My boss has been hiding in his office for the last few hours, or that is what I choose to believe. I should have said that he is in his office catching up on paperwork, but I'm not entirely convinced of that. Its been crazy round her these last few days, the spirit of Christmas has found its way into our lab us; so our boss hides.

It's like this every year, and part of me doesn't blame him - I know when I first see Greg with and armful of mistletoe I want to turn and run. But for the most part we have a lot of fun in the lab round Christmas, and that's not something we can always say about working here. You know what I mean, we deal with such sadness every day that it's fun to cut loose and laugh a little. Which is what I want the man on the other side of this door to do, Gil Grissom could use a few laughs in his life. Is it wrong that I have decided that for him? Probably, but there are so many things I would like to do for him and tell him that I cannot; making him laugh is what I tend to settle for. I want to go into his office and ask him over for Christmas, to tell him that nothing would make me happier than if he spent the day with Linds and I. I want to tell him of the joy he would bring to our home if he came to share Christmas with us. One of these years I'm going to work up my nerve to ask, course Linds might have gone to college by then...

Anyway, I need to make him laugh and then I'm going home to regret that I cannot form coherent sentences to tell my boss, my friend actually, that I care for him very much. That I care for him too much to embarrass him with the actual words. Anyway, I sort of brought the mood down there, I'm supposed to be the party girl in spreading festive cheer...

I open the door to Gils' office, not waiting for him to repsond to my feeble attempt at knocking, and I find my boss up to his elbows in paperwork. Literally.

"Gil, have you got a back log since last year? I'm sure I've cleared this desk in the last month."

And as usual ,when my boss is engrossed in a task, he does not even register that he is being spoken to. I love to watch him when he gets like this, but you know what, that is so not what I came in here to think about. So I do what I can, in my own subtle way, to alert my boss to my presence. I slam the door shut.

"Catherine, was that really necessary?"

"I thought so."

"Because..."

"Never ask a woman to explain herself Gil, you should know that; especially when she needs coffee and breakfast. So... You buying?"

He looks at me for a moment, and I'm almost certain he was going to say something but then he changed his mind as the words got to his throat and found himself unable to release them. Maybe I'm projecting, but it felt like a 'moment' there, or maybe I just need to go to bed.

"I can't Catherine, I have too much to do."

"You work too hard."

"I work as hard as necessary."

"Okay, I never win this argument anyway; come for breakfast and I'll pay."

He smiles at my words, that beautiful lazy smile I would so love to see every day over breakfast.

"I do pay sometimes, Gil."

"Not when I'm there..."

"Funny man. Come on, are we getting out of here?"

"I can't Cath, I have too much to do."

"You have too much to do?"

"That's what I've been trying to say."

"But it's Christmas, live a little."

"The world doesn't stop because of Christmas Catherine, you know that."

"That's not what I'm saying Gil, but shift is over and we deserve to go home and to not feel bad about that. Let me buy you some coffee and bore you with my worries over which computer games to buy my daughter, or what colour of sweater to buy Nick. Okay?"

"As tempting as that sounds, I really have to get this finished. Maybe tomorrow, get some rest Cath and I'll see you tonight."

"Will you?"

"What?"

"Will you see me tonight, or will you spend tonight locked up in here as well. You do this every year, you know."

"Paperwork? I do it all the time Catherine."

"Okay, okay have it your way, I really didn't come in here to pick a fight with you. Can I help?"

"With what?"

"Are you doing this on purpose?"

"Am I doing what on purpose?"

"Being a guy and not understanding anything I say when I talk to you."

"Catherine in all the time we've known each other I have, to my knowledge, always been a guy."

"You think you're so funny."

"No, you think I'm funny or you wouldn't be smiling"

And he's right, I do think he's funny. But as I mentioned before, I think he's a lot of things I don't tell him about.

"Okay, but can I help? Really I don't mind, you're not usually so hesitant to get me to clear up this mess for you."

"What if I told you this was not a work mess."

What?

"What?"

And he's looking at me again with that smile I love so much, the one that convinces me I am looking at Gil Grissom when he is truly happy. There is a freedom in his expression which catches at my heart and makes me yearn to offer him that freedom for all time.

"You caught me, Catherine."

"Doing what? What are you up to? Don't tell me, you're writing a letter to Santa..."

"Not quite, any fool knows you have to get that off way before now... No, I'm writing Christmas cards. Are you happy?"

"You've been in here all night writing out Christmas cards?"

"No, not all night you know me better than that. But I have to get this done, and if I leave here now then I'll never allow myself to go through this hell again."

"So I thought you were in here hiding from Christmas when you're really being all Santa like."

"Hardly."

"Scrooge then..."

"Maybe, anyway you should get going."

"I can help you know. Looks like you've got about a hundred card already done, surely there can't be much more to do."

"No, not so much but I've been struggling with my last card for a while."

"Okay. Do you need a new pen?"

"No."

"You can't find the address?"

"No, I know the address."

"You don't remember the name of their kids so you're worried about what to write?"

"I know the name of her child, Catherine."

"But you don't know what to write."

"Exactly, I don't know what to write."

"Well, I've always found 'merry christmas' works."

"But what does that mean?"

"What?"

"Merry Christmas, what does that mean?"

"You know, I think I can only imagine those words coming out of your mouth. What are you talking about, what does it mean? It means you want the people you are sending the card to to have a good time and be happy over Christmas."

"What if I don't want that?"

"Then I think it's stretching it to call it a Christmas card, sounds like hate mail to me."

"Funny, you know that's not what I mean."

"Gil, I never know entirely what you mean. So you don't want this family to have a good Christmas ?"

"Of course I do, I meant that I don't want them just to have a good Christmas. I want them to have a good everything, I want them to have..."

And he stops speaking and decides to concentrate on on the pen he holds in his hand. He is avoiding me because he thinks he has said too much, and in a way so do I. Gil has just admitted that there are people in the world he cares about, he spoke of a woman and her child. I wish that didn't hurt me as much as it does. I wish that I were that woman, but wishing never made anything so. I am his friend and should be supportive of him and what he is trying to talk about.

"What do you want them to have, Gil?"

He is silent for so long I am not sure whether he heard me and refuses to answer or whether he has gone to that other place Gil Grissoms goes where so few of us can follow him. I am convinced that I will never know the answer to my question when he surprises me by looking in my eyes and saying...

"Everything."

"And you want to tell them that in a Christmas card?"

"I want to tell them that all the time but I don't have the words. I find it difficult to form coherent sentences outside of my work, Cath. Why are smiling?"

"Nothing really, I was just thinking the same the thing earlier... That whole coherent sentences thing, not really my thing."

"You know that's not true, you could talk anyone into anything. But anyway, this is my problem and I'll sort it out, though I appreciate your concern Cath."

Not so fast, Gil. You think you can tell me about a woman you want to give 'everything' to and I'm going to walk away and leave it there? Does that man not know me at all?

"You seem upset by this, Gil. Why don't you write what you want."

"Because Christmas cards are not the place to declare feelings, they are a symbol and a tradition."

"Then make your own traditions, make it that you tell people that you love them in these cards."

"They would not believe me, everyone says 'I love you' in a card."

"They do not."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I sent cards to my neighbours and I'm almost certain I didn't declare my love for them in my cards."

"So what did you put in them?"

"What do you mean, you think I put money in there?"

"Catherine, you are the most exasperating woman. I meant what did you write in those cards that you sent to your neighbours?"

"Oh, sorry. I can't remember, the usual I suppose. 'Happy Christmas, Love Catherine and Lindsey', I don't know, I had a lot to write."

"So you told 'lots' of people that you love them."

"No, when did I say that?"

"You wrote, 'love Catherine and Lindsey'. Therefore there was an implication and statement of love."

"Well not really, it's what you write in cards Gil."

"But you don't really mean it?"

"Well I don't not mean it, but it's different from person to person. Why do you have to analyse everything, why can't I write that in a card to my friends and neighbours?"

"No reason, Cath. But it makes what I write in this card mean less, and that is what troubles me."

"Don't let it trouble you. Write what you want."

"Would you tell me if it's okay?"

How do I let myself get into these situations?

"Of course."

"So I should be honest?"

"I find it works best in this life, Gil."

"And I can say whatever I want?"

"Sure, within reason. It's never good etiquette to talk about baseball or taxes in a Christmas card, but sure, say what you want."

"Okay. Then I should write - ' I wish you everything. All my love, Gil'."

"I'm sure that will make her smile."

"I kind of hope it will make her more than smile."

I'm sure it will, Gil.

"Well, I'll leave you to it if you don't need me anymore."

"Don't you want this?"

What?

"Happy Christmas, Catherine."

Okay.

Okay.

What?

He wants me to have everything? He wants me to have everything?

"This is for me?"

"Who else, Cath?"

Okay.

"Is that okay?"

I'll tell you in a minute, Gil. I need a moment in order that I might be understood, what was it we were saying? I need time to form coherent sentences...

"This is for me?"

Well done, Cath. So much for coherence...

"It's for you to take in whatever way you want. It can mean as much or as little as you want it to, but I wanted to say it or write it. I want you to have a great Christmas, but then I want you to have a great everything."

"Really?"

"Of course."

As I accept the card from him he brushes my hand with his fingers, quite deliberately. He then surprises me by reaching for my free hand and placing a soft kiss on my fingers.

"Merry Christmas Catherine."

And maybe it will be, maybe. Maybe we both want the same thing. I think we might need to talk about that.

"Merry Christmas, Gil. Come on let's get out of here, I'm buying breakfast and you're telling me about this 'everything' that you've promised."

The end.