Title: To Dream, Perchance…
By: Amanda
Feedback: sweety167@yahoo.ca
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Post Butterflied
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like to take them out and play with them…and I think they like it too.
Summary: Sara reflects on what transpired during the Marlin/ Lurie case
Completed: January 17, 2004
She tossed and turned, fighting against the blankets and sheets that surrounded her, wanted to hold her. Sara couldn't sleep, not today. She was being haunted. The words he had spoken wouldn't leave her. Were they really her?
"Young and beautiful…care for"
She turned over again, pulling a pillow against her chest and wrapping her arms around it. She held it in a tight hug. As if crushing the soft down against her body would somehow protect and shield her heart. As if anything could do that now.
It was a ploy. It had to be. A way in to connect with and catch Dr. Lurie. Nothing more. Seen it before, we have all done it before. So why would this time be different? Why would he be different? Simply because he is different. The unforgettable image of the broken man on the other side of the glass. The look of unmistakable anguish and pain on his face. That was real.
She pushed the pillow away forcefully, abandoning it now as she rolled over and stared vacantly up at the dark ceiling. Her brown eyes unblinking but still seeing. Still seeing the face of death stare back at her with glossy eyes and a red gash. Her own pallor face staring down at her, an icy cold reminder. How many people get to see themselves reflected on a slab?
Fifty years and realising you haven't lived, what about waiting thirty just for your life to start? You don't realise how long it's been, really realise, until a mirror is held up to you. Or a face mirroring yours. Why does my life have to be reflected in a corpse? At least the dead girl had lived.
She surpressed a shutter and rolled over again. Pulling herself now into a tight fetal ball. The blanket held tightly around her, holding her. All of a sudden she felt very cold and very alone in her bed. And would take any comfort that was offered to her. Who knew that a simple double bed could feel like a spanning desert. What she wouldn't give to hear another heartbeat over her own at that moment, another's breath.
Did he really see himself in Dr. Lurie? Me in Debbie? Their own THIS in those broken lives? At least Lurie wasn't afraid to reach for her, to give it all up for her. But did he have to? Who told him he had to give anything up? Why must he always focus on the losses, what about the gains? All the gains that could be there for them…doesn't he see the difference? I could lose too, am losing now. Am lost now.
She wiped at her cheek; a lone tear had slipped through her resolve. Her eyes closed but not for rest, it was an attempt to block all this, to stop the reverie of her mind and clear the images. These thoughts and dreams are what were slowly killing her, haunting her. Haunting her with 'what ifs' and 'whys'…and him.
Taking a deep breath she unravelled herself from the false safety of her bed. She sat up, dropping her legs over the bed's edge and placing her feet on the chilled floor. She found herself padding into the small living room, flipping on the scanner and dropping into the nearby couch.
"Damn you Grissom," she cursed under breath.
Sleep was evasive today.