A/N: Ah, a new fanfic challenge from PwF.  It concerns the scene from XX in which we discover that Grissom gave Sara a Christmas gift, but excluded Nick and Hodges.  The elements to be included: 1. The context, 2. The timeline, 3. The inscription and 4. The aftermath.  I had this mostly written before I knew what the exact elements were to be, so hopefully the way that I added them won't seem too forced.  Thanks, as always, to the PwF chatters for their support, and to Terrie for the challenge idea.

Spoilers: Strip Strangler, Play With Fire, Butterflied, XX

December 25, 2003, 03:16 am

"…And if you're planning any outdoor activities for the holidays, folks, be sure to bundle up! We're looking at a low of 23 and a high of just 45 in the valley…" The disc jockey's voice rumbled through Sara's skull. 

Though she wasn't prone to headaches, the last week had taken its toll on her body.  The holiday season is always a difficult time for people living alone a great distance from family, so Sara was glad to be able to work through it.  She just wished it hadn't been so busy that she's had to work several double shifts without a break.

The aroma of Greg's coffee had lured her into the break room.  There was no way that the industrial strength sludge normally present there was going to help her tonight.  Thank God for Greg and his beans!  After adding the requisite cream and sugar, she dropped into a chair and laid her head on her arms, which were folded across the table.

"Sleeping on the job, Sidle?" Nick's teasing Texas drawl pulled her away from her thoughts as he and Grissom entered the break room.

"Waiting for my coffee to cool down enough to drink," she mumbled, opening her eyes but not raising her head.

"You know I'm just playing with you," Nick grinned, pouring a cup of coffee for himself. 

Sara's eyelids drifted down again, and once again they were jerked open at a sound.  This time, the sound was the plop, plop of two ice cubes being dropped into her coffee by Grissom.  Sara sat up.  "Why didn't I think of that?"

"You're tired," Grissom shrugged.

"Am I busted for napping on company time?"

Grissom seemed surprised by the question.  Did she really feel he'd behaved that harshly with her over the months? "Of course not," he gave her a small smile. "You're entitled to a break.  I was just trying to help."

"Thanks," Sara returned the smile.  She hadn't meant to snap at him, and the guilt was creeping in now.

"Hey, Griss," Warrick stuck his head through the doorway. "Ready for our autopsy?"

"I'm in on this," Nick chirped enthusiastically.

"I'll be right there," Grissom answered.  As he turned to leave, he suddenly remembered why he'd been looking for Sara.  "Oh, Sara, come by my office later.  I have something for you."

Her curiosity piqued, Sara sipped her coffee.  He has something for me? What? A reprimand?  A letter of reference? A letter bomb?  An engagement ring? Damn that man and his mysteries!

"It's Christmastime, my Dear," Don Henley's voice lilted through the air. "The time of year to be with the ones you love…"

"Oh, shut up!"  Sara's hand slammed down on the power switch.  She certainly didn't need another reminder that once again she was going to be spending a holiday alone.

December 25, 2003, 07:10 am

As the shift came to a close, Sara found herself dreading the visit to Grissom's office.  Their relationship of late could only be described as strained.  She detoured on her way, deciding to stop by her locker to retrieve his Christmas gift.  She hadn't intended to get him anything, figuring it would make him even more uncomfortable around her, but when she had seen this at the used book store, it seemed to her to call out his name.

When she reached the office, she was surprised to find the door shut.  She knocked lightly, and when she received no answer from within, she cautiously pushed it open.  She immediately noticed it sitting atop the desk; a small package, wrapped in plain gold paper and adorned with a red bow.  The irony of the gift caused her to shake her head.  Even after this, he probably still won't admit how perfect we could be for each other.

Picking it up, she read the post-it note attached.  "Sara, I got called out. Sorry I missed you, have a Merry Christmas."  Damn that man and his mysteries!  Every time I think he's a lost cause, he goes and does something sweet!  She couldn't stop the grin from spreading across her face.  After leaving her gift for Grissom on his desk, she headed for home.

Sara lowered herself onto her couch upon arriving home and gently unwrapped the gift.  It was a book: The Encyclopedia of Insects.  Her initial emotion was confusion; then the symbolic nature of the gift dawned on her.  He had chosen for her something that was dear to him.  In his own Grissomian way, he was allowing her into a part of his world.  Opening the cover, she read the inscription he had penned.

December 25, 2003, 09:25 am

Grissom's body punished him as he walked along the corridor leading to his office.  Apart from generalized fatigue, his knees and back protested mightily the long hours spent on his feet overnight.  I'm getting too old for this crap, he told himself.  Still more evidence of the folly of even entertaining the notion of getting involved with a woman 15 years your junior.

Opening his office door, the first thing he noticed was the small package, wrapped in gold paper and tied with a red bow.  For a moment, he suffered a wave of disappointment, thinking Sara had forgotten to stop by on her way home.  As he got closer, however, he realized that that was not the case.  He read the card on the gift.  "I saw this and thought of you. Merry Christmas, Sara."

His features lit up in a warm smile. Matching gifts.  We could be so perfect for each other.  With that thought, his smile was tempered with wistfulness.  You've got to stop thinking like that.  It can't happen. You know this.

He briefly considered opening the package.  No, he decided, this was private.  A gift from Sara was something he would treasure.  It was something special and intimate between the two of them, and he didn't wish to share it with others.  The criminalist slipped it into his briefcase and headed for home.

By the time he arrived at his townhouse, his curiosity about the contents of the package was nearly overwhelming.  Even as tired as he was, he had to open his gift before going to bed.  Peeling back the golden foil revealed a box.  Grissom practically tore open the box.  When he removed the item contained within, he cradled it in his shaking hands, emotion threatening to overpower him.

It was a book, but not just any book.  It was an original pressing of an anthology of the work of Edgar Allan Poe, autographed by the tormented author.  Grissom recalled a conversation with Sara that now seemed long ago.  It was the only time she had ever been in his home.

May 15, 2001

The night shift was working from Grissom's townhouse to solve a string of brutal murders.  Grissom had been suspended, and officially, the case now belonged to the F.B.I.  The entire crew was present that afternoon for a brainstorming session.  When the pizza delivery boy had arrived, Nick and Warrick had gone to take care of it, and Catherine had gone into the other room to call her Eddie to check on Lindsay.

Sara walked quietly along Grissom's bookshelf, scanning the titles.  Grissom wasn't sure whether he felt annoyed at the invasion of his privacy or flattered by the brunette's interest in his reading material.

"You have quite a library," she said appreciatively.

"According to Cicero, a room without books is a body without a soul."

"No Poe?"

"Not anymore."

Sara's arched eyebrow asked the question, and Grissom understood it. "I used to have an original copy of a book of his poetry.  Autographed.  I found it at a yard sale.  I guess someone had no idea what it was.  Anyway, it somehow got lost in transit when I moved to Minneapolis." He smiled warmly. "Broke my literary heart."

"You lived in Minneapolis?"

Before Grissom could reply, Nick and Warrick marched in with the pizza and soda.

December 25, 2003, 10:08 am

The significance and thoughtfulness of Sara's gift struck Grissom with full force.  Why had she done this?  He was stunned to realize that no matter who many times he had hurt her and pushed her away, she still cared.  Why?

December 25, 2003, 11:40 pm

Grissom rubbed his glasses with the tissue as he walked, determined to tie up the loose ends of his case before the next call came.  Stepping out of the men's room, he walked right into Sara, who was focused on the folder in her hand, scurrying to finish her own case.

"Sorry," they said in unison.

"Is that the Callaway break-in?" Grissom asked, pointing to her folder.

"Yeah, it's almost done."

"Good."

"Grissom…thank you for the book.  I wasn't expecting—" she stopped herself. You're over-talking again, Sidle! "Well, thank you."  Her face flushed red.

Grissom felt the redness in his face as well. "You're welcome. And thank you.  I can't imagine where you found the Poe book."

"You're welcome, too," she smiled awkwardly.  "Was there anything else you needed?"

"Uh, no."

They parted, retreating down the corridor in opposite directions.

March 11, 2004

"Since when did you become an insects expert?" Hodges asked.

"Entomology textbook," Sara replied. "Grissom gave it to me last Christmas."

"Oh."

"When I can't sleep, I read," Sara explained.

Hodges turned to look at Nick.  Nick's face took on a curious expression. "Funny, I didn't get a Christmas gift from Grissom. Did you?"

"No."

Sara could understand why Grissom might not give Hodges a Christmas present; it was far too expensive to purchase a gift for every single employee in the laboratory, but the omission of Nick surprised her.  While she knew it was never wise to make assumptions, especially where a certain forensic entomologist was concerned, she had nonetheless assumed that he had given gifts to all of the CSIs working under him.

Why would he give her a present, but give nothing to Nick?  It made no sense to her.  It wasn't even as if they had been getting along well at that time.  Did he give anything to Warrick? Catherine? Greg?  Damn that man and his mysteries!  Once again, when she thought she had it figured out, he went and did something contradictory.

She knew he had cared for her at some point; she would have had to be quite dense to have not gotten that much from his emotional interrogation of Dr. Lurie.  But he had also used a great deal of the past tense in his words, and his actions toward her had seemed to corroborate that.  If that were truly the case, what was the meaning of singling her out for a Christmas gift?  An entomology text, no less, a gift that would help her to understand a part of him.  A glimpse, albeit a small one, into himself.  What did it all mean?

She cautioned herself against trying to interpret his behavior.  She had misinterpreted him before, and his emphatic "noooo…" had been a painful blow.  But had she misinterpreted?   The conversation with Dr. Lurie had called everything into question all over again.  And now she was right back where she began, utterly confused.  Damn that man and his mysteries! Would they ever sort this out?