A/N: Spoilers up through 8x07 Goodbye & Good Luck. This is a songfic based on John Mayer's Dreaming with a Broken Heart. Inspiration for this story came the Saturday morning after GB&GL aired when I was lying in bed listening to the radio and this song came on. I really wrestled with this one. This is the 6th version of this story. I would've probably given up but every time I heard that song, this story was just begging to be written.
Disclaimers: I hold no claims to CSI, John Mayer or his song Dreaming with a Broken Heart. But Christmas is just around the corner and I'm holding out hope!
Thanks for taking the time to read my story.
He leaned back into the park bench stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. He sighed deeply as he laid his arms along the top of the backrest. He closed his eyes soaking up the warm spring sunshine while a cool breeze ruffled his hair and played with the collar of his jacket. The birds were singing, crickets were chirping in the grass and he could hear Hank running around sniffing out the many scents that could be found in the park. A sense of calm and contentment washed over him.
A light girlish giggle drifted on the spring breeze followed by soft, womanly laughter. He opened his eyes and glanced in the direction of the laughter. His expression softened and his heart filled to overflowing as he gazed upon his two favorite ladies sitting in the grass. Except for the deep blue eyes, the toddler was a miniature of her mother. The two heads of chocolate brown tresses were bent forward as they attentively watched something in the grass. The little girl giggled again and then she scooped something up in her small hands. With her hands cupped, she raised them to her mother so that she could see what she had. They smiled at each other with identical gap-toothed grins. As Sara whispered in the toddler's ear, she turned her gaze towards him and pointed. The little girl nodded excitedly and then carefully tried to stand up while keeping her hands cupped. His body tensed as the toddler stumbled and almost fell but relaxed when her mother caught her. Then she carefully and methodically made her way towards him all the while keeping an intent eye on whatever was in her hands.
"Daddy, Daddy!" she shrieked excitedly when she had almost reached him.
His heart squeezed a little with overwhelming awe and pride. It still astounded him that this beautiful, amazing little creature was his child. He bent forward and lifted the little girl onto his lap. "Hey, Aimee, how's my little princess?"
"Look what I've got," she giggled as she lifted her cupped hands right up to his nose.
He pulled back some while tugging her arms down a little so that he could see what she had.
"Ah, a Coccinellaseptempunctata."
She scrunched her nose and tilted her head to the side as she looked up at him. He chuckled as she tried to repeat what he had said. She reminded him so much of her mother especially when she frowned and scrunched her cute little face in concentration. He had seen Sara do that so often at work and at home.
He glanced up just then as Sara awkwardly got up from the grass and started waddling towards them. She grimaced and rubbed a hand over her swollen belly as he had seen her do dozens of other times. He couldn't believe this was his life with a beautiful, intelligent wife, an adorable daughter and another child on the way.
"Dad-dy!" The toddler whined trying to get his attention.
"What, sweetie?" he answered as he turned his attention back to his daughter.
"What is it?"
"It's a ladybug."
She turned an accusing eye on him. "That's not what you called it before," she said as she pouted.
"Remember how I told you every animal and plant has two names?" As she nodded, he continued, "Ladybug is . . . "
"Gil!"
He turned his attention to his wife at the note of panic in her voice. He heard her suck in her breath and moan a little.
"Gil, it's time. It's coming. The baby's coming!"
Grissom felt a jolt run through him and his entire body jerked. Slowly, the dream began to fade and reality crept in. He ran a hand along the sheets beside him but all he found were cool sheets and empty air. No warm, sleepy Sara. She was gone. Just like the dream was gone, so was she. She wasn't his wife. They didn't have a daughter. And they didn't have a baby on the way. It had all been a dream.
Music drifted through the air as he realized that it was Sara's radio alarm clock that had awoke him from his dream. He hated the blasted thing as it woke him from his blissful dreams every afternoon. But he couldn't bring himself to turn it off. It was one of the last physical connections he still had to her since she left him in her letter a little over a week ago. So he left it play every day for the two hours until it would automatically turn off and reset itself to go off again the next day.
He rolled over on his back and flung an arm over his eyes blocking out the sliver of light that found its way through the light-blocking drapes. Waking up had become the hardest part of each day. He would be lost in the sweetest dreams. She would be curled up against him, her warmth pressed against him. Or they would be on a roller coaster with her laughing and screaming at the top of her lungs. In others, they'd be walking through the park hand-in-hand with Hank trotting alongside them. Or they'd be out hiking in Red Rock Canyon and enjoying the sunset while wrapped in each other's arms. But the best dreams were those of the future which only a week ago had seemed so rosy and certain. Dreams of them being married. Dreams of a little boy with his blue eyes and his mother's gap-toothed grin or a little girl with his curls and her mother's deep brown eyes. Then he would wake up. For a few blissful moments, everything would seem alright and then reality would creep in. But today was the worst. Never before had the dreams seemed so vivid or in such great detail. Then he realized what was different. This was the first time their child had a name. Aimee. His heart broke a little more as he realized once again how much he had lost when Sara left.
His arm slid off his eyes and he stared at the ceiling. He didn't know how long he laid there just staring at the ceiling and listening to the music flowing from the radio. It could have been ten or fifteen minutes. It might have been a half hour or an hour. It didn't matter how long. Time was irrelevant now. Time was now measured in how many minutes, hours and days it had been since she left. It was measured in how many breathes he had taken and in how many steps he had walked and in how many tears he had shed since reading that fateful letter. Each breath, each step, each tear was just another reminder that she was gone and once again, he was alone in the world.
He knew he should get up and get ready for work. At least at work, he could forget for a little bit while he lost himself in the latest case. But he just didn't have the enthusiasm for it anymore. Without Sara there, the thrill of solving a case wasn't as satisfying anymore. He missed seeing the excitement and sparkle in her eyes as they cracked another case. He realized now that that sparkle had been getting dimmer and dimmer over time but he hadn't wanted to acknowledge it. He didn't want anything to mar the perfect little world that his life had become since they first became involved. Maybe if he had addressed it, maybe if he had pushed Sara into talking about her issues earlier on, he might have been able to stop her from leaving. But now he would never know. All he could do was wait for her return, if she returned.
The haunting melody of a piano reached into his soul and squeezed his heart.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
His breath caught at the truth in the lyrics. Sleeping had become both a salvation and a curse. While sleeping, he could dream of his sweet Sara and it was like she was right there with him. But then he would have to wake up and the dreams would only make the reality harsher and crueler.
You roll out of bed and down on your knees
And for a moment you can hardly breathe
Every time he would wake up and reality would sink in, he didn't know if he could go on. Each time he would begin to ache all over again. His mind would ache with the knowledge that she was gone. His body would ache missing her warm, supple flesh. But most of all, his heart would ache because he didn't know if she was ever coming back again.
Wondering
Was she really here?
Is she standing in my room?
Everywhere he looked there were little reminders of Sara. There was the picture of them at Lake Meade on his nightstand and a picture of them in San Francisco on her nightstand. Her scarves hung on a rack on the backside of the open closet door. A pair of red high heels sat beside his black dress shoes. The souvenir glass from the Bellagio that he had bought her on their first official date sat on the dresser.
No she's not
Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone
Despite all the little physical reminders, there was just something in the air that was different. It was like even the house knew she was gone. There was an air of loneliness and despair.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The giving up is the hardest part
He wouldn't give up. He couldn't give up. The only things that kept him going were the dreams and the hope of her return some day.
She takes you in with her crying eyes
Then all at once, you have to say goodbye
He had never been able to resist her tears. Those tears worked their way into his rusty old heart and made him fall in love with her. When she told him about her family and her childhood, her tears had wrenched at his heart and it ached for the young girl who had to live through such tragedy and for the beautiful, strong woman she had become despite it all. She had once said to him that she wasn't ready to say goodbye. He couldn't believe the time had come when she was ready to say goodbye. He wasn't ready to say goodbye. He never would be.
Wondering
Could you stay, my love?
And will you wake up by my side?
He hated that she left in a letter. She never gave him a chance to ask her to stay. And that's probably why she left the way she did. He would've begged and she probably would've stayed just for him. Then she would've never taken the time to heal like she needed to and everything would've festered over time. He knew in his mind that she had to do this but convincing his heart was another matter.
No she can't
Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone
She was really gone. And there was nothing he could do about it. He understood that she felt she needed to do this alone. He just hoped that she knew that all she had to do was ask and he would drop everything to be by her side.
Now do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
And would you get them if I did?
He had given her a single yellow rose on their first date. He had sent her a dozen red roses the morning after their first night together. He had sent her a dozen pink roses while he had been on sabbatical. And if he knew where she was right now, he'd send her twelve dozen roses just so she would know that she was loved and missed. But all he could do was dream and hope for a time when he could send her roses when they get married. Or when their children are born. Or when they celebrate a milestone anniversary. Or whenever she would make him happy which would be every single day that they would be together.
No you won't
Cause your gone, gone, gone, gone, gone
But the dreams and hopes could only hold back the truth for so long. The dam always broke and reality always flooded in. She's gone. She's gone. She's really gone.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
All that was left behind was a broken-hearted old man dreaming silly dreams.
THE END
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