotten in his hands. "What do you mean?"
Sara lifted an eyebrow before pointing to the collection of boxed garish ornaments in the cart.
"They're colorful," Grissom said, fixing her with a questioning look.
"That's one way of describing them," she sighed, her brow furrowing as he eyed a truly hideous assortment of what she could only assume were deformed reindeer. She knew firsthand his taste in hats and Hawaiian shirts, but his choices for decorations were insane.
But, then again, so was the reason for their impromptu shopping trip.
He wanted a Christmas tree; Grissom, a man so introverted he could contemplate his own navel from the inside out, wanted to decorate his home for Christmas.
She'd already agreed to go with him to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, even though he was a lapsed Catholic. He insisted it was a thing she needed to see at least one, and she was more than willing to give it a shot. She didn't have to believe in the imaginary to appreciate the beauty, and it seemed important to him. He'd also mentioned some light displays and musical programs he wanted to go to.
All of that was fine. But a tree for just the two of them? It made no sense. It wasn't like they ever entertained. Sara dropped her shoulders, deciding to try logic. This was Grissom after all. "Who's going to see a tree in your house?" she asked pointedly.
"We are."
"But we're at work most of the time."
"So?"
"Gil," she exhaled slowly, wondering if this was a losing battle as she watched him. He wanted this, it was clear in his hopeful and almost sad expression. Why was it such a big deal for him? He'd spent decades without making any real effort to celebrate Christmas, but now he wanted to go whole-hog, and an exceptionally gaudy hog at that.
But she recalled his stories of his father, so painfully and reluctantly shared. Gil had been so happy and carefree when he had been alive, and Christmas had probably been heavenly for him. Those memories had to have been tarnished by his mother's insistence on buying and "opening" gifts for his father in the years that followed.
Maybe that was the point of this exercise in kitschy decorations; Christmas once meant something to Gil; he wanted to recapture some of that wonder from his childhood. How could she turn him down? The ugly ornaments he'd selected were never crossing his threshold, but she wasn't going to fight him on this if it was so important to him.
"Fine" she sighed, taking the tacky garlands from his hands and putting them back on the shelf before returning the boxes of ornaments to their proper spots – if he had to have a tree, it was going to be one that didn't induce epileptic fits.
"Let's pick out the tree first so we know how many ornaments we have to buy," she added, nodding toward the display of artificial trees.
"We're not getting a hunk of plastic," Grissom said indignantly.
"You're going to cut down a perfectly healthy tree that's just going to get thrown away?" she challenged in response.
"Sara, those trees are grown specifically to be used at Christmas. Pines grow in marginal areas; if the farmers didn't grow Christmas trees on that land, it'd get turned into housing developments or strip malls. They even recycle them into mulch."
She raised an eyebrow slowly, and he pursed his lips a moment before continuing. "Plastic trees require petroleum, there's all the pollution generated by the manufacture of fake trees, and then there's the issue of out-gassing. Besides, you can't reproduce the smell of a real tree."
"I can get you one of those cardboard pine trees you hang in your car from the carwash."
"Honey…"
Deciding it wasn't worth a fight, she lifted her hands in defeat. "Okay, okay, but you're the one who's going to have to clean up the needles and keep it watered."
"Deal," he said.
Grissom stood silently as she moved slowly through the aisle of ornaments, carefully picking coordinating colors while getting a variety of sizes and textures. She was ready to move to the selection of lights when she looked up and caught a sly grin on his face. He immediately adopted an innocent expression, but she silently stared at him with her arms crossed over her midsection until he shrugged.
"If you get to decorate the tree, I get to decorate the bedroom," he said, his eyes twinkling. "I think I know where to get some mistletoe."
Despite her mood, Sara laughed and reached over to give him a quick peek on the cheek. He even held her for a moment, a rare public display of affection from her reticent lover. There was no mistaking the lightness in his expression, and she had to admit was good to see him in such a happy mood.
"You know, this is a lot of time and expense for something that's not going to be appreciated," she said as they tried to reach the lights.
His head tilted to the side. "But we'll appreciate it. It's going to be our first tree together."
Sara blinked her eyes quickly as she moved the cart to the selection of lights. First, implying more Christmases together – she liked the sound of that. After all the years of pain they'd suffered, all the years alone, they now had each other.
And for the first time in ages, Sara felt a spark of hope. A future together, in love. Something she had never thought would really happen. It was something she had always wanted with Gil, but life had left her skittish. She'd never allowed herself to build expectations for their future, but here they were, getting ready for Christmases yet to come.
Even Grissom was happier and more alive than she could recall ever seeing him as they playfully argued the merits of tinsel versus garland. Years seemed lifted from his shoulders, his expression was more relaxed, and he flashed her the warmest smile imaginable.
She didn't even complain when he grabbed packages of the huge, old-fashioned C9 bulbs. They were a reminder of happier times in his childhood, and a promise of the joy they'd have in the future.
If Christmas could do this for them, then perhaps there was something to the season after all.
And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.
How the Grinch Stole Christmas – Dr. Seuss
A/N II: The offer of stories stands until New Year's. If you'd like a story of your own, click on the link in my profile for details on how to claim it.