A homage to fromage...

[helsinkibaby]

carolinecrane - this is your fic request. And as per the title, it is shlock at its schlockiest, cheese at its cheesiest, far and away the most ridiculous thing I have ever written and it is all your fault. No-one to blame but yourself.

There is Warrick/Sara. There are candy canes and mistletoe, since I am a glutton for punishment good friend that way. There is every lab tech who ever appeared on the show, and there is cheese. At its cheesiest. Did I mention the cheese?

Better Than Breadcrumbs
Sara knew, from long experience, that walking in on Nick and Greg laughing over something was never a good thing. It usually meant that they had some particularly tasty morsel of gossip, something that would mutate and spread like wildfire all around the lab. Not that she minded that as such; in fact, she normally wouldn’t give it a second thought. However, walking into the locker room, finding them like that while standing around her locker, had the hairs rising on the back of her neck.

“Am I missing something?” she asked, and she knew that she was when they turned identical smirks to her.

“You might say that,” Nick drawled, his Texan accent even more pronounced than usual. He evidently wasn’t going to be any help, so she turned her gaze to Greg, who simply cocked his head in the direction of her locker. The movement didn’t help any, since they were blocking her view, but when Greg stepped aside, what she saw, as well as his words, had a flush creeping up her cheeks.

“Someone left something for you,” was what he said, and what it was was hard to miss – a candy cane, hanging from the top of her locker by a length of gold ribbon, which also held an envelope with her name written on it. Her jaw dropped, and she moved towards the locker in silence, Nick and Greg stepping aside to let her pass.

A good tug at the ribbon loosed the candy cane into her hand, and she didn’t need to taste it to know that it was one of the nice ones that were sold around town, no cheap sugar rush here. The envelope was likewise good quality, cream coloured paper that was stiff to the touch, her name written on the outside in handwriting she didn’t recognise, almost calligraphy she thought, and she stared at it for a long moment before Nick’s voice snapped her back to reality.

“Looks like someone’s got a secret admirer,” he sing-songed, and she shot him a glare that probably didn’t have anywhere near the effect that it normally would have, not when she knew that she was blushing so hard that she was probably a fire hazard.

“Did you see-?” she began, but they didn’t let her finish, identical shakes of the head indicating that they knew nothing.

“Well?” Greg demanded, and only when he pointed at the envelope did she realise what he was getting at. “Open it,” he said, just in case she was left in any doubt, and, still shaking her head in mingled curiosity and amazement – because who the hell would go to this much trouble, and for her? – she did as he suggested, running a fingernail underneath the flap of the envelope.

“Don’t tear it,” Nick said, something that earned him a glare from her, a questioning glance from Greg, and he shrugged. “You never know,” he said. “We might have to dust it for prints or something.”

“Let’s hope not,” Greg muttered, something that struck Sara as odd, but then the envelope opened, revealed the folded over paper inside, and when she held it up, read the beautifully written note, Sara forgot all about anything but her keenly felt sense of amazement.

“It’s a poem.”

She was speaking more to herself, but when Greg heard that, he couldn’t contain himself any longer, plucking the page out of her hand, reading aloud the words that she’d already skimmed.

“A Christmas treat to make you smile
From one who has loved from afar for a while.
And though I may not be a poet
(And reading this, I’m sure you know it)
To find me out, to know my name,
Follow the rules of my little game.
The candy canes, they number eight
Spread around this fair estate.
Each card attached contains a clue
To let you know what you should do
Should you wish to take a chance
And join me in a festive romance.
This cane you hold is number one,
Next, go to the man who knows his guns.”

When he finished, there was a moment of quiet in the locker room, as Greg looked at her, then at Nick, then back to her. “Well,” he finally said, characteristically being the one to break the silence, “He’s right… he’s no poet.”

It was Nick’s turn to glare at him, grabbing the sheet from his hand and scanning it himself before passing it back to Sara. “Poet or not,” he said, “The guy’s got good taste… expensive tastes… I mean, the paper, the ribbon, the candy…” He rubbed his chin, hiding a wry little grin. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Sara.”

Sara was re-reading the note, a little amazed, a little stunned, and a lot intrigued. “Do you guys have any idea…”

“Nope.” Greg’s reply was prompt.

As was Nick’s. “Not a clue.”

The replies were so quick, in fact, that Sara was suspicious, but Nick didn’t let her dwell on it. “But if you want to know who it is,” he said, “I know where to start.” She narrowed her eyes in question, and he rolled his own in answer, stabbing a finger at the paper in her hand. “With the man who knows his guns.”

Put so simply, there was only one thing that Sara could do, one place that she could go, even if she spent the entire walk to the Ballistics Lab wondering two things; what the hell she was doing and who was looking at her. As was usual in those types of situations, she felt like all eyes were on her, and she was relieved when she walked into the Ballistics Lab to find it empty save for Bobby. His back was to her as he peered into a microscope, obviously checking for a match, and she cleared her throat so as not to startle him.

“Hey Bobby,” she said, wondering did she sound as awkward as she felt.

Bobby, unusually for him, didn’t even turn around, but when he spoke, she could tell that he was smiling. “Sara,” he said. “Been expecting you.”

She closed her eyes and bit her lip, part of her hoping that the ground would open up and swallow her, part of her hoping that it would wait until she found her next clue. “You have?”

“Uh-huh.” That was accompanied by a snicker, and the ground was most uncooperative. “Someone left something for you… check the gun vault.”

She didn’t have to see his face to know that his smile was now a smirk, and when she went to the gun vault, she knew why. There, suspended from the butt of a rifle on a length of gold ribbon was another candy cane, with another envelope with her name on it. Freeing it, she went to Bobby’s side, and when he looked up at her, his grin was ear to ear.

“Who?” she demanded without preamble, and he shook his head.

“Nuh-uh… it’s not that easy,” he said, wagging a finger at her for good measure. “Besides, I was threatened with certain death if I spilled the beans… and it’s not like there’s not plenty of ammunition around here…” She looked heavenward, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and he wisely waited until she was done before he continued. “No, if you want to work out who it is, you’re going to have to read the next clue.”

She gave him her patented look of death, but it didn’t work on him any better than it had on Nick and Greg. He just kept on grinning at her as she worked her nail under the flap of the envelope, and when she noticed that he was craning his neck to see what was written on the sheet, she read it out loud.

“If through those doors you chose to amble,
I’m glad that you took up the gamble
Now you’ve found candy cane number two,
Look for the woman who knows her tattoos.”

Their eyes met, and Bobby frowned. “The woman who knows her tattoos?” Then his face cleared and his eyes lit up, and Sara was already heading out the door.

As she made her way through the lab, she was acutely aware of looks being thrown in her direction, usually accompanied by knowing smiles, and tempted as she was to stop and ask people if they knew who was behind this wild goose chase, she kept right on going until she came to the door she needed. This time she wasn’t as lucky as she had been though, because she found Catherine and Leah, backs to her, heads together as they discussed something, and Sara was sure she knew what it was.

“Hey guys,” she said, and she knew she was right when they turned to her, leaning back against the counter and crossing their arms.

“Tell me, Catherine,” Leah drawled, her eyes dancing. “Just how romantic are you finding this whole thing?”

“Me?” Catherine laughed. “Pretty damn romantic… I’m also pretty damn jealous.”

“Me too… do you think she knows who it is?”

“Oh I’m pretty sure not… should we tell her or make her guess?”

Sara shook her head, sure that this could go on and on, cutting the double act off in its tracks. “You know why I’m here.”

Catherine laughed again. “I’m pretty sure the whole lab knows why you’re here,” she said, not unkindly, and she glanced over at Leah, a devilish grin on her face. “Should we give her the clue or should we just torture her?”

Leah pursed her lips, brought one hand to her cheek and tapped her fingers exaggeratedly. Then she dropped the hand, moving it to the counter behind her. “What the hell, goodwill to all men and all that…” When she brought her hand back in front of her, suspended from it was a familiar sight, candy cane and envelope, and Sara was surprised at how eagerly she reached for it, adding the candy to her growing collection, opening the envelope easily.

This time, she didn’t even consider reading it silently, sure that Catherine and Leah wouldn’t let her leave the lab alive if she tried.

“Where once was music, now is quiet,
With one who eschews a takeout diet.”

The clue was shorter than the others, and it baffled her. She looked to Catherine and Leah for help, but was met with equally confused looks. “OK… let’s think about this,” Catherine said, pressing her palms together and raising her hands to her lips. “Where would you hear music in the lab?”

Once she asked the question, it was obvious. “DNA lab,” Sara said instantly, because how many times had Greg nearly blasted their eardrums out?

Leah’s face cleared. “And Mia doesn’t eat out…” she said, something which confused Sara even more, and she looked at her blankly, only slightly mollified when Catherine looked at Leah the exact same way. “Trust me on this,” Leah assured them, waving a hand. “Sit through her lecture on restaurants as glorified Petri dishes and you’ll think twice too… trust me Sara, get to the DNA lab.”

Sara didn’t have to be told twice, and when she got to the DNA lab, she wasn’t left in any doubt as to whether or not her next clue was there. Mia greeted her with a sour look and a reproving, “I’m not sure I approve of my lab being used in some frivolous romantic escapade,” she said, and beside her, Greg rolled his eyes.

“I think it’s romantic,” he said. Turning to Sara, he handed her the candy cane he was holding. “Yours, my lady,” he said, affecting a courtly bow, asking as he straightened up, “And this is number?”

“Four,” Sara replied, checking the seal of the envelope, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Greg.

“I didn’t peek,” he said, then, under his breath, “It’s more than my life’s worth…”

Once again sure that he knew more than he was saying, this time, Sara chose to ignore it, surprising herself with how much she wanted to see that handwriting again.

“Four down, four to go
Halfway home, now you are.
If number five you wish to know,
Look for one who was once a ‘Star.’”

She and Greg ended up looking at one another before throwing disgusted looks at Mia. “That’s pretty crappy poetry,” she announced.

“Grinch,” Greg retorted, ignoring her thereafter in favour of Sara. “Any thoughts?”

Once again, Sara shook her head, stumped, and she opened her mouth to say so when help came from the most unlikely source. “Well, isn’t it obvious?” Mia asked.

“Since we’re standing here looking at you, I would say not.” Greg’s voice was tarter than Sara had ever heard it, and Mia’s eyes widened as she glanced in his direction.

“Travis,” she said simply. “He used to play ball for the Stars… he talks about it all the time.”

“Ah…” Greg nodded slowly. “So he must have-”

Sara didn’t hear whatever it was he said next, because she was already out the door.

The tox lab was mercifully deserted, save for Travis, who was sitting staring at the door, head in his hands. He noticeably brightened up when Sara walked in, and she thought, not for the first time, that his grin could only be described as a bare half-notch above filthy. “About damn time you got here,” he announced, pointing at the microscope at the end of the table, the one that had a candy cane and envelope dangling from the eyepiece. “The suspense is killing me.”

“You and me both,” Sara muttered, more to herself than him, but he took it as directed at him, his eyes widening.

“Is our secret admirer making progress?” he wondered, and when he saw the flush that painted Sara’s cheeks, he laughed, the look on his face no longer a half-notch above anything. “I’ve got to remember this…”

“Does everyone know about this?” Sara asked, and she didn’t need to see him nod. The grins that followed her around the lab were proof enough. “OK… next clue.” Once more, she read out loud, just in case she needed more help.

“Number six can be found
Near greenery which a garden bounds.
Take the E, replace with O
That will tell you where to go.”

“Greenery?” she exclaimed. “This is the crime lab… there’s no greenery…”

“No,” Travis objected. “It’s part of the clue… see?” He tapped the offending line. “Which a garden bounds… think… what do you have around a garden that’s green? Trees? Shrubs? Flower beds…” He was ticking them off on his fingers, then he paused, and they both said the word at the same time.

“A hedge.”

Sara’s mind had already leaped forward, solving the clue, and she felt her heart sinking, because of all the places he could have sent her, why there? She hoped she was wrong, but Travis was thinking too. “Take the E out of hedge… and you’ve got…” He figured it out then, and he doubled over laughing.

“Thanks,” Sara said, her tone indicating anything but gratitude, and she could still hear his laughter long after she left the tox lab behind.

Walking into Trace was never a pleasure under any circumstances and when she saw the way Hodges was looking at her, she resolved that when she found her secret admirer, she was going to make him pay. “This is a place of work, Sara,” he said, and for a man who was the same height as her, if not shorter, Sara wondered how he was able to look down his nose at her quite so readily. “Not a place to entertain romantic dalliances…” A disgusted sniff as he looked over at a computer screen with a candy cane on top. “You’d do well to remember that.”

Sara bit back the rejoinder that she hadn’t exactly planned this, nor was it particularly any of his business. All she said was, “You and Mia make a good pair,” and while she meant it one way, he took it another, because he perked up, looking immeasurably pleased with himself.

“I’ve always thought so,” he said. “Do you think…” Then his voice trailed off, because he saw that she was reading the note, and when he spoke again, it was with an almost plaintive whine. “Aren’t you going to let me hear it?”

She didn’t answer though, because she’d already worked it out, and if walking into Trace had been bad, this was worse. “I’m going to kill him,” she muttered.

The words of the clue ran through her brain as she made her way to her next target, praying for an empty room.

“If clue number seven is what you wish,
Seek you out the annoying fish.”

No such luck though, because when she arrived at Grissom’s office, he was standing just inside the door, looking up with a puzzled expression on his face. Speechless, all she could do was stare at him, and he sounded very confused when he said, “Sara? Why is a candy cane and an envelope with your name on it hanging from my Big Mouth Billy Bass?”

Stepping over the threshold to stand beside him, she looked up at the annoying fish that had long ago run out of batteries – or rather, Grissom had eventually stopped replacing the batteries once he’d learned that everyone took them for their pagers – then up at him. “Secret admirer,” she said simply, looking around her then, finding a step ladder and dragging it over. “Excuse me,” she said when she was in his way, and he stepped back to let her climb up on the ladder, just watching as she put it back in its place and opened the envelope.

Only when she was about to open the folded paper within did he speak. “Secret admirer?”

“He’s been leaving me clues all over the lab… this is the last one,” she told him, and she was about to read when he spoke again.

“Why would someone do that?” Her mouth opened in shock, and he must have realised how that sounded, because he shook his head quickly, reached up to adjust his glasses, Grissom-speak for “I’m rattled.” “That’s not what I meant,” he told her, and she shook her head, smiled sadly at him.

“I know what you meant Grissom,” she said, and indeed, that had always been part of their problem. She always knew what he meant, but he never knew what to say, what to do, and anything that could have been between them got lost in the in-between.

He held her gaze, the edges of his lips turning up in a sad smile. “You always did.” She looked at him for a long moment, a moment that held and lingered, and for a crazy instant, she wondered if it was him who was doing all this. Then he pointed at the letter in her hand. “Aren’t you going to read?”

Swallowing hard, she nodded, looked down at the two lines written there.

“Seven times now you’ve passed my test
Don’t you think you deserve a rest?”

She could see the place in her head, but it was Grissom who said the words, his tone soft, almost sad. “Break room,” he said.

She nodded again, her throat tight, and she wanted to speak, but found she couldn’t. “Go, Sara,” Grissom said at last. “You don’t want to miss him.”

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but then shut it again, nodding once. Turning on her heel, she walked out of his office, stopping only briefly to regain her balance before heading for the break room.

The halls around the break room were deserted which struck her as odd, but when she walked in the door, she forgot about that. In the middle of the table was a vase, a single red rose inside. Tied around the vase with that familiar gold ribbon was a familiar candy cane, a familiar envelope with familiar writing propped against it. She laid her stash of candy and notes down on the table, leaning down to smell the rose, smiling as she picked up the note. As was her habit at this time, she read out loud, even though she was the only one there.

“You’ve satisfied at every ask
And now I must put down my mask.
To find the one who sends you love
Open your eyes and look above.”

“Look above?” she repeated as she did just that, frowning when she saw not a person, but a healthy sprig of mistletoe right above her head.

“Yeah… I kinda lied in that one.”

A voice from the doorway made her jump and she whirled around. “You?” she choked out.

Warrick stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his blue shirt, one shoulder rising and falling in a shrug. “I told you I wasn’t a poet,” he said as he straightened up, moving towards her.

“You?” She was still stuck on that. “You did all this?”

He nodded, lips twitching. “With a little help from my friends,” he allowed.

“They knew? They all knew?”

“They’ve known for a long time.” He was standing right in front of her then, close enough to touch her, but his hands remained by her side. “Been trying to get me to do something about it…”

“But this?” She looked up at the mistletoe, then over at the rose, the candy canes, the stack of notes. “Why all the hoopla? Why not just ask me?”

He shrugged again, looking faintly embarrassed when he said, “Anyone can do that… I wanted to be different.” She grinned, because he’d certainly managed that, and her grin must have bolstered his courage, because he took a step closer to her, his fingers reaching out to brush her shoulder. “You haven’t hit me yet…” he observed, and she tilted her head, looking up at him challengingly.

“Well?” she demanded, satisfied when he looked flustered, and not a little alarmed.

“What?”

“I thought you were a ladies’ man,” she said, laying her hands on his chest. “And you go to all this trouble, get me under the mistletoe… and you’re wasting time talking?”

He blinked as her words sank in, and then a slow smile spread across his face. It was something that Sara had seen before, but it had never made her knees go weak, or maybe that was because he’d stepped closer to her, so that her body was pressed against his, his hands settling on her waist, warm even through the material of her shirt. “Not any more,” he whispered before his lips found hers.

As she lost herself in his kiss, Sara was sure she could hear applause from outside the door, but she didn’t look to check.

She had better things to do.