Christmas with Billy

Part two.

Important note: This story is a prequel to 'Billy'.

Brief mention of W/S

Taking advantage of a red light, Greg glanced over his shoulder.

Billy was sitting in his new child seat, dispiritedly glancing outside. He didn't like to sit in the back. What he wanted more than anything was to sit on the front seat right beside his daddy.

"We're almost there, Billy," Greg said. "We're gonna see Santa."

Billy brightened, but it was clear that Santa was the farthest thing in his mind. "D'you think daddy Gil liked my pictures?" he asked.

"He loved them," Greg said reassuringly. "He was really surprised, you know." No kidding.

"I'm gonna draw you a picture, too, daddy. One of Truddy -"

"I'd love that! Would you draw one for Aunt Karen, too?"

"Sure! I'm gonna draw her a pretty flower. She likes flowers -" and he chattered away, happy to have Greg's attention.

The young man skillfully kept his side of the conversation while he drove, but his thoughts kept going back to Gil and his book.

"Shit," Greg whispered as it hit him, yet again, that he'd let this happen. He should have kept an eye on Billy instead of focusing on his Christmas ornaments. Sure, he had a valid excuse -sort of; he was dusting Christmas ornaments, and Billy usually reacted badly to dust, so working in the living room made sense. Still...

If only Billy had chosen another book... One of Greg's costly texts, for instance; those had no sentimental value to speak of. Why, oh why, did it have to be Gil's book? And why did it have to be this book precisely?

Grissom rarely spoke of his father –actually, 'never' was a more precise word: Gil never spoke of his father. There were unresolved issues there that Greg could only surmise, but one thing was certain: For Gil, the book was his only link to his dad.

Greg sighed. There was no way he could ever make it up to Gil.

Thank God Billy was there to take his mind off his gloomy thoughts.

"Is Santa going to wait for me, daddy?" the child asked when they stopped at another red light.

"Sure, he will. Do you know what you're going to ask him for?"

Billy shook his head shyly. For an only child with two dotting parents (and various dotting 'uncles' and 'aunts' from the lab), he was remarkably unspoiled. Greed wasn't part of his nature.

"Maybe he'll bring you a new truck," Greg said enticingly. There was one already wrapped at the top of his closet. "Wouldn't you like that?"

Greg was smiling, but talking of Santa only reminded him of a recent disagreement with Gil.

Gil didn't consider 'Santa' an edifying character. It wasn't just that Santa represented the mercenary side of Christmas; Gil had just met too many creepy Santas over the years to willingly trust his son to one of them. But Greg, who had a more optimistic view on Santa and Christmas in general, insisted. Billy deserved to enjoy every Christmas tradition, he said, and besides, he'd be there to supervise.

Grissom finally relented, on one condition: he'd choose the Santa himself. That meant canvassing several malls and dozens of stores all over town, but he did it; he did a meticulous investigation till he found a Santa he considered trustworthy, and at the one place he should have gone to from the start: a bookstore.

Greg had pictured the three of them going together, but it was not to be. He didn't even ask Grissom to come; the last time he saw him, Grissom was picking Billy's crayons, looking like a long-suffering martyr resigned to his fate. Hopefully, he'd be looking a little better by the time they were back.

----

He did look better.

Grissom must have been on the lookout for them, because the door opened the minute Greg parked the car. He stood there for a moment, then came to their encounter just as Greg was finishing unbuckling Billy.

The boy cheered up when he saw Grissom.

"We brought you a present!" he announced before Greg could stop him. The boy still hadn't learned restraint when it came to Christmas presents; he just couldn't wait to tell people the good news. Luckily, he didn't reveal what the gifts themselves were.

Grissom was smiling, amused at Greg's covert efforts to shush the boy.

"Did you?" Gil asked innocently. "I don't see anything."

Billy turned to Greg.

"Show him, daddy," he said.

Reluctantly, Greg took a parcel he'd hidden under the front seat of his car and brought it out in the open, but only for a moment. He put other presents on top, and then looked defiantly at Grissom, who was covertly studying the presents.

"Stop looking at it," Greg admonished.

"It's wrapped, Greg," Gil said patiently, "I don't know what's inside. Although, judging by its shape, I'd say it's a book."

"Gil -"

"Ah, but which book?" Gil asked. "That's the fun part," he added, "The guesswork."

Noticing Gil's impish smile, Greg knew that a warning was in order.

"I'm putting this in the closet," he said, "If I catch you poking at it -"

"I never poke at gifts," Grissom said indignantly. "I only shake them a little."

Greg didn't think that was funny.

"Yeah, well, try not to shake this one either. It's a surprise, ok? You gotta wait till Christmas, or -"

"Or what?" Gil prompted. He looked curiously at Greg, who had stopped in mid-word and now was frowning, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just said. "Greg?"

"I've just realized something," Greg said. He looked at Grissom. "I've started to sound like my grandmother. You know, 'don't touch this', 'don't touch that-'"

"I've never heard you say those words," Grissom dismissed. "On the contrary."

"On the contrary?" Greg frowned.

"Yeah," Gil said, straight-faced, "You're always telling me to 'touch this' and to 'touch that'... Repeatedly," he added huskily.

Greg gaped. He looked around in case Billy was listening, but the child was more interested in playing tug-of-war with Truddy.

Gil chuckled.

"Relax," he said, "He didn't hear me." He looked closely at Greg, "Where did this come from? You're not a disciplinarian kind of person."

"And I don't want to become one," Greg said firmly. He didn't want to spend Christmas warning Billy or Truddy not to touch the tree. Which meant those crystal baubles were going back to the attic. Instead, he'd get some kid-friendly (and pet-friendly) Christmas ornaments. Oh, and if Grissom wanted to poke at his gifts, well, then that was ok, too.

He looked at Grissom.

"You can open it now if you want," he said, offering him the stack of packages.

"I don't want to," Grissom said. "I'll wait."

"It is a book," Greg admitted sheepishly. "Not the book, though."

Gil looked down, a bit embarrassed.

"I know I can never replace it," Greg continued, "I'm sorry; I just -"

"It's ok," Gil said, cutting into Greg's apology. "It really is. Listen," he added, loud enough for Billy could hear, "I've got a surprise for you two."

"A surprise?" Billy perked up.

"Come on," Gil said, motioning them to follow into the house.

He guided them to the dining room table, the one they used for school projects and work, but rarely for eating, for it was just too big for three people. The table was covered with pieces of paper, but what caught Greg's attention was the Edward Lear's book lying on a corner.

Entire pages had been neatly cut off from it.

Greg' froze at the sight but moved when Grissom motioned him to approach. Gil picked up Billy and sat him on the edge of the table so he could take a closer look, too.

"You used my drawings!" Billy said happily.

"Wow," Greg said.

Gil had made a collage by pasting Billy's drawings and the Edward Lear's illustrations on a sheet of butcher paper. The glue still wet in some areas, but the concept was obvious: it was a celebration of their family. Gil had put pictures of the three of them all over, but there was one picture Greg had never seen before -a portrait shot of a man wearing glasses.

He looked kind of familiar -

"Who's he?" Billy asked, pointing at the stranger.

"That's my father," Gil said quietly.

"Your daddy?" Billy asked, looking back reverently at the man.

While Billy examined Gil's work, Greg pulled Gil aside.

"We could have had the book cleaned," he whispered. "I asked at the bookstore. Why did you -"

Grissom smiled.

"I just started thinking," he said, shrugging slightly. "My dad didn't give me that book so I'd put it away for years. He wanted me to read it and have fun with it. If he hadn't died so soon, I would have done exactly what Billy did; I would have drawn insects all over it, and scribbled notes on the margins. I would have enjoyed it. Instead, I -" He let the word trail off. He glanced at Billy, who was using a red marker to put some finishing touches on a drawing. "I want Billy to enjoy that book," he said firmly. "And I want him to know about my dad."

Greg put his hand on Grissom's shoulder and gave him a little squeeze. Gil smiled back but didn't immediately say anything. For a moment, all they did was watch Billy.

"By the way," Gil said after a moment, "Did you get to see Santa?"

Billy shook his head, but his focus remained on the collage.

Greg explained. "We were in line behind some twenty parents and their kids, when Billy caught sight of a Nativity display. It was tucked away behind some books, you know, so non-believers wouldn't be offended, but Billy didn't miss it. He wanted to know what it was all about, so I told him." He smiled, "He asked me why Mary and Jesus weren't in a hospital, like Sara and BB."

Grissom smiled. Sara had recently given birth to her daughter, and they'd visited her at the hospital. Billy had been suitable impressed, especially when he saw BB (which is how he ended up calling the baby after struggling in vain to pronounce her name). He worried that she might be too tiny and frail; it wasn't till Warrick explained to him that all babies were like that that he relaxed.

"Anyway," Greg continued, "I told him a little about Mary and Joseph's ordeal, then he insisted I told him the rest of the story -"

"Not all the story, I hope," Gil said, a bit taken aback.

"Relax; I only told him about His birth and the three Wise Men. I'll leave the rest for later. Much later," he added pointedly. "Anyway, he was so taken by the story that we ended up getting a pop-up book of it. When it came to getting back in line, he said he didn't need to talk to Santa after all, so -" he let the word trail off.

Greg lowered his voice. "Look," he said, "I know we've never discussed religion; and I know that you don't trust religious institutions as a rule, but… I'd like Billy to have some beliefs. I was raised a Catholic, so -"

"It's ok," Gil said. "I'm glad you told him about Jesus." He glanced at Billy again. "I want him to know that parents will sometimes do anything for their kids' sake. Even flee their country -"

Greg smiled.

"Or give up their family heirlooms."

Grissom smiled back, then glanced at Billy again.

"He's a great kid," he whispered.

"Yeah. Oh, by the way," Greg said, "I ordered a bookcase. It has locks, and everything. You know. For our textbooks."

Gil smiled. "You're a great partner."

"I try," Greg shrugged modestly.

The end... for now.