Ensconced in her blue robe, Laila stepped out into the kitchen. In the Collins household, the baking of the pumpkin pie held more traditions than a religious festival. These traditions had been going on since she was a kid. Her mother had taught her how to make the pie, and had passed down what her mother had done before her. Laila had added a few little rites of her own. She walked into the kitchen, running her fingers over the freshly cleaned counters.

Leaning down, she withdrew two glass mixing bowls. She set the large one aside, bringing the smaller one to the counter. She added flour, salt, and some cooking oil to the bowl. All she had to do was mix it together with a fork, and she would have a pie crust. It could never be that simple though. She hummed a tune, some lullaby that her mother had sang to her but she had forgotten the words. The crust had to be mixed with smooth, strong motions. Soon enough, the components mixed together, becoming a perfect piecrust mix. Before liberally coating her hands in flour, she pulled out a cutting board, pie tin, and rolling pin. These board and pin were also coated in flour, couldn't have the pie crust sticking to them. Laila looked up as she shifted the pie crust to the board and started.

"Hey." She said, feeling a blush rise. Horatio had managed to sneak up on her, sitting in a stool and watching her from the open space under a set of cupboards. He had his usual smirk on his face. He offered no reply, just motioning for her to continue. She obliged, and lifted the rolling pin. Flattening the dough took a good five minutes, mostly piecing it back together, and her arms began to burn slightly from the continuous rolling. Laila placed the pie tin over it, wormed her fingers under the dough, then flipped it over.

The Collins' had used a certain brand of canned pumpkin for years, and Laila was not going to be the one to break that tradition. As usual, she rummaged everywhere to try and find her can opener. With a triumphant snort she held it up, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. She spooned the pumpkin into the clean mixing bowl, and gathered her spices. Denice had taught her that spices were best used in small amounts and combined with each other, could create a flavor that would leave a grown man begging for more. She poured both brown and white sugar over the pumpkin. Over the sugar she sprinkled cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamon, cloves, and just a tiny bit of ginger. With a clean wooden spoon she mixed the components, then added cream and couple eggs. Then she began to sing.

"Why are there so many
Songs about rainbows
And what's on the other side?
"

She could sense Horatio's confusion, the slight furrow that he developed between his brows, the way his lips tightened. The man was never one to wear his emotions out for the world to see, but being around him had acclimated her to the slight change in his attitude. Horatio was trying to figure out exactly what was going on, why she was singing. She had caught him with the same look late at night, trying to puzzle out some crime.

"Rainbows are visions
They're only illusions
And rainbows have nothing to hide
So we've been told and some choose to
Believe it.
But I know they're wrong, wait and see.
"

Horatio had left his stool, walking into the kitchen. Laila could almost feel his gaze, wandering over her every movement as she lifted the filling to pour it into the crust. It was a perfect orange color, a color that reminded her of fall back in Iowa. The trees would change color, going from green to red, gold, orange. They would almost appear on fire, the breeze whipping the leaves into a frenzy. She could almost picture those dancing fires in her mind, but the memory was dim. It had been to long since she had been back to Iowa, back to that place where the only change from earth tones were those burning leaves. Miami had exposed her to bright colors, pristine white, deep blue, neon signs lighting the streets. But there weren't any flaming trees. All the plants around here stayed green, living through the winter thanks to the tropical heat.

"Someday we'll find it
The rainbow connection
The lovers
The dreamers
And me
"

Horatio came up behind her, his hands reaching onto her waist. Ah, Miami had given her red. A fiery red shock of hair that cared about her, took care of her when she needed it, and she took care of him. She was the peaceful earth tone to his crimson fury. They kept each other in balance, a balance that allowed them to care for the other. Just as sugar would balance out cinnamon in the pie, she would be the peace to his hectic life.

"Who said that every wish
Would be heard and answered

When wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of that
And someone believed it
Look what it's done so far.
"

The pie placed in the oven, she turned to Horatio. It was amazing what she could tell about him without him speaking. The confusion had left his face, his smirk back in place. His lips had softened, and all she wanted to do was kiss them. But, the song came first.

"What's so amazing
That keeps us stargazing?
And what do we think we might see?
Someday we'll find it
The rainbow connection
The lovers
The dreamers
And me.
"

She gathered up Horatio's hands, placing them on her waist and she put hers around his shoulders. He pulled her closer, burying his nose in her neck. She kept singing, it was almost like stopping would ruin everything. If she stopped, there would be no reason for Horatio to sway with her, no reason for him to brush those feather light kisses against her neck and send chills down her back.

"All of us under its spell
We know that it's probably magic.
Have you been half asleep?
And have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name.
Is this the sweet sound
That calls the young sailors?
The voices might be one and the same.
"

He kept close, his breath whispering over the fuzzy collar of her robe to tickle her neck. She could feel goosebumps begin to rise. He always seemed to be good at that, knowing right where he could touch her lightly and send shivers down her spine. Even his hands on her waist made her all warm, and she could feel the slight heat of a blush making its way up to her cheeks.

"I've heard it too many times to ignore it
It's something that I'm supposed to be.
Someday we'll find it,
The rainbow connection
The lovers
The dreamers
And me."

Horatio stopped dancing, instead holding her close. She kept still, smirking into his chest. If he could make her shiver, then so could she. Her fingers dragged down his neck, very little pressure. She toyed with the short hairs on his neck, holding her fingers just above the hair so that goosebumps began to rise on his skin. He didn't gasp the way she did, only reaching up to gather her hands in his. Laila smiled at him, enjoying the laughter in his eyes.

"The Muppets?" He asked, the only words he had said since she had begun to make the pie.

"I sang it years ago, back when I was a kid. My mom said the pie that year was one of the best she had ever made, so it became tradition." Laila told him happily. "Something made with love and care will taste twice as good."


Horatio hadn't been sure why she had been singing, but now he understood. He hadn't had that loving connection to his parents, the forming of family traditions. He had loved his mother, but they hadn't done anything like this. Thanksgiving in his childhood usually consisted of a small turkey, usually overcooked, with potatoes and some limp green beans. There had been a couple good ones, a few years where his father had gotten along well. But there had been bad ones, ones where the day ended in broken plates and scarred feelings. He and Ray had ended up in their room, trying to drown out the sound of their parents fighting.

The more recent ones had been better. He had enjoyed Thanksgiving with Raymond and Yelina, back when he was still alive. There had always been an underlying tension between the two brothers, but they had kept it buried during the holiday. Horatio had enjoyed spending time with his nephew, holding Ray Jr. back when he was still a baby. Then things had changed. Raymond had begun to work narco, and suddenly their holidays got much more tense. Everything around Raymond had made him angry, and Horatio wasn't sure when his brother would have lashed out. Then he had died, for the first time. Horatio and Yelina had still met for Thanksgiving, but eventually they began to peter out. Soon enough he was spending Thanksgiving alone, Yelina and Ray Jr. going down to Brazil to be with his recently returned from the dead brother. It wasn't as if his team hadn't tried. He and Eric had talked about spending the day together, but it had never happened.

Horatio knew what it was like to spend this day alone, and he didn't want Ryan to know that feeling.

It was a strange feeling, one that sat in the pit of your stomach as you looked at a table laid for one. It wasn't despair, or resignation, or loneliness. It was a combination of all three, mixed with the simple desire to be around another person, another human being. Someone who cared about you, who liked you. Horatio knew Ryan didn't have family around, and after his little gambling issue he wanted the young CSI to know that he still had his boss's trust.

"Horatio, while I would love to stay here." Laila told him, one of her usual complaints. "I've got to get dressed." Horatio had the feeling that she had to remind herself that she should have been doing other things. She stayed for a few minutes, then drew her head away from his chest. "And you need to shower." Horatio snorted, then followed her to the bathroom. Laila pulled what she was going to wear out of the closet, then left the bathroom to him. He walked to the shower, stripping off his sweaty clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor. Horatio pulled open the frosted glass door, then switched on the hot water.

If he had to name one thing about Laila's apartment that he loved, it would be this shower. Hot water was plentiful, and Laila had gotten one of those multi-function shower heads. it was one where it could massage your back, or just spit on you like rain. Laila had about three different kind of soaps, both bar and gel. He grabbed the bar, some form of cocoa scented soap, and lathered himself up. He stood under the warm stream of water and considered what exactly was going to happen tomorrow.

Black Friday was a day that all cops faced with dread. People lost all sense of realty when Black Friday came around. Suddenly televisions were five dollars, the newest smartphone was free, and murdering a few people that got in your way was no big deal. God he hated that day. Focus on today. Today, when you're with Laila and her family. Horatio smirked to himself under the hot water. Family, he hadn't been around a family that wasn't composed of CSI's for a few years.

Maybe this would be a return to normalcy for Horatio.

Well, as normal as his life could get.

He picked up his shampoo from one of the shower's many shelves and squeezed it into his hands. He scrubbed it through his hair, scraping his scalp. It was some regular, store brand. Laila had tried to offer him some kind of shampoo that contained some kind of fruit extract and other goodies, but he had told her that he preferred his cheap shampoo. Laila had snorted at him, declaring that men would never see the glory of women's hygienics. Horatio admired her attempts at jokes, how she could make him smile even when he felt horrible. He rinsed the shampoo from his hair, then turned off the water. He dried himself, wrapped the towel around his waist, and considered what he would wear. He had several options to choose from. He pulled from among his button up shirts he pulled a light green one. Looking at his coats, he decided it wouldn't make much difference which one he picked. They were all dark, but he pulled one of his Hugo Boss sport coats. Hopefully, Denice would be impressed by the designer label and the cut. She struck him as a woman who appreciated style, but only subdued style. Anything that was bright, loud, or just plain weird might throw her off.

Hugo Boss ought to keep her happy, those sports jackets had cost him a pretty penny, especially on a government salary. He pulled on his shirt and pants, then scrubbed his hair dry with the towel. He pulled his comb from the drawer Laila had given to him and drew it through his still slightly wet hair. Horatio looked at himself in the mirror, setting the comb down. The same old face stared back at him, but he could see small differences. His tendency to smile now, as opposed to his former slight frown, drew the corners of his mouth up. The lines around his eyes had smoothed, somewhat. It wasn't as if they were gone at all, just more shallow than they had been before he had begun to see Laila. He shook his head, stepping out of the bathroom. He sat on the bed, drew on his socks, and went out. Laila was sitting on the edge of the couch, her nose buried in a book. The television was still playing, but she paid it no mind. Horatio had always wanted to know how she could block it out so easily, she had merely told him that it was a female thing. Something to the effect that women found it easier to multi-task. If that's true, then Eric, Ryan, and myself must be the exception to the rule.

"Good book?" He asked, sitting in the couch so he could lean his head back and look up at her.

"Mmm-hmm." She responded. Horatio watched as she read, her eyes jumping from page to page. Truthfully, he had never met someone who could read so quickly. He had known her to finish books with several hundred pages in a few days, and to be able to give him a detailed summary. He didn't demand any of her further attention, knowing that she wouldn't when he was reading. They remained that way for several minutes, content to be by each other, before her phone began to chime. He watched as Laila marked her place, and went to the kitchen to pull the pie out of the oven.

He could smell that pie, it was taunting him with its delicious spicy scent and its golden crust. Suddenly, all he craved was pumpkin pie, topped with whipped cream. That damnable pie was laughing at him, but he knew all he had to do was wait. Soon enough the turkey, which was currently being prepared, would be ready and he could get a piece of that pie. Laila pulled a small jar of garlic and an onion out of the refrigerator, and set up a pan to sauté both of them. Horatio watched as she fried them, then painted them over the skin of the turkey. She sprinkled it with pepper, rosemary, and stuffed it with breadcrumbs and other spices.

"Could you get the door?" She asked, hefting the cutting board she had placed it on. He obliged her, following her out onto the balcony. She set it down on the smoked glass table she had bought for the balcony. Her old Weber grill was smoking, a small fire underneath the grill. Wood chips had been applied liberally, sending off the smoke that he had noticed. Laila lifted the turkey off of the board and transferred it to the grill. Truth be told, he hadn't noticed how her hands had black marks from the charcoal streaked on them. She must have started the fire while he had showered, and then waited for everything to be ready.

"You're smoking it?" He asked her, grabbing the cutting board from the table. He held it away from him, unwilling to dirty his jacket with turkey juice.

"Yep, makes it nice and moist." Laila smirked. He walked back inside, setting the cutting board by the kitchen sink. Horatio could still smell the spices, and if they were anything to go by, this turkey was going to be amazing.

Now all that there was to do was wait.


AN: Alright, so I've got a paper to write for finals this week so there will be a wait before the next chapter. Also, I just want to thank everyone who's been reviewing and everyone who's even been reading. And, if you guys do review, I'm just curious and you don't have to do it if you don't want to, but just where does everyone live? I'm posting this chapter at around 10 PM, Mountain time, in Arizona. I just want to know how far far fanfiction can reach, both throughout America and the world. In the words of an article from TIME magazine "Fan fiction is what literature might look like if it were reinvented from scratch after a nuclear apocalypse by a band of brilliant pop-culture junkies trapped in a sealed bunker."

And with that, enjoy.