Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Just kind of a fluffy chapter. Sex, Lies, and Larvae is coming up, which is a big episode for them, so I really don't want to leave much of it out, so I figured I needed some in-between stuff because the coming chapters will be episode-heavy. As always, thanks for the reviews and I look forward to more. Especially if you want to give me feedback of the (nicely...) critical variety. I've been trying to make the story more dynamic while still adequately portraying the episodes... So you know that I take your suggestions to heart. :)

Thanks! I hope you enjoy!


Chapter 25: The Lights of Home

A week after the incident with the plane, I received an email from my mother, inquiring about whether I was working Christmas as usual, or if I 'might grace her with my presence this year.' My mother loved email—it was so much more convenient than using the TTY, and it had given her license to be far more… herself. Instead of scrolling sentences on a tiny screen, she could take the time to put more personality into her communications—and she did. I felt like I was constantly being scolded, via email and instant messaging, because my mother enjoyed being able to express herself so much.

I emailed her back, telling her as usual that I would be working so most of my team could take some time off with their families—Catherine and Eddie were going to try to have a family Christmas, despite the divorce, for Lindsey's sake, and I knew Nick had bought tickets home to Texas months ago. Warrick would probably spend it with his Grandmother and then call and ask if I needed any help… and Sara hadn't asked for any time off, so I could only assume she had no Christmas plans. Chances were it would just be the two of us, at least for a little while.

Christmas was like that—slow, until you started getting calls about domestic disturbances. This daughter had put a fork into her father's arm and that crazy uncle had started a house fire by trying to fix the one bulb on the string of lights that was making them all go out. That much time cooped up with family was hard.

The email, however, reminded me that I hadn't even thought about Christmas or the inevitable shopping involved. I put up a Christmas tree every year—it was tradition, and I liked seeing the color around my townhouse, not to mention putting up the ornaments Amber had made in school and sent me, before the whole Witness Protection fiasco. I figured Christmas was only a little over a week away and I might as well drag everything out. The tree was old and rather bare in places, tinsel impossibly tangled around several of the boughs, but it wasn't like I shared it with anyone. Still, I took the time to carefully place each ornament, and decided that the next day after shift, I'd go shopping. The last few years I'd barely gotten my mother's present to her on time.

Shift was slow, and for the most part everyone piled into the break room to finish up reports on cases or to go over recent cold case files to see if anything jumped out while they had some time. Greg steered clear of the room while I was there, but I noticed that as soon as I left, headed to my office, he left his empty DNA lab and headed in that direction, There was no doubt in my mind that he would be goofing off with the others, distracting them from their work… and I had half a mind to turn back around and catch him in the act.

But Greg had been a very good friend, to Sara especially, but to my entire team. And I didn't feel threatened by him so much anymore—certainly, Sara flirted with him, but… not nearly as much as she did with Nick or Warrick, and she didn't look at any of them the way… the way she looked at Michael. So as long as he wasn't in Vegas, I could let Sara have all the male companionship she wanted, because he was the real threat. …Not…that I cared. Sara could… date anyone she wanted to. Really.

Still, an hour in my office was about as much as I could take—I hated paperwork, and I certainly couldn't handle the idea of the team socializing while I isolated myself here. Not that I was all that social but… I liked my team. They were rare among people I had met in my life in that I actually wanted to get to know each of them. I loved my team.

It was only a matter of time, then, before I was grabbing an empty coffee mug from underneath several papers and taking it to the break room to rinse out and get myself a cup. Greg froze as soon as I appeared in the doorway, clearly half-way through some sort of reenactment—he looked like he was doing some kind of dance, his arms akimbo and one leg bent at the knee and lifted probably as high as he could get it. Everyone turned to look at me, and there was a moment in which I again considered yelling at him—for some reason he just grated on my nerves, despite no longer feeling threatened—but I saw Sara at the table, hand to her mouth, desperately trying to contain her giggles in the tense moment… and I couldn't help but crack a smile, shaking my head and moving over to the coffee machine.

They breathed a collective sigh of relief and I shook my head again. I really was not that frightening. I rinsed my cup while Greg continued his reenactment—apparently he'd had a hot date over the weekend and he'd taken her to a Cirque du Soleil performance because she was a dancer. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively whenever he said the word 'dancer'. He was attempting to show Nick and Warrick a move that had prompted her to turn to him in the middle of the show and promise she could recreate.

Catherine had tossed her hair and shook her head, telling Greg that not only could most women do what he had just attempted, but that any dancer could do the move he was actually referring to.

Warrick leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. "You willing to put money on that? …You're the only one in the room whose ever been a dancer…"

She rolled her eyes, sitting back in her own chair and crossing her legs. "I was a stripper, War', I didn't paint my body and do contortions."

Nick snorted. "It's okay, Cath'. You don't have anything to prove to us… I mean, you did say any dancer… and any woman could at least do better than Greg." He smirked, glancing at Sara, and then turned to Warrick. "Twenty bucks says Sara could do better than Greg… and Catherine could do the actual move, in heels."

I drank my coffee slowly, letting my eyes drift over this interaction. I thought Sara would be offended at the implication, but she merely rolled her eyes. Warrick smiled lazily at both women. "I'll take that bet if you can find a way to prove it one way or another…" He grinned between the women, and I realized with a little surprise that he and Sara seemed… just fine. Friends, actually. The animosity with which they'd begun their relationship must have dissipated. It made me happy.

Catherine laughed when Nick turned to look at her. "I don't think so."

Greg scoffed. "You just don't want me to know I've found a woman whose a better dancer than you… I'll have to lust after someone else's torrid past from now on."

Catherine smiled affectionately at him, though her eyes slid uncertainly to me. She wasn't going to prove anything to anyone with me there. Usually I would frown on such things but… I felt giddy seeing Sara so… playful. It had been a long time since I'd seen her relaxed and happy. I chuckled softly, gaining the men's attention. "Fifty says Catherine can do it in heels. Another fifty says Sara will never demonstrate said ability one way or the other."

They all looked at me in surprise, and Sara blushed a little at my directed gaze. I didn't know about the specific contortion Greg had been attempting, but I knew better than anyone in this room how very flexible she could be with the right motivation. Those long, long legs were good for so many things… After a moment, the guys burst out laughing and Nick fixed his gaze on Sara.

"Well, Sidle… What's it gonna be? Show Greg what a real woman can do!"

She laughed and shook her head. "You should listen to the mad scientist over there… There's no way I'm contorting here in the break room for you creepers to eye me and pass money around so you can feel self-important."

There was a chorus of "Ohh!"'s at Sara's words and then their gazes turned to Catherine, who laughed. "Like I'm gonna jump up and prove anything after a speech like that! I think Sara might kick me out of our gender for that…"

She nudged the other woman, who actually laughed and shook her head, and I found myself beaming. Despite a rather rough beginning, Sara was a real part of the team now… connecting with everyone, laughing freely… It was a good feeling, knowing that she was making Vegas her home… that she hadn't moved here just for me and that I'd somehow let her down in my inability to allow us something more.

We exchanged a smile that warmed me through, and after shift, while everyone else headed off to breakfast, badgering me for not going with, I made my way to a gallery. It was off the strip, and very small… focusing on presenting local artists with a venue, because in Vegas, they were competing with the most well-known artists in the world and name mattered more than talent in the city of lights. Everything was about attracting tourists.

It would be perfect, because my mother loved to find work by artists she'd never seen before… and I knew, after years of living with her and working in her gallery in high school and on weekends in college before I worked as a coroner, what her style and preferences were. I found a beach scene I knew she would like, because it wasn't generic… it seemed like the picture of a rough sea… the waves were white-capped beneath a hot sun, the beach abandoned, but curled up in the corner of the picture, hardly noticeable, were a female sea lion and her pup, curled up and contented.

I bought the original and had them keep it behind the counter while I looked, thinking I might find something else she'd like or even something Amber might like. Every year, I looked for her, and had to force myself not to buy anything for her. If I did ever see her again, she would not want a closet full of toys she might have liked as a ten year old or books that were a big deal for a twelve year but which, by now, she'd no doubt read and forgotten. Still, it never hurt to look.

I walked the aisles, appreciating the local talent and missing California, where artists had a much better chance of gaining local notoriety than here in Vegas, when I chanced upon a black and white photo of the golden gate bridge at night. The lights from the cars were bright, illuminating the bridge in the dark, and the lights of San Francisco gleamed against the rocky, hilly backdrop behind the great structure. I didn't think twice—I bought it for Sara. I knew we hadn't exchanged gifts in years, but…

Well, I guess I didn't have an answer to that. I didn't have a real reason why this year should be the exception and I didn't have an explanation why I ought to get Sara a present but not anyone else from the shift.

I just did.