Sara tossed and turned, unable to get to sleep. She had been given Grissom's old room to sleep in, which actually very much resembled his office. He had jars of critters and creatures lined up on shelves, along with various photographs. Some were of him at science fairs he had attended over the years, while others were more recent photos his mother had put up.
Grissom said he was going to take the hide-away bed, and had retreated into the living room after dishes had been cleaned and left-overs put away. Mary, Richard, and Elisa were staying at a local hotel, and had left soon after eating.
Feeling a grumble in her stomach, Sara swung her feet over the side of the bed. She wanted to see if any of the pecan pie had survived.
She made her way into the kitchen, but stopped when she noticed a light on in the living room. She peeked in and saw Grissom sitting on the couch with a blanket around him, focused on a large book. She smiled and made her way into the room, hoping he wouldn't mind the intrusion.
He looked up when she entered. "Hey. What are you doing up?" he asked, turning back to the book.
She shrugged, sinking onto the couch next to him. "Couldn't sleep. Got the munchies." She looked closer at the book, which she had figured to be an entomology text. But it wasn't. It was actually a photo album. "Old times?"
He cocked his head to the side slightly. "Better times, simpler times."
She smiled sadly. "Yeah." She stared at the pictures for a moment, studying the images of Grissom's mother and father. She was so engrossed in the photos that she didn't realize what Grissom was doing until she felt the blanket around her shoulders. She looked at him quizzically.
He shrugged. "You look cold."
She smiled again, then peered at the book. He had flipped to a page of more recent photos, more than likely from the late 80's. A few were photos of Grissom at a beach, his arms around a brunette woman. Sara looked up at Gris, seeing that he was far away again.
"Who's she?" Sara dared to ask, risking him getting upset and making her leave.
He glanced down at a photo and sighed. "Ashleigh Morgan. My…girlfriend when I first moved to Vegas."
"What happened between you guys, if you don't mind my asking?"
He looked up at Sara, a sad smile on his face. "She got pregnant by her other boyfriend, then tried to pin child support on me. Luckily, we still had DNA back then, so I was able to disprove her claim. After that…I told her I never wanted to see her again." He sighed again. "Maybe old times weren't always simpler or better."
Sara could only stare at him for a long moment, working her jaw as she tried to think of something to say. Finally she just settled for tossing her arm around his shoulder and leaning her head against him. She didn't realize until too late that it might be seen as an oddly intimate gesture, but he made no move to make her leave or change her position. Instead, he simply flipped the page in his book.
The next page was full of photos from a rather recent Christmas. A slightly perplexed Grissom was staring at the parts to a child's toy in one of them. Another showed Grissom getting a whipped-cream covered slice of pie shoved in his face by a young woman. Sara couldn't help but get mildly jealous as she peered at them.
"What are these of?" she asked, deliberately pointing to the one with the woman in it.
Grissom scrunched up his face in thought. "Oh!" he exclaimed after a moment. "These were from a few years ago. Richard got his son one of those skateboard/scooter things. But it came in about fifteen thousand pieces in the box, and Richard was hopeless."
Sara smiled. "Looks like you weren't faring much better."
He gave her a severe look. "At first. But then I found the missing instructions. That made it a whole lot easier."
"I'll bet." She looked up at him again, waiting for him to explain the other photo.
"This was just a picture of the whole family that year. And my mother took that one when Maggie shoved my pie in my face."
"And who's Maggie?" Sara asked innocently.
"Oh, Mary's step-daughter. Real practical joker, she is."
"Oh," Sara said evenly, though she could feel the anxiety rushing out of her like air from a balloon. Then she stopped to think for a moment. Why was she feeling so jealous over pictures of Grissom with old girlfriends and other women? She wasn't involved with him. Was she? She took a moment to examine their position. They were at his mother's house, sitting together on the couch, sharing a blanket. And she had her arms around him. Sounds like being involved to me! she thought. But we're not.
She shook her head. Only Grissom could make the simplest things complicated without doing a thing.
* * * * * *
A clatter in the kitchen slowly pulled Sara out of her peaceful sleep. For a moment, she tried to shut it out, to get just a few more minutes of rest. But the sounds did not stop, and she was now able to pick out the sound of someone humming as well.
She groaned and began to open her eyes, realizing then that she was not in her bed, and she was not lying against a fluffy pillow. Instead, she was curled up on a couch with a blanket thrown about her shoulders. She frowned and sat up, looking around. The photo album was laying neatly on an end-table, and another pillow was neatly placed at the other end of the couch. She glanced over towards the back door, seeing Grissom's form silhouetted in the frame.
She stood up, still clutching the blanket around her shoulders. "Grissom?"
He didn't turn to her. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he asked idly.
Sara frowned in confusion. What is he talking about? Himself? She almost found herself saying 'yes, very' in reply to that, but caught herself. "That's a little egotistic, don't you think?"
He turned to face her, a small smile on his face. "Egotistic, how?" He turned to face the door again. "I was talking about the snow. What did you think I was talking about?" he asked, the impish smile still on his face.
Sara bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as she moved up next to him to peer out of the glass. Sure enough, the ground was covered with a layer of beautiful, white snow. And even more was still coming down. It seemed almost magic, as if the sky had opened up just for Christmas.
As she stared at the snow, she noticed Grissom leaning down closer to her. He was so close, she could feel his breath on her ear. "Close your mouth, Sara," he whispered.
She mock-glared at him and slapped his shoulder. Then she crossed her arms and pretended to pout as she gazed at the snow. He smiled at her, then shuffled off to the kitchen, where Sara could hear Mrs. Grissom moving around. She watched as he disappeared around the corner, still smiling.
She stared at the snow for a few moments more until she saw Grissom step towards the front door, slipping a pair of shoes on quickly. He glanced at her once before stepping out of the door, still in his boxers and a t-shirt. Sara frowned, then approached the door when Mrs. Grissom opened it and stared out of it.
Sara peered over the older woman's shoulder to watch as Grissom shuffled to the mailbox, arms wrapped around his body. He reached the mailbox, quickly pulling out a few envelopes. Mrs. Grissom watched, then her mouth dropped in alarm. She tapped Sara's shoulder and pointed to her birdfeeder that hung from a tree.
The CSI frowned, then realized what the old woman was trying to say. The snow had blocked up the opening in the birdfeeder, making it so that the few birds brave enough to venture out in the snow were unable to eat.
Sara patted the woman's shoulder, then slipped her feet into a pair of shoes sitting by the door. Judging by the sheer size of the shoes, she figured they were Grissom's. She ignored the way her feet almost slipped out when she walked as she rushed out to the tree. She jumped up and slapped the wooden house a few times, knocking the loose snow from it. She had freed the food and was standing back to inspect her handiwork when something hit her, sending a shocking chill down her back.
She stiffened up, and slowly turned around. Grissom stood behind her, his arms crossed with a smile on his face. "Gil Grissom!" she shouted, feeling the melting snow running down her back, chilling her to the core.
He nodded, then bent down. He began to form another snowball as she watched, never taking his eyes off her. Sara held up a hand. "Grissom, if you do, I swear I'll-"
She was cut off as his next snowball hit her right in the face. Her mouth flew open in shock for a moment, and Grissom laughed aloud. "You're dead!" she shouted, leaning over to collect a handful of snow herself.
She saw Grissom's eyes widen slightly as he saw the ball of snow headed towards him, but he ducked in time to save himself. Still laughing, he rushed out to collect more snow. The snowball fight they waged was short, but intense. At the end of five minutes, both CSI's were soaked, cold, and out of breath. Sara stooped to pick up more snow, but Grissom had had enough. He rushed at her, wrapping his arms about her waist. He lifted her up a bit, then slipped when a shoe came off, sending them both tumbling to the cold ground.
Sara laughed, then shoved one more handful of snow onto Grissom's face. He fought to catch his breath as he laid in the snow, white flecks speckled in his hair. His laughter slowed, but he was still smiling as his mind registered the situation he was in.
He was lying on his back in the snow, with Sara half-draped over him. His hands were also still resting on her waist. He actually thought about doing something about it, but the fact that his mother was still standing in the doorway stopped him. It also didn't help that a few kids across the road were staring the strange pair of adults who played in the snow in their boxers.
Grissom closed his eyes, then pushed himself to his feet before helping Sara to hers. He avoided looking her in the eyes, brushing snow off her shoulders. "We should go back inside. We'll freeze out here."
Sara nodded, wishing she could think of something to say. But, as usual, her mind went blank. She could only watch as Grissom shuffled back into the house, then followed him.