Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me.
Author's Notes: Thank you so, so much for all the feedback. It's flattering that people are enjoying the stories. Everything I know about babies, I learned from my surrogate niece, Ali:) She's almost two and a half now, and she's still teaching me that I really want to wait a long time before I have kids of my own.
Moments
by Kristen Elizabeth
"Merry Christmas, man."
Balancing a precarious stack of presents in his hands, Greg turned to see Nick striding up the sidewalk after him. He had only one bag in his hand, a considerably lighter load.
Greg nodded. "Yeah, yeah, Yuletide blessings and all. Give me a hand, will you?"
Nick shook his head, amused. "You never learn, do you?" He held up his bag from Barnes and Noble. "Gift cards. Easy, light and guaranteed to please."
"Just take the big one," the younger CSI pleaded. "The one on top."
With a reluctant sigh, Nick grabbed the large, brightly wrapped package. "Is this one for Sara? She's married with a baby, man. We call that 'off the market'."
"Did someone get a lump of coal in his stocking already?"
"Just not feeling very Christmassy," Nick explained. "Ecklie turned down my vacation request. Catherine has seniority and a kid; Warrick doesn't have to travel to get home. So I'm stuck on call for the whole holiday."
"Bah humbug," Greg said, sympathetically.
Nick scowled. "This will be the first time ever that I won't be able to go home for Christmas."
"Sorry, man. If it helps, I know a joint on the Strip that has a great Christmas show. Naughty elves…"
"Thanks, Greg. I'm sure a lap dance from one of Santa's helpers will totally make up for the lack of my mother's special eggnog."
Greg shrugged. "It always works for me."
Having reached their destination, Nick pressed the doorbell with his elbow. "If anyone asks, I'm flying to Dallas next week. I don't want any pity Christmas Eve invites."
"Your call."
The front door of the impressive, two-story house opened just then, blasting them with warm, cinnamon-scented air. Sara smiled at the two men, her eyes sparkling. Nick couldn't help but notice the return of her pre-baby figure, outlined so well by her fitted black pants and red sweater. Hey, he was only a man.
"Merry Christmas!" she greeted them. "Come on in. We've been waiting for you two."
Although he'd been to Grissom and Sara's on several occasions, Nick still hadn't gotten over the contrast between the house and the people who called it home. When Grissom had lived alone, he'd surrounded himself with cold, sterile colors. Grays and blacks with tiled floors and whitewashed walls. Sara's apartment had been colorful, but lonely, lacking any pictures of family or friends.
Their home together was nothing like either of their homes apart. It was large and airy, yet comfortable and personal. A person could get lost in the soft couches and sink into the plush rugs. The walls were filled with Grissom's butterflies and Sara's classical art reprints, interspersed with pictures of their blossoming family. Rosalind was featured heavily; it seemed like they'd documented, framed and mounted every moment of the past six months.
Decorated for Christmas, Casa del Grissom was like a living ad for some sort of family magazine. After shucking off their coats, Greg and Nick followed Sara into the living room where the lab's Christmas party was in full swing.
"Gift cards, Nick?" Sara guessed the contents of his bag with a wink as she indicated the enormous tree in the far corner of the room where Greg was already setting down his load.
"If it's not broke, don't fix it," he quipped. "Besides, I knew I'd never compete with Greg's monstrosities."
Sara watched the young CSI search for room for his presents underneath the decorated branches. "He does tend to go overboard. But it's sweet."
"Is the midget already asleep?" Nick asked.
Grissom came up behind him with Rosalind in his arms. "Little person, Nick."
The baby in question clung to her father, her head tucked just below his chin. He might have been biased, but Nick figured she was probably one of the cutest children he'd ever seen. He had some cute nieces and nephews, but none of them had Rosalind's clear, ocean blue eyes, a genetic gift from Grissom. With Sara's chocolate colored locks, Rosalind was destined to be a heartbreaker.
"Is she getting sleepy?" Sara asked her husband. "She's been passed around this party more times than the appetizers."
"Think she could stand one more pass?" Nick held out his hands.
Being a good-natured child, Rosalind accepted the transition without complaint. Nick shook his head, amazed. "She just keeps growing."
"According to all the books, that's what they do," Sara laughed. "You should see her crawl. In fact…put her down for a second."
"But keep an eye on your shoelaces," Grissom warned.
Nick knelt down and placed the baby on the carpeted floor. Rosalind looked up at him and then her parents as if asking for permission. She pulled herself up onto her hands and knees…and took off.
On the other side of the room, Greg was busy placing all of his gifts into prominent places underneath the Christmas tree. He was most proud of the biggest, the one he'd searched every toy store in Vegas in order to find. He wasn't quite sure if Grissom and Sara's baby was old enough to make use of a PlaySkool "I'm a Scientist" play set, but in a couple of months she probably would be. The box had big pictures of little kids playing with oversized, plastic magnifying glasses and peering into eyeholes on all sides of the table, looking at images of bugs and animals.
He grinned. "Beat that, Stokes. Your puny gift cards have no powers here!"
Greg brushed off his hands with much satisfaction and sat back on his heels. He was about to stand when out of the corner of his eye he noticed something coming towards him. Like the shark in "Jaws." He could even hear the music…
Rosalind crawled all the way up to him and sat up on her padded bottom. She stared up at Greg with wide blue eyes.
"Um…" He squirmed under the little girl's scrutiny. "Runaway baby," he announced. "Over here."
She blinked and held out her chubby arms. He wasn't fluent in baby, but Greg was pretty sure what she wanted.
"No, you don't want me to pick you up," he explained. "I have a history of dropping babies. And your daddy is my boss. I drop you; I'm on the streets, analyzing DNA for quarters."
Her rosy lower lip quivered.
Out of the blue, Catherine approached, a martini in her hand. "Just pick the child up, Greg. Sheesh. She's had her shots."
Gin and Catherine were not a nice combination, he decided. Wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants, Greg reached for Rosalind before the tears that filled her eyes spilled over. He lifted her up awkwardly, holding her at arm's length. Her little legs dangled in the air.
"Try giving her a little bit of support," Warrick advised as he passed by. "And remember, babies can smell fear."
"Yeah, thanks." He hesitated, searching for the best way to reposition Rosalind without dropping her. He finally decided on bringing up his knee underneath her while resting her on his chest in order to get his arms around her better.
It was a good plan and it probably would have worked for someone who had an ounce of coordination.
Greg landed flat on his back on the carpet, desperately holding on to Rosalind to shield her from the shock of their fall. Stars danced over his head for a moment before he realized something. Rosalind was laughing. As he recovered, the little girl crawled up his chest. He wasn't sure of her goal until she grabbed a huge handful of his carefully arranged hair and pulled. Hard. Her gleeful giggle and his yelp of pain could be heard across the room.
Sara nudged her husband and pointed towards the Christmas tree. "Sweetie, look. Rosalind's playing with Greg."
"Okay, see, the hair's attached," Greg could be heard telling the baby.
Grissom winced. He knew all too well how much their daughter loved hair. And how hard she could pull. "Good thing he got a hefty Christmas bonus. It should cover the cost of the hair plugs he'll be needing."
Nick grabbed the camera that Catherine offered him and snapped a picture of Greg prying Rosalind's fingers out of his moussed spikes. He smiled, suddenly feeling much more in the holiday spirit.
"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas."
To Be Continued