Author’s Note:

The characters of CSI were created by A. Zuiker, and are the property of CBS and its affiliates.  All other characters depicted in this story are fictional; they are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author.  Although the locales in this story are real, all events, incidents and characters are pure invention.  
© December 2003. LSI.

The value of a smile

A smile does not impoverish those who give it, but it enriches those who receive it. 

It may last only one moment, but its memory can be eternal.

No one is too rich to not need one, and no one is too poor to not deserve one.

A smile brings rest to tired souls, offers courage to the dispirited, and consoles the sorrowful.

But it cannot be bought, loaned or stolen, because it has no value until it is given.

And if, some time, you meet someone who does not give you the smile you need, be generous and give him yours.  For no one needs a smile more, than someone who cannot sincerely offer one.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Her smile had always felt like a hug to his heart.  Her lips would part and pull back and her eyes would light up, and if he was lucky he would hear her laugh.  And something would swell inside him.  But for months now, he’d had to steal those hugs because she no longer gave him her smile.  So like a thief, he would hide in crowds and wait for her to offer it to someone else, and he’d watch and pretend that it was his.   

And that’s what he was doing now…

THE PARTY WAS in full swing, if you could call their annual all-day, break-room Christmas open-house a party.  But it was the closest to one that their on-duty personnel would get this Christmas.

Gil had to admit it was a perfect format.  He couldn’t recall who had come up with the idea three years ago, but it made sense to inject a little Christmas cheer at the lab on those usually quiet holiday shifts.  The break-room was cheerfully decorated, food and non-alcoholic beverages would be available all night, there was Christmas music softly playing in the background and lab personnel would be wandering in and out throughout the night when their workload permitted.

So far it had been a relatively quiet night and there were at least a dozen people present.  But only one who really mattered to him. 

Sara.

Gil stood near the door, feeling a little tense.  No one had noticed him yet and he hoped they wouldn’t make a fuss when they did.  He’d never attended one of these, which had earned him a scrooge reputation around the lab, but this year, it was different…he was different, or at least, he was trying to be.

He’d promised himself that if his surgery was successful he would make changes in his life.  But it had been easier said than done.  In situations such as these, he still felt like the geeky kid, hovering at the edge of the crowd, in awe of the more socially adept.  And no matter how much he’d studied them, he’d never mastered the skill.  To this day he couldn’t enter a social event, join a group and insinuate himself in their discussion.

And as he watched Sara smiling at something Archie whispered in her ear, he silently cursed that shortcoming. 

“Hey, Sara,” he heard Greg say.  “Would you come here a minute?”

“What is it, Greg?” she asked as she joined him at the punch bowl.

He pointed up.  Gil’s gaze followed Sara’s and he saw the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling above them.  Greg was smiling and pointing suggestively at his lips.  “According to tradition, a young lady cannot refuse to be kissed under the mistletoe or great harm will befall her in the year to come,” he said, urging her to kiss him.

He watched as a small smile tugged at her lips.  She seemed amused by Greg’s flirtatiousness, but she didn’t make a move to kiss him.  And Gil wondered if she would, though he hoped she wouldn’t.

“You’re a smart guy, Greg,” she said.  “If you can tell me where that tradition comes from, I’ll kiss you.”

“You are so going to kiss me,” he said with confidence.  “My ancestors are Scandinavian, you know.  They started the tradition.”  He paused for a beat and Sara crossed her arms and waited for him to continue.  “The Norsemen believed that the mistletoe had healing powers and it had brought Balder, the god of the summer sun, back to life.  His mother, the goddess of love was so overjoyed she hung mistletoe outside her home and would kiss anyone who passed under it.” 

The boy’s good, Gil thought and watched as Sara eyed him suspiciously.

Greg tapped the corner of his mouth with a finger.  “I’m waiting.” 

Gil saw Sara lean forward for a kiss.  “That’s a beautiful symbolic myth about mistletoe,” he said quickly, and they both looked at him.  He pushed himself up from the doorway and approached them.  Sara stepped back and her smile faded, he noted, his heart sinking a little.  “The story ends with a decree that whoever should stand under the mistletoe, no harm would come to them, only a kiss; a token of love.”  Unable to meet Sara’s eyes, he continued.  “But actually, Greg, kissing under the mistletoe is first found associated with the Greek festival of Saturnalia and later with primitive marriage rites.  Mistletoe was believed to have the power of bestowing fertility, and the uh…berries were also said to have "life-giving" power.”  Greg’s face fell, his hopes of kissing Sara dashed.  “But since mistletoe is a poisonous plant, it’s doubtful it would have healing powers.”  And if you kiss her, I will kill you.  “They are beautiful legends though, don’t you think?”

Confident that he’d diffused the situation, Gil glanced at Sara.  “When you’re through with Master Greg here, I’d like to see you in my office.  Bring your coat.”

When he left the break-room, his heart was pounding and his hands felt clammy.  He’d decided months ago that he wouldn’t stand on the sidelines anymore while another guy walked away with the girl he wanted.  But by the time he’d figured that out, he and Sara had drifted so far apart that he wondered if he’d ever be able to close the gap between them.  He’d waited patiently for months for her to give him an opening, but she hadn’t.  So it was up to him now.    

He entered his office, feeling like a teenager getting ready for his first date.  Despite all the preparation he’d put into this, he was nervous as hell.  Tonight he would find out if she had really given up on him, or if there was still hope for them.  His heart palpitated, as much from fear of the answer as from the anticipation of the moment.

He took a steadying breath and with shaking hands, he carefully unfolded a map on his desk.

“What’s up?” Sara asked as she entered his office a few minutes later.  His head jerked up and for a moment he was rendered speechless, as only she had the power to do.

Putting years of experience to practice, he pushed through the butterflies in his stomach and put his stage fright aside.  “What do you know about astronomy?”

She stood in front of his desk with her arms crossed in Sara fashion, her eyes dark and steady on him, and then she cast a glance at the map in front of him.  She shrugged.  “No more, no less than most people.  Why?”

He stood.  “Come with me.  There’s something I’d like you to see.”

He took an envelope from his desk and tried to conceal it as best he could as he led her out of his office.  If she noticed it, she didn’t say anything.

“Where are we going?”

He took in her puzzled glance and smiled.  “To the roof.”

She eyed him suspiciously then, but followed him without question.

At the top of the stairwell, Gil pushed open the door and motioned for her to step out onto the roof.  He watched her closely as she took in the telescope he’d set up earlier and prayed that she wouldn’t find his gesture corny.  “Take a look,” he urged her.  She crinkled her brow curiously, but obliged him.  “What you see is the Orion Constellation, the Hunter.  Do you know the story behind the Hunter?”

Sara shook her head but didn’t lift her eyes from the telescope.

“It’s about Greek gods and their relationships with mortals.  In the Greek pantheon, two of the main gods were Apollo and Artemis, the twin children of Zeus, king of the gods. Apollo was the male god of healing, and was associated with the sun.  His sister Artemis was the goddess of the Hunt, and was associated with the moon. 

“Orion was a demi-god, son of a mortal woman and the god Poseidon, god of the seas. Artemis fell in love with Orion and wanted to be with him, but her brother Apollo knew that if she gave her love to Orion, she would lose her power and image as a great goddess.  So, one day he sent a giant scorpion to attack Orion to keep him away from his sister.  Being the son of the sea-god, Orion attempted to flee the scorpion by running into the ocean, but the scorpion succeeded in pinching his ankle, and killed him.

“Artemis was very upset with her brother, and together they put Orion's body into the skies so that she could always remember him.”

Sara stood up straight and faced him, a curious frown marring her brow.  “It’s beautiful,” she said simply.

You’re beautiful, he thought, and wondered not for the first time at his inability to say two simple words when he could go on and on about Greek mythology and other such trivial subjects.  He cleared his throat.  “It is.  For most observers, the Orion constellation is the most impressive one in the sky, no doubt because of its large number of bright stars and the distinct group given by the three belt stars—and probably because it’s easy to find.”

“And you wanted me to see this because…?”

He slowly pulled the envelope from behind his back and handed it to her.  She looked at him suspiciously and opened it.  He watched her nervously as she retrieved the Global Star Registry Certificate from the envelope.  She pulled her Maglite from her pocket and flashed it over the piece of paper. 

And then, her head snapped up and she looked at him in astonishment.  “You…you had a star named after me?”

“After your smile, actually.  I named it Sara’s Smile.”  Her eyes fell to the certificate again.  She seemed at a loss for words and for some inexplicable reason, it gave him the courage to say what he wanted to say.  “It would be a shame for something so beautiful not to be officially recorded for posterity, don’t you think?”

She turned tearful eyes up at him and he breathed a silent sigh of relief that his gift had touched her.  “Merry Christmas, Sara.”

“That’s the best gift anyone’s ever given me,” she said softly.  “Thank you.  But I don’t have anything for you…”

“Yes you do…if you want to give it to me.”  Her eyes, bright in the moonlight, registered her confusion.  “Your smile, Sara.  I only want one of your smiles.  Can you give me that?”

“Yes,” he heard her say in a strangled voice as tears spilled down her cheeks.  He saw in her eyes then what he’d hoped to see and it was so overwhelming that he found it difficult to hold back his own tears.  It wasn’t too late for them. 

He reached up a hand and caressed her cheek, gently wiping away her tears, and she smiled then, with her lips and her eyes and he thought his heart would burst.  “Thank you,” he said, his own voice a trifle unsteady, and he wished he could tell her all that he felt, but the words wouldn’t come.  So he looked at her and hoped that she would see what was in his heart.

And she must have, because her eyes fell to his lips and he could have sworn her face had moved a little closer to his.  Instinctively, he closed the remaining distance between them and captured her smile with his lips.

All he’d allowed himself to hope for was one of her smiles, but she was offering him so much more.  He wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss, thanking this new lucky star that was Sara’s Smile.