AN: I wasn't planning on writing a second chapter to this, but inspiration came one night as I was lying in bed. Again, I don't own anything- but a girl can dream.
There should be a limitation on grief. Some set of rules that states that it's alright to wake up crying, but only for a month. That after 47 days I shouldn't hear your footsteps echoing through the halls of my dreams or feel my heart pounding when I think you called my name; that after two months it's okay to laugh again.
I sit next to you, watching you dream, watching your eyelids flutter like the butterflies you always compare me too; I know those dreams are of me. I wish I could reach out and wipe away the tears silently falling down your cheeks; hold you and cry with you. I've never seen this room before; the walls are covered with the most beautiful specimen of butterflies I've ever seen. When the moonlight reflects off their iridescent wings I can't help but think of you, the way the moonlight echo's off your sleeping form.
I wonder if Catherine knows that I don't hate her, that I respect her and admire her more than any other woman I know. I wonder if she knows that I'm Lindsey's guardian angel and that Eddie is hers. That one day everything will be okay and the pieces of her life will fall in place. I wonder if she realizes that there's a miracle growing within her, that it'll have Warrick's eyes and her smile. I wish she knew that her first kiss with Warrick brought a smile to my face and fifty dollars in Nick's pocket.
I wonder if Greg knows that I play practical jokes on him, moving around test tubes until he gives up cursing; when he turns his back to me I replace them. Recently he has begun to catch on saying, "Give them back Sar." He puts on the best façade out of all of them, keeping up his playful self while on the inside letting his spirit die. I wonder if he knows that I watch his dreams. It's the only chance that I can comfort him; reassure him that everything will be okay. I hold him and let him cry onto my shoulders, whispering into my hair, "Don't leave me. Please. Please Sara, take me with you." Some days I wish I could take him with me, but he has so much to live for- so much living that it wouldn't be fair. He doesn't know that every time he looks into Mia's eyes, he's looking into the soul of his wife, his children's eyes reflecting back.
Sometime I wish this was just a bad dream, I would wake up and I would be alive. I would have a second chance to hold you, to hear your voice say my name, to kiss you. I wonder if you know I'm here, laying next to you, listening to your breath, your slow heartbeat. I whisper your name so softly, so gentle. Like the wings of a butterfly I brush my fingertips against your lips, across your cheek, your eyelashes. I hear your breath escape like a sigh and I know that it's over.