New Year's Notions

Disclaimer: They belong to the bigwigs, of which I am NOT one. Neither the arrival of Santa nor the arrival of 2006 has changed that.

A/N: Christmas fluff becomes New Years fluff. Well, it was initially going to be fluff, but I'm trying to work with the Unbound Challenge lines again (first and last lines given with 1,000 word inbetween)…

"I feel like crying and I don't know why!" Greg's loud complaint echoed through the break room disturbing the silence that had built around Sara.

"Maybe its hormones," she suggested.

"Hardee Har har! Maybe it's because you wouldn't be my date for New Years."

Sara rolled her eyes and went back to staring at the journal in front of her.

"That must be some article. I think you were on the same page when I came in for my coffee break half an hour ago."

Sara blushed sheepishly. Truth be told, she hadn't actually been reading the article. Instead she'd been contemplating the events of Christmas Eve.

A week ago Grissom had sat next to her on a bench in the locker room and wiped away her tears over his beautiful Christmas gift. Then Greg had torn into the room looking to hide from Warrick. Sara had hoped that their amazingly intimate moment signaled a shift in their relationship, the beginning of a next step. But nothing had changed.

Of course, they hadn't seen each other since that shift. Grissom had taken four days off around Christmas to go visit his mother and then Sara had had off the two days following. With just under an hour until the New Year, Sara had been sitting in the break room trying to formulate a plan of action that didn't involve ignoring the incident.

There had been no assignments for them at the start of shift and since Sara had taken her over due paperwork home with her on her days off, she was now the first CSI on call. However, she'd learned over the years that little happened before 1 am when some of the less festive revelers would begin to head home. This generally allowed the nightshift to ring in the New Year together. People would wander in as they finished whatever they were working on. Someone would turn on a local TV count down and eventually, amidst much hugging and kissing, glasses of sparkling cider would be used to toast the New Year. This year, Sara decided, Grissom would be first on her list.

"Catherine thought she was being smart when she took the B&E yesterday, but it turns out that my 419 was an open and shut, Holiday-blues suicide. I'm glad it's over with, suicides are so depressing." Sara realized that Greg had continued to ramble, more to fill the silence than because he expected an answer.

"Well, isn't this a great way to start a party?" asked Catherine from the door. "Somebody needs to break into the happy juice."

"Uh, Cath, we're not allowed to drink on shift."

"Greg I don't think your coffee counts."

"Oh." Greg grinned. "Good idea. I don't like that sparkling cider stuff anyways."

Sara smiled at Catherine as Greg scampered off to fix a new pot of coffee and Nick and Warrick walked into the break room.

"So I noticed you've still got your Christmas gift in your locker. Not finding it helpful? Maybe you should write the authors and complain."

"I didn't think Tina would see the humor in it." Warrick twisted his wedding ring around his finger. "At least I don't have some joker hiding a new razor in my locker every day."

Nick turned to look suspiciously at Greg.

"I have nothing to do with it," claimed the younger man, raising his hand in a show of innocence.

"Nothing to do with what?" Grissom asked.

Everyone turned to him startled.

"The razors in Nick's locker."


Sara's phone rang as the guys began to question Grissom about his deduction.

"Sidle." Sara turned her back to the group in the center of the room as she answered her phone.

"Hey kiddo, I've got a bad accident here. I need at least two of you out here. Judy's got the address."

"Okay Brass. I'll head out as soon as I can get a volunteer."

"There's no rush. Nobody left here is going anywhere."

"Bye Brass."

Sara hung up her phone and turned back to the group.

"I need someone to join me at what Brass considers a bad accident."

Everyone looked at each other, no one wanting to volunteer. Finally Grissom sighed and committed himself.

"I'll go."

Sara called Brass back as Grissom drove.

"Hey Brass. Grissom and I are on our way. What are we looking at?"

"Drunk driver lost control on a tight turn in a residential neighborhood. Good news is he missed the large tree in the front yard. Bad news is he plowed right into the nearest picture window. We've got two seriously injured, one kid, one adult from inside the house and two dead: the driver and a kid from inside."

"Do we need to send someone to the hospital?"

"Probably not necessary. The case seems pretty cut and dry. I just need you guys to tell me if there were any other factors."

"Right. We'll be there in 10 minutes or so."

Sara hung up the phone and began relaying the details to Grissom.

Several hours later, the first strong fingers of light were struggling across the sky as Sara wearily let herself back into her apartment. Kicking off her shoes, she dropped her purse on the small table by the door.

"What a way to start a new year." She spoke aloud, as she shrugged out of her coat, to fill the silence that greeted her. "Practically alone at the scene of a drunk-driving accident that claimed two lives, a forgotten television blaring in the background. So much for my resolution."

She pulled a bottle of champagne from her refrigerator and a flute from a cabinet before dropping down onto the sofa, placing the bottle and the glass on her coffee table, and staring at them. She didn't realize that she was crying until a knock on her door startled her.

Sara plodded to the door and cracked it open. Seeing Grissom she opened the door completely and stepped back. He followed her into the apartment and without saying a word Grissom wrapped his arms around her, offering her all the comfort he could.