Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: A very special thanks to Mingsmommy, LosingInTranslation and Superlibn for the beta work.

December 25, 2007

The table, draped with a deep red cloth, was decorated for the holiday. A beautiful arrangement of evergreen boughs, holly berries and slender white tapers was centered on the surface. The dishes were decorated with Christmas trees and holly leaves and edged in gold. The flatware gleamed in the candlelight and the crystal threw off prisms of light. Everything was absolutely perfect.

The food, more than two people could possibly eat, looked and smelled delicious. The earthy aroma of green beans mixed with the heady sweetness of sweet potato soufflé, making Sara's mouth water. The smell of yeast from the rolls hung heavy in the air. And, underneath it all, the deeper scent of roasting tofurkey and gravy. Laura bustled around, putting the finishing touches on their meal.

The clink of silverware striking plates was the only sound, and even that was proving too much for Sara to cope with. Carefully, she rested her fork on the table and leaned back in her chair. Laura looked up, studying her intently before she too, gave up all pretense of eating. Thankfully, only blessed silence remained.

"This was a mistake." Laura's voice was low and wistful. "I'm sorry, Sara."

"It wasn't your mistake. It was mine." Sara picked up the roll that adorned one edge of her plate like a misshapen bow and began to pick it apart with her fingers. "Everything is delicious."

Both women were quiet again, waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Laura couldn't wait anymore. "Tell me about him."

Eyes wide with surprise, Sara looked up. "Tell you about Grissom? About Gil?"

"Don't look so shocked, Sara." Laura chuckled. "It's only fair. I've told you about Mike and how we met and how I came to be here. I've missed most of your life. So, don't you think you could do the same for me?"

Abandoning the roll, Sara picked up her fork and began to drag a green bean around her plate, making patterns in the gravy just to watch them fill in again, as if her passing didn't matter. "It's not some epic love story."

Again, Laura watched her daughter. She took in the tight set to her mouth, the slump of her shoulders, the anguish in her eyes. "'We loved with a love that was more than love.'"

Sara sat stunned for a moment before bursting into laughter. "You're quoting Poe? About my love life?"

"It's a great quote and you know it!" Laura laughed along with her. "He was very perceptive."

"For a drug addict." Sara couldn't stop the grin that was tugging at the corners of her mouth. "It's a great sentiment."

"So, tell me." Laura's grin matched her daughter's. "Tell me about the man who's captured your heart."

Sara grew quiet again, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Her smile grew softer, and her eyes took on a faraway look. There were so many things about Gil, so many things about their relationship that she didn't really know where to begin. The first time she saw him? The way he took her breath away? His intensity and drive? How he was the one person who pushed her as hard as she pushed herself? His tenderness? His unexpected playfulness? There were so many good things about him that she didn't know where to begin.

"He must be really something." Laura's smile was soft.

"I met Gil at a seminar." Once again Sara laid her fork down and rested her chin on her clasped hands. "I was working in San Francisco so it was about ten years ago."

Laura's eyebrow rose. "I thought you said this wasn't an epic."

"We aren't the brightest two people when it comes to this kind of stuff." Seeing her mother fighting back a laugh Sara smiled. "Okay. So we're really bad at it, but it works for us."

Laura chuffed out a laugh and motioned for Sara to continue.

"He was speaking at this seminar that I attended for a forensics conference. And…" Sara could feel the blush rising on her cheeks and she ducked her head, staring at her plate.

"And what, Sara?" Laura smiled. "He has two heads? A third eye?"

She looked up, the love in her eyes unmistakable. "And he took my breath away."

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She had sent gifts for both him and Hank; two big boxes that arrived a week early. Inside there was a note in her scrawl, telling him not to open them until Christmas morning. And he had done as instructed. After getting up around noon and making breakfast, he and Hank sat in the living room with the television tuned to "A Christmas Story" and opened their gifts.

As he pulled each small package from the shipping boxes, Grissom became aware of how barren this holiday really was. No tree. No cinnamon candles. No French toast or hot chocolate or egg nog. Just a man and a dog and a movie that played only once a year.

Hank's packages contained new bones and toys and treats and a leash. Grissom carefully unwrapped each gift, placing each on the couch beside him. Finally, he gave Hank a rawhide and began opening his own presents.

Each box contained a special note, some funny, some poignant, each written just for him. With a smile he held up a new flannel robe. The card told him it was to replace the one she took to San Francisco with her. The next box was a pair of pajama pants with polar bears on them. Not something he would have picked out, but he would wear them because they were from Sara. There was a pound of Kona coffee. And underneath it all rested a long slim box.

This last one he held onto, turning it over and over in his hands. Not wanting to finish opening the gifts because that would mean that he had officially spent Christmas alone. Finally, reluctantly, he pulled the tiny envelope off the package and slid the note card out.

Gil,

This is something I picked up in a little antique shop in San

Francisco. It brought to mind one of my favorite memories of us. I promise, when I get home, we'll put this to good use. Hope that you love this as much as I do.

Sara

Curious now, Grissom once more flipped the box over in his hands. Slowly, he began to loosen the tape, opening each fold until a plain white box was revealed. Wiggling the lid, he slid it off and his breath caught. Nestled inside, on dark blue velvet, was a pearl handled straight razor. Carefully, he reached in and lifted it from the box, weighing it in his hand, appreciating the balance of the instrument. The pearl was warm against his skin and the blade gleamed in the light. It truly was beautiful. But the smile on his face was as much from the memory it evoked, as from the gift itself.

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Sometime during Sara's story, the dishes had been cleared and the food put away. But the women had returned to the table with large wedges of apple pie and cups of freshly brewed coffee.

"So, is he any good?" Laura asked, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

"What?!" Sputtering, Sara wiped her mouth with her hand. "Did you just ask me…? Oh my God."

Laughter, low and throaty, rippled from both women. "Well, he takes your breath away and he's smart and he's handsome and he's kind and he's everything every man should be. But if he's not good in the sack then…" Laura shrugged at the helplessness of such a situation.

Unable to meet her mother's eyes, cheeks burning in embarrassment, Sara simply nodded.

Ducking her head, Laura tried to catch her daughter's gaze. "Is that a yes?"

Sara looked up and grinned. "But don't expect details."

Picking up her cup, Laura mumbled, "Darn."

Both women dissolved into giggles. The tension that had plagued the beginning of their meal was gone. For the first time, ever, they were a family.

"Go home, Sara." Laura sobered, taking a sip of coffee.

Shaking her head, Sara began toying with the piece of pie crust left on her dessert plate. "I can't go back yet. We've been over that part. I need to take care of this."

So many things had gone wrong in her own life. So many bad decisions that brought her here, to this place, at this time, with this wonderful creature she helped to create. For a moment Laura struggled to find the words to tell Sara. She didn't want her to waste any more time on what had been, but to focus on what was ahead of her. Then she remembered something she had read in a book by James Hillman. "'If you are still being hurt by an event that happened to you at twelve, it is the thought that is hurting you now.' And no matter how traumatic that event was that statement still holds."

Sara's fork began a quick rat-a-tat on the plate. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Laura reached over and placed her hand over Sara's, stilling the nervous movements. "Sara, my dear girl, you can always come back. But you've left unfinished business there. You left your future to find your past. And you found me." Laura's smile was gentle, loving. "Go home. I'm not going anywhere."

With a nod, Sara said, "I'll think about it. I promise."

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Christmas was never quiet at a crime lab. Some people probably thought the criminals would take a day off. But that wasn't true. There were always scenes to be processed; prints collected, trace discovered, destruction photographed. And, just like every other day, there was paperwork to be completed. That is why Grissom found himself sitting behind his desk at seven o'clock, sipping coffee and signing off on the cases that had made it to his in box.

Occasionally, he would hear the no-nonsense clump of boots coming down the hall and he would look up only to be disappointed when it was Nick or Greg. Wearily, he tugged off his glasses and tossed them on the blotter. Leaning back, he rubbed a hand over his eyes. For a moment, he allowed himself to miss her. But just for a moment. Anything longer and he wouldn't be able to stop.

Reaching over, he opened the top right drawer of his desk and slid aside the box containing his mother's rosary. He picked up the framed photo and a wistful smile tilted the corners of his lips. The smile on Sara's face was like the sun, beaming out at him from the frame. Taken just a week before she left, they had gone to dinner at Mikado and had been leaving The Mirage when Sara spotted the photographer. She teased him until he agreed to have their picture made. The next day, she put it in a frame and gave it to him for his desk. And like the fool he could sometimes be, he'd hidden it in a drawer.

Resolutely, Grissom pushed the drawer closed and placed the picture of him and Sara on his desk. Lifting his head, he reached for his glasses. He had just picked up the next file when Brass walked in.

"Evening, Gil." Brass' sharp eyes studied his friend. "How are you?"

Raising an eyebrow, Grissom grinned. "I'm fine."

Shaking his head at the obstinacy of the man in front of him, Brass merely changed tactics. "Heather thought you might not get a real Christmas dinner. She sent you a plate. It's in the break room with your name on it."

For a moment, Grissom was speechless. Finally, he nodded. "Please thank her for me."

"Yeah, well, we…uh…we had a lot of leftovers. So it wasn't a big deal." He cleared his throat. "I would have invited you but…"

"I wouldn't have come." Grissom leaned back, rubbing his lips with a fingertip. "I turned down Al and Judy. Catherine, too."

"Figures." Brass reached forward and picked up the picture frame. He studied the photo for a moment. "She looks so happy there."

Grissom found himself nodding, even though they both knew the truth. "She was happy. In that moment, I think she was very happy."

"You should go to her." Holding up a hand to ward off the excuses he knew were coming, Brass hurried on, "No matter what she says, Gil. You don't have to drag her back. Just go for a visit. Ease your mind."

Despite his desire to change the subject, Grissom found himself replying. "I just need to clear up a few things here. Then I'll think about it." When Brass merely looked skeptical, he continued, "I promise."