A CSI Christmas Carol
by Joan Powers
A/N: I've been toying with this idea for a while, being a big fan of Dicken's "A Christmas Carol". I saw a way to tie this in with Sara leaving and had to try it out. Thanks to Michele aka griot for the speedy beta.
Summary: Grissom isn't coping well with Sara's absence. Can his spiritual guides help him on Christmas Eve?
Type: angst/ fluff/GSR
Timeline/Spoilers: Season 8 up to Good Bye and Good Luck
Rating: K/PG
"Go ahead. Be a Scrooge," Greg muttered angrily, practically colliding with Brass who had been hovering in the doorway of Grissom's office.
Brass cautiously stepped aside as Greg stormed past him. From his brief moment of inadvertent eavesdropping, Brass had an inkling of what had just transpired between the two men even though Grissom's expression was inscrutable.
"Everything okay?" he tested the waters, entering the office.
"Yeah."
It was like trying to squeeze water from a stone. Brass would've almost welcomed some of Grissom's more loquacious discourse on blind men and elephants or some seemingly random Shakespeare quote. Anything was better than this. Since Sara had left, Grissom had slowly shut down. He'd talk about a case but most attempts at personal conversation were rebuffed.
Still, Brass couldn't resist.
"Cancelling the office Christmas party? That's cold. Maybe you don't want to celebrate the holiday but why penalize those who do?" As expected, his attempt was ignored.
Brass settled into a chair, knowing Grissom wouldn't welcome what he'd come for.
"Get your coat Gil. Time to go home."
That got a brief flash of reaction – something flickered behind those impassive eyes.
"What are you talking about? Shift starts in a few hours."
"Yeah. Without you."
Grissom made no effort to stir from his desk which was covered with paperwork. "I always work Christmas Eve – it's tradition. My gift to the team – allowing them to spend time with their loved ones."
"And I'm sure they appreciate that. But you've worked extended shifts all week." His nose wrinkled as he critically examined Grissom's rumpled oxford. "Aren't those the same clothes you wore for last night's shift? You haven't been home at all – have you? That's not good. And it's against regulations. Get your coat. You're going home if I have to drag you there."
Earlier, Catherine had shanghaied Brass dragging him into her office. She pleaded with him to intervene. Grissom was beyond the point where her powers of persuasion would be effective.
Grissom looked up, testing Brass' resolve. "Who will be on? Catherine wants to be with Lindsey, and I'm sure the guys have plans."
"Nice try, but not your concern. Let's go." The firmness of his tone discouraged further conversation.
Grissom sighed and collected his gear. Grabbing his coat, he approached the door and Brass followed.
"I can drive myself home."
"I know. Just making sure you leave the building."
XXXXXXXXX
The sun was sinking in the horizon as Grissom drove home. Many elaborately decorated homes already had their light displays glowing. He ignored them. Christmas was irritating. He'd never been much into holidays in the first place and had absolutely no desire to be reminded of the upcoming one. Pulling into his driveway, he noticed that his neighbor's festive decorations only served to emphasize the starkness of his own abode.
After greeting the dog, he fished some microwavable bean burritos out of the freezer, trying not to think about who had originally purchased them. Not that he was exceptionally hungry. But Scotch on an empty stomach was a bad idea. The burritos didn't improve much upon heating, the texture resembling cardboard. Yet he managed to choke down several bites. Midway through he gave up, tossing the rest to the dog who gleefully wolfed it down.
Pouring a glass of Scotch, he turned on the gas fire place and settled in a nearby recliner. He'd been avoiding the fireplace because Sara had adored it. It was one of the reasons they'd bought this house together. In fact he'd been avoiding the house entirely, for it only reminded him of his folly.
As the alcohol and warmth of the fire began to work on him, his eye lids grew heavy. Unfortunately, his thoughts wouldn't allow him to sleep just yet.
She left you, just like you thought she would.
She did not – she's coming back. She said so in her letter.
How do you know that? Have you called her lately?
She hasn't called me.
And why bother. Ultimately it had been an excuse to leave him. He'd half heartedly attempted to collect her things, to rid the house of her presence. But he couldn't follow through with it.
His eye lids started to close. All those extended shifts had taken a toll on him. He didn't bother to go to the bedroom, not wanting to deal with that overly large bed. He dozed off in the recliner.
XXXXXXX
"Grissom, wake up!"
He must be dreaming for when he opened his eyes, Phillip Gerard was standing in his living room in front of the blazing fire.
"Gil"
Grissom straightened up in the chair. "What are you doing here?" It was Phillip Gerard but something was wrong. His skin tone was sallow, or perhaps that was an illusion due to the dim lighting in the room. Wait a minute - was he covered in blood spatter? If Grissom were more alert, he could've analyzed the pattern to determine what type of accident the man had been in.
"I'm here to help you."
Grissom was still disoriented. He must've had too much to drink. "I need help? How did you get in here?"
"That's not important. What's more important is your welfare."
"Uh-huh." Grissom was skeptical. Then his synapses started firing better. "Didn't you get into a nasty situation?"
He frowned, "I've made mistakes – just like you."
It was coming back to Grissom. He'd heard the details on the news. "Yeah, but I never sold out my integrity. Making the evidence suite the needs of the client – you ought to be ashamed of yourself."
Gerard confessed, "I am. I'd gotten away with it for such a long time I got careless and it caught up with me. It was humiliating." He shuddered. "That's why my spirit isn't at rest."
"Your spirit?"
He nodded solemnly. "I took my life last night. As part of my penance for the bad deeds I've done, I'm here to help you."
Grissom sputtered, "I have no intention of selling out like you did."
"No, you've given up on other far more important things. Hope, joy and love."
He scoffed – those things weren't real. Or maybe they had been but were only fleeting in nature like some elusive butterfly.
"Have you even called her?" Gerard asked.
Grissom didn't respond.
"Why have you given up?"
He stared into the flames of the fire.
"Tonight you will be visited by three spirits who will guide you and hopefully persuade you to avoid making more costly mistakes."
Grissom passed out in the recliner.
XXXXXXXXXXX
The chiming of the mantel clock woke him. In a daze, he pried his eyes open. His living room was elaborately decorated for Christmas. Evergreen boughs and candles festooned the mantel, along with all other available flat surfaces. An immense bushy evergreen tree covered with lights and crammed with shiny colored ornaments sat nearby. Ornately wrapped gifts were piled underneath the tree. A man clad in dress slacks and a red reindeer sweater stood before him.
"Nick? What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that?"
He stepped forward, "I'm your first spirit guide. I've come to show you Christmas past." He reached towards Grissom's hand which was promptly withdrawn.
"We're going to visit past Christmas times." Sensing Grissom's resistance, Nick advised, "I'm not leaving until I accomplish what needs to be done."
Reluctantly Grissom rose. "Don't I need a coat or something?"
"No, take my hand."
Grissom complied.
Their surroundings blurred. Grissom felt slightly nauseous as his guide transported him to a different time and place. This living room had holiday decorations which weren't as fancy as those just seen in his current home but they were simple and equally stunning. Blue and white ornaments composed primarily of glass hung on the tree as white lights sparkled. Similarly colored coordinated stockings hung on the mantel. Snowflakes were the unifying theme, featured on the stockings, ornaments and various brick a brack, including a small crystalline snowflake statute.
"Mom always loved a theme."
"She'd pick a different one each year, wouldn't she?"
Grissom nodded, remembering that some had worked better than others. He hadn't been as impressed with the Renaissance Madonna motif but the angels had been lovely. As a child, he would've preferred Santa or reindeers yet those were too common place for his mother.
Grissom's breath caught for his father had entered the room. "She stopped after he died." He cautiously stepped closer to him.
Nick assured him, "He can't see you. We're merely shadows watching past events. We can't change them."
His mother followed, bringing a silver tray filled with luscious pastries.
"Mom couldn't cook but she knew the best bakeries in town."
A much younger version of Grissom raced in, grabbed an éclair and stuffed it in his mouth, attempting to tackle it in one bite.
"Slow down Gil, there's plenty for everyone," his mother assured him.
Grissom explained to Nick, "It was the only night we could have dessert before dinner. We'd have pastries then go to Midnight mass. After that we'd have smoked salmon." He smiled in spite of himself. "Kids used to make fun of the fact that we never had turkey or ham, but I didn't care."
The family gathered round the coffee table, nibbling pastries.
"But everything changes, doesn't it?" Nick stated.
"Yes," Grissom became withdrawn again. "After Dad died, it wasn't the same. Mom tried, for my sake, but her heart wasn't in it."
As Grissom wistfully watched the happy family, Nick touched his forearm. "It's time to go. We have other places to visit."
Their surroundings became foggy again as they traversed through time to another Christmas. Once again, they were in Grissom's living room. A small tree with blue and white ornaments sat near the fireplace. Sara was hanging an ornament on a branch when the door opened to reveal Grissom from a year ago.
He stiffened.
"Surprise! I hope you like it," she grinned.
He removed his coat as he replied, "I thought you weren't into decorating."
"I remembered what you said about your mother and her themes. I'm sure this is no where near as nice but I thought it might be fun."
He admired the tree then put his arm on her shoulder, "It's wonderful." Then he kissed her cheek. "But you didn't have to go to so much trouble."
"Hey, you can't be a home owner and not have a Christmas tree." She grinned again. "I got you a present."
"There's more?"
She nodded eagerly.
"Can't it wait until Christmas morning when I give you your gift?"
"Nope. It's too hard to wrap. It's something else that a house needs." She put her fingers to her lips to whistle. A large boxer puppy scampered towards them, and leapt to tackle Grissom, bringing him down on his knees.
Knocked off balance, the dog licked Grissom's face. "What's this?"
Sara knelt beside the two. "You said you wanted to 'partake more in the experiment of life'. What better way than to take care of an animal? Isn't he cute?"
Grissom patted the dog while trying to move away from his tongue. "He's great. What should we call him?"
"Hank?" she playfully suggested.
Grissom shot her a dirty look. "No. I like Bruno."
"He looks like a Bruno. Bruno it is."
A rustling in the kitchen sent Bruno dashing to investigate.
Grissom moved closer to Sara. "Can I thank you for such wonderful gifts?"
"Not necessary."
"How about I unwrap the best gift of all?" He kissed her while unbuttoning her blouse. The two of them lay down on the rug before the fireplace, kissing and continuing to peel off layers of clothing.
Nick stepped closer, eying the couple with interest.
Current day Grissom objected, "Hey! That's private!"
XXXXXXX
The mantel clock chimed again, waking Grissom. He was half afraid to open his eyes. But he did.
Once again, his living room was transformed into a Christmas bonanza with gold and red being the predominate colors. The tree, the lights, the mantle – the works. There was even a miniature train traveling around his living room.
Greg was standing before him, garbed in what could only be considered a fancy elf outfit. He wore snug black velvet pants with a well tailored Brocade tunic, brown suede boots and a red velvet hat. Jingle bells were some how incorporated into the outfit, though their sound was a gentle tinkling rather than the typical harsh rasping.
"Merry Christmas!" Greg greeted him.
"Is this payback for earlier?" Grissom asked groggily.
"I'm your spirit guide for Christmas present. Come – let's visit some places."
Knowing the drill, Grissom touched his sleeve.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
"C'mon Mom. This is lame," Lindsay sulked.
Catherine, Lindsay and her mother were awkwardly seated about their rarely used dinning room table. Catherine was busily taking iced Christmas tree cookies out of a package to display on a snowman plate.
Full of cheer, she exclaimed, "It's nice to do something as a family for a change. That's what the holidays are all about – being with the people you love."
"Don't you think it's a little late for that? And there's this party…" Lindsay attempted to explain. A cautious glance from Grandma cut her short.
"I even went to the trouble of getting us some Christmas goodies. Who wants egg nog?" Catherine tried to drum up enthusiasm within the group.
Lindsay made a face. "Gross Mom."
"How about you?" Catherine asked her mother.
With effort the older woman replied, "Sure dear."
Catherine bustled into the kitchen to pour the drinks. Upon returning with them, she sank into a chair, took a sip of egg nog and claimed, "Isn't this nice?"
Grissom noticed a conspiratorial look exchanged between Grandma and Lindsay.
"So, should we play a game? Or maybe you want to tell us about the new boys in school?"
Lindsay shuddered. "Mom…"
Then Catherine's phone rang. She checked the display. "It's work. I'll be back in one minute. Don't move." She stepped into the kitchen for some privacy.
"What is it Greg?"
"The decorations are in a box in the back of the break room."
"What do you mean you don't have any rum? What's egg nog without rum?"
"Go to my office. Top desk drawer. Just between you and me, right?"
"Have fun."
When she returned, Lindsay had gone and her mother was putting on her coat.
"What?"
"Honey, this is the way it always goes. We plan something and then you get a call from work and disappear for hours, sometimes days. It's part of the job, we know, but you didn't expect us to put our lives on hold waiting around for you?"
Open mouthed, wanting to protest, Catherine struggled for words. Then she gave up.
"Go."
Next Greg took them to the break room at the lab. Unlike previous years, it was crowded with staff and their guests. Garland had been generously strung about the room and the table was laden with holiday goodies. A tacky fake silver tree that had seen better days sat on the refreshment table as the radio blasted "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas".
Grissom scowled. "I told them not to do this."
"That's right. But is it fair to deny them their Christmas just because you don't want to celebrate? As their supervisor, shouldn't you be concerned about their welfare? This is all impromptu."
Current day Greg stepped into the room.
Grissom was perplexed, "How can you be here and there at the same time?"
"Ah, the wonders of the universe," his spirit guide merely smiled.
Grissom couldn't help but compare the two elf costumes. Greg at the CSI party was clad in a poorly cut green felt tunic worn over a red turtle neck and matching sweat pants. On his feet were pointy slippers comprised of faded quilted material and a fuzzy elf cap covered his head. Grissom gestured towards it with some amusement but his spirit guide just shrugged.
Grissom examined the crowd.
"When did Nick get a girlfriend?"
"A while ago."
"Where's Warrick's wife?"
Greg's eyes widened in disbelief when his real life counterpart interrupted.
"I can't believe Grissom wouldn't let us have this party or even decorate for the holidays. What a Scrooge."
Nick was being charitable, "The guy's been through a lot Greg, be fair. Almost losing Sara and then having her leave so suddenly. You can't blame him for not wanting to celebrate."
"Then why did he let her go? Why didn't he go after her? I sure as hell would've," Greg's irritation increased.
"He just wants her to be happy. Who knows?" Catherine chimed in, her words slurred as she downed the remainder of the egg nog in her glass.
"What happened to family time?" Greg asked.
"Let's not talk about that. Gimme another drink, I'm not on duty tonight." Noticing a handsome new detective across the room, she grinned towards Greg. "I'm not spending Christmas Eve alone." She snatched a sprig of mistletoe and sauntered over towards him.
"There's one more Christmas we need to see."
Once their surroundings became less foggy, he could see Sara, seated on a couch opposite an older woman. His heart leapt into his throat. Involuntarily he reached towards her, then he remembered that wasn't possible.
"She doesn't look good." Always on the thin side, her sweater hung on her. Although Sara never spent excessive time on hair or makeup, she usually looked beautiful to him. Today it was evident she hadn't bothered with either, dark circles clearly rimming her eyes and her hair abruptly pulled back with a clip.
"What are your plans for the holidays?" the woman asked.
Sara shrugged.
"Are you getting together with your mother?" she paused to glance at her notes, "or boyfriend?"
"Boyfriend?" Grissom was hurt.
"I don't know," her voice was listless.
"Family is important. They anchor us, keep us grounded. It's important to touch base with them. It's good you've re-established contact with your mother."
Sara remained quiet.
"I hope that's going well," Grissom said.
"After years of being bounced between prison and mental hospitals, there's not much left to connect with," Greg explained. "They've only met once."
The counselor continued, "You should try to establish a regular visiting routine or phone time with her. Have you been calling your boyfriend too? Emotional support is very important."
She didn't reply.
"Sara, I thought he was important to you."
It was the first sign of animation in her. "He is, it's just…I don't want to drag him into all this. He's been through enough already."
"And what exactly is 'all this'? I sent for your files but I haven't read specifics. I've been waiting for weeks for you to tell me about what happened. Talking about it is a vital part of therapy."
Sara sadly stared out the window.
"You're not going to get better avoiding the situation or by cutting off the people who love you. Life is only going to get worse unless you face your problems."
"I know, I will." Her tone wasn't convincing.
"If you're committed to recovering, why didn't you show up for your last two appointments?"
"I was busy."
"She's lying," Greg interjected.
"What?" Grissom squeaked.
"These sessions are what you make them. May I suggest that in addition to maintaining contact with your support networks that you also try journaling your feelings? Write down what ever comes to your head or chose a specific incident to describe. Bring whatever you write for our next session. That could be productive."
Sara nodded half-heartedly.
Grissom was conflicted, "Why is she being so resistant?"
"It's hard for her to face such unpleasant feelings. It's easier to avoid pain," Greg explained. "You know about that."
"But she isn't trying?" Grissom was almost angry with her.
"Do you honestly think she's in any condition to help herself? To do this completely on her own? You heard the doctor, she needs her support network. She needs the people who love her to help her."
Stubbornly clinging to his pride he claimed, "She left me."
"Is that what she said?"
Words from her letter came back to him, You were my only home.
"Shouldn't two people in a relationship try to help each other out? Isn't that what it's all about?"
XXXXXXX
The chiming woke him for a third time that night. For a change, no festive decorations greeted him, only the glow from the fireplace. A robed specter stood before him, a thin nose pointing through the folds of the hood. Yet the height of this being led Grissom to suspect his identity.
"Ecklie?"
The spirit guide held a finger to his lips.
"Let me guess, we're going to see Christmas future. Lead on."
He stepped forward to touch the figure's robe.
They had returned to Catherine's dining room. She was seated at the table, flipping through boxes containing photos. The style and color of her hair had altered, suggesting some time had passed since present day.
Her mother entered. "Is she coming?"
Catherine didn't look up.
"You did call, didn't you?" The later part was an accusation.
"Mom, if she wanted us in her life, she would've called herself," Catherine huffed back.
"Who's the adult here?"
Catherine rose, "Lindsay is now."
"Your stubbornness will cost you more than you know," her mother warned.
"Hey - I didn't exactly have the greatest parenting example."
Lily's disappointment registered on her face. "I guess I deserved that – but I did the best I could. Can you say that?"
Before she could muster a reply, Catherine's phone interrupted. After listening for a moment, her features displayed shock. "I…gotta go Mom."
Grissom turned to his spirit guide, "Why is she being so stubborn? Doesn't she see that she's pushing Lindsey away?"
His companion said nothing, only lifted the voluminous sleeve of his robe for Grissom to touch.
They were at a residential crime scene that Catherine and Greg were working. Due to minimal lighting, it was difficult for Grissom to immediately discern specifics about his surroundings. Yet it felt familiar.
Immediately Grissom fell into investigator mode, trying to understand what had happened. "There's a lot of blood spatter on the wall. Gun shot wound, most likely fatal. Possibly a homicide or even suicide gauging from the neatness of the room. The holidays can be a tough time."
The spirit put a finger to his lips, requesting silence.
"I never thought it would go this way," Greg said sadly.
Catherine shook her head, "You never know what life's gonna give you." Her voice was hoarse.
"You think you know someone."
"C'mon, we never really knew him. He'd never allow that to happen, especially after…." Her voice faded off.
"Did you know he had a dog? I never would've suspected that."
Catherine pretended to listen to Greg's ramblings as she snapped photos.
"I would've thought him to be more of a fish guy. Easier to take care of - especially when you work marathon shifts. I'm shocked that he actually has such a nice house."
He paused to label a sample then continued. "Or maybe even a cat. They're low maintenance. Just food, water and scoop the box once in a while. You can leave them for days on end and they're fine. I just don't get a dog. They require serious upkeep – what?"
Catherine had frozen.
"Did you find one?" Greg rushed over towards.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she handed the paper over to Greg. Grissom rushed over to read it over Greg's shoulder.
Having realized his whereabouts and the identity of the victim, Grissom was expecting some type of prose or witty quotation. Instead it read, "She's really gone."
"No!" Grissom cried.
"Is there any family to contact?" Greg asked.
"I don't think so. I'll make the arrangements. It's the least that he'd let me do."
XXXXXXXXXXXX
They were on a rocky path near a beach at night. The waves were crashing so loudly against the jagged rocks it would've been difficult to hold a conversation had his guide been the least bit talkative. Somehow the motion was fascinating to observe. A solitary figure sat on the path, enjoying the spectacle. She took a drink from a dark bottle.
"Sara?"
Only the stars and faint crescent of the new moon illuminated the sky. It was her. Her hair hung in limp tendrils. She continued to watch the waves.
"She once told me the ocean was comforting. That she used to run to the beach when her parents started to argue or threaten her."
Then she rose and stepped closer to the edge of the cliff.
"What are you doing?" Grissom asked with growing alarm.
Sara deliberately stepped over the edge to fall into the maelstrom of the ocean.
"NO!"
He begged, "Spirit, does it have to be this way? Can anything be changed? How can it be changed? What do I have to do to fix this?"
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Grissom woke up abruptly on the recliner. It was finally morning. He scrambled for his cell phone, trying Sara's number. When there was no answer, he automatically closed it. Remembering the vision, he tried again.
"Sara, it's me. I miss you and I need to know how you're doing. Call me. Anytime." After a brief pause, he added, "I love you."
He wasn't sure what to do but he had to find her. He was ready to pack his bags and drive to California. Yet not knowing her location that could result in a wild goose chase. He needed help.
He made a second call. "Jim. Sorry to bother you. I need your help. I need you to locate Sara. I…can't do this anymore. I need her."
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Grissom was hanging ornaments on a rather scrawny looking spruce tree which he'd set up on top of a coffee table by the fireplace.
After making some calls, Jim had tracked Sara to a motel in southern California. Hearing the desperation in Grissom's voice that morning, Brass took it upon himself to contact her. Although she was avoiding Grissom's calls, she took his. His arguments along with Grissom's multiple impassioned voice mail messages convinced her that Grissom wanted to see her, regardless of her condition. Brass suggested that Grissom could drive to California but Sara decided that she'd rather return to Vegas.
She would be arriving any minute.
They hadn't spoken yet, wanting to save their conversation for when they were finally face to face. Grissom would've been happy to pick her up at the airport yet both preferred to avoid a public reunion that was bound to be emotional. Brass had offered to ferry her to his home.
Grissom had done his best to create a holiday mood. He'd also put some effort into his appearance - showering and dressing with more care than he had in the past weeks. She opened the front door.
There was an awkward moment neither entirely sure what to do, Sara hanging by the doorway and Grissom by the tree. Bruno filled in the moment, dashing madly towards Sara, jumping up to cover her face with kisses.
"No fair," Grissom cautiously grinned.
Pushing Bruno aside, she said, "You're next." They met midway and embraced then sat on the couch together.
"You decorated," she examined his efforts.
"It's a sad looking tree. But I did the best I could on such short notice. I found the ornaments you bought last year. You brought something too."
She placed the white box on the table beside them. "I remembered how you described Christmas with your family so I picked up some pastries."
He put his arm around her shoulder. Part of him was content with just this moment – to hold her in the here and now. He didn't want to ruin it. But the disturbing vision the spirit guide had shown him haunted him and prompted him to speak.
"Why didn't you call?" He hated the naked emotion in his voice.
She avoided his eyes, "I wanted to. But…things haven't changed much. Why did you stop calling?"
"I was scared. I didn't think you wanted to talk to me anymore. Maybe I reminded you too much of the past and the things you were trying to escape. Maybe you needed to start fresh and get rid of your old life."
"That's not true!" she objected. "I…I..." Flustered, she couldn't put her reasons into words. "I still feel like I'm…damaged."
"Why would I not want to see you or talk to you because of that? Look what you've been through Sara. It's going to take time to recover. And didn't you think I'd want to know what's going on with you? I know you feel you have to fight your demons alone. I understand that. But I want to be by your side while you do it. If you need to be in California, I'll take time off and go with you. I don't have to go to your sessions but I can help. It's been…so hard without you."
"That wouldn't be fair to you. Why should you give up part of your life for me?"
"Sara, you are my life. Besides, who says I'd be giving up much of anything? I want to be with you. This past month and a half has shown me that my life is empty and meaningless without you. I want to help you feel better and I'm willing to do whatever it takes. I have no idea how to help but I'm not going to let you leave here without me again."
Tears brimmed in her eyes and she smiled. "Maybe we could work something out." She sniffed and wiped her eyes with back of her hand. "I'm just so used to dealing with everything alone…I don't know how to handle this. I don't want to burden you. It doesn't seem fair."
Grissom insisted, "But you're not alone anymore. Isn't that what people in relationships do? Help each other out?"
She considered his words.
"Look, it's new for me too. Think about it, would you take off if I was involved in an accident or was hospitalized? Of course not. You are not a burden. I don't want to be without you."
Her voice wavered, "I don't know how long this is going to take. I might not ever be the same again. Are you sure about this?"
Good old Sara, always providing him with an escape loophole. He didn't fall for it this time. "Absolutely."
"Okay." She tentatively smiled and kissed him.
Grissom moved to grasp a small package from underneath the tree. Brass had truly amazed him on such short notice. He needed to think of an appropriate gift for him. Omaha steaks and fine bourbon didn't seem like enough.
"I didn't have a chance to get anything but the pastries," her cheeks grew red. "Brass made the one stop on the way from the airport. I wasn't thinking."
"That's okay."
She opened to the box to find a diamond ring.
"It's beautiful." She tried it on. "Are you sure? I don't know how long it's going to take for me to recover."
"That ring is to show you how committed I am to this relationship – sick or well. You are my fiancée and you will be my wife."
She smiled and they kissed again.
THE END
The hell with canon, Hank is a stupid name for their dog.
Merry Christmas everyone!