Snow in Three Persons

Disclaimer: CSI is the property of CBS and not me…sadly.

Spoilers: A little from seasons 7 through 9.

CSI

Snow in Three Persons

The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event.

- J.B. Priestley

Catherine

She stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of the building, shivering as the cool breeze swept through her. Unaccustomed to the cold, the air sent a chill up her spine. Looking up at the sky in awe, she stood, transfixed, her eyes following each flake's slow descent. She tightened her jacket and began walking, feeling as though a walk on snow covered streets was something she needed to experience.

She wasn't the only person affected by the weather. Around her, tourists pulled out their cameras and began snapping photos of the snow landing on famous Vegas landmarks. Locals, people like herself who'd grown up in the city, simply stood or walked, staring at the sky above and the ground below.

For a woman who was always aware of her surroundings, she found it baffling that she'd managed to walk all the way to the Bellagio fountain without noticing. The white powder had managed to hypnotize her, but as she suddenly became conscious of where she was, she stopped. She sat on the edge of the fountain and began to feel the effects of the cold. She felt the wet chill permeate her now sore feet, but still she sat, marveling at how the snow stayed on the walk and blanketed the streets.

She'd seen snow before, and not just from ski trips to the Sierra Nevadas. Indeed, snow wasn't nonexistent in Vegas. Over the years, cold spells would bring instances of snow that would land and melt as it touched the ground. A younger version of herself had even seen snow stick before, but that was a lifetime ago. She'd only been a teen, a young girl her daughter's age. Seeing it now, watching it land and stay, was a whole new experience, and it was one she wasn't alone in. Locals, just like her, had stopped to watch this magical event. One week before Christmas and the snow was sticking to the ground.

She wondered at the snow. Such an extraordinary event was one a person did not want to experience alone. It was something to share and Catherine was no different in her need to share it with someone. Around her, couples and friends were looking on and whispering intimately. As curious as ever, she wondered what they whispered to each other, what they were saying about the weather, what they thought of the whole experience. What did other locals think? Were they as in just as much awe as she? What would Warrick have thought? Would he have stood in just as much wonder? Would he have tightened his jacket, shivering beside her, as two long time Vegas residents and two friends shared one brief, yet overpowering moment in time? Warrick had missed this. He'd missed the one event that could put Vegas at a standstill. In a city where they'd seen far too much to shock them, Warrick had missed the one thing that still had the ability to do so.

Catherine closed her eyes, feeling Warrick's absence. She missed her friend. The snow continued to fall around her and she shook away her sad thoughts. The blanketing snow was something they'd never share. It was hers alone. She sat, still wanting to share it with someone. She pulled out her phone and thought of calling another friend, yet she didn't want obscure quotes, facts, or lectures, or overly romanticized language, or boyish playfulness to ruin the beauty or the serenity of the moment. She called a different number and when Lindsay stepped out of the cab and walked towards her, she knew she didn't want to share the moment with anyone else.

I didn't even have any time to react. I already had my face in the snow.

- Giorgio Rocca

Nick

"Frosty the Snowman" was his favorite Christmas special growing up. His sisters liked "Charlie Brown", then later, the movie, White Christmas, and although he was reluctant to admit it, White Christmas became one of his favorites too. There was something about snow and Christmas that made the holidays so magical, but a childhood spent in Texas all but ended his chances of experiencing a white Christmas as a boy. It was ridiculous to believe he'd spend one now, here in Vegas. Christmas was still one week away and the snow wasn't likely to stay, yet as he watched the snow fall, he couldn't diminish the ray of hope growing inside him.

He watched the snow descend from the sky, thinking about all those winter customs he'd missed out on as a kid. He'd never made his own snowman, or his own snow fort. He'd never been sledding. He'd never even made his own snowball. He'd missed out on terrorizing his sisters by chasing them around in the snow and hurling snowballs at them. There were so many things a boy would love to do in the snow, and geography prevented him from experiencing them all.

Nick held out his palm, letting the flakes of snow melt on his skin. He looked around him, seeing the blanket of white. The snow on the ground, unlike the snow landing on his hand, did not melt. It stayed. Things he'd missed out on as a boy suddenly seemed possible. There wasn't enough snow to go sledding, although he could head out to the mountains to do that if he really wanted. There wasn't enough snow to build a snow fort or make a snowman either. There was, however, more than enough snow to make a snowball.

Bending down slowly and blowing on his bare hands to warm them, Nick scooped up a handful of snow and began packing it together, forming the perfect snowball, slightly larger in size than the baseballs he grew up throwing. He studied the ball in his hand, feeling at once young and mischievous. He had the snowball; all he needed was the target.

Besides his sisters, who were decidedly very unavailable, hundreds of miles away, his mind flashed to two people. He thought of how great it would be to nail Sara with a snowball. She'd turn to him and look absolutely indignant before she'd flash a smile and give as good as she got, but she wasn't around either. His other dream target would never be around. He'd never again have the chance to hit Warrick with a snowball. It saddened him to realize that the people he wanted to share the moment with, his first snowball fight, weren't around to share it, and in one overwhelming and painful case, would never be around to share it. He could still imagine Warrick's reaction. He'd hit Warrick and probably end up with his face in the snow, receiving his first ever face wash. Then, they'd laugh and Warrick would help him up before going off to find an open bar to stop for a beer or an Irish coffee.

The door to the lab opened and he watched as Catherine walked out. He glanced down at the snowball in his hand, then looked back at her dream-like state and decided against it. He didn't want to deal with Catherine after having nailed her with a snowball. He wanted to live to tell about it. He let Catherine walk on undisturbed.

More people followed. Riley walked out and he contemplated throwing his snowball at her. She'd be a good sport, he knew, yet he didn't feel as though he knew her well enough. This was his first snowball, and deciding who to chuck it at held certain responsibilities. It was a momentous event for him, and while he genuinely liked Riley, he couldn't throw his first snowball at her. Greg came out bouncing, not long afterwards. He'd be funny to hit, but it'd become an all out war and when it was over, Nick didn't want to have to deal with Greg's wining. Grissom came out as well, but he there was no way he could throw a snowball at Grissom. There were some things that you just didn't do to certain people, and he doubted that anyone, apart from Sara maybe, would ever have the moxy to throw a snowball at Grissom.

He'd begun to lose hope as he omitted more and more people from his list of "who to nail with a snowball." Suddenly the door opened and he saw his target. Perfect. He'd been waiting years for this. He lifted up the snowball, and with the precision of a second string Texas high school quarterback, nailed David Hodges in the side of the head. Hodges's face was priceless, as he turned, indignantly towards Nick. Nick couldn't help the laughter that erupted in him. Wet hair was matted as former ball of snow slid down past Hodges ear. Hodges's face still held the look of disbelief and annoyance as the first instance the ball of snow hit. Nick turned away, still laughing and slapping at his thigh. Then, something happened that he never would have suspected…ever. Hodges nailed him right back, landing his throw on the back of Nick's head. Nick spun in surprise, looking up to find Hodges' wearing a very satisfied smirk. He shook his head, chuckling and slapped Hodges on the back.

The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches.

- e.e. cummings

Grissom

The snow continued to fall on outside. He stood by the window looking out at the white powder blanketing the streets. The last time he'd seen this much snow had been two years ago. He'd been in Massachusetts, reflecting on his life and where he was going. It was funny how little things changed.

The snow in Vegas was very different than the snow in Massachusetts. In Massachusetts, it belonged. It was part of the atmosphere of the North Eastern States. In a time when he needed to feel purity, snow blanketed the beautiful landscape and helped to lift the burdens from his shoulders. It allowed him to think and to feel. The setting was romantic and it was peaceful. He felt alive. It also didn't hurt that he was very much in love at the time, even if his love was thousands of miles away. Living so near where Thoreau wrote his masterpiece, Grissom had been able to reflect on the philosopher's work. For a short time, he felt as though he understood Thoreau with so much more clarity. He could feel Thoreau's words and was able to experience the quiet existence Thoreau spoke of.

The snow in Vegas felt so oppressive. It didn't belong. To him, it felt as fake and gaudy as the city itself. In Vegas, even the snow wasn't cleansing. It gave the appearance of purity, but everything around it was completely absent of the purity it displayed. Like so much of Vegas, the snow hid what was really underneath. And just like what was hidden and unknown, the snow scared him. The volume of it terrified him.

Grissom continued to watch the snow fall, looking on as people stood on the streets treating the snow as a miracle. Couldn't they see how destructive it was? Their area was not accustomed to snow, and the living organisms wouldn't be able to adapt. Vegetation was dying. Fragile ecosystems were being damaged or destroyed, not being able to cope with snow that stuck around. Insects native to the desert landscape were being killed. It wasn't a miracle; it was a catastrophe. Sara would blame global warming for the changing weather patterns and changing climate and she would be right.

Sara. He'd tried not to think about her, but he realized she would never be far from his thoughts. Certainly, there was nothing like snow in the desert to bring thoughts of her to the forefront. He wondered what she'd think of the snow, but really, he already knew. She'd think along the same lines as him, hold the same worries as he held. She'd know. She'd understand. Sometimes when things appear perfect and great, they're really hiding their destructiveness underneath. It was something he and Sara knew all too well.

He wanted to not think of her anymore. He wanted to banish her from his thoughts. As he stood and watched the snow fall, he knew it was impossible. Two years ago he left her to find himself. He began a period of self reflection and in the process, discovered how very much he loved her. So much had happened in that two years, so much had changed. He still loved her; he always would, but she was gone and he was still stuck reflecting on what he wanted.

It began with snow and it ended with snow. He found it ironic that his period of self reflection lasted roughly the same length in time as Thoreau's own reflection at Walden Pond. As the snow blanketed the pure winter landscape of Walden Pond, Grissom had embarked on a journey of self reflection, beginning where Thoreau found inspiration. That same journey had ended, two years later, with a snow fall over Vegas. He knew what he wanted…what he needed. He needed to get away from Vegas and its counterfeit humanity, and while he'd already resigned and was just waiting for the opportunity to leave, the serial case to close, he hadn't, until that moment at the window, really known what he needed and wanted. He needed to be away from Vegas, and the memories it held. He needed to live in a place where while snowfall wasn't a miracle, it was still miraculous. He needed to live where there were snow blanketed trees and not buildings. He wanted to live where snow was not destructive, but was a part of the atmosphere and of life. And he wanted to share that life with Sara. If he was lucky enough, he would.

fin