Cold was such an understatement.

Right now, it had to be at least twenty degrees Fahrenheit at where they were, hovering about a mile in the air in a tin can. Below them, they could see hazy fields of green, and around them-white.

"Why are we always stuck on these cases?" she grumbled darkly.

He tilted his head in that endearing puppy-dog way. "We as in us, or the nightshift?"

Sara had to smother a grin. Whenever Greg did that, it was usually sweet and adorable. "Nightshift. Why can't Ecklie ever take an out-of-state case?"

Greg shrugged. "Because he's an ass?" From a reprimanding look and a nod towards the man sitting in the captain seat, he changed his reply. "Because we are expendable." He mimicked quotation marks around the word expendable.

Accepting that answer, Sara nodded mutely and the two settled into a comfortable silence.

It was a few minutes before either of them spoke.

"God, it's freezing," Greg chattered through clenched teeth. The dark olive windbreaker he was wearing did little to shield him from the nipping wind, and he could almost swear that there was frost on his nose. Thank god he had gloves.

Looking over at him, Sara frowned deeply. "Didn't you have anything warmer than that?" She herself was wearing a down-filled coat and a matching maroon scarf.

"In my bag. I didn't think it got this cold in Colorado. Vegas and California never froze to ice cubes in my lifetime."

The brunette rolled her eyes and reached for a wool blanket stashed behind her seat. Upon second thought, she gave him all of them, except for one that she laid on her lap. Snuggling into the fabric-induced warmth, they exchanged smiles and gazed out into the cloudy winter sky.

While Sara was looking out at the pine trees below, Greg took the opportunity to look at her. Despite the unbearable cold, she looked comfortable sitting on the hard bench. Her nose was slightly pink, matching the rosy blush settled on her cheeks. She was always a winter person, he mused, an icy exterior with a warm and mysterious persona underneath.

It was saddening, to know that this snowflake had endured such hard times. Nick had told him about her parents, and he had sworn to never talk about it, for she didn't know he knew. Sometimes, when she thought he wasn't looking, her eyes would fill with deep longing and regret at the families who stuck together through everything.

She was melting in her despair.

A voice shattered his thoughts. "We're touching down in ten minutes," the pilot yelled, barely heard over the whirling helicopter blades.

He quickly looked away as Sara shouted something in reply and turned to look at him.

"I think some hot chocolate is in order," she quipped, shocking him with a smile that could envy the sunlight reflecting off the snow.

Grinning back, he sighed happily. Maybe the snowflakes could have a happy ending.

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"Need some help with that?" Mr. Kramer, the owner of the stretch of cabins in the mountains, offered a hand to Greg, who was struggling with one of Sara's bags in the trunk. The elderly man pulled the suitcase out of his SUV and slammed the lid closed.

Nodding in relief, the spiky-haired CSI wiped his brow with the back of his gloved hand. "Good grief, Sara. Did you pack your whole closet?"

Glaring at him, she shook her head. "Ha ha. Funny, Sanders."

Shrugging nonchalantly, Greg held the door open for the older man and his partner as they stepped into the home-style cabin. A sharp bang sliced through his ears, and he quickly looked inside to see that Sara had dropped the crime kit she was carrying. And why she had dropped it.

"Woah." Greg murmured in awe. His friend just stared speechless at the exquisiteness of it all.

"Like it, kids? My wife and I decorated it ourselves," the grey-haired man said proudly. "I even cut down that Douglas fir over there," he gestured towards the tree standing in the corner.

Putting down the luggage, Sara looked around the room in disbelief. It was an unbelievable dream that the two of them were to be staying here for a couple of days. Silver bells jingled lightly as Greg quietly closed the cabin door. White lights twinkled merrily off the lush branches of the tree. A reflection off of a shiny package caught her eye.

"What's this?" Holding the wrapped present carefully in her hands, she peered at it cautiously.

Mr. Kramer beamed. "Your friends sent it up to us. Said that you should open it right away," he added as he walked out of the cabin. A revving of the engine signaled to the pair that the owner had driven away.

Greg turned his attention towards the elegant box and squinted at the attached tag. "To Greggo and Sar, from Nick and company," he read, flipping the small paper to see if anything else was written. "Open immediately upon arrival." He noticed that Sara was still staring suspiciously at it. "So open it."

"What if it's a trap?" she inquired, an uncharacteristic childish tone creeping into her words. "For all we know, it could be dangerous."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, Nick would give us a TNT bomb and cover it up in a pretty bow," he intoned with a straight face.

Elbowing him sharply in the ribs, Sara tore the offending gift open with one smooth rip. Inside the parcel were a note, two ski passes, and what appeared to be mistletoe. She blushed at the sight of the red-berried leaves and instead peered closely at the ski passes.

Greg snatched the note, ignoring the expression on his co-worker's face. "To our dear comrades," he paused, feeling Sara's chin resting lightly on his shoulder. Pretending to be unaffected by the gesture, the younger man continued. "You're far, far away from the crime scene right now. In fact, you left it behind in Vegas." He wrinkled his forehead in confusion. "What the hell are they talking about?"

"Keep on reading," she nudged him gently with her arm

He nodded, and returned his attention to the paper. "Guess what we did?" The handwriting changed from Nick's masculine one to Catherine's, a rather large ink blot revealing that the strawberry blonde had apparently stolen the note to write her own two cents. "You two are oblivious about each other, so you're stuck here at the cabin for a few days till you 'fess up."

There was awkward silence for a minute. Both noted that the other didn't object, Sara now flushing a furious shade of red.

Grabbing the note, she took over. This time, the words on the paper were Warrick's. "Don't worry, Grissom's got you covered." She re-read the line and gaped. "What? He can't do that!"

"He's our boss, Sara…can do anything he wants. What else does it say?"

"That they won't pick us up till the week is over. And the ski passes are for the whole week." She tossed the paper back into the box, and looked around. Greg was no longer in sight. "Where are you?" When there was no answer, she grew worried and walked down the hallway, taking in the hanging picture frames of forest scenery. Turning the corner, Sara found him in a closet. "What are you doing?"

Pulling out a ski pole and a pair of skis, her friend popped his head out and grinned. "Who's up for some serious fun?"