Christmas with Billy

Part one.

Important note: This story is a prequel to 'Billy'.

Brief mention of W/S

Greg Sanders carefully set the wooden box on the coffee table, then sat on the edge of the couch.

Reverently, he removed the lid of the box, then a layer of straw, brittle and loosely packed that he encountered next. Finally, in their nests of tissue paper, the treasure was revealed: crystal baubles, gleaming despite a slight coating of dust.

When Greg picked up the first, the faint scent of flowers reached him. Mama Olaf's scent.

Greg smiled; he had great memories of his grandmother –her smile, for instance; her melodious voice and the funny mix of English and Norwegian that she spoke. And her love for him, of course. She was a sweet, dotting grandmother…

Except when it came to her precious Christmas ornaments.

'These aren't for play,' she would admonish, whenever she noticed the covetous look in her grandson's eyes. She knew how obsessed he was with those crystal baubles. He'd spend hours looking at them, wondering what it would be like to hold one of those impossibly fragile, precious ornaments; wishing he could touch one of them at least…

But she never let him. As she admitted years later, she was afraid he'd use them in some wacky experiment, (which went to prove just how well she knew her grandson!). It wasn't till Greg moved away from home that she'd finally relented, and only because by then he was making a successful living handling fragile glass objects at a lab, which for her was proof enough that her precious ornaments would be safe.

Unfortunately, Greg had no interest in the ornaments anymore. He was a single guy living in a cramped apartment, with no space for a Christmas tree, or time for celebrations. He took the ornaments because they were his legacy; his Mama Olaf was bestowing a great honor on him. But even when he moved to better digs in New York and later in Las Vegas, the box stayed in a corner of his apartment, forgotten and collecting dust.

If his life had gone on the way it seemed headed only two years ago, then the box would have stayed untouched. But things had changed, in ways he couldn't have foreseen back then. Now, for the first time in fifteen years, he had enough space to put up a tree. More importantly, he had a partner and a son he could share these treasures with: Gil and Billy.

This was their first Christmas together, and Greg was determined to make the most of the season.

"It's not our first Christmas together," a punctilious Grissom had pointed out the day before. But the way Greg saw it, last Christmas didn't count. December was the culmination of a really crappy year: Billy had been sick, (so sick, in fact, that Greg had started to wonder if maybe it was Las Vegas itself that the child was allergic to). He and Gil had been having problems, too. With Billy's unplanned adoption, they'd been forced to make drastic changes in their lives –changes they weren't prepared for. First, Greg had to give up his apartment and move into Gil's house. Then, to make sure that someone would always be there for Billy, Grissom had left the night-shift in exchange for a lesser job with the day shift. This was only temporary because Greg's aunt Karen offered to come to Las Vegas to help; but while having someone with experience around was great, it also meant having yet another person in Grissom's house.

And if things were difficult for Greg, it had to be infinitely worse for Grissom, who, after living alone for much of his life, (and managing quite well by the way), had suddenly found himself sharing his space with a boyfriend and a son -and a full-time nanny.

Looking back, Greg believed it was Grissom's innate sense of duty that got him through: he simply accepted his new situation as if it had been an extension of his job. It helped that Aunt Karen was a fiercely independent woman who insisted on keeping a place of her own, but Greg knew there were times when the house had felt just too small for the four of them.

But that was all in the past now, Greg told himself firmly. Billy was healthier, and the three of them were finally getting used to living together under one roof. Things were looking up for the Granders, (that's what he privately called their family), and they were going to celebrate their first Christmas in style. Sorting out Christmas ornaments was the first step; then they'd go get a tree -

A tree. Greg took a speculative look around. He still hadn't decided where he was going to put it, but with a lively boy and an active dog in the house, he'd need the safest area if his ornaments were to survive.

As if on cue, Truddie, who had been lying next to him, lifted her head and looked expectantly in the bedrooms' direction. Alerted by sounds only she could hear, she tentatively wagged her tail.

Billy was waking up.

It was the sign Greg was waiting for to start fixing breakfast.

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Later that day, with Billy quietly drawing in the kitchen, Greg returned to his task in the living room. He was opening a second box of ornaments, when Grissom came in through the font door. Unlike Greg, who'd only been on call the night before, he'd worked a twelve-hour shift and looked it.

"Hey," Greg said, looking up. "How was your night?"

Gil's answer was delayed by Truddie, who shot out of the kitchen and jumped at him, demanding his immediate attention. Gil complied.

"It was a typical Friday night," he replied at last. As a rule, they made an effort not to bring their jobs home, and so he left it at that. Still patting Truddie's head, Gil glanced around. "Where's -"

"Gil!" Billy yelled, running to him.

"There he is!" Gil yelled back and caught him under the arms. "Billy-the-kid!" He hugged the boy and then sat him on the crook of his arm. He eyed Billy critically, paying close attention to the front of his t-shirt.

Billy was smiling under the scrutiny.

"Ok," Grissom said slowly, "I can see you had eggs for breakfast -" He lifted one eyebrow, "Soft boiled."

"Yes!" Billy nodded enthusiastically.

"And strawberry jam -"

Greg scoffed. Leave it to Grissom to play 'follow the evidence' with their kid. What Billy did was 'accidentally' smear his shirt with minuscule amounts of food, planting enough evidence for Gil to find. That he did it on purpose was obvious; he wasn't a sloppy eater as a rule.

Gil put Billy down.

"So, where were you?"

"In the kitchen," Billy said. "I was drawing!" He waved the Crayola crayon he had tightly clutched in his hand. "There's a book with funny pictures in it -"

"Oh yeah? Which book?"

"The one with the insects. And the funny men and the funny ladies -"

Greg frowned. He didn't remember giving Billy any coloring book with insects in it. Billy's books had funny men and funny ladies and funny animals, but surely none of those had insects. Billy's copy of 'A Bug's Life' had ended up in Aunt Karen's house, the colored pages now hanging on the walls.

Only Grissom's textbooks had insects on them –

'Uh, oh,' Greg thought with a sinking feeling.

Grissom was frowning, too.

"Which book is that?"

"I'll show you!" Billy said, happily taking Gil's hand to guide him back into the kitchen. "See?" he added, pointing at the dinning table where, among coloring books from a half-dozen Disney franchises, a thick book lay open-

The men instantly recognized it. From where they stood, they could see the illustrations of funny men and funny ladies, and, yes, funny insects too. They'd been crudely colored by Billy, who'd also added some illustrations of his own: tiny drawings floating on the margins of the white pages.

Gil froze. "Oh, my God," he whispered.

Greg showed less restraint. "Shit," he whispered, then he ruefully closed his eyes.

It was his fault.

He'd put his books in Grissom's bookshelves when he moved in, and then he'd simply added Billy's books to the growing pile. He was always talking about getting another bookcase but he never did. And then today he simply told Billy to go ahead and pick any coloring books he wanted, and Billy had picked what he thought was a coloring book…

And with the funny men and the funny ladies on the cover, Edward Lear's Book of Nonsense did look like a children's book like the others, except that this was most definitely not a children's book like all the others; it was a first edition. More importantly, it was a gift from Gil's father –the last gift he gave his son before he died. Grissom had treasured that book for decades; he'd even bought a cheap version to read so this book would last longer…

For Gil, this wasn't just a book; it was an heirloom. A treasure.

Irreplaceable.

Grissom managed a couple of unsteady steps to the table but didn't touch the book. All he could do was look down at it.

He was speechless –something that didn't happen often. Even when he faced the worst crimes imaginable, Gil's dry humor helped him put things in perspective. A phrase, a quote –there was always something he would say to lighten up the mood.

But there were times when all he could do was contemplate the destruction and wonder why?

"D'you like it?" Billy asked eagerly.

Looking at Billy's upturned face, Grissom forced himself to smile.

"Billy -" he said at last. 'It's very pretty,' he wanted to say, but somehow the words wouldn't come.

Greg quickly intervened.

"Hum, Billy? Why don't you go get your jacket? We're going to the mall, remember?" Actually, they were going in the afternoon but he didn't think Billy would mind if they changed their plans.

"Yes!" Billy yelled, "Santa's waiting!"

Instantly forgetting the book and his drawings, the boy ran to his room.

Greg turned to Grissom.

"Gil, I'm sorry -"

Grissom was looking incredulously at him. "You gave him the book?"

"I didn't. I just told him to go ahead and pick a book, and -" That sounded like he was putting the blame on Billy, so he quickly added, "I should have been there; I should have made sure he'd pick the right books -"

But Grissom wasn't really listening; he was looking down at his book again and, after a moment's hesitation, picked it up. He didn't check the damage; instead, he closed it and mournfully held it in his arms.

Gil's reaction completely threw Greg off. If Grissom had yelled, if he had ranted about Greg's carelessness, or if –God forbid- he had scolded Billy, then Greg would have had a suitable response, something like 'It's only a book, for God's sake!'; but with Grissom holding his book as if it were a dying pet, there was nothing he could say.

But there had to be something he could do, damn it.

"I'll get it cleaned," he offered. "Or maybe I'll just get you another -"

Grissom shook his head. "This is a first edition -" he said quietly. "One of a kind -"

Again, Greg wished for a different reaction from Grissom. Anger, he could handle. Quiet resignation, not so much.

"Come on," Greg insisted, "There's got to be other books in existence. I'll look for it on the net. I'll get Hodges to help -" But he let the word trail off as he realized how hopeless the situation was. Even if he found a similar book, it would not be the one Gil's father gave him.

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TBC

As a book lover, I completely understand Grissom's sadness.