Title: Journey of the Lonely Whale: Day One
Author: Lisa (ljkwriting4life)
Rating: M (Adult themes, sexual references, low-level coarse language)
Pairing: Gil/Sara
Summary: Sara watches the tape of Heather Kessler's final statement to the police and makes an important decision. (Post Immortality)
TWO
The marina was a genuinely short drive from the airport, but Gil got a cab to the nearby grocery store first. He had used his time on the plane to make his lists, and he wanted to keep busy. There was a lot to do if he was going to get away by that evening. It was a little awkward, shopping for food with his carry-on bag slung over his shoulder, but it had to be done.
When he got to the Ishmael he was glad not to see any signs of forced entry. The marina did have very good security though, he knew that all too well. He opened it up and organised himself below-deck. He unpacked his clothes and sorted what was still clean from everything that needed washing. He would do his washing the next day once he was out on the ocean, in the sun. It would be therapeutic, he told himself. Cleansing.
After the clothes and toiletries and books were secure in their usual homes and his bag was stored away, he turned his attention to the food. That all got sorted into containers too, and he made sure he had an accurate record of what he had already and what he had bought. He had gotten very good at planning and rationing his food over the years, and he didn't know where he was going just yet. That was the next item on his to-do list. It would be slightly trickier to accomplish since he didn't actually care where he went. He was attached to several non-profits in the fisheries and wildlife conservation space, and he had gotten into the habit of just letting them know when he was around, but he had still always felt like he had a reason for going to one place or the other.
This time, at least for the time being, just being out on the open water would do. He needed to sit, to listen to the gentle lapping of water against the boat, to reflect and to think. His visit to Vegas had unsettled him, his time with Sara had been woefully insufficient, in more ways than one, and Catherine was pissed off because, as she put it, yet again he was leaving without a goodbye.
Gil wasn't sorry about that, but there was one goodbye that he had dearly wanted this time, and he just hadn't found the words. He was useless at goodbyes when the intimation was forever. He'd had a lump in his throat from that day as a nine-year-old when he tried to say goodbye forever to his father at his funeral, to now, more than fifty years later, when he still opened his mouth and no sound came out. How could he ever say goodbye to Sara? He would miss her every day, just like he still missed his father every day. Saying goodbye didn't change anything, it didn't make it better.
At least Sara understood why he was like that. He had no problem with any other words, and he had been open with her during their life together, as she had been with him. She knew him, and she had never judged him even when he could tell she was frustrated.
But she hadn't been frustrated by his struggle to say goodbye this time, that was the thing. The most beautiful look of acceptance had passed over her face earlier that day as he stared at her. I've got this, he heard. It's okay. That look alone was almost enough to settle the ache in his heart.
Bye, Gil.
She was so beautiful.
He sighed as he moved around below deck, pottering, procrastinating. He had photos of Sara in the safe, and a few letters she had sent him, some sent from Costa Rica when she first left Vegas, and others sent to him in Paris and Peru after she returned. Gil made sure they were still there but he didn't look at them yet. Maybe the next day, as he sat above deck and watched his clothes dry.
He was glad, at least, that he'd had the chance to see Heather. Heather had been through so much in life, she was gifted but she carried pain and loss, and so often she had been misjudged because she chose not to show emotion only because other people expected to see it. They were alike that way, and Gil thought that was why he had always just seen the real person. His friend, Heather. He hoped that he had somehow assured her of her value. She still had so much to give others if she chose to do that, and he only wanted her to be happy. Talking to her about Sara was special. It meant so much to him to share that with her. They had both lost loved ones, it seemed.
Gil sat down at his desk and rubbed his face. A part of him had always felt he would end up alone, and for years he had thought he was okay with that, even though for a while there it had been nice to believe otherwise. Maybe he wasn't as okay with it as he had told himself he was, but what choice did he have? He didn't want to be in Vegas long-term again, going back had only proved that to him, but he also wouldn't ask Sara to leave her home and her friends and her career, just for him. She was the Lab Director now, and that was brilliant! Everyone in Vegas deserved to see what a clever, tenacious, generous, and caring leader she really was. They loved her, even Ecklie loved her now, and why wouldn't he? Gil was so proud of her, and she had looked so proud at the press call.
You should be proud, Sara, he thought. He truly hoped she believed that.
His eyes slid to his watch. He really needed to keep moving. He could easily sit there for the rest of the day, and all night, reliving his life with Sara in his head, but it would only leave him empty.
There were also other things he needed to check, because if for any reason he found he had to go to the hardware store, or the boating or fishing supply stores, or even back to the grocery store, he only had a limited amount of time in which to do it before they all shut and the sun set. He needed to refuel as well. He had an emergency supply but he wanted to use the pump before dark.
Maybe this was a bad idea, he reasoned. Trying to rush out of San Diego as though he had a plan, when he had no plan, would surely only spell trouble. He never went anywhere unprepared. Maybe he should just bunker down for the night and stay, he could see how he felt in the morning.
Or maybe he could just set off for New Zealand and be done with it, he countered. He chuckled to himself. It wasn't the worst idea. Some of the best decisions he ever made had been spontaneous and out of character, like the night he showed up on Sara's doorstep after Nick had been rescued and kissed her fiercely, after they had only been 'talking as good friends' and sharing gentle touches for a few months; or the day he booked his flight to Costa Rica and decided not to tell anyone just yet, not even Sara; or the day he had asked her to marry him, before Costa Rica, as she watched him with his bees, because he hadn't wanted to imagine his life without her, ever again.
And there she had been, just the previous day, yet again watching him with his bees. Helping him. She had looked so relaxed and at peace as she sat back in her chair while they waited for the bees to return from the hills. He always loved doing experiments with her, because often it gave him a chance just to admire her, and he knew she had always liked to watch him as well. Back in the day.
He had wanted so badly to reach for her hand as they sat in their chairs beneath the trees. He could imagine the easy way her hand would have slid into his as they sat comfortably in silence.
I hope you find what you're looking for out there. Bye, Gil.
Her words were sincere, the sort of honest goodbye that Gil was incapable of. He didn't know how to tell her that nothing 'out there' would ever compare to her, to what they had. His remarkable wife. He wished that he had held her hand every day. He wished that he had come back to Vegas with her, that he hadn't selfishly bought into her polite protestations of, 'No, you stay, we'll make it work'. That promise had been sincere as well, of course, but he should have said no, he should have said that if she had unfinished business in Vegas then so did he, because it was their life together that was unfinished. Gil had been on a great adventure across the oceans in the years since, he had met good people and contributed to a very good cause, but it had been a lonely ride.
Not to mention the fact he had ended up back in Vegas anyway, so why hadn't he just done it then, for Sara? He sighed again. He had lost track of what he was supposed to be doing.
Just old age, he told himself. He still couldn't believe that Lindsey, Catherine's daughter, that little blonde girl who had often fallen asleep on the sofa in the break room in the lab so many times, was now a CSI. It had been nice to teach her something, but it also reminded him of just how long it had been since he occupied that world. He was happy for Catherine, she had her casino and the FBI, and Lindsey had her whole career ahead of her, but Gil didn't want to teach forensics anymore. There were plenty of people who he had taught who were now at the age to do that work, to teach Lindsey's generation. He was in his sixties now and it just felt right to settle on a kind of retirement.
Maybe he would take the boat to New Zealand. Or fork out the fees to cross in Panama and take the boat up the East Coast. He could volunteer for wildlife conservation groups he knew in Maine or Nova Scotia for a time, but maybe that could wait until the seasons changed. In truth, he hadn't been planning to leave the US so soon. His 'time out' in California hadn't exactly worked out the way he planned it. He had at least visited his mother's memorial on the way to the airport, for five minutes, to lay a rose. She would be disappointed in him.
Gil wondered if Sara even knew that his mother had recently died. There hadn't been a funeral despite widespread publication of her death at the time among the Deaf community. Betty Grissom was a stubborn woman and had left clear instructions not to make a fuss in the event of her death. Just as well, because Gil never would have made it back in time for a funeral. Nonetheless, he had arranged for the memorial plaque where her ashes were interred. It was only the second time he had visited. The first time, no one from his old life even knew he was in Vegas, not even Sara.
He supposed he wasn't one to make a fuss either.
Thanks mom, he thought with a sad smile. He missed her, and he imagined her signing to him to get off his ass and keep moving, which made him laugh. Yeah, he thought. He would do that.
Finally, he was ready to go. Gil had settled on a new plan while he was wandering around the supply shop not far from the marina. He would make his way up the West Coast. It had been a long time since he had gone up to Seattle, and the trip would keep him close enough to busy harbours and supplies as he needed them, while he assessed the boat's fitness for another longer trip. It would be more predictable than tackling the open seas, more restful, and frankly safer given his current state of mind, and there would be plenty of opportunities to pull up somewhere and stay awhile, to soak up the atmosphere and to see interesting things. It seemed obvious, now he had made up his mind. He felt content as he moved to the back of the boat to deal with the ropes and fenders. He would pause for more fuel at the pump, and he would be out of there by sunset.
The salt air, the sound of the water, the stars, it all lay ahead.
He wound up and dumped some extra rope at the back of the boat and then leant over to release the first of the two marina ropes that anchored the boat to the dock. He tossed it back onto the cement. It was all just routine from here. The two old fenders that together stopped the stern of the boat from smacking into the dock while it sat there were hoisted up next.
Gil took a step back after he pulled the second fender into the boat. He looked up, and she was there. Sara. Gil froze and stood with his arms by his sides. He did sometimes think he saw Sara, but this was no dream. She was ambling toward him along the concrete dock with the hint of a smile playing on her lips and a bag slung over her shoulder and across her body. Her loose, curly brown hair was shining with a golden syrupy hue as the sun set behind her. Framed by the light, she looked like an angel, a vision, but the detail in her expression was harder to see. She had changed out of the smart black suit he had seen her in earlier. She was wearing long pants, a shirt and casual overshirt.
That was his Sara, he thought.
Gil took a breath and felt his lips part, but he didn't dare say a word. He couldn't.
They watched each other as she walked closer, and Gil pressed his lips together in the slightest of smiles when he finally saw the sparkle in her eyes once she neared him, and the warm smile on her face. Her lips were pressed together too. She didn't speak either. She looked happy.
She looked free.
Gil didn't understand. For Sara to be there could only have meant she'd been no more than a couple of hours behind him. What had happened?
Sara's smile faded as she stopped opposite him, with only the boat's starboard hull between them. Gil's heart ached with a mixture of concern and disbelief and hope as he watched her. Her brow lifted and her eyes softened, with an intake of breath briefly fearful but also full of hope.
There was never a question of him turning her away.
Gil offered her his hand, and she put her palm in his. He hadn't felt her touch in years.
Gil felt like he couldn't breathe, but he relied on the routine of what they were doing. This was just Sara, climbing into his boat. Their boat. As she had dozens of times before. She stepped up and over the rail, and Gil reached up for her other hand. Once she was across he took her waist securely in his hands, she put her hands on his shoulders, and she jumped onto the deck with his help. They smiled softly at each other, and he bit his bottom lip. He couldn't let her go. He could feel her slender torso through her two shirts as she breathed and her ribcage expanded in his hands.
Gil's eyes filled with tears as Sara's hands rubbed around his collar and grazed his neck. Her expression was emotional as she touched his face, his cheek. She was really there, and she seemed to confirm it for herself. She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. He read her lips.
Hi.
She tried to smile. She was trying so hard to talk to him without saying a word and he knew; he knew exactly what she was saying. Hers was the richest, deepest voice he had ever heard, and she was calling to him. They moved at the same time. His hands moved to her back and Sara's hand slid around his neck to hold the back of his head. Her fingers were cool, shielding his neck from the evening breeze. Their cheeks touched for a moment, until she rested her chin on his shoulder.
Gil shut his eyes and breathed her in. Sara. He hugged her comfortably, lovingly, he wanted her to know he was happy. This was better than any dream because he could feel her heart beating against his chest and her warm body against his own. Her loose hair tickled his face and he smiled to himself as he rubbed her back. She made the softest noise, an emotional, "Oh" that he felt rather than heard, and she pressed herself closer. She wrapped her arms more fully around his back and leant into him as he rocked them gently from side to side. It took everything Gil had not to cry.
Sara was so strong, and she was holding onto him as though he was as precious to her as she was to him. He sobbed just once and laughed, and his hand slid under her hair and around the back of her neck. His thumb rubbed up and down the soft dip at the base of her skull and she pressed her fingertips firmly into his shoulder with one hand. The other slid between his waterproof windbreaker and his shirt, and he felt her chest shaking as her hand stroked the warm cotton over his back.
"Are you cold?" he asked. Because come to think of it, he was shaking too.
"No," she replied. She kept her hand on his back and her other moved to hold his cheek, to stroke his beard. She again rested her cheek against his, and Gil didn't hesitate. He turned his face and pressed his lips to her skin, to her soft cheek. It was a simple, tender kiss. Sara lifted her head.
They stared at each other for a moment with their arms still wrapped around one another, as the boat bobbed in the water, held only by a single rope. The stern was up against the dock now.
Sara saw Gil looking past her and turned her head to follow his gaze. Gil held her close, and her arm was still wrapped around his waist as she leant her head on his shoulder. She did feel a little cold, Gil thought, but she had been in air conditioning more recently and it might have been the shock. He kissed her forehead. He knew he should move, but that meant a decision between staying or going, with or without the woman in his arms. Sara seemed to read his mind, as she so often had.
"Were you leaving?" she asked.
Gil nodded and rubbed her back and arm.
"Where were you going to go?" she asked.
"Up the coast, not far," he said. "Not far tonight."
Sara hesitated, and Gil waited. She squeezed his waist after a moment of silence.
"Are we leaving then?" she asked.
Gil looked at her sharply as she raised her head to look back at him. She lifted her eyebrows curiously and expectantly. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she pursed her lips.
"Sara," he said softly. He shook his head, still worried about what she was doing there. "Did something happen? I…I don't understand."
"I watched it," she said quickly.
"What?" he asked. He frowned deeply and questioned her with his eyes. Watched what?
Sara bit her bottom lip and looked at him lovingly, but also like he was an idiot.
"Gil," she said more softly. "I heard you." She let go of his back and turned to face him again. She took his face in both of her hands as he searched her eyes. He swallowed hard when one of her thumbs caressed his lips. His lips relaxed as his throat cleared and she smiled at him. It was that big, beautiful smile that lifted her face and lit up her eyes. "I heard you," she said again as she held his face in her hands. He felt so safe. "I heard your song," she insisted. "And the thought of you out on the ocean, missing me for the rest of your life when I feel the same way breaks my heart too."
Sara's voice cracked and a tear slid from her eye onto her cheek, and Gil understood.
He had told the story just the previous night to a lonely man who had done terrible things, with Sara standing right beside him. He remembered what he'd said.
There's a great mammal in the ocean known as the 52-hertz whale. All year he practises his love song for the female, travels thousands of miles to find her, but when he finally gets the chance to serenade her she doesn't give him a call back. Why?
His love ballad is sung at 52-hertz, a sonic signature one note higher than the lowest sound of the tuba. The average female hears at 10-to-15-hertz, so she never hears his song. They call him the lonely whale, and year after year for a hundred years he works on a new love song, and never ever gets a call back. Eventually he dies off, forever alone. Heartbreaking.
If Gil had been wrong and that bomb had been active, it might have been the last thing Sara ever heard. But he was right, and then there was Heather, Gil realised. Sara heard him with Heather.
I just wanted to thank you for opening my heart. Through you I learned to love someone. She restores my faith in the human being. Plus, she helped me with my crossword puzzles.
She's been my best friend.
I'll miss her, for the rest of my life.
"You heard me," he whispered incredulously. His fingers flexed against her waist as Sara took a breath. Another tear slid onto her cheek and she stroked his jaw and his neck.
"Yes, sweetheart, I did. And had I not, then I would have missed you too, Gil, and I would have loved you too. Every day. For the rest of my life." She pressed her lips together to temper a smile lurking beneath her tears and gestured with her head toward the back of the boat. "So, let's go, Captain. No time to waste."
She put her hands on his shoulders and leant back to give him some room, as though he had to think about it or something. Mild panic set in as he opened his mouth. Don't go, he thought.
Then speak, dammit, you big whale.
"I…we'll have to stop at the pump, for fuel."
Just great, Gil told himself. This, from the mind capable of reciting the works of great poets.
"Well sure, that sounds important," Sara said. She smirked and shrugged, but then she softened. She looked into his eyes, and Gil reached for her hands before she felt she had to ask if she could stay. He nodded hurriedly. He lifted her hands between them and stared at her fingers as his thumbs caressed her knuckles, and he brought her left hand to his lips. He shut his eyes as he pressed his lips to the tops of her fingers. His mouth opened as he breathed against her and kissed her skin. She smelt like her favourite hand cream with a hint of hand sanitiser. She smelt like Sara.
He opened his eyes and looked at her when he heard her breathing quicken and deepen. Too much, he thought. Her hand was shaking and she was clutching his other hand with an iron grip.
"Gil, we have to go," she said on a whisper, her voice low and full of urgency. He let go of her hands and nodded. He walked past her to the back of the boat, but he looked over his shoulder when he arrived at the rope to again make sure that this had really happened. She was really there.
Sara was lifting the strap of her bag over her head. She met his eyes for a shy smile before she turned away from him and disappeared below deck. Gil left her to do her thing. She could put her bag away, look around, and use the bathroom if she wanted. She hadn't in fact spent a lot of time on the boat before, not the way he had in recent years, but this was her boat too, her home.
Gil dealt with the final rope that had moored the Ishmael to the dock and then climbed the ladder to the cockpit. He started the engine, and the boat shook and rumbled to life beneath him. He exhaled the deep, rumbling breath he had been holding in his chest since Sara called him sweetheart and said she loved him too. He looked to the ladder and waited. Would she join him?
Tears filled his eyes when he saw Sara's hands wrap around the ladder first, and her bright, excited smile soon appeared. What a sight. Gil wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and laughed.
She heard him, and maybe their hearts weren't so broken anymore.