I don't really watch CSI, but I am a fan of Greg! Of course, I took a lot of lenience on the snowing in Vegas bit.

So Cold

Greg Sanders stared at the snow beneath with a crestfallen face. He didn't even blink as it caught the corner of his eye, stinging the sensitive area as it melted and stung his skin. He blinked it away, but his eyes never left the grave.

Greg lowered his body down to the cold, wet floor of the graveyard, and he leaned his eyes against the marble of the headstone. "I miss you Warrick; we all do." He closed his eyes as he let a stream of tears fall down them. "God, you even made it snow in Las Vegas. That's something special." He smiled. Suddenly feeling a chill, he crossed his hands over his chest and shivered. "You'd think this would be less comfortable, but I guess for you, I can bare it. I know that we didn't know each other that much, but it was still enough. You were family, Warrick, and I'll never forget that."

Greg didn't know how much time had passed since he had visited the grave, but he realized that it must have been a while, because his fingers were turning colors. He brought his suit jacket closer to him and hid his fingers in their pockets. He knew that he should leave, but he just couldn't find it in him to separate himself from it quite yet. It was Christmas Day, and no one should be alone on Christmas- dead or alive. Suddenly, Greg remembered something, and he reached into his pants pocket with a shaky hand. Quickly, he brought the box out and placed it on the grave. Sighing unsteadily, he finally stood up and decided it was time to leave. Reluctantly, he brushed off the flaky snow and ran his hand through his hair. Not being able to delay the process any longer, he turned around, but when he did, he gasped.

"Go home, Greg." Grissom instructed, his voice as serious and unfriendly as usual. Seeing that Greg wasn't going to move, he walked closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, let's go to my place. You shouldn't have to be alone right now."

Greg stayed silent as he was lead away from the grave, and Grissom noted on sad note that he had never seen Greg so withdrawn and restless before. His sad, swollen eyes and his fatigued structure were obvious signs of sleep deprivation and- and, well, depression. Shaking the thought off, he escorted the younger man into his car.

As Grissom pulled out of the cemetery, he glanced back at Greg, and he quickly noticed that he was falling asleep. He could barely hear him whisper 'Merry Christmas, Warrick' as his body finally let him sleep, no longer able to fight off the growing tiredness it had been faced with.

Grissom sighed as he stopped at the red light, tapping the brake petal lightly as he looked back at the sleeping form in the back of his car.

"Merry Christmas, Greg."

~* So Cold *~

That was my first CSI fic. It will probably not be my last, though! Thnx for reading!