A/N: Thank you for staying with us! Season 4 deserves more than one chapter...so read, enjoy, and review!

Gil Grissom's Romance

Chapter 11

At last, he was alone. Standing at his office door, he heard the departing noises of people leaving the lab—almost everyone—only four left to work the unusually quiet Christmas Eve to Christmas afternoon twelve-hour shift. Hopefully, the night and the next day would remain that way.

With one exception, his team was away, enjoying a well-deserved holiday. Nick Stokes had gone to Colorado to meet his family; Catherine had taken her daughter and mother to Reno and Greg Sanders—Grissom chuckled—Greg was on a cruise with his parents.

Tonight, there had been an improvised party; someone brought cupcakes. Someone else brought sandwiches. Chips and dips, cookies, homemade candy, and food he didn't recognize had been spread in the break room. All of it seemed to magically appear—and disappeared as quickly by the time a dozen uniforms wandered into the building, singing and bringing an undeniable cheeriness to everyone.

For a moment, he could take a deep breath and believe the quietness would last. He moved to his desk, leaving the door open, and sat down behind several stacks of files. Much of the files were neglected administrative paperwork and as he worked, the lab became hushed, not quiet, as an occasionally clink of lab equipment or distant conversation or soft footsteps came to his ears.

He had no concept of time as he moved files from right to left; the phone did not ring with a call to come to a crime scene. No one appeared with lab results or forms to sign so he worked uninterrupted—until.

A soft knock at his door brought Grissom's head up to find Sara, somewhat timidly standing in the doorway.

"Merry Christmas," she said as she seemed to hesitate on the threshold.

Waving a hand, he answered with "And Merry Christmas to you, Sara. I—I saw you earlier—in the break room."

Coming into the office, the young woman gestured behind her, saying, "We finished up in the lab. They are both good techs—very thorough and meticulous." She was referring to two young employees who worked usually worked swing shift. Sara sat in one of the chairs at his desk. "They are talking to their families so—so I thought I'd visit with you for a few minutes."

He smiled. "I'm happy you came in." Motioning to the stack of files, he said, "I think my eyes are blurred from all these but at least the stack is smaller." He turned, opened a cabinet and brought out a brown-paper wrapped package. He turned back to face Sara and saw she was holding a small square shaped brightly wrapped gift and smiling.

"I—I got you something," she said quietly.

His smile quickly expanded across his face. "And I have something for you."

There was a few seconds of awkwardness as the two gifts were exchanged across his desk. He said, "You first."

Carefully, she unwrapped the paper, not tearing it away, but pulling at tape until she could hold the thick book in her hands. Her mouth opened in surprise as she lifted the paper.

Guardedly, Grissom said, "I—I thought you might enjoy reading about insects. Maybe—maybe—you'll grow to appreciate a few."

Sara hoisted the book from one hand to the other, smiling as she said, "There is a lot of information in a book this heavy!" Carefully, she thumbed the pages. "I'll read it," she said with a soft giggle. "I'm sure it will be great bed time reading."

He did not take time with the wrapping paper but plucked at a corner and ripped the paper away to reveal Sara's gift. A quiet "ahhhh" expressed his surprise and delight at her gift.

"You don't have those, do you?" Sara asked.

"No—no, I don't." Holding up one of the cds, he said, "This group is new—I've heard them." With a smile, he added, "We'll hear them now." After he stood, he said, "Let's get coffee first—and there's bound to be some of that food left in the break room."

Ten minutes later, they had returned to his office and settled in chairs at a small table. Sara opened the entomology textbook, turning pages until she found colored photographs and intricate illustrations.

Watching her, Grissom suggested, "Start with one you like—or one you've never seen." And in a few minutes, she was engrossed in reading.

Leaning back in his chair, Grissom closed his eyes as a tenor's voice filled the room. The group was new, four young men who sang in several languages. Not moving, he asked, "Have you ever been to an opera performance, Sara?"

"No, I haven't."

Grissom cracked one eye open. Sara had not looked up from the book; her hair had fallen across her cheek, partly hiding her face. In the past few weeks—several months, he thought—they—he and Sara had been working together amiably; he knew it was a cautious dance on his part because she so often filled his thoughts in ways that were not work related. At times, both enjoyed teasing the other but that had changed a few weeks ago when she had asked him to "pin me down" against a blooded sheet. In an instant, he had almost—almost stepped across the line. Even now, with Sara sitting across the table, he could still feel the heat in his face as she had stepped away—almost run away from him that day.

He leaned forward, placing elbows on the table and cleared his throat. She looked up.

Sara's brown eyes, bright with intelligence, fringed with dark lashes, met his in such a way that took his breath. His heart seemed to pound against his chest. He took a deep breath as the air between them seemed to become charged—as if she could discern those secret places within him that he had painfully locked away.

Then, her brow arched in that delightful manner that captivated him instantly. He wanted to laugh and dance, hold her hand, kiss her beautiful lips, feel her warmth against his body.

Tilting her head to one side, she smiled at him.

Quickly, he regained his senses, saying, "One day, we'll go to an opera—or a performance. I think you would enjoy it."

"If I go to an opera with you, would you go with me to a concert of my choice?"

Laughing, he said, "Do you and Greg have the same taste in music?"

Easily, they were at ease in the other's company. Grissom pointed to one of the photographs.

"Actias luna—the largest moth in North America. Have you ever seen one?

Sara shook her head.

"It's a beautiful moth—spectacular to see in flight." He held out his palm, saying, "It can be three-four inches across." Moving closer to her, his finger traced along the photograph. "This one is an early spring—let's say it's a first generation for the year—moth because of its purple margin on the wing. Later on, another generation will have a yellow edge."

Sara asked, "How long does it live?"

"Only a week as a moth. It doesn't even have a mouth." He turned a page and showed her illustrations of each stage of life of moth. "It's hard to find a cocoon because it looks like a rolled up leaf."

Nearly an hour passed quietly; they spent the time turning pages in the book as he talked about different insects. Occasionally, Sara asked a question.

She propped her chin on her knuckles and quietly asked, "When did you first get interested in bugs?"

He stopped turning pages and looked at her. Her eyes held his, a smile spread across her face. Neither of them talked much about family or parents or why they worked on Christmas day.

He said, "My father was a botany teacher and we always had plants around. And with the plants came bugs." He shrugged, saying, "I think I played with bugs before I could walk." For a few seconds, he studied her; she was looking at the book again.

Taking a chance—because Sara never talked about her family—he asked, "Tell me, why do you always volunteer to work holidays? I know your mother is in San Francisco."

Her eyes remained on the book, but he could see her mouth quirked into a wisp of a smile. "You work holidays, too. I can visit my mother anytime—what about you? What about spending Christmas with your mother?"

"She's on a cruise with a group of friends."

Sara giggled as she said, "You didn't go? Eating at the captain's table; dancing until dawn!" She met his eyes again; laughter and her tease making them sparkle with tiny golden flames.

He asked another question. "Tell me the best Christmas you can remember."

Again, Sara smiled at him as a few seconds of silence ticked by. "Roller skates, I think. White ones—little boots—I loved those skates."

"Santa?"

She wrinkled her nose; her smile disappeared for an instant before returning. "No—we—my parents—I knew about Santa as make-believe. Like fairy-tales." She hesitated briefly before saying, "What's yours—the best Christmas?"

With a soft chuckle, he said, "You won't laugh?" After a shake of her head, he continued, "I got a bug maker one year. It had this liquid chemical that I poured into a tray and heated and then when it cooled, I had a rubbery bug." His hand wiped across his face as he laughed. "I loved that thing!"

Sara's smile had broadened as he described the toy from his childhood. And by the time he finished describing his 'bugs', her smile had turned into giggles.

Grissom closed his eyes against the sound coming to his ears and the silent groan he felt in his chest. Silence lapsed between them; Sara returned to turning pages in the textbook.

He told himself that nothing had changed yet he knew to the instant when his life had changed. His explanation—his reasoning with her about their relationship—that day, she had looked at him with something he did not understand and then it was gone. He knew he physically wanted her; he knew he loved her. He knew his life would never be the same; he could not admit anything had changed.

Coming out of his reverie, he found Sara staring at him with large dark eyes—eyes that were too intelligent to pretend nothing had changed between them. He shrugged his shoulders, giving a tight smile, as if to explain his silence was from remembering childhood gifts.

Smoothly, she said, "Thank you for the book, Grissom." She closed it and stood, saying, "I'll get back to—to putting things away in the lab."

He nodded and realized the music had stopped. "Thank you for the new music. I'll enjoy it."

A few weeks later:

Grissom pulled shoe covers over his feet at the doorway. A crowd had already gathered in front of the house as word spread of the death of the young woman who lived here. Pausing for a few minutes before he started walking into the house, he used his flashlight to look into the living room seeing a red shaded floor lamp, wilted red roses, and two wine glasses on the table.

A/N: Thank you, again! It is so much fun to watch episodes again as we write Grissom's romance! Another chapter soon!