The Definition
I don't own a darn thing. I even owe on my kids' braces.
Spoilers: Playing With Fire (very small)
He had always believed that beauty and love were abstract concepts, indefinable because they meant different things to different people. Certainly, they could not be touched. That was before he had held Sara in his arms. Looking down at her sleeping face, he was almost overcome with joy and fear.
Joy, because he had wondered for years what it would feel like to have her sleep in his embrace.
Fear for his safety if she woke up to find herself being carried through the CSI corridors, asleep in Grissom's arms.
She had fallen asleep on the break room couch, an uncomfortable dinosaur at best, and with the impending noise explosion that was known as "Shift Change", he knew she would be jarred awake, most likely not to return to slumber land today.
Gently placing her on the sofa in a dark corner of his office, he couldn't hold back a small smile. He crossed the room to close the door and dim the lights, only to return to gaze at Sara in wonder.
Gil Grissom could recite the dictionary definition of beauty and the one about love, but he had never truly understood in his heart what the words really meant. Looking at Sara, he knew. He really KNEW. His heart was expanding in his chest; he was having trouble catching his breath. His hands, no his whole body, was shaking; trembling with the realization that he had found it. That…thing…he had been searching for his whole life.
Beauty was…Sara. Love was…here; waiting for him all along. He finally figured it out.
He hoped he wasn't too late.