Okay, everyone. I totally forgot Scotty's girlfriend's (?) name. Maybe Alyssa or Elyssa?? Let me know if I'm wrong! This is my first Cold Case fic and it's just a little thing that popped into my head. Hope you all enjoy it.
A Dream in a Bottle
Scotty took a drag of his beer before leaning his head back against his couch. This case had brought up a lot of memories of his grandfather, of the stories his grandfather used to tell him. Time like these...
Well, times like these—memories like these—sure made him appreciate what he had. Even if life hadn't quite dealt him the hand he had expected.
He had expected to married with 2.5 kids, a white picket fence, a dog, and Elyssa there everyday for him to come home to. He hadn't expected 'the giants'. He hadn't expected her to leave him. Not that way.
But he had slowly made his peace with it, with life. Sure, he still thought about it. He could still get pretty riled about things related to her, to suicide. But everyone had buttons that could be pushed. His were maybe just a bit easier to get to than most.
He had moved on and, though he sometimes felt guilty for it, he was pretty happy. Great family, great job, great colleagues—no, great friends. An image of his partner flashed in his mind. Lilly Rush. Detective extraordinaire. Cold case queen. Married to her work. She never gave up—at least, not on the victims.
In the last year, he had done a very stupid thing. He had let his insane attraction for his partner escalate.
He was relatively positive that he loved her.
He thought that part of it had been seeing her sitting on her couch when her mother died, vulnerable. Small, like a child. She had looked so...so...broken. And it had hurt him more than he thought possible. That was when he realized that it wasn't just attraction. It wasn't just friendship.
And then she had been shot and he thought his heart had stopped.
He had hidden it well. Even during that hellish drive with that bastard, 'John.' He wished that Lil hadn't pulled him away so early. He had really, really wanted to break at least one rib.
And today, seeing her in that cute baseball getup that hung from her fame was almost more than he could handle. She had looked so delicate, like a little girl playing dress-up.
And this week: her tentative curiosity about him, his feelings about Cuba. The adorable way she spoke Spanish. Scotty was sure that Lil would be a big hit with his mother if they ever met.
As he took another gulp of his beer, his mind wandered back to the bottle of champagne in his fridge and unfulfilled dreams. Lately, his dreams had been of Lil and the picket fence. When he woke, it wasn't in a cold sweat. It wasn't frantic, checking to see if he had to go out to find Elyssa. It wasn't with a shout, calling for paramedics for Lilly. He woke slowly as if he didn't want to loosen his grasp on those precious dreams where he shared his life with Lil in the most personal way.
The dreams where he loved her and she loved him back.
So, seeing that unopened champagne bottle and remembering his grandfather's unrealized dream that still hung heavily around the bottle, Scotty couldn't help but feel a bit melancholy. Tonight, his own dream seemed farther away than ever.
He was startled out of his contemplations by a knock on the door. Sighing, he set his drink back on the coffee table and heaved himself to his feet. He probably should have showered right when he got home, but he hadn't been expecting company and he had always loved a beer after a game (whether he was playing or watching).
He didn't bother to check for who it was before opening the door. "Lil? What's up? You in trouble?"
She smiled at him, almost sheepishly. "Nope. Sorry if I'm interrupting something, Scotty, but—"
He broke into her words, eager to point out that he was alone. No Frankies tonight. No substitutes. "Ain't interrupting anything. Come on in."
He stepped back, making room for her to pass him. Once she was inside and he had closed the door, she stood there rather awkwardly. He wracked his brain to think of something to say, but she beat him to it.
"I was bored and decided to rent a movie. Wondered if you'd like to join?" Lil pulled a DVD from her purse, brandishing it. Field of Dreams. Scotty held back a groan. Great. A chick flick. When he didn't answer right away, she held the movie closer to herself and opened her mouth—probably to apologize and excuse her way out of the apartment.
"I'm down. Want a beer?" He took the movie from her and headed to the entertainment center before she could make a run for it. She dropped her purse by the front door (no coat rack or front door table).
"I'll grab one and meet you on the couch." She smiled sunnily and headed to his kitchen. Scotty thought she should be that enthusiastic more often. That was not smile to be stingy with.
He settled on the couch, throwing the extra throw pillows onto the armchair, thus leaving the rest of the couch free. He was glad that Lil felt comfortable enough to root through his fridge. He heard her clear her throat from the doorway and looked up. She held a beer in her hand and leaned against the door frame, raising an eyebrow.
"Looks like more than one family is waiting with champagne ready," she commented. He let the corner of his mouth tug up in a wry movement, somehow sheepish and sad.
"My grandfather was saving it."
She sat down next to him. "You two were close?"
He nodded. "Yeah. That bottle has sort of become a symbol of my own dreams—almost like if my dreams can come true, it's one step closer to his dream."
She smiled softly. "I'm sure you'll open that bottle. Don't worry, Scotty."
And sitting there, Lil on the couch next to him and the opening music of the movie playing in the background, Scotty thought that maybe she was right. Suddenly, his dream didn't seem so far away after all.