Souvenir Chapter 3: Christmas Day, a csi fanfic

Disclaimer: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me. The characters are full of inspiration, intelligence, and intrigue that I can't help but borrow them a short while. I heartily enjoy the show and its premise. The events of this story are mine, but the characters are definitely not.

Author's Note: This is for b8kworm. Thank you for watching CSI in the first place. Thank you for getting me hooked. You know that I'll make you sorry for it.
Thanks to Angie, Manda, and Ann for the storyline read through and encouragement.
Thanks to you wackos on graveshiftcsi. You're all incredible. Now if only we could get those lurkers to speak up more often.

Archives: the Graveyard, ShipperworldCSI, Working Love, mine. Anybody else, email me. I like to go visiting.

Pairing(s): G/C

Sequel to "Sex In The Desert".

***** ***** *****

Title: Souvenir (Snapshot)

Author: Laeta
E-mail: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

Part 3: Christmas Day

A familiar mother and daughter lounged across the benches in front of the open doors of the church. He slowed his walk as he approached them. The little girl looked a little tired, but that was understandable, as she stood on the bench for the hug Grissom bestowed unthinkingly upon her.

"She wanted to come." Without preamble, Catherine got right to the point.

Surprise expressed itself over Grissom's face; he could not prevent it. Lindsey slipped her hand into his as she patiently waited for her mother to explain their presence at the church.

"When you weren't there for the mass presents opening, she wanted to know. To thank you for your gift and for spending last night with us; she was too excited and tired to do it last night. I told her you had other plans; she wouldn't leave it at that so I said you would be at the morning Mass here. She's never been to one; I couldn't say no, so here we are."

Looking down into Lindsey's wide, innocent eyes with her hand tucked in trust in his hand, he smiled.

"I'm glad that you're here; I'd like to share this with you."

It amazed Catherine that he was willing to share such an essential part of himself. Faith was so important to him that choosing to give it up had been such a hard decision. The fact that he now had a reason to believe again meant that he had finally won over the demons who incessantly haunted him.

For his part, Mass was the most beautiful thing he had experienced in a long time and a large part of it was due to the women at his side.

Back home, Grissom surveyed the damage to Catherine's living room from the doorway. It looked typical, like any other average family's living room on Christmas morning. Catherine was behind him, helping Lindsey out of the Mary Jane's she had worn to the church. She joined Grissom in his appraisal of the messy room while her daughter ran to her room for a gift to show off to Grissom.

"It looks like it was fun."

No more could be said as both adults turned to acknowledge Lindsey as she arrived breathlessly to where they stood. Suddenly, she quieted and her gaze rose to somewhere above their heads.

Tugging her mother down to her level, she whispered, "Mommy, you're underneath the mistletoe."

From Lindsey's vantage point as she gazed up towards Grissom, the little sprig of leaves was clearly seen, though it was missed by both trained CSIs. Grissom's face turned upwards as he followed Catherine's line of sight.

With the grace only known in children, Lindsey crept away as her mother's attention became wholly fixed on Grissom.

Catherine stood and quietly stated, "Mistletoe."

"So it is."

Following tradition, Grissom reached out to gently tip Catherine's face upwards. Both closed their eyes as they were transported to their secret night from ages long gone. This time, there were no demons bent on hindering or grief lurking in the shadows and, instead of being chaste, the kiss was possessive and all-consuming. Gasping for breathe, they wrenched apart only to find they had entangled themselves and somehow managed to find the sofa. Grinning, Grissom reached to gently tilt her face so he could control the next kiss; somewhere, he found the restraint to draw it out to explore and savor the taste of her mouth.

A gentle hand stopped him and a whispered name brought reality back to him. Lindsey was in the other room, barely twenty feet away from them. Chagrined, Grissom started to leave the warm vicinity next to Catherine, but persistent arms kept him still.

"Stay."

"Cath, I really shouldn't."

"No, you promised. Next chance we got, we'd do things right."

"What about Lindsey?"

"Everything will take care of itself. Gil, this was meant to happen now." She placed a finger across his lips as he inhaled to gather air to argue. "Check on my baby for me, please. I'm going to make sure the house is locked."

Lindsey was already fast asleep as he crept silently into her room. She lay curled on her side with her hand wrapped around an eight-by-eleven picture frame. Tenderly brushing her hair aside and tucking the covers more securely around the precious girl, Grissom's eye caught a pile of photographs scattered on the floor. Settling himself on the floor with his back leaning against the bed, he saw pictures featuring him and Catherine. It was obvious that they had been taken throughout the previous night; by their poses, he could see that neither knew they were being photographed.

As he flipped slowly through the pictures, he became aware of a warm presence that was quickly seducing his attention. A hand slipped into his field of vision as he valiantly tried to temper the urge to drag Catherine into her bedroom.

"What are these?"

"I think we were on candid camera last night."

She gazed thoughtfully at the picture of Grissom with the children surrounding him as he told them stories by the Christmas tree. She traced his image on the glossy paper.

"I like this one of you, Gil."

"Somehow I'm sure that if I try to take it away, you'll find the negatives and order an even bigger picture of it. I rather prefer the three-by-five version."

"You can bank on that." She turned to observe her daughter, who chose that moment to reveal the picture in the frame that she was hugging close to her heart.

Catherine's hushed voiced held awe as she called Grissom's attention to the picture, "Gil, look."

Now, it was his turn to fix the whole of his attention on a picture. It was their dance on the back porch forever memorialized. Understanding dawned; sometimes it takes the child of a divorce to understand the actions of another.

"She's wanted a souvenir."

Reaching down, he extracted the picture frame from Lindsey's hold and placed it in a spot where it would be the first thing she would see when she awoke. Turning, he led a delicately confused Catherine out of the room, down the hall, into her room, and shut the door. He persuaded her to sit next to him on the bed as he began to remove both their shoes.

"Souvenir?"

"We use the word souvenir as a physical object meant to remind us of an event or place. The word actually is the French word meaning 'to remember'. What better way to remember something than -"

"- Than the actual thing itself."

"A souvenir meant to be the memory. She's an incredible girl, Cath."

"I wish I thought of that myself."

"I doubt that she even realized what she was doing, but I'd really prefer giving you better souvenirs." The teasing tone of his voice was accompanied by the brush of his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck.

"In which sense? The ephemeral or the physical?"

"Either. Both. Whatever you prefer. I love you, Catherine, forever."

Keeping promises had always been a strong suit for Grissom; he never broke one in the past. Behind closed doors, he proved yet again that a promise was a promise and he would not break a single one - in the present or in the future.

FIN