Disclaimer: Not mine, but man, I can wish.
Setting: Sometime in season 6 (yes, I'm still stuck way back in season 6 over here in Australia)
A/N: I wrote when I woke up one morning. I was tired, so I hope it turned out OK.
I live in Australia so some things may be spelt differently and all that.
All mistakes are my own.
The colours were a blurred mess to him, but she looked like she was having fun, so he left her to it.
Half an hour later he returned, two coffee's at hand to chance a conversation with the budding artist out on their balcony.
Sara turned around wiping away an itch on her cheek, causing a smudge of blue to emerge there, "Oh hey."
Grissom just smiled at the smudge and asked, "You up for a break?" He held up the coffee, "I got you and old mug so you can dirty it up to your hearts desire."
Sara grabbed the mug, "And that I will." She took a seat next to her husband, looking up at the canvas she had just splashed with colour, "So, what do you think?"
Grissom, being very well trained in the art of abstract squinted his eyes before answering. But when even that offered nothing he had to ask, "What is it?"
Sara smiled against the rim of her coffee mug, "It's an abstract."
He scoffed, he had grown up with paintings all around him, "I know that. But even abstracts have a picture in them."
Sara let a flash of confusion flash through her features before she suddenly stood up all the professional, "I know. That's a…um, that's a tree," she pointed at a green blur in the top right hand corner, "And um…that blue bit here, that's Lake Mead."
Grissom smiled, "And what's the red?"
Sara looked at the canvas again-gee, she had put a lot of red on there, "Um, we're at a crime scene?" she half asked, half told him shrugging her shoulders.
Grissom suddenly burst out laughing, setting his coffee down he stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist, "You don't have to do this, you know?"
"Paint for me."
"But your mother's art inspired me."
He kissed her forehead, "She had a way of doing that."
"I'm glad I got to meet her."
"I am too. She heard about you so often from me, it was so great that she actually got to meet you. Even if it was only once."
"You miss her." It wasn't a question, or even a statement, just a thought expressed on lips with a voice, but he answered anyway, "Yes."
She pulled him closer and kissed his cheek, she didn't speak, she didn't have to and he continued anyway, "She always told me that she was proud of me, but once dad left, she barely smiled anymore. Then when I got into college and I saw it. That was it until I mentioned you to her. Then I would get a smile every time your name was brought up in conversation," he paused and kissed he temple, "She was so happy for us and I finally saw her smile every day. Sara, Honey, you were her inspiration."
He found her rummaging through photo's one day when he got home. Memories from his childhood strewn across their bed in her frantic search for the inspiration she was looking for, or at least that's what she told him.
She was a little late home on Thursday morning, a large square package in her arms. She found Gil in the bedroom, not quite asleep.
She spoke softly, "I found a form of artwork I'm good at." She left the parcel near his head on the other pillow and went to fix herself some breakfast. When she re-entered the room she found him staring at the photo she had had blown up and framed for him with tears in his eyes.
He locked up when she sat on the edge of the bed near him, "I love it."
She smiled, "I'm glad."
And together they looked on at the woman who had inspired them both and the five year old with blue eyes reaching up for his mother's smile.
Hope you liked. Please review.