Light Of Saturnalia Chapter 1: A Ghostly Omen, a csi fanfic

Disclaimer: It's been a year; hopefully, by now, everybody knows CSI: Crime Scene Investigation does not belong to me.

Author's Note: For Mr. Hathaway, b8kworm. I will resurrect another figure from my past, Magister Guderian, Salve! Thank you for the laughs. I bow to the beta goddess named Angie. ::shrugs:: There was never a stipulation that I had to make any sense to anybody other than myself. :) The inspiration is fairly obvious; a nod to great literature: A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.

Summary: You have to decide where to go from here. You've just seen Cath die and then, happier than she's ever been in life.

Rating: PG-13

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

Pairing(s): G/C

Spoiler(s): Anything after LHB that involves Eddie.

Follows Business On Samhain and Conscious About Mabon.

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

Title: Light Of Saturnalia

Author: Laeta
Email: ladylaeta@yahoo.com

Chapter 1: A Ghostly Omen

"Gil. You disappoint me."

The voice cut dangerously through the mental fog Grissom habitually erected whenever he read or worked. He dropped the news journal into his lap, lifted and tilted his head. His gaze found Eddie sitting atop the counter of the island separating the living area from the kitchen; the gaze sharpened as Grissom removed his glasses.

Eddie was impervious to the potency of the stare; he merely returned a pointed look. He could see the vats of Grissom's legendary patience slowly drain and dry. For added annoyance, he chose an apple at random from the bowl and took a bite.

It was the final weight that tipped Grissom's ire.

"Ed Willows, you ass! Do you have any idea of what you've done this past month? Lindsey's never been happier, I grant you that, but Catherine won't give me the time of day! I can't remember any more of that dream, so I'm through with you. No more of your games."

Eddie finished the apple and tossed it in the direction of the garbage can. Propping his feet on two stools, he leaned elbows on knees and looked across the room, keeping his gaze trained on Grissom, who traversed a rut in the far length of the room. Lacing his hand together, he waited another tense minute before he spoke.

"Finished? Feel better now?"

Grissom wanted to feel petty. He was worked up, frustrated with Eddie and the inability to communicate openly with Catherine. He was absolutely certain she would think he was completely crazy, not for aligning with Eddie, but for these alleged conversations. So, he stopped beside the chair and saw the magazine lying there, inviting him to throw it at Eddie. Moving to follow the impulse, he watched amazed as his hand went completely through the furniture and literature.

He heard Eddie's voice, dissonant as echoes in a cavern.

"I came to you on Samhain. We met in the middle on Mabon. Tonight is Saturnalia; tonight, your world dies and is reborn; you come to me this time. I've brought you into the spirit world, Gil."

As his townhouse dissolved around him, Grissom asked, "Am I dead?"

Eddie laughed. "That's a typical question, but, you're not a typical man. I would've expected you to ask something more like, 'how is this physically possible?'."

Grissom felt disconnected from reality. Vertigo plagued him in the darkness that fell around them; Eddie remained in his seated position, feet pressed against air. He reached out and touched nothing, his feet touched nothing, and Eddie was his only lifeline. The sensation was highly distasteful.

He closed his eyes, wanting to shut out everything. Remembering that dual feeling of relief and grief over Eddie's death back in February - grief over the death of a friend, no matter how former; relief in the long desired absence.

When the spinning sensation stopped, he was no more resolved over his opinion on his current situation. Part of him regretting taking on the first request, especially since it led to the one burdening him now. A different portion would never regret Lindsey's happiness; he merely preferred all the rest to never have happened. The last aspect of him wanted the challenge, wanted to see where all this would lead.

Once again, Eddie showed a profound increase in his ability to read Grissom.

"See, it's like this, Gil, I left Cath in a difficult situation, I know. I'm trying to fix it, but she'll only take help from one person." He returned to the pointed glare. "You know who I'm talking about."

Resignation tasted bad, very, very bitter.

Eddie lifted a hand, which simultaneously cleared the missing dream sequence in Grissom's memory banks. Before Eddie ended the dream he had on Thanksgiving Day, he had been explaining the relationship between Mabon and Catherine.

"Catherine is Mabon, in a way. She's in that state of change - one decision can bring her life one way, the same decision at a slightly different point can bring her future to a completely separate place. But, her life's been too much about death, Gil. She works as a criminalist, and I don't say that word as a curse. I respect her work, but I've always hated what it brings out of her."

Grissom agreed on that point. The anger, frustration, and disbelief on the lowness the human spirit was capable.

"I was outside all that, until the rape case. And the circumstances of my death. You remember, you were there. And she didn't take your support then, Gil. Don't you even want to know why?"

"I do know; she doesn't need me."

Eddie shook his head in exasperation. "For a smart man, that's an incredibly stupid read on it. I was a glaring reminder that death touches everyone, and it's made her forget there's life. I've seen the beauty of life, in the afterlife, beyond the veil. She needs to remember what's out there. If not for her sake, for Lindsey's. Even for yours."

"What does all this have to do with me?"

"You need to remind her that there's still love in the world. Everything's about love; life is love. You just have to do one simple thing."

"What's that?"

"Show her a miracle."

Grissom remembered it all now, as if it just happened. And he had not done a thing except feel disappointment in himself. He was only human, a mortal human; he had no powers to show Catherine a miracle. Eddie's words were a metaphor, he knew that on some level, but what it meant for him to do drove Grissom to distraction.

Catherine called him on it, and Grissom could not deliver the truth. Not that he would not give it to her; the truth of the situation was he did not even know what was going on himself.

He was glad at Catherine's vehemence; the flair of emotion kept him from completely deteriorating into total abandon. Like picking at a scab, he nudged her - ever so often - to experience it, again and again. Always knowing the miracle involved something so intimately basic.

Grissom sat on the nonexistent floor. Knees bent, he braced his arms on them so they could support his head. He spoke to the floor.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Miracles don't just come out of me."

"That's where you're wrong. You give miracles to a victim's family everyday of your life; you give them the truth. That's all you had to do with Cath."

"What truth?" He screamed that at Eddie. Still not understanding anything, but knowing when he did, he would balk at the simplicity.

"I can't tell you, Gil. I can only show you things to help you figure it out. You have to, or Cath will never see the light in her life and the darkness of her pain will engulf her."