From Greg

Part One

Spoilers: For Warrick; 19 Down, One to Go; and the closing scene from 'Ellie'.

Gil Grissom studied the walls in his office. There were fewer diplomas and posters now, and the empty spaces revealed what he'd long ago suspected: the room needed a new coat of paint. And something would certainly have to be done about the gaping holes he was leaving behind.

But it wasn't really his problem now.

He moved up to the closest wall and reached for a butterfly display -the last one in the room. He took it down as carefully as he could but it was no use; the nail fell right off, taking with it a large piece of stucco.

"The whole place's crumbling," he muttered as he walked back to his desk. There was an open box there, a sturdy one, and it was almost filled to the brim with his other insect collections. Now that he had the butterflies with him, he realized the display was just too big for the box. He'd miscalculated.

Slightly miffed, he put the buttefly display aside and glanced at the cardboard boxes discreetly tucked behind his filing cabinet. One of those should do.

He didn't move, though. He'd just come to a sudden realization: He needed more boxes. Those two would probably hold his books, and maybe a couple of files, but what about his specimens, and the miscellaneous contents of his desk?

And as he pondered this, a new thought occurred to him: He didn't have enough space at home. Everything he was taking with him would probably stay in their boxes for years and years.

Sadly, he looked at his butterflies. It didn't seem right, to keep these in a box -

"Something wrong?"

Gil looked up sharply. Greg was standing by the half-open door, smiling tentatively.

"I knocked," he said, "You didn't hear me."

Gil shook his head. "Sorry."¿

Greg took a couple of hesitant steps into the office.

"I almost went to your place," he said, "But I figured you'd be here, doing a little packing before the night-shift began."

Grissom tried to avoid the issue. "Did you get some sleep?"

"Yeah. I did." He looked at Gil for a moment, then dropped his gaze. The insect display on Gil's hands caught his attention. "So, is there something wrong with those? You were frowning at them."

"I was thinking that I'm gonna need a bigger house now," Gil said sheepishly. "Catherine used to say I'd turned this office into a second home, but I never listened. She was right, though." He shook his head almost imperceptibly. How ironic that he'd finally admit it, just as he was getting ready to leave the lab.

Forever.

It had finally happened: he was retiring from CSI. He'd made the announcement only a couple of days before, to his stunned colleagues from the night shift.

He hardly paused to gauge their reactions; all he wanted to do was come back to his office to finish some paperwork and then start packing. He was sure he'd be ready in one day, or two, at the most.

Little did he know that a new case was about to be entrusted to him, one that would force him to stay far longer than he'd originally intended. Facing his coworkers on a daily basis after his announcement was not something he'd evisioned, yet he was glad, in a way. Working one last case together would probably give them a sense of closure.

But with Greg, closure wouldn't come as easy. He was more than a colleague; he deserved some sort of explanation at least. Originally, he'd planned to take Greg somewhere for a private conversation, but the new case had made that impossible. 'Solve it quickly,' the sheriff had said, 'Solve it, and make me look good,' and that's what they'd been trying to do ever since.

On the other hand, what was there to say, anyway? Grissom was leaving CSI; their love affair, born in the lab and nurtured with their working relationship, couldn't possibly survive. He knew it, and Greg probably did, too.

Still, the fact that Greg had come early made it only too obvious that they needed to talk.

Resigned, he motioned Greg to take a seat. He sat behind his desk like he always did, and waited for Greg to begin.

The young man was smiling. "So," he said, "Think you're gonna miss the place?"

Gil smiled back. "I think I'm gonna even miss the smells."

"Those will be the first to go," Greg said casually. "Once Catherine settles in, the scents here will come from Dior, not old books. There'll be plants and flowers everywhere, there'll be cute pictures -"

He was teasing Grissom, and the older man reacted accordingly.

"My poor office," he said ruefully.

Greg was looking at Grissom's desk. A flat wooden box that looked antique had caught his attention.

"What's that?"

Grissom opened the box and offered it to Greg as if it were a cigar box. Only instead of cigars, there was only one object inside: a magnifying glass. Greg took it and examined it closely.

"Don't tell me you used this on the job," he muttered. "It looks ancient."

"Would you believe it was used in a Sherlock Holmes movie?"

"Really?" Greg looked at it with renewed interest. "Which movie was that?"

"I forgot."

Greg glared at him.

"How can you forget something like that? Properly documented, it could get you thousands on EBay."

Gil shook his head. "I'm giving it to Hodges."

Greg frowned. "Hodges? Why?"

"He's a Holmes' aficionado. He saw the glass once, fell in love with it, has been pestering me to sell it to him ever since -"

"And you're just giving it away? To him?"

"I'm giving away other stuff, too. And not just to Hodges. Anything that has caught a colleague's attention at one point or another will go to him or her. Books, specimens..."

"Wow. That's very generous of you. So, what about me?" he added good-humoredly. "Have you set aside anything for me?"

"Not yet." He looked at Greg. There were times when he could almost make himself forget he was in a relationship with the young man. And there were times when the depth of his feelings was revealed to him in a single glance. Like now.

Grissom smiled. "Tell you what: You choose," he said grandly, "I'll give you anything you want."

"I like the sound of that," Greg said gleefully. "Let's see -" and he looked here and there, as if he were actually trying to choose. Finally, he looked back at Gil. "I know what I want: I want you, behind that desk, for another five more years."

Grissom's smile wavered.

That was one thing he couldn't give him.

TBC