On Christmas Eve, Catherine Willows found herself wrapped up in a crocheted blanket, braving the drizzle that gently bathed Las Vegas to make her way into the brightly lit catacombs of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. She was aware that her colleagues had been granted the night off- the majority of them young and enthusiastic, all wishing to spend Christmas Eve in chic parties taking place in some of the best hotels and casinos along the strip. But Catherine, although given the same allowances as Nick, Sara, Greg, Warrick and the rest, had chosen to remain home in her childless solitude.

She found Grissom in his office, as she’d expected, hunched over a multitude of papers. Jars of ‘creepy crawlies’ lined the edges of the generic gunmetal gray desktop, their occupants blissfully unaware of the turmoil of the outside world. Catherine stood in the doorway, slim form leaning against the cool frame, tugging her blanket closer to her body. After a moment, Gil Grissom lifted his head, seeming to have sensed her presence.

"Hello, Catherine."

"Hey." She smiled, taking a moment to lean back and survey the halls, fluorescent lights illuminating the vacant expanse. "Didn’t you have the night off?"

"And didn’t you?" He countered her inquiry in typical Grissom form, never once pausing in his work to acknowledge it further. She smiled and nodded, slipping through the doorway and into the scarcely lit room.

"Lindsey’s with Ed...I thought I’d take the chance to have a night in." Catherine folded her body onto the brown leather sofa which took up residence on the left side of the room. It was pleasantly amusing that this was the only object within the four walls that had not been recruited as a storage space for miniature creatures. "What’s your story, then?"

"Billy and I were spending some quality time." The boyish good looks allowed room for a handsome smile as Grissom held up his Billy Bass, gutted in the back to reveal two empty gaps. "He needed new batteries."

"Ah." Stretching her legs out, Catherine let out a breathy sigh, and pulled the blanket closer. Silence ensued, and Grissom spoke again.

"This isn’t ‘a night in', Catherine. What are you doing here?"

"I had a feeling you’d be around." The sly expression on her face never failed to get a smile out of him, and that night was no exception, as he felt a warm smile spread over his features. Billy was laid upon the desk, and Grissom rose, moving to the northwest corner of his office, where a miniature Christmas tree stood in attendance. "A tree, Grissom?"

"Lindsey gave it to me, Catherine." And indeed, it did look that way, the tree having been fashioned of paper and Popsicle sticks, with a plastic action-figure cockroach perched jauntily at the top...seeming all the world as if it would pull the tree over with its weight. "No one can say no to your daughter."

"Funny. They always find it so easy to say no to me." Catherine titled her head with a jaunty smile upon her face, and Grissom found it hard to tear his eyes away.

/You’ve no idea how hard it is to refuse you, Catherine...not at all./

"Gil?" She spoke and he blinked, taking a moment to study the intricate designs that were woven into the blanket she wore. Barbie as Rapunzel, the pink tasseled edges unraveling from overuse or rough washings...he wasn’t sure. Lindsey had currently become enamored with the ‘new animated movie’ as Catherine had explained to him during their last breakfast ‘date’, and every relative with the ability to do so had showered the child with gifts associated with the popular doll.

"I’m sorry, Catherine." He leaned back in his chair and attempted to busy himself otherwise...staring at the bare spot above the door where Billy had hung...or at the preserved African Teensy Fly on his desktop. But sitting in silence didn’t seem to work for Catherine, who rose from her seat and began to roam the enclosed space, running her fingers over metal shelving adorned with creatures in jars and textbooks on entomological discoveries. He’d never imagined she’d be alone on Christmas, and found himself strangely disturbed by the fact. His own isolated never bothered him, as he was comfortable with the lack of eggnog and absence of jolly, carol-singing youths. But it was Catherine’s colorful personality, her zest for life, and drive for better things...that gave him the yearning to make it a more exciting evening, even if it meant personal sacrifice on his part.

"Catherine...would you do me the honor of going to dinner?" She stopped, spinning around quickly...too quickly... the heel of her boot snagging on a low-hanging thread from the Barbie blanket. She fell, a quick, sharp cry emerging from her lips, and he caught her in outstretched arms, then pulling her close as she struggled to regain her footing, shrugging the blanket away.

And she had never looked more beautiful, as he straightened her up and turned her around to look at him.

Soft, curly blond hair fell over her shoulders, strands scattered from the brief excitement that had ensued only a moment ago, all framing her face within a halo of golden glow. She was already beautiful, carrying herself with the grace of a dancer, and no matter the type of dance she’d done, he believed that the grace would always remain, and be dignified. She’d not dressed for any sort of outing, by her standards, but with what she wore, he believed that to be ashamed of being seen with her would indeed be the thought of a fool. A tank-top the color of storm clouds covered her torso, fashioned of terrycloth, and revealing the slightest hint of cleavage as she leaned forward to retrieve the blanket from the floor. Her graceful legs had been hidden, as they usually were, by washed denim jeans, and her feet sported little more than simple, sky-blue shower flip-flops...but the dressed down demeanor suited her, and he found that he rather liked it.

"That’s just like you, Gil Grissom...swoop in and rescue the gal when she’s down." It was a sly look she gave him, one of ‘come-hither’ and ‘my hero’ all rolled into one smooth, smiling expression. And he found that he couldn’t help but smile back, doing so and receiving the offering of her arm in return. "So...where are you taking me?"

"How does breakfast at Tiffany’s sound?" Tiffany’s was a ritzy establishment, several blocks away, known for Belgian Waffles and British waitstaff, with offerings of prim and proper Earl Grey tea served in delicate china teacups. Not their usual haunt, and Catherine screwed up her nose with a negative shake of the head.

"You know, Gil...I like to think of myself as a simple gal with simple tastes." She gripped his hand and wrapped her fingers through his own, the fit as comfortable as a pair of old slippers, and twice as reliable. "But I’d take a half of toasted bagel, unbuttered, paired with a glass of orange juice and served to me by a striking man of seven years my senior, any day."

"You would. I don’t know of any place nearby, Catherine...but I’m sure I could..."

"Enough." She twisted his arm around and pulled him close, pressing up against his chest to raise on her toes and meet his lips with the tender application one might exercise in placing a bumper sticker on ones vehicle. Although Catherine was far from a bumper sticker, Grissom felt at that moment as if he would willingly be her vehicle for life...and would drive her to the ends of the earth, if only she would be there through the worst of it. "Did I ever tell you that I have a penchant for older men?"

"Eddie wasn’t older."

"And that woman who married him...she wasn’t me. " Catherine’s expression remained satisfied as she continued, a smile curling over her lips as she touched his with her fingertips. "The woman who kissed you just now...that’s Catherine Willows, a single mother whose life has always been what she makes of it...whose choices were her own and whose path follows the straight and narrow. She is me, I am that woman, and that woman wants nothing more than to have breakfast on Christmas eve with the man she’s bound to love for longer than her life will go on...and as she is younger," She winked, lightly, and bestowed upon him another kiss. "That will be a few years longer than his, no doubt."

"You never know." He secured her arm through his, and they continued out the door, he wrapping the blanket over her shoulders with his free hand, and taking a moment to trace the hollow of her throat with those fingers. "If he’s lucky, then science will advance far beyond it’s status quo, and we could be having this conversation years down the road..."

"Or we could never finish this conversation now, and never finish it again, years down the road." She gave him another kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and looping her fingers together at the base of his skull, all realization of their whereabouts forgotten in her moment of Christmas Eve romance. "But I’d suggest you drive us back to your hermetically sealed condo, first, Mr. Grissom...and have ourselves a Christmas breakfast."

"I’d have to agree with you.’ Slipping his keys out of his pocket, Grissom gave her a gentle peck before moving ahead, opening the door to usher his partner ahead, to the waiting Tahoe parked close to the door. They would have breakfast, laughing, kissing, loving each moment of each others company...making every moment of what had seemed to be a droll, uneventful Christmas Eve come alive. He hadn’t planned it, hadn’t foreseen it, and was tempted to tell Catherine he loved her...although he knew the words were not enough.

"Grissom?"

"Yes, Catherine?"

"Merry Christmas, Gil." As he watched her admiring gaze from over the roof of the Tahoe, he shook his head slowly, as the glow of an overhead streetlight caught her eyes, and made them shine in a way he’d never noticed.

The words weren’t ever enough...but a night with Catherine...would be more than he could ever want. And certainly Christmas Eve would make it even more meaningful...