Summary: Gil and Sara have gone to bed in their hotel room in Vegas in 2021. He's been reminiscing about the past, taking a walk down memory lane, reliving all the moments in time that brought them here today, together. As he falls asleep his memories come alive in his dreams, and we get to go with him as he closes the gap between past and present, in this final chapter of Moments in Time.
Chapter 20 - Adonis Blue
Sleeping peacefully next to his wife, Gil Grissom's dreams continue along the same path his thoughts have been walking down for the last few hours. A path full of twists and turns, of roses and thorns, of oceans and deserts. A path that has taken them to breathtaking mountaintops, and to bottomless valleys. A long time ago they had chosen the road less traveled, promising each other to walk it side by side. But an unforeseen crossroad sent them down different paths. And in life there are no maps to tell you if the road you're on will lead you back where you belong. Every choice you make along the way could take you further from, or closer to your dream, and you just have to trust your heart and hope that you're fortunate enough to get it right. Not a day goes by now that he doesn't thank his lucky star that their paths were heading in the same direction, inevitably linking back together, to each other, and to the love they share. He truly has no regrets, because what if changing one small thing would in the end change everything. How could he want to take any of it back, knowing that everything that happened brought them where they are today, brought her back into his arms, for the rest of their lives.
That night his dreams recreate an evening a few weeks after their reunion in San Diego perfectly, down to the last stunning detail. The sun was about to go down, and had set the clouds hovering over the horizon on fire. The air was crisp, and Sara had just gotten up from her chair and skipped down below to grab their windbreakers. The ocean was majestically calm, and mirrored the colors of the sky above with a glassy perfection. The almost eerie silence was only disturbed by a low rhythmic squeak from the anchor rode, and the soft indie music streaming from the travel size speaker she had placed in the bow.
The taste of whiskey that was passed on from the kiss she drew him into before she disappeared below deck lingered on his lips and warmed his mouth. When she came back up seconds later she had a small wooden box in her hands, and a questioning look on her face. He'd been meaning to show her, he just hadn't found the right moment yet. But now, she had found it for him…
She sat down next to him with the small wooden crate in her lap. The engraving on the lid was in his handwriting, and he knew she recognized it. He watched her as she carefully let her fingers run over the four letters as though she was reading braille. As if feeling the shape of them under her fingertips would somehow tell her what intimate secrets it held. He pulled his chair close enough to put his arm around her shoulders, and let his free hand glide on top of hers covering the box. He'd bought it from an old man on the streets of Trujillo in Peru only a few weeks after their divorce, right before he left for the oceans. He'd engraved her name on it a couple of weeks later, after he'd found an old wood burning tool for sale in a thrift shop he'd walked by.
Without a word he gently pulled the hinged lid backwards, opening the box and his heart all at once. Inside were 3 years worth of letters, from his heart to hers. Every birthday, every Christmas, every wedding anniversary. Every time the distance between them had become too much to bear, he'd poured all his love, regrets and desires onto a small sheet of paper, and stuffed it into the box, hoping it would take some of the weight off his shoulders, and hold it there for him. He'd never expected her to see them, never expected to get a chance to show her how he really feels, how he'd felt all along. When he told her to take them out, she turned her head and looked at him, and he saw the tears welling up in her eyes. Recognized the lopsided smile, and the tiny twitch in her lip that meant she understood. When he softly repeated his request she turned her head back and carefully lifted all the envelopes marked with different dates out, and held them in her trembling hands. The only thing left in the box was a simple gold band with her name and their wedding date engraved on it.
In his heart he'd never stopped being her husband, and he'd kept the ring safe in the wooden box. And every time he'd written her a letter, he had put the ring back on, envisioning their wedding day, as she slipped it on his finger. Because every one of the emotions that had poured out from his pen onto the paper belonged to the husband in him, the husband his heart had never managed to let go of, but that he'd been sure that she had left behind. That night he learned that she never did, and that just like him, she never let go of the wife in her either.
The sun was about to set when he took the letters gently from her hands and flipped through them, searching for the one he wanted. It was the letter he wrote her on his own birthday, last autumn. When the only thing he wanted, and would ever want, was the one thing he knew he could never have. When the future he is living now, had only existed in his dreams, and in his past. He opened the envelope and took the letter out. When he unfolded it he saw his own smudged handwriting stating the date, August 17th 2015, and remembered the tears he'd shed as he wrote it. He swallowed the lump that rose in his throat and read it to her.
Sara,
I have no right to make a birthday wish, but if I did, it would be you. To hold you one more time, to hear you one more time, to see you, one more time. One more time, to last a lifetime. I know that it could never be enough, but still, it's all I want. You, in my arms, just one more time.
I'll miss you, today, tomorrow, for the rest of my life.
Your husband, Gil.
When he asked her to marry him again, he'd been lying awake for a few minutes just watching her sleep. It was early, and the first rays of sunlight had just leaked through the portholes. After he'd read her that letter the night before, they'd made love, slowly, gently, as if they never wanted it to end. When the morning came he'd watched the form of her naked body tangled with his under the sheets. She was glowing. Even in her sleep the light that shone from within her outshone the sun a million times. He let his eyes run over the peaceful expression on her face, the brown curls splayed across the pillow, the small wrinkle between her eyes and her soft lips. He ran his fingers through her hair, and met her with a soft brush of his lips to hers, when he saw her eyes begin to flutter open. In his dreams he hears his own voice just like he did that morning as three simple words tumbled breathlessly across his lips. "Marry me Sara…"
Just like the first time he asked, he hadn't really planned it. But he wanted it. He wanted it so much that his entire body ached. So much that the words became too big to fit inside of him anymore. The smile she gave him in return made the entire world disappear around them. He saw her eyes flick down to their hands, and tightened his grip on her as he let his thumb grace over the finger that her wedding ring belonged on. Her "yes" came in the shape of a kiss, a chuckle, and a promise that it would be the very last time she'd take him up on that particular offer. That was the morning they put their rings back on, knowing that in their hearts they'd never really been apart.
The flowers were real. So were the two Polyommatus bellargus butterflies that landed on the lush Blazing Star right beside him. He couldn't stop staring at them as they started feeding on the sweet nectar from the tall, spikey, purple blooms. It was a male and a female, a rare pair of the Adonis blue. He recognized them instantly and he knew that she would too. The males have brilliant sky-blue wings and the females are a deep chocolate brown. Just like them… He turned to tell her, only to find her mesmerized brown eyes locked in on them as well. So he just took her hand, straightened his back and gave Jim a slight nod signaling that they were ready.
Gil knew that Jim had gotten himself ordained years ago to perform a wedding ceremony for his previous partner on homicide, and he hadn't hesitated for a second when he had asked him to do the same for Sara and him. And now, they found themselves in a secluded butterfly greenhouse just outside of Las Vegas, ready to make good on a promise his heart had made long before they got married for the first time. The bees buzzing in their hives behind the rows of Sunflowers, Honeyworts, Daisies and Calendulas, were guests of honor in his heart.
The sun was streaming in through the glass roof above them as they said "I do" for the second time. The cheers and claps and whistles from the small crowd tore him reluctantly from her lips. When he turned to look at them his mothers eyes were the first he caught. Her smile made his heart ache, from guilt, and from joy. He was glad they got a second chance at this, for her almost as much as for themselves. Catherine, Greg, Nick and Al, they were all there. The people that over the years had become their family. Warrick was there too, kept alive inside their hearts. And if there is such a thing as an afterlife, he knew that he was standing right beside them with the biggest, brightest smile on his face. He could picture him there, just as vividly as all the rest of them. Feel the gentle touch of his soul as he pulled Sara close, silently promising his friend to keep their girl safe, forever.
He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed them all, until that day. Their second wedding day was filled with carefree laughter, bright smiles, long warm hugs, stories from their past, heartfelt promises and wishes for their future. It was shared with family, family by blood, but mostly family by choice. That night they danced, surrounded by flowers and plants, life and love, butterflies and bees. Having her back in his arms was like returning to the living. Like the world in the blink of an eye got all its colors back. Its beauty returned to it. All because of her.
The smile on her face was more than enough to reassure him that it was perfect. That she was happy. He knew all too well that he couldn't promise to always keep that smile on her face, but he did promise himself, and her, that he would never be the cause of her pain again. That he would work relentlessly to bring her smile back when it faded. That he would be the one to hold her hand in the dark, the one to help her up when she stumbles, to listen to her, hear her, see her. To love her the way she needs to be loved, even when she pushes him away. Especially when she pushes him away. Be the open door she can always come in through and the safe place where she can let her armor fall. And that he'd let her be the same for him. Equals, in love and in life. Always watching out for each other.
His dreams could never do their second wedding night justice. When they finally retreated to their room, a room much like the one they're in right now, he took his time getting her out of the dark blue knee-long sleeveless dress. She'd insisted white was reserved for the first time around, and decided to match his navy blue suit. He didn't argue. She looked every bit as stunning as she had on that beach in Costa Rica years ago. As she did every day, no matter what she wore, or didn't wear…
His dream starts to blur as he lays her down on the bed and places his body on top of hers. He feels himself waking up, but fights it desperately, trying to stretch the dream out, to relive every second of that night in the exact way it had unfolded. It lives in his mind, and he knows he can play it over again down to every detail if he can just cling to sleep a little while longer. He feels a deliciously painful throb in his groin, and instinctively reaches down to adjust it. When his hand makes contact with her hip he realizes that he's lost the fight. That he's awake, and that his dream has had a very tangible effect that is now firmly pressing up against his sleeping wife. He smiles to himself, mentally shaking his head at his somewhat juvenile demeanor. He knows it's a normal physical reaction, but to be honest, it doesn't happen every morning anymore. His mind flashes briefly to their first morning together, a Sunday, when he'd woken up in the same state he's in now.
He's so lost in his own head that he doesn't register that she's awake too. That her soft sleeping features have turned into a sly grin and a raised eyebrow as she's stretching and looking over at him. "So, you're up early…". At the sound of her teasing voice his lungs let go of all the air he doesn't know they're holding, and something in between a groan and a chuckle escapes his mouth. He leans into the crook of her neck with a huge smile on his face, and kisses the soft skin just below her ear. And he can't for the life of him understand why he was fighting so hard to stay in his dream, when his reality is so much better than any fantasy. Tasting her skin and inhaling her scent, he finds it so hard to remember why it used to be so difficult for him to take a chance on her, on love. How could he not see that not taking that chance was the real risk.
She pushes him languidly over on his back putting her head against his chest, and lifts one of her legs over his making her thigh brush against his erection. It doesn't help his situation, but he has a feeling that she knows exactly what she's doing. He loves the weight of her head on his chest, and he knows she's listening to the beat of his heart. He puts his arms around her and for a moment they just lay like that, as if they're one, feeling the beat of each other's hearts, listening to the comfortable silence of another soul who stretches all the way into your own, offering an oath to never leave.
He groans against her hair as he feels her warm hand trail a path from his chest, down his abdomen and into his boxers. She grabs his shaft, stroking him with firm, slow movements. He lets his hands run languidly down her back, tracing her spine down to the curve of her butt. He lets out a content sigh when he realizes that she's not wearing any panties. He loves it when she sleeps naked, and wishes he had done the same. But it doesn't matter, because she takes care of that. He makes love to her slowly that morning. Relishing every touch of her fingers on his skin, and his on hers. Drinking in every kiss from her lips and every moan from her mouth, losing himself in the feeling of sinking into her, over and over, making love to her body and her mind, as he makes her come whispering "I love you" in her ear.
Laying next to her afterwards his mind drifts back to a conversation they had years ago, one night under the stars in a tent in the Costa Rican rainforest. She'd asked him why he loved her. Why he'd kept loving her even when she couldn't love herself. Back when none of them had learned to truly trust that they deserved the love the other offered. To trust that it wouldn't be taken away. He loved her then, for the same reasons he loves her today, and that he'll always love her. For a million different reasons. For all the small things she does every day, and for everything she is. For her weaknesses and vulnerabilities as much as for her strengths. Every scar, inside and out, every curve of her body, no matter what that looks like today, tomorrow or 20 years from now. For everything that makes her her. He loves her in a way that makes his own happiness come second, and he knows that he can never truly be happy if she isn't. He loves all of her, with all of him, forever.
He looks over at her beautiful face, at the tiny creases between her eyebrows, and thinks about how much he loves placing a soft kiss to her forehead when she rests her head in his lap on their rare movie nights. He looks down to her shoulders and thinks about how much he loves massaging them when she's tired or frustrated. He looks at her hand resting on his chest next to her head and imagines holding it in his hand when they're back at sea, watching another beautiful sunset together, from their chairs on the deck of their boat. It's the hand he wants to hold as they walk through the rest of their lives together, and the hand he hopes is holding his on his last day, when he draws his very last breath. He's always imagined himself going first. He's even selfishly thought that he's glad he's older than her, so he won't ever have to live without her again. Knowing that she'll go on without him better than he would without her. When he goes there will be a final letter in the wooden box. He'll leave her with the words of Pablo Neruda:
When I die I want your hands on my eyes:
I want the light and the wheat of your beloved hands
to pass their freshness over me one more time
to feel the smoothness that changed my destiny.
I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep,
I want for your ears to go on hearing the wind,
for you to smell the sea that we loved together
and for you to go on walking the sand where we walked.
I want for what I love to go on living
and as for you I loved you and sang you above everything,
for that, go on flowering, flowery one,
so that you reach all that my love orders for you,
so that my shadow passes through your hair,
so that they know by this the reason for my song.
THE END
EPILOGUE
This story, Moments in Time, is in many ways like a handmade quilt. It's woven together from many different pieces. Every chapter is a little story of its own. Some chapters are beautiful and made with care, some a little rough around the edges, made in a hurry. This wasn't thought through in advance, from beginning to end, it wasn't intricately planned out, and not all the pieces fit. CSI:Vegas, the return of the most epic love story ever, made me just start writing out of nowhere. But I'm not really a writer, I'm just a person who loves Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle, and have been so deeply inspired by their perfectly imperfect love story, that I couldn't not write. So I hope you'll take this for what it is; my very own love letter to GSR and to the actors who have created these characters and their story, and loved them as much as we do. And as you know, love letters are sometimes messy and incoherent, and like love, imperfect. But it is filled with emotion, and it comes from the heart. If I should do it again, maybe I would do it differently. But then again, that's life isn't it? We learn as we go. And I have learned so much, about myself, about life, and about love.
Sometimes the journey really is the destination. I feel that deeply with this. I've met a lot of beautiful people along the way, and I'd like to thank every one of you for what you've given me!
WalkerTRngr: Thank you for going on this journey with me. You've made me laugh, supported me, fixed my mistakes and inspired me more than you know! Thank you! I hope I can return the favor one day! You're beautiful, you're strong, you're a badass, and you've blown me away with your awesome attitude towards everything life throws at you! The world could use a lot more people like you in it!
mauricia Sisk: You brilliant, powerful, gentle soul. You see me, and you've touched me in ways I don't even know how to explain. Some of the words I've used in this story belong to you, and you've generously offered them to me. Others are inspired by you. Sisterhood goes way beyond blood, it's in the soul. And you will forever be my sister. I hope that one day we can meet in the physical world as well, hear each other's voices, have a bunch of umbrella drinks, and share a long warm hug.
OnceUponACromeScene, daybydaySR, sofiaciccone90, Zygon24, Plechka, Pina S1995, tazleia, limere, aninom, Gatsby1211, webgraphicdesigner89, OpalEssence, Iktwh13, shoosee, windbound, BookishlyStrange, Butterflies and Bees, delita0204, Puhik, srwfizzan, EyeOnYou0000, strwbrygrl77, James Birdsong, Trina1994, benex, VivGSR, saracicele, Joy, Panther De Oz, Maura UK, Tinkers, CityofEmeralds, Caladenia - THANK YOU ALL for the wonderful reviews that has made this so special for me! All of you have given me so much these last few months! I wish we could keep walking side by side in the footsteps of GSR forever.
To me true love isn't about how someone makes you feel, it's about how you want to make that other person feel. How you want that person to be happy, even if that means that they have to go on without you. True love is not selfish. And to me that is the very essence of GSR, and of the poem I ended this on.
I wish that kind of love for all of you.
