Title: The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Author: Jeanine (jeanine@iol.ie)

Rating: PG

Pairing: Sara/Warrick

Feedback: Makes my day

Disclaimer: If it was in the show, it's not mine.

Archive: At my site Checkmate , Fanfiction.net; anywhere else, please ask.

Summary: Sara thinks about the meaning of the holidays.

***

I was never really a big fan of Christmas until a few years ago. I know that sounds odd to most people, but with parents like mine, who viewed it as one big slice of commercialism to be avoided, Christmas was just never a big thing when I was a kid. I learned how to live without it, even while the rest of the world seemed to go into overdrive, and it was never a big deal to me to have to work over the holidays, or not be able to go home to see my folks. It was just something that I didn't get, and while I saw everyone enjoying themselves, having a good time, I never felt like I was missing anything.

Now, I see it all too clearly.

The first time I ever celebrated Christmas was the first year that Warrick and I were dating, when he insisted that I come to his grandmother's house. I balked at first, because we hadn't been together a month, and I was really afraid that we were going too far too fast. But he wasn't going to take no for an answer, and wasted no time in telling me that Grams wouldn't either, so that's where we ended up. I have never been as nervous for anything in my life, changing my clothes five times before he picked me up, but the second I met Grams, the warm welcome she gave me, all my fears evaporated. We exchanged gifts - to my surprise, both Warrick and Grams had presents for me, Warrick's a gold chain that I loved, and from Grams, a silver picture frame that sits in pride of place on the mantelpiece today, a photo of Warrick and me inside it. Then it was off to church - another surprise for me - where I tried not to notice the curious gazes I attracted, tried not to blush every time Grams pointed me out to someone as "Warrick's girl." I wasn't the only one trying not to blush though; Warrick was squirming most uncomfortably beside me, which strangely enough, made me feel better.


We had dinner when we came back from church, turkey and all the trimmings for them, a vegetarian lasagne for me, the recipe of which Grams had tracked down from a neighbours whose son was also vegetarian. I told her she shouldn't have gone to so much trouble, and she told me that it wasn't any trouble - and I know that's what people always say when you say something like that to them, but Grams really made me believe it. The only hint of disharmony the entire day was when I insisted on helping with the washing up over Grams's strong objections, but even that didn't last long, ending when she threw her hands up, declaring that I was just as stubborn as Warrick. Quick as a flash, Warrick reminded her that he didn't get it from nowhere, which had her turning a not-so-friendly glare on him before the three of us broke into laughter.

We didn't stay too long after that, because both of us had to be at work that night, and had to get some sleep before we did. We left around five in the evening, Grams hugging both of us, insisting that I come again soon, and I hugged her back, told her that I'd like that. Warrick came back to my place then, where we fell into bed, hoping to catch a few hours sleep before we had to be at work. The last thing I remember before falling asleep is Warrick asking me if I'd enjoyed myself, and I confidently told him that it had been the best Christmas ever.

The next year, I fully expected a repeat performance of that year, and that's what Warrick promised me. I talked to Grams beforehand, heard of her plans, how she was trying out a new recipe for my Christmas dinner, and before I could say anything, she reassured me that it wasn't any trouble, that she was having a ball trying out all these new dishes. I was thinking about that on Christmas Eve as I walked through the lab, hardly able to believe how much things had changed for me in little more than a year, when my thoughts were interrupted by a hand gripping my wrist, dragging me into an empty office. I was quite shocked, more than a little freaked out if the truth be known, until I saw a pair of green eyes that I recognised, saw his smile right before his lips landed on mine. It was a long, hard kiss, safety ensured when he pressed me up against the door, so no-one could open it from the outside. I, who had always been so intent on not carrying on like this at work, who gave him hell every time he tried, for once happily lost all track of time, and when he pulled away from me, it took me a second to deliver my usual line. "We shouldn't be doing this here," I told him, with nowhere near my usual amount of conviction, and he shrugged, gave me a lopsided smile.

"I wanted to give you your Christmas present," he told me, a statement that had me raising an eyebrow.

"It's not Christmas yet," I told him, and he reached down to my arm, held up my wrist to me.

"Check again," he said, and looking at my watch, I realised that he was right, that it was just past midnight.

I looked up at him, intending to give him a sassy reply, but it died on my lips when I saw the way he was looking at me. Frowning, I was just about to ask him what was wrong when he reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a ring. I couldn't speak, and he didn't say anything for a long moment, until he cleared his throat, the sound almost deafening in the empty room. "It was Grams's…" he told me. "Sara… will you marry me?"

There was another, longer, moment where I still couldn't speak.

Then I found the wherewithal to say yes.

Warrick's first impulse was to tell everyone, but I quashed that, knowing that there was one person who should know first. She cried, then she nearly ran us out the door so we could get to church early and she could tell everyone, so that for the second year in a row, we were the object of scrutiny, both of us happy and embarrassed at the same time. The feeling didn't go away when we got to the lab, where we told everyone before the start of shift, calling Catherine, who was at home with Lindsey, from the break room. At the end of the shift, Grissom caught us on the way out, called us into his office, and we were freaked, so sure that he was going to tell us that we wouldn't be able to work together anymore. Nothing of the sort though; instead, there was as many people from the graveyard shift as could fit in, all of them toasting us with paper cups of champagne, thoughtfully supplied by Grissom.

I thought that nothing could beat that, but the next Christmas certainly did. For some reason, we decided that Christmas would be a perfect time to get married, so we exchanged vows on the shortest day of the year, December 21 st. My parents came to town for the wedding, the idea of me marrying on the winter solstice really tickling their fancy, and Grams and all the rest of the graveyard shift were there to wish us well. We considered going away immediately for our honeymoon, decided against it when we realised that there was nowhere else we'd rather be on Christmas Day than in Grams's house, so that's where we were, and if anything, that day was even more special than usual, because now I didn't just feel like part of the family, I really was. The fact that we didn't have to go to work made it even better, and we stayed over in Grams's house on Christmas Eve night, waking at seven in the morning, just like he had when he was a child, spending the day doing everything that we'd done for the previous two years, except that that time, we didn't have to leave in the afternoon, could stay there all night, going around to the various neighbourhood houses with Grams before going to bed that night, tired, but happy.

Last Christmas, our second Christmas as a married couple, should have been just as wonderful, even if we were both working. Once again, we were spending the day with Grams, and I was really looking forward to it. It was just a shame, therefore, that I spent half of the day running to the bathroom, the victim of the most horrendous bout of morning sickness known to man. I could hardly eat my dinner, spending most of the day lying on the couch, alternatively praying for the nausea to stop and glaring at Warrick, who, along with Grams, spent most of the day casting worried glances at me. I felt so bad that day that I actually called in sick, something that I never do, and Warrick went into work without me, fielded enquiries about my welfare for the entire shift. That was as bad as things got; I was almost at the end of my first trimester by then, and the old wives' tales about morning sickness vanishing then proved mercifully true in my case. Still though, that definitely ranks up there as one of the worst Christmases that I can remember having.

This Christmas though, looks like it's going to be one of the best. It's Christmas morning now, almost time for us to clock off, and I'm not even pretending to work. Instead, I'm sitting in the break room, playing chess with Greg, both of us paying more attention to the clock on the wall. In a few minutes, Warrick will come in here, will sit down beside me, put his arm around me, despite the fact that Greg is sitting in front of us, and will undoubtedly make several comments about it. We won't care though, neither of us, because he'll take me by the hand and we'll walk out of here together, to go to Grams's house. When we get there, she'll already be up, and she'll have in her arms our daughter, Emma, named after her. She's six months old now, with her daddy's eyes, and a pile of presents underneath the three, most of them from our colleagues at the lab, who seem to have adopted her as the graveshift mascot. We'll have breakfast and open presents, and then we'll go to church, where once again, all eyes will be on us, with Emma the centre of attention. After that, we'll go back to Grams's, have dinner, and we'll stay there before falling into bed, Emma in her crib across the room from us.

Once there, it won't take long before we fall asleep, and I will do so with a smile on my face, thinking back not only on this day, but also on the Christmases that have lead up to it, and I'll know then what I didn't know when I was a child; that Christmas really is the most wonderful time of the year.