Title: Reveal Your Secrets To The Wind

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Nothing, but set June 2001 and with Holly alive and on the team instead of Sara. No romantic pairings.

Disclaimers: Right, I own them. Got them for Christmas last year. Just like I own a piece of land down in Florida for sale too (NOT!). However I did used to own Maggie.

Summary: "Grissom Collection Series." An innocent remark made by Lindsey exposes one of Grissom's long-held secrets. Grissom POV.

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For the live of me, I will never understand why the phone always has to ring when it's impossible to get to it on time to answer.

It's happened to me all my life. It's rung from one side of the room as I'm standing on the other with the floor in between completely blocked by papers I'm attempting to sort. It's rung while I was in the middle of an intricate experiment – the kind where I'd destroy the evidence if I attempted to answer. On one memorable occasion in college, I even heard it ring while I was standing over the toilet – caught in the grip of what many have christened "Montezuma's Revenge."

This time I was struggling with the temperamental lock on my townhouse door. I finally got the thing opened and shoved two cases of forensics teaching materials inside the door, just as a voice came over the answering machine.

"Hey, it's me. Just wanted to let you know Anna's finalized arrangements for the Classic. And Grandma's confirmed she's coming. Hope you had a good time at the conference. Love you!"

I smiled. Dominique. A quick glance at the clock showed it was 6:30. Catherine and I were meeting at 8 to take Lindsey for a quick dinner before the start of shift, so I had enough time. Quickly I crossed the floor and dialed Dominique's number.

It rang a couple of times before I heard a "Hello?" that was nearly drowned by shrill barking.

"Hey, Dom, it's me." I winced as more yapping came through the receiver.

"Hold on, just a second." There was a muffled "Maggie!" Then, more clearly, "Sorry about that."

"Let me guess, it's raining?"

Dominique's voice sounded disgusted. "How did you ever guess?" Her high-strung sheltie had a general hatred of rain, wind, thunder, and pretty much every other weather disturbance, and would make her displeasure known to everyone within a ten block radius when any of the above occurred. "And the reason you haven't used that dog for a linear regression yet is what exactly?"

"Well for one thing, your grandmother loves her to death." Maggie drowned out Dominique's response. "I just got your message."

"That was quick."

"I was unlocking my door as you left it. So what time do you get here?"

"9:30 on the morning of the 18th and then we fly out of Vegas at 4:00 on the afternoon of the 24th," she recited.

"Think you'll have time to stop by for breakfast?" I asked.

Dominique's tone was playfully suspicious. "You aren't making grasshopper omelets again, are you?"

"Hey – you're the one who said you needed extra protein during training," I scolded lightly. "Here I'm trying to be nice and all you can do is complain about my cooking."

"Uh, that is not cooking."

I was attempting to ask Dominique what she would enjoy for breakfast when Maggie's shrill yaps came through the receiver again, cutting me off. Dominique's voice was remarkably patient as she said, "Could you hold on a minute?"

"Sure." A second later there was a muffled thud, then silence.

Dominique came back on the line. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"What was that?" I asked.

"A soft-cover edition of Jane Eyre landing two feet from Maggie's backside. She'll be quiet now."

I just burst out laughing.

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Lindsey Simona Willows – you are the most charming advertising executive I have ever had the pleasure of meeting."

It was a couple of hours later and Catherine and I were sitting in Guido's Pizza, being regaled with the commercials Lindsey had written to be read over her school's intercom system.

The nine-year-old blushed slightly at my remark. "Really?"

"Really," I told her. "I look forward to the day you're in charge of network advertisements – I won't have to pull out a book during commercials anymore."

"Wow," Catherine said smiling. "what do you say to that, Linds?"

"Thank you," she squeaked. I smiled at her.

"You're welcome."

Lindsey took another bite of pizza and studied me thoughtfully while she chewed, as though contemplating an issue of importance. Then she asked, "Uncle Gil?"

"Yes?" I replied. Although Catherine ahs taught her daughter to address most of the staff at the crime lab with the respectful 'Mr.' or 'Mrs.,' Nick, Warrick, and I all share the title of 'Uncle' – the reward of being part of Lindsey's life for as long as she can remember.

"Are you related to Dominique Grissom?"

Her tone was the innocent one of a child still unused to unrelated individuals sharing the same name. it was a stage I remember fondly from my own childhood. But this time, I felt my stomach clench tightly.

"Where did you hear that name?"

I tried to keep my voice normal, and I apparently succeeded, because Lindsey didn't seem bothered by my reaction.

"In International Gymnast. She was listed in the Level 10 Nationals results from a back issue I bought."

I'd forgotten Catherine telling me about her daughter's new interest in gymnastics, or I would have been more prepared for the question. Instead I'd been startled enough for my long-time co-worker to notice, even if her daughter didn't."

I avoided Catherine's gaze as well as Lindsey's, concentrating on cutting my pizza. In as controlled of voice as I could manage, I said, "Dominique is my daughter."

TBC.