Spoilers: General, if it has aired in the US it may be referenced….Disclaimer: I borrow the CSI's on occasion, but they are not mine… Only their adventures are. Information, when researched, has been found within the public domain unless otherwise stated.

Green

Green is the prime color of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises

-Pedro Calderon de la Barca

Charleston – some eight years ago…

There had been an unusual spring in Sara's step as she had made her way down the sidewalk to the DoubleTree just in time for the second speaker of the day, for most anyway, she had not been able to pull away from the sweet dreams left in front of room 305 for quite some time that morning and consequently missed the first presenter of the day. Yet she had felt merely a guilty pleasure as she had sidled herself past two contrastingly dozed gentlemen in the very back row, so unlike her, a deliberate move allowing her to daydream without interruptions.

She was not doing anything her fellow colleagues were not; she was simply focusing on different evidence, more vital affairs. Luckily she didn't really 'know-know' anybody else there, because she didn't much think she could make her body sit still for the rest of the day. Even professional small-talk made her feel like she were fresh out of school, all bashful; whether it was because of her flushed cheeks and that gaga look in her eyes, or because of the way her tongue tripped over even the most basic forensic terms.

Good thing her poster session had been yesterday while she was still in the 'oh-Grissom-is-here' shock phase and that the man himself hadn't been able to attend.

They had only spent one day in each other's company and she was this out of it.

Well, they had spent six partial days together total…over two years. Okay Sidle; get a grip!

Her olfactory sense had heightened being next to him under the cover of South Carolina spring darkness and instincts had admittedly kicked in. No wonder her other senses were a bit dull at the moment.

The fragrant magnolias, too, would only have one precious day, and she had no plans to miss out on any of it only to see them give up the ghost and wilt away.

Oh no, she had her own plan of action for all of them.

The smell of jet fuel had been a rude awakening, insulting the hint of citrus still lingering from his not too distant past. Sometimes he theorized that if the world would work backwards, the future would be the past in fast-forward, just fast enough to be slightly ahead. It was his very own predictable dream world hypothesis, turned ad hoc by the introduction of this amazingly baffling brunette.

How would he have met Sara in a world that never allowed for slowing down?

Of course his flawed theory was just as ludicrous as the fact that row upon row of large grounded metal flying objects would obey gravity laws when left to themselves at a 45°angle. He had looked out at all the grey military planes hibernating in neatly ordered patterns below as the slight jagged feel of the runway had seized, leaving his earthly connection to Sara now literally up in the air.

"Who is she, dear?"

Grissom turned at the frail voice coming from the elderly woman seated to his left, her face warm and caring like that of his own mom.

"I know that look," she simply said,

"and I won't bother you if you want to keep it to yourself, I understand."

At the shy upturn of his lip, his surprised countenance softened as his eyes moved over her gentle features.

"And I know that look" he said with a slightly defiant smirk before returning his gaze to the vast blue nothingness outside his increasingly crystallized window.

The odds she were headed to Vegas were slim. He couldn't even picture his mother gambling, so he decided to stay politely quiet until he could soon fade away in the Charlotte crowd en route to his connecting flight.

His eyes shifted to focus intently on the pin-sized hole at the bottom of his airplane window, as if it really would equalize the pressure in his chest.

He had felt it since leaving room 305 early that morning.

Well, the door and the outside of room 305.

The helpful concierge had been more than forgiving despite his minor outburst the night before…and had wished him the best of luck when he had told him he hoped to be back someday, with key privileges.

…

Nothing painful, just the tense restricted feeling of your ribcage signaling you may have held your breath for a little too long one too many times lately.

Or maybe it came with too much adrenaline dispersing throughout the body for unfamiliar reasons.

Or maybe the reasons were not all that unfamiliar and maybe it had nothing to do with lack of oxygen.

Maybe it had to do with the lack of someone.

After all, he had experienced very much the same thing two years ago….

All she had been able to see were Grissom's deep blue eyes, this time around reflected in the Atlantic Ocean. And with the afternoon arrival of a slight offshore breeze, closing her eyes had put her right back on the San Francisco Pier to that night before he had left.

Of course this wasn't 'Frisco and Grissom were not there with her, but her dreams were, all ten of them.

…

Her patience had lasted, or behaved rather, until lunch.

Then, with her boxed turkey sandwich lunch in one hand and a lemon Snapple iced tea in the other, folders squeezed tight between her upper arm and body, she had made her way back to Planters Inn.

Her hand had been cold and wet from the glass bottle and her key had not been in it.

After some careful juggling, she had retrieved it from the bottom of her purse…she just didn't do well with carrying a purse.

Grissom's business card had stuck to her wet hand, luckily not smearing his little notes on the back, only some work related stuff, but still; it was his hand-writing, and from him.

Next time she would fish out the key beforehand, oh well…

The atmosphere of room 305 had wafted through the door to meet her.

She had been through Yankee candles, plug-ins, oils and all kinds of supposed magnolia scented potpourri over the years, but nothing she had found had replicated the true yellow scent of the real deal.

She sat down on the bed, back against the wall and legs stretched to the foot end and crossed. With the Snapple sitting on her night stand on a paper towel and the opened boxed lunch in her lap she had welcomed a big smile as she had noticed teddy looking over at her from the trunk in front of the bed.

This was nice.

The blossoms were still strong and beautiful as she gathered them and carefully sat them down, yellow apple-halves first, into her part mesh duffel bag. Fortunately she had a habit of packing her shoes and toiletries in a separate bag within her suitcase, or else carrying ten wide-open ten-inch magnolia flowers set in ten accompanying apple-halves, could have been rather awkward. No kidding.

The East Battery walkway had been rather quiet for such a pretty day. Fort Sumter had been visible in the distance and the sun had been nervously winking at her from the water below, nothing but the railing separating them.

She had unzipped her bag, careful not to miss a last deep whiff, before gently pulling each blossom from its nectar base and releasing it into the calm blue infinity with a silent wish. As the saline water rippled from cushioning the very last one she had looked to the center as its yellow stamens came loose, falling like little matches to the cupping petals below.

She had felt a tear down her cheek as the last of Grissom's magnolias had drifted away to forever become part of the enveloping ocean.

She had wished they would never have to feel alone, ever.

As he had wedged the elderly passenger's lightweight floral pattern textile bag between two suitcase-like monstrosities already in the overhead compartment, he had inadvertently come across the attached tag.

'Mrs. Eldis Green,

Sunrise Apts,

S. Valley View Blvd,

Las Vegas, NV'

He had smiled to himself while shaking his head, deciding his people-reading skills were slipping.

Never assume anything.

"…you are certainly welcome Ma'am."

She had situated herself and unfolded the blanket he had pulled down for her; she had been known to get a bit cool over the course of the five-hour crossing she had informed him.

"Eldis," the older lady uttered,

"and I suppose you will not be able to look out the window this time around, my dear."

He had listened as he seated himself in his assigned aisle seat; the middle seat remained empty allowing for some elbowroom at least. Glancing over, her mellow face revealed that her mild taunt came from years of experience.

"I believe you are right, Eldis!"

It was hard not to like her as much as he craved his own solitude.

He settled in with a book, it would be his lifeline should he need one.

"She must be a very special person; you have been staring at the same page for over ten minutes now, dear."

So much for the lifeline…

"Sara," he said, after a minute, stuffing the useless hardcover in the seat pocket in front of him.

"And yes, she is."

"And…?"

"Hmm?"

"When will you see her again?" She could tell this was new to him by his insecurities, or maybe that was just his way.

"I don't really know." But I wish I knew…

He had purposely tried not to let his thoughts drift in that direction. Unless his 'future-as-the-past' theory would reveal his dream world beyond the theoretical stage, the future would consist of an infinite number of unknown scenarios.

And he had no guarantee she would be part of any of them.

'The world is full of possibilities, my dear."

Maybe she was right.

Possibilities.

Maybe what he had always frowned upon as the unknown, an unknown scenario being an obvious one, could really be viewed as a possibility?

But even possibilities did not necessarily mean things were probable, or practical.

Or painless.

April - Love is like a butterfly, it goes where it pleases and it pleases wherever it goes

His townhouse had looked no different from that of two days ago, but it had felt different, bigger somehow, more…lifeless.

The scraping sound his bag had made as he had deposited it haphazardly on the table had made him wince.

So what if one normally left the bag on the floor.

So what if the table had another scratch.

So what, nobody would care.

Nobody.

…

"You. have. three. new. messages."

"Hi Gil, Moby here. Give me a ring okay; got a case I need your input on. Call me at the office, like you I'm always here."

"Gil, Brass. Something's come up, call me when you get in."

"Um…hi.…………...—I…, I know you're not home yet, so…but I wanted to thank you for the magnolias, I…. That was so kind of you! - Oh, this is Sara. I just really love magnolias you know, they really smell sooo good and are really special. - To me. I…. Sorry you couldn't stay a little longer, it's really nice down here you know, and I walked around a bit today and, - after the conference, and I…I got you something at the Market, nothing big, just…it reminded me of you. Sooo, um…maybe someday we could— BEEEEP, end. of. new. messages."