A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for the lovely and talented Aussieforgood. Aussie, you are a fabulous friend who always knows exactly when to give me a kick in the ass. Thank you so much for all your help and support. I hope you have a fantastic birthday! You've earned the right to celebrate!

This fic is seasonal, and also proves a point to the lovely Aussie. I hope you enjoy.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

I don't own CSI or Tiffany's.

23 December 2007

She knew that she shouldn't be surprised.

She had never had good timing.

She had applied for her first job one day after they had hired someone to fill the empty position. She had walked into the hospital to see her boyfriend together with his other girlfriend, yet refused to acknowledge what she had seen. She had left for work ten minutes early only to be stuck in traffic for twenty.

She had met Gil Grissom when she was twenty-six and just beginning her career and he was forty-one and well-established in his; and moving to a new state didn't seem like an option for either of them. She had had a breakdown that sent her running from him only weeks after agreeing to marry him.

Yet, of all the times her timing had been off, only one memory truly stood out: When she had gotten a cold that had developed into laryngitis two days before she was scheduled to address her high school graduating class as valedictorian.

That one was currently hitting far too close to home.

"Maybe I shouldn't come," Grissom said uncertainly. "You need to rest."

"No!" Sara exclaimed, using far more force than she should have to push the word through her reluctant throat. She dissolved into a coughing fit. "I'm fine," she choked out. "It's just a cold. I want to see you."

"I want to see you, too, honey, but I don't want you to get any worse. You sound terrible as it is."

"Thanks," Sara said dryly. "You really know how to compliment a girl, Griss."

"Sara …"

"I'm teasing. But, if you don't come, I'll never forgive you. I'll be at the airport to pick you up tomorrow afternoon. If you don't get off that plane, we're going to have problems."

"You're really sure you want me to come?"

Sara sighed. "If you ask me one more time … Wait. Is this all about you? Are you afraid you'll get my cold if you come? Is it too much of a risk for you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't get colds."

"I'm being ridiculous? You're ridiculous! Everyone gets colds!"

"I don't," he insisted. "I'm immune."

"No one is immune to colds."

"But, I am."

"Oh," Sara said, "I had no idea I was talking to the king of cold immunity."

Grissom chuckled. "I haven't had a cold in years. I don't know about being the king, but my resistance is very high. I just don't want to risk you getting worse."

"Oh, Griss, life is all about the risks. Come on. I'm already sick, and, assuming you're right about this cold immunity thing, you won't get sick. There's no reason for you not to come." She bit her lip and decided to pull out the big guns. "It won't be Christmas if we don't get to spend it together."

"Okay, okay," he said, his tone changing as her words to got him. "You're right. It's Christmas. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good," she said, feeling some of the tension beginning to lift. "I love you."

The smile in his voice traveled across the phone lines. "I love you, too. Get some rest."

"I will."

"And drink plenty of fluids."

"I will."

"And make sure you're eating enough protein."

"Sweetheart, you have a PhD, not an MD. Back off."

Grissom laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sara."

"Bye."

Sara put her phone down and promptly sneezed. Shaking her head, she reached across her bed for the box of tissues that had become her constant companion. Groaning, she blew her nose.

"Why do I always get sick right before big events?" she moaned.

And sneezed again.

The next morning, Sara spent far longer in the bathroom than she normally did. She took a steamy shower to clear her head, then took her time doing her hair the way Grissom liked it. With that accomplished, she began the lengthy process of using makeup to conceal the dark circles under her eyes and redness of her nose. She didn't want him to think she was sicker than she actually was. If she was going to spend her Christmas with him in bed, she didn't want to be there alone, waiting for him to bring her soup.

Her bathroom ritual finished, she pulled on the new jeans and sweater she had purchased specifically to wear during Grissom's visit. After one last glance in the mirror to make sure she looked well-rested, healthy and like the girlfriend Grissom remembered, she grabbed her purse and headed for the airport.

Even though she had left quite early, traffic prevented her from reaching the airport more than a few minutes before Grissom's plane landed. She only had time to get to baggage claim before her phone started to vibrate.

"Hi," she said in excitement. "Where are you?"

"Turn around."

She did as he asked and saw him standing right behind her. A beaming smile crossed her face as she fell into his open arms.

"Oh, Gil, I've missed you so much," she whispered, burying her face in his neck.

"I know," he murmured, pressing kisses against her hair. He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. "Sara … I love you so much."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I love you, too."

He began to lower his lips to hers, but she put her fingers on over his mouth and chin to stop him. He looked at her quizzically.

"Are you sure you want to risk it? You might –"

"I told you, I don't get colds," he interrupted. "And, I did not come all this way to not kiss you."

Smiling, Sara removed her hand and leaned up to kiss him. After a long moment, she pulled back to smile at him.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered.

He smiled and kissed her again. "Merry Christmas."

As Sara had expected, much of the first day of Grissom's visit was spent together in her bed. As Grissom pointed out, they could talk every day, albeit over the phone, but being together like this was a rare luxury.

Darkness had fallen as they lay together, wrapped up in each other's arms. Sara sighed with contentment and kissed Grissom's chest.

"Do you want to go out for dinner?" she asked. "There's a cute little restaurant a few blocks from here. I think you'd like it."

"Mmm," Grissom hummed, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over her shoulder. "Sounds like a good idea. Are you feeling up to going out?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "I'm not an invalid."

"No," Grissom agreed, "I think you've proven that this afternoon."

Sara giggled and tipped her head up to kiss his chin. "So, we should get dressed, then?"

"Yeah," Grissom agreed. He raised his eyebrows. "How about a shower first?"

"Together?"

He gave her a roguish smile. "You read my mind."

Sara climbed out of bed and reached out a hand to him. "Come on. Let's go."

After their long shower, getting dressed seemed almost hurried. Sara darted around trying to find her shoes while Grissom dug through his carry on bag.

"Okay," Sara said at last, sliding her shoes on as she rejoined Grissom in the living room. "I'm ready. You?"

"Almost," he said. "I want to give you your Christmas present before we go."

Sara frowned slightly. "It's Christmas Eve. I thought we'd do that tomorrow."

"I want you to have it tonight … if you want it."

"If I want it?" Sara asked, her frown deepening. "Honey, you're not making much sense."

Grissom took a deep breath and clasped his hands behind his back. "A few months ago, you said that you wanted to marry me," he began. "Then, everything sort of unraveled so quickly, and we never … Well. I don't know what your thoughts are on the subject, but … I still want to marry you. And, if you still want that, too, then I want you to have this."

He extended his hand to reveal a blue velvet jewelry box. Sara was not a jewelry connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination, but she did know that the blue box was a symbol of Tiffany's. Her breath caught in her throat and tears filled her eyes as Grissom opened the box to reveal a simple, gorgeous, diamond solitaire.

She finally tore her eyes from the ring to look up at Grissom's face. He was watching her reaction carefully, obviously holding his breath. Sara's face broke into a smile.

"Yes," she rasped out. "Yes."

Grissom's face lit up. He took the ring from its box and took her left hand in his.

"Euripides said, 'He is not a lover who does not love forever,'" Grissom said softly. He slid the ring onto her finger. "Sara, I love you, and I will love you forever."

Her tears started to fall as she leaned forward to kiss him. "I'll love you forever, too," she whispered.

Saying goodbye was one of the hardest things they had ever done. But, there was nothing they could do to help it. Sara wasn't ready to go back to Vegas, and Grissom wasn't ready to leave it.

"It'll be okay," Grissom said, holding her tightly just outside the security gates. "We'll be together again. It's just for a little while."

"Right," Sara agreed, trying desperately not to cry. "And, we have a wedding to plan now."

"We do," Grissom agreed. He tipped her chin up to look into her eyes. "This isn't forever. We'll find a way to make it work."

Sara nodded and leaned up to kiss him. "You have to go," she said when she broke the kiss. "You're going to miss your flight."

He nodded. "I know." He kissed her once more. "I'm going straight to the lab from the airport, but I'll at least send you a text when I land."

"Okay." Sara hugged him tightly again, burying her face in his shoulder for a moment. "Stay safe."

"And you feel better," he said. "Rest."

"I will," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too."

Grissom kissed the tip of her nose, then released her and picked up his carry on bag. Sara stood and watched as he passed through security. Just before he turned the corner to his gate, he raised his hand to wave goodbye. Sara smiled and waved back.

It wasn't until he turned the corner that she let herself begin to cry.

Grissom felt a tickle in his throat as he boarded the plane. He dismissed it, assuming that he was fighting the urge to tear up at the thought of leaving his Sara behind. What wouldn't he give to have her in the seat beside him, going home with him?

Sighing, he fastened his seatbelt and prepared to wait out the flight back to Las Vegas.

When he landed at McCarran, Grissom turned his phone back on. Almost immediately, it beeped to indicate messages. The first was a text from Sara, telling him to have fun at work. The second was a voicemail from Wendy, telling him that she had DNA on his latest case. The third was a message from Brass, telling him that they had apprehended the lead suspect in one of his cases. The final message was a voicemail from Catherine telling him not to go to the lab, but to go straight to a scene. Nick and Greg were there, but they needed Grissom to document insect activity.

Sighing, he snapped his phone closed. At least he could say that he felt needed.

He stood up to deplane. And sneezed. Three times. Then began coughing.

He frowned. No, it can't be…

It was after midnight when Sara's phone beeped to indicate that she had received a text message. She opened it and saw the message from Grissom.

You were right. No one is immune. Thanks for sharing.

Grinning, Sara sent a message back.

You were right. It was a risky trip.

Her smile only grew wider when she read his reply.

It was worth the risk.