A/N: This was written for the Fanfiction Critique Group's challenge on TalkCSI, where the main object was to write a character/pairing you've never written before, so any comments on characterization would be immensely helpfeul--Grissom's a tough nut to crack. As always, let me know what you think!

It's snowing, he thought numbly. Gil sat at his desk, the office lights low, his laptop open to shield him from the casual observation of the CSIs and lab techs roaming the halls. In his left hand he held a small snow globe, his present to Sara for Valentine's Day. It was the source of the numbness and the falling flakes, the source of his current state of contemplation.

Weeks before he had begun to plan their Valentine's Day celebration, allowing his heart to guide him to the things Sara would most enjoy, looking for a gift with meaning, something to say to her all the things he couldn't. The snow globe had been the first thing he'd picked out, remembering a comment she'd made several months before when they passed a souvenir stand. "The people in snow globes are always so happy." It might only be a plastic dome, but it was a tangible reminder of his hope for their future, that they might have that kind of happiness together.

His right hand held a second gift, one with perhaps more meaning than the snow globe. It was his mother's engagement ring, the one his father had bought so many years ago, the one that was supposed to find a new home on Sara's finger. It sparkled up at him even in the dim light with equal parts brilliance and torment, reminding him that the life he thought they were going to have was no longer in the cards.

She had told him in her good-bye letter how much she loved him—"you are my one and only"—and he knew that it was true for him as well. She was his one and only in so many ways. No other woman had ever made him feel the way Sara did. No one else could see into his soul the way she could. And not a single other person in the world understood him like she did. But now she was gone—gone from the Crime Lab, gone from Las Vegas, gone from his life.

And I am alone. As Gil sat holding the ring and the snow globe, he realized for the first time just how empty he felt without her. Sure he missed her, had become immediately saddened when he read the letter, felt an imaginary fist tighten around his heart causing actual physical pain in his chest that first night without her. But not until now did he understand the depth of his feelings, that the very nature of the word "alone" had changed completely for him. "Alone" before Sara meant working contentedly, studying his precious bugs, reading books, attending and giving lectures, racing cockroaches, riding roller coasters.

But "alone" after Sara meant alone. It meant an empty apartment, a vacant chair at the kitchen table, a cold side of the bed where her warmth used to be. It meant no one to comfort and be comforted by, no one who understood the demands of the job, no one to celebrate a court victory with, no one to help mourn the loss of a victim. It meant no partner, no better half. It meant that he was completely on his own while he waited to hear from her.

Because that's what he would be doing. He knew the odds of a man his age finding a woman, knew that the odds dropped considerably when you factored in his personality and work habits, all his funny little quirks. He knew, too, how much he loved Sara, how he didn't want anyone else. In her letter she had expressed a hope that she would be able to come back to him someday, and so as long as there was breath in his body he would wait for her, for a phone call, a letter, a carrier pigeon, whatever. He knew that as long as there was even the slightest chance she would contact him, no matter the reason, he would wait faithfully for her to do so. Whenever she needs me, I'll be waiting. I have no other choice. She still has total possession of my heart.