"So that's the end of my story," Nick concluded, gently ruffling the soft brown curls tumbling down the little girl's shoulders.
Soulful brown eyes look up at him adoringly. "How do you know, Mr. Santa?" she asked sweetly.
Trying to smother a laugh, Warrick and Catherine gave each other a smirk. Such a pity that Grissom hadn't wanted to be stuffed in no doubt a sweaty suit (even when everybody had bribed him with a collection of roaches).There was always something charming to little kids with the magic of Santa.
"Santa knows everything, Noelle," the strawberry blonde reassured the bouncing four-year-old. "Now sit still and smile!"
Willingly, the child obeyed, giving 'Mr. Santa' a dainty kiss on the cheek. After a few snapshots, Noelle hopped down from Nick's lap and sat down with Lindsey in front of the brightly decorated Christmas tree. Nick got up from his seat on the couch and went to change into his actual clothes.
"Hey, lovebirds! Time to unwrap the gifts," Warrick hollered.
"Noelle Eve Sanders, don't do that!" Rushing over, her mother gently tugged the girl's grasp away from one of the boughs of the evergreen.
Greg swooped Noelle into the air, the two of them giggling. Grabbing Sara's arm, he swung her into a hug and a dramatic kiss, holding her close.
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Outside the warmly-lit house, alone in a car, was an older man, hair with more salt than pepper. He stared forlornly at the twinkling colorful lights, the happy silhouettes splayed across the curtains.
It was four years in the future now, and four years too late.
Letting a few minutes pass, he revved up the engine and drove away slowly, headlights capturing the words on the mailbox.
"Merry Christmas from the Sanders," it read.