Title: The Best Days of Life

Author: CSIBuckeye

Rating: T

Pairing: GSR

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: I don't even own all these words, let alone CSI or its fantastic characters. No infringement intended.

Notes: There just aren't enough thanks in the world for my superbeta. You're the best D! Without you, I would have copped out for sure.

Written for the Summer Reading Ficathon at Geekfiction, Prompt: Albert Camus, who was a total challenge for me!

He probably should have noticed it sooner. But he was distracted, completely engrossed in the latest case file in his hands. Maneuvering through the chaos of CSI headquarters while reading reports had become second nature and he'd made it all the way to his chair before he glanced up to find the alien visage staring back at him.

The bright blue 51's hat was sitting directly atop his desk calendar, and when he picked it up to allow a closer examination, he discovered two tickets to Saturday night's game tucked inside. He smiled as he absently began adjusting the fit of the band. Slipping the hat on, he was working on folding the right bend into the bill when he felt her presence behind him. It wasn't the click of heels or a whiff of perfume that gave her away. It was simply her, and he simply knew.

She relaxed against the side of the doorframe, her smile growing as she watched him don the cap. There was something about seeing him in a baseball hat that just made her feel happy. It was a snapshot into his past, a glimpse of the boy she'd never known in the man she loved, and the warmth of the moment permeated her like sunshine.

"We're going to a baseball game?" He turned to her, still fiddling with the hat.

"That genius reputation is certainly well deserved," she said with a chuckle.

"I don't want to be a genius – I have enough problems just trying to be a man."

"Well I don't know about Camus, but you do a pretty good job being both. And yes, we're going to a baseball game," she said.

"Really?"

"Well, someone once told me it was a beautiful game." She'd been curious about his affinity for baseball ever since he'd first made that comment and her own interest in the sport had increased tenfold as a result. She'd gone about it like the scientist she was, getting a book on the rules and history of the game. She'd even taken notes on several games she'd watched on TV. But the more she learned about Grissom, the more she suspected that his love went way beyond the science and the stats. She suspected it had everything to do with his past, and she was hoping there would be enough magic in these nine innings together, for him to share some of it with her.

Walking into Cashman Field, they found they had their pick of general admission seats and Grissom settled them into the bleachers down the first base line. Apparently most people had more exciting entertainment in mind for a Saturday night in Vegas than catching the local Minor League ball game. Calling to a vendor, he purchased a hot dog for himself, adding stadium mustard and ketchup in the ratio he'd perfected over a lifetime of games.

"Are you really going to eat that?"

"Oh, yeah," he smiled, holding the finished product up for her inspection. "This is no ordinary processed meat product."

"Oh really?" She pursed her lips together to suppress her smile.

"This…is a ballpark dog. The buns are steamed, the hot dogs are grilled, and it never tastes as good as it does at a game," he smiled before taking an enormous bite.

She smiled broadly as she watched his contented feast; there really was a little boy in there somewhere. As the sun began to sink behind a bank of lights, the breeze kicked up, fluttering the program on Grissom's lap. Sara laughed as he flipped open his guide with one hand and popped the rest of his dog in his mouth with the other just as the loud speaker came to life.

"Leading off and playing second base, #7 Sparks Bailey."

But as he started to pencil in the lineup he noticed a young boy and his father edging into seats a few rows in front of him. He watched the boy bounce up and down on the balls of his feet while pointing out one thing after another to his dad. After a moment Grissom let his gaze fix on a spot somewhere over their heads, somewhere in another time as a faint smile played at the edges of his mouth.

Sara never took her eyes off him. His smile slowly melted away leaving behind only a wistful shadow on his face, and an empty ache inside her. "Take me there," she whispered.

"Where?" He turned to her, his brows knit in confusion.

"Wherever you just went."

In her eyes he found the only encouragement he needed. He smiled as he turned back to face the field. "I was about his age," gesturing to the excited youngster in front of him, "When my dad took me to my first Major League game." His eyes slid closed as the memory engulfed him, "We were visiting relatives in Chicago…"

He studied the white knuckles on his hands, wondering if it was possible for his tendons to actually pop. Holding onto the smudged rails for dear life, the lurching train did it's best to dislodge him, but it really only succeeded in adding to his excitement. At each stop more people pressed around him, packing in so tightly that he was almost lifted off his feet. Not that it mattered. He was pretty sure he was already walking on air.

When the doors opened, he was lost in a sea of blue that he couldn't see over, even on his tip toes. Holding tightly to his dad's hand, he trusted that he would be swept along to the Promised Land…Wrigley Field. The throng of people washed him through the turnstiles and into the underbelly of the stadium. His dad led him past the vendors on the way to their assigned section, smells morphing from spicy sausage to popcorn to the sweetness of cotton candy. And he breathed deeply as they went, filling his lungs and his memory, knowing that for him, this is what heaven would smell like.

Climbing the concrete stairs, he emerged into the sunshine of a perfect summer afternoon. He blinked as his eyes adjusted, and then he blinked in disbelief. Standing completely still he could feel his heart race as he tried to take it all in: the flags snapping in the wind over the giant green scoreboard, the ivy covered bricks running the length of the outfield wall, the pristine white of the bases against the rich brown of the infield dirt. A deep laugh snapped him out of his reverie and his dad reached down to tousle his unruly curls. He looked up into the blue of his own eyes as his chest swelled with gratitude and he knew without question that this was the best day of his life.

Smiling broadly he turned to meet her eyes again, "And the Cubs beat the Cards 9-3, just for me." Almost immediately though, the smile faltered. "A week later, he was gone. That was a lifetime ago but every time I watch a game, I can feel him." He glanced back at the boy again, "Sometimes it makes me feel sad, and I wonder how different things might have been. But most of the time I just feel lucky to have shared that day with him."

Sara tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat, "When I look back on today, I know that's exactly how I'll feel." It was everything that she'd been hoping for, but it was so much more than she'd expected. He was still such a mystery sometimes, but that only served to make each moment he shared with her that much more valuable and precious.

Grissom turned, and gently cupping her chin with his fingers tilted her face up to his. And as he brought his lips to hers, he understood something he hadn't as a boy, he was allowed more than one best day. In the warm softness of her kiss he could taste both his past and his future, and he found the strength to embrace them both.

The End