CHRISTMAS WITH THE HOJEMS

No dramas here. Just a little Christmas fluff.

A sequel to "Dilemma". (But you don't have to read Dilemma in order to understand this story. All you need to know is that Karen, one of Greg's sisters, used to torture insects when she was a little girl. Needless to say, she and Gil hated each other on sight.) Oh, and that Greg & Gil's favorite donut place is called 'Loving Bear Donuts.'

Spoilers: In Scuba Dobie-Do, Grissom mentions an uncle called Herb. In Let the Seller Beware, Grissom reveals that Greg's mother's maiden name was Hojem.

This story's told from Gil's POV.

Snow.

It covered every surface in the garden -the ground, the bushes and the trees, and the tall wall that surrounded the property. It altered their shapes and made them beautiful.

The air was clean and crisp, and every time I took a deep breath, my nose hurt. I'd forgotten what it felt like, this cold –so different from the cold of the desert. I'd forgotten how much I loved it.

How much I'd missed it.

Beyond the wall I could see miles and miles of land blanketed in white, and suddenly, I forgot how tired I was. All I wanted was to go out and do a little exploring.

I glanced around. No one was watching me.

Perfect.

I sneaked away. My feet sank in the snow, making every step a struggle, but I was so drawn by the possibility of escape that I quickly made my way towards the gate.

It was locked –not surprisingly; there were little kids playing in the garden, after all.

I shook it, just to make sure. Powdery snow fell, but that was all. According to Greg, papa Olaf had forged the gate himself, and the intricate design was a testimony of the old man's skills. That gate had withstood the passing of time and the rage of the elements, and it was not going to fall just because someone shook it.

I was trapped.

Wistfully, I looked at the landscape beyond papa Olaf's home, there were lonely houses out there, and lonely roads that seemed to disappear into the hills. All I wanted at the moment was to go out and find out where they led to.

It was just the sort of thing I used to do when I was a kid. Armed with a book of Jack London stories, I'd take long walks in the snow and pretend that I was an adventurer looking for gold, a scientist on the brink of some amazing discovery, or just a poor soul trying to survive in the cold.

I know, I know; I was a weird kid.

I'd used my imagination in order to survive my childhood; maybe I could use it again. I closed my eyes and made myself believe that I was not in Minnesota, spending the Christmas holiday with the Hojems. Instead, I was walking in the snow, getting away from it all...

I could almost taste freedom, when all of a sudden, real life intruded. A chorus of shrill voices exploded behind my back.

"Gimme! Gimme!"

"No! I'll tell mommy!"

"No, you won't!"

"Yes, I will!"

"No, you won't!"

"Yes, I will!"

Oh, for God's sake. I couldn't believe kids could sustain entire conversations using variations of the words, 'did not/did too'.

I couldn't believe the amount of questions that a single kid could ask, either. Or the amount of requests that a single kid could make -let alone six. And mostly, I couldn't believe that I'd been baby-sitting those kids for over an hour now.

I shouldn't have come.

It was December 24 and I should have been in Las Vegas, retrieving evidence from some gory, bloody crime scene (there was always a gory, bloody one for Christmas), and interrogating witnesses. Instead, I wasat papa Olaf's old home, freezing my ass while taking care of Greg's nephews, and answering questions like, 'Why is Snow White?' (or trying to, 'til I realized that the kids were only playing jokes on me).

But even when the kids' questions were legitimate, I couldn't help wondering why they didn't simply looked up the answers in a book.

That's what I did when I was a kid.

Of course, there are questions whose answers can't be found in books. Questions like, 'Why did I leave the safety of Las Vegas for the uncertainty of Minnesota?' And mostly, 'Why did I let Greg's sisters do this to me?'

That morning, just as I was finishing breakfast, each of them had come up with the flimsiest of excuses in order to get out of the house. ('Gil, I need to run some errands, could you watch over my kids for a couple of hours? Thanks!' 'Gil, I need to go to town, can I leave Mandy and Candy with you? Thanks!')

Only Karen was honest enough to say, 'I need to get away for a few hours, Gil; if I don't, I'll end up smacking their bottoms until they glow red. Thank you!' She didn't even wait for me to say yes; she just bolted. And all I could think was that if a couple of little kids could rattle Greg's psycho sister, then I was in trouble.

At the time, I'd been looking forward to settling down somewhere quiet, with a book on my lap. But before I could come up with some excuse, I found myself surrounded by six kids, all of them looking up expectantly.

Greg had come to the rescue; he had babysat the children for the last couple of weeks and knew how to keep them entertained. Unfortunately, about an hour ago he'd gone back inside, ostensibly at papa Olaf's request. He hadn't returned yet.

It felt like he'd deserted me.

And now, my patience was running thin.

Perhaps the kids knew, because all of a sudden, their voices died down. I looked around, but they were nowhere in sight. They had to be somewhere close -we were in an enclosed garden, after all- but there were enough places they could hide in.

It was unnerving. I was fed up with their noisy presence, but this absolute silence was worse.

Suddenly, a shrill voice called out.

"Gil, Gil, look!"

"Yes?" I said and I turned.

SPLAT! A snowball hit me full on the face and the kids exploded with laughter. I didn't waste any time brushing off the snow; I crouched and gathered enough snow to make a huge ball that I quickly threw at my attacker, hitting her right on the behind. More laughter followed as they scampered, presumably in case I wanted to give pursuit.

Yeah, right. Like I was going to run after those kids. They were not my responsibility; they were Greg's.

I turned to the gate and once again I tried to imagine I was far, far away. Almost immediately I heard steps. I turned, bracing myself for a renewed snowball attack. Fortunately, it was only Greg.

Unfortunately, seeing me covered with snow seemed to amuse him.

"You look like you ate too many Loving Bear sugar donuts!"

"Hey, Sanders," I said morosely, "Tell your nephews and nieces to take it easy, ok?"

He smirked.

"Don't tell me." He said, brushing the snow off my beard. "Tell it to the man who taught them to throw a snowball with such precision."

Uh, that would be me.

But those kids really needed help. Apparently, no one had ever taken the time to teach them the finer points of ball-throwing; in fact, it looked like they had never even held a ball in their hands, much less a bat.

I'd simply tried to keep them occupied, but I never imagined they'd turn out to be such good pupils.

"You took a long time in there," I muttered, "What did your grandfather want?"

"We had a talk." He said evasively, "I'll tell you later. There," he added, pulling back to look at me, "You're clean now, big bear."

He'd been calling bear because of the brown coat I was wearing, the thickest one I owned –one of the few items I'd saved from my old days in Chicago. It was warm and serviceable, but a bit ratty.

"So, are you having fun?" he smirked.

"What do you think?" I glared.

His smile faltered a little for the first time.

"Sorry." he said. He leant on the gate and looked at me, "This is not what you expected, huh?"

Hell, no.

I had not endured Ecklie's sarcastic questioning, ('You? You want some time off? Whatever for? Is there some little lady waiting for you, Gil?)or his patronizing comments, ('As AD, I have to make tough decisions, Gil. I can't let you go on vacation on December; if I let you, then I'd have to let everybody else go,') to end up like this.

I had come because Greg's late night calls had been filled with pleas for me to join him: From whiny, ('I miss you, Grissom; it's lonely here,') to crude, ('My right hand's just no substitute for yours, Grissom')

Those calls had tempted me, but the one call that had finally spurred me into action was the one that ended with, 'What's the good of dating the boss if he can't take some vacation time when he damn pleases?'

"You said you were bored." I said accusingly. "You made it sound like there was nothing to do around here-"

"I was bored." He replied, "Look," he said, and then he lowered his voice, "I love my nephews and nieces, and I like taking care of them; but at the end of the day, I need some adult conversation, too. And some adult entertainment, if you know what I mean." He added, wiggling his eyebrows.

I smiled despite myself.

"Besides," he said, more confidently now, "You missed me too, right? Otherwise, you wouldn't have come. You're the one who's always telling me that crime rates always rise during the holidays. The fact that you left the lab on Christmas -"

"Catherine was willing to take over," I pointed out, "Otherwise, I wouldn't -"

"You missed me, Grissom," he interrupted, "Come on, just admit it."

He smiled winningly at me.

Oh, yeah, I'd missed him.

"Maybe I did," I conceded. "Maybe I realized that my right hand's no substitute for yours."

He chuckled.

I turned my attention back to the landscape beyond the gate. I still wasn't placated. He was right, this was not what I'd expected. I'd fantasized about spending my time with him, in front of a fire, under a heavy quilt. Just the two of us.

"I still can't believe Ecklie signed your request." Greg said, "He must have given you a hard time."

"You have no idea." I muttered.

He put his hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, I'm going to make it up to you, ok?" he said, "I promise."

I leant forward and he met me halfway for a kiss, but just as our mouths were about to touch, we heard muffled laughter coming from behind the snow-covered bushes.

The kids were spying on us.

I reluctantly pulled back.

"Hey, we can kiss," he said, "The kids already know."

But I didn't want an audience, and I certainly didn't want their parents to know we'd been making out instead of watching over their brood. I closed my eyes and leant my forehead against the cold gate.

"Tell me again," I said mournfully, "Why are we doing this?"

It sounded dangerously close to a whine, but I was really pissed off.

Greg patted my back.

"I told you," he said, "I've been taking care of the kids, and-"

"Can't their parents do that?" I complained, "You know, I can't believe they were willing to leave their kids with me. They barely know me."

"You're practically family, Grissom. And the kids like you already. You taught them to throw a ball. Nobody had done that."

"What about their parents?"

"They're just too busy to do that." He lowered his voice, "Look. My sisters married serious, stuffy guys, Grissom; they'd never get down and play with their kids. But when I was a kid, I had someone who did; someone who paid attention to me and made me feel important-"

"Who?"

"Papa Olaf," he said. "He took an interest on us; he practically raised us, along with mama Asty. Papa Olaf always made it a point to know what our interests were- sports, science, whatever. I wasn't good at sports, so he found out what I liked and then he learned chess just because of me. He took my sisters to ballet and karate classes-"

"He did all that?"

"Sure! You look at him now and all you see is a little old man taking a nap in front of the fire. But twenty years ago, he was tireless; he took us everywhere, he listened to our problems, and he even had energy left to play games. He and mama Asty were always there for us. These kids... they won't have that."

"But they have you." I said.

"I'm trying." he shrugged.

I stared at him.

"What?" he frowned.

"Nothing." I said. I was thinking of my uncle Herb, the plumber, who had helped pay for my education. Where would I be if it hadn't been for him? "You're a good guy, Greg." I said.

"Nah," he said self-deprecatingly. "I'm just a concerned uncle." he said. "But hey," he added, patting my back again, "You don't have to be out here with me, Grissom," he said kindly, "I mean, you must be tired after your flight. If you want to go inside and take a nap-"

"A nap?" I asked indignantly. Who did he think I was, papa Gil? "I'm fine." I said, "Why don't we round up the kids and help them build a snowman?"

But before he could answer, a shrill voice called out, 'Uncle Gil, uncle Gil, look!'

Greg and me exchanged a smile. I was an uncle now.

I turned.

"Yes, Mandy?"

SPLAT!

TBC