This is a little spin off from my GSR story By the Light of the Moon. It isn't really necessary to read that one but it would be helpful. I hope you guys enjoy it. This is rated K.
The sun broke the horizon, climbing slowly over the distant mountains, reflecting off the water lapping gently against the seawall. Sighing, Sara sipped at the coffee cradled between her hands. She and Gil had been at the cottage for the entire month of April and she had made a ritual of getting up to watch the sun rise. Being able to watch the sun come up wasn't new, but that being the start to her day instead of the end was still a novel experience.
There was something about this little piece of land in North Kessock that spoke to her. The bright blue cottage, traditional on the outside and modern inside, was situated on a river just a few miles from the North Sea. Their days were spent exploring the countryside. Evenings were for leisurely dinners and fires in the rock fire pit, dancing under the moon to the classics Gil was fond of, or reading by the fireplace when the weather didn't cooperate. All of those things were magical, but it was the little garden space that drew her more often than any other in the house. The plants, dormant when they had first arrived, were starting to bloom. The scent of the roses filled the air.
Around her, the world was waking up. Out on the road, a single car rumbled past. The dregs of coffee in her cup were growing cold, but she didn't want to move to get a refill. She shivered and pulled her sweater tighter. Even on the first day of May it was still cool in the early mornings but she knew the temperature would be near 80 later on.
"Twenty-four," she reminded herself with a smile, using the down and dirty conversion she had learned their first week here. It might not be exact but it was close enough.
"What's twenty-four?"
Sara jumped, barely avoiding sloshing coffee on her lap. "Good morning," she mumbled against his lips as he bent to kiss her. "I was calculating what the temperature should be today in Celsius."
"Ah." Gil settled into the chair beside her, cup in his hand. "What should we do today?"
"I thought…," Sara's voice trailed off when she saw his teasing grin.
He was so handsome, his hair curling wildly and blue eyes sparkling, that he stole her breath. Even after all the years she couldn't believe he was hers. Sometimes she was flooded with so much love for him that her heart actually ached. It was something she never expected to experience. During all the ups and downs of their relationship Sara had convinced herself that she would be better off alone, but at the end of the day, she knew they were destined to be together.
"We don't need to leave anytime soon, do we?"
Gil turned his head to look at her; something in her voice must have hinted at her intentions. "Not for at least a couple of hours."
Sara stood, unfolding her body from the chair and extending her hand. "Come back to bed?"
When he pushed up from his chair and took her hand her heart skipped a beat.
The green in the center of the village was filled with people. Young and old, some in traditional garb, mingled, laughing and celebrating the beginning of spring. The Maypole rose about 30 feet into the air, flowers and ribbons adorning it. Unlike the celebrations of old, this was more of a festival with food and crafts and other wares being sold. On the outskirts of town they had passed the area designated for the bonfire to be held later. The wood was stacked taller than a man, waiting for the celebrants to come out to dance and drink and shake off the long winter months.
The sun was warm, the light bright, as they wandered from booth to booth. Gil's hand was strong and warm in hers. The smells of pastries and roasting meat and sweat filled the air. Little girls in flowered crowns and white dresses played chase with a group of boys, their squeals of laughter when they were caught floated on the warm breeze.
The bag Sara had insisted on carrying was bulging with gifts they had purchased for the friends they left behind. Handcrafted soap for Catherine that smelled like a meadow and felt silky on the skin, a woolen flat cap for Greg, a hand woven blanket for Nick and Mandy's newest addition, a hand-carved pipe to add to Hodges's collection, a tartan blanket for Brass, and a hand painted water bowl for Hank. She had also snuck a package of Gil's favorite Tablet in when he wasn't looking. It would make for a decadent treat after a long day of walking around.
Spotting an empty table underneath a sprawling tree in the beer garden, Sara tugged Gil in that direction. "Let's sit for a bit. My feet are tired."
It wasn't true, but she had noticed him favoring his right leg and knew he would never tell her his knee was aching. The glance he shot her from the corner of his eye told her he saw the ruse for what it was. That he didn't argue told its own story.
A waitress appeared, dressed as a traditional serving wench complete with too much cleavage. She flirted with Gil, making him blush and Sara giggle. When they had placed an order for Jarl, a local beer they had both come to like, and a basket of fish and chips, or as the locals called it, a fish supper, Sara leaned back and sighed.
"I'm going to hate leaving here, but I'm ready to go home," she said, tucking her hair behind her ears.
"Agreed. I'm ready to see Hank. I miss him." Gil ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the curls and making the ends stick out in too many directions.
"Catherine said he's doing fine. He started eating more, especially after you Facetimed him." At his pointed look she laughed. "We are all sworn to secrecy. We will take that one to our graves."
Their order arrived, with a swish of skirts and a flash of pillowy breasts. They both took long drinks.
"There is nothing like a cold beer on a warm day," Sara observed.
"Mmmmmm."
Silence settled between them as they ate. Not heavy or uncomfortable. Just the silence of two people who were so in tune they didn't need words.
It hadn't always been like that. In fact, the road to a Scottish beer garden at a May Day festival had been paved with jagged rock and sucking mud. From a weekend fling to a working relationship that often resembled a WWE cage match, from marriage to divorce and back, their relationship had spanned decades.
"Did you ever…," Sara began, pointing at him with a fry.
"No," Gil said, shaking his head. "I thought I had lost you. For good."
She studied him. "It's creepy when you finish my sentences."
"Not the worst thing I've ever been called. Besides," he shrugged, "I've been doing it for years."
Sara barked out a laugh. "Can't dispute either one."
His hand covered hers. "I'm glad I wasn't too late. So very glad, Sara."
"Me too."
She grinned and felt herself falling into his gaze, almost like she was under a spell. His eyes darkened; the brilliant blue went almost navy and his fingers stroked over her wrist, his touch so soft it could have been a butterfly. Sara swallowed, her eyes dropping to his mouth, and felt a blush climb into her cheeks. She thought she had stopped being embarrassed by her body's response to him a long time ago. There was no explaining it. It simply was. The awareness crackled between them and she was powerless to break the spell.
"Pardon me."
They both turned to look at the source of the soft brogue. A woman well over the age of sixty, her wrinkled face hinting at the beauty she had been, stood beside the table. She was like a fairy. Tiny, not even five feet tall, she couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds. Her features, though soft with age, were delicate. Her silver hair was piled in a messy bun on top of her head and her eyes, the color of jade, were intelligent and mischievous at the same time. She was enchanting.
"Hello," Gil said. "Can we help you?"
With an impish grin and a wave of her hand, the pixie pulled out a chair and sat down. Her feet, clad in a well-loved pair of Chucks, barely touched the ground.
"I'm sorry to interrupt. I hope you don't mind." Her voice was magical; soft and lilting, calling to mind the lochs and storm clouds, soaring cliffs and green rolling hills. "I have been watching you and I just wanted a chance to talk to you."
Curious, Sara glanced at Gil, seeing his hackles start to rise, before turning her gaze back to the enchanting creature sitting next to her. "Watching us? Why?"
"I know this is going to sound a little crazy," she chuckles, "actually, it sounds a lot crazy. But, well, I've seen you in my dreams."
"Look," Gil leaned forward, his voice tight with anger, "I don't know who you are or what you want, but I think you need to go."
"I know what you're thinking. I'm not crazy, I promise." Her slender hands, resting in her lap, were clasped so tightly the knuckles were white.
Gil shoved his chair back and pushed to his feet. "Crazy is as crazy does. Come on, Sara, let's go."
Her gasp was loud enough to be heard over the noise of the crowd. "Sara? You're Sara? And are you Gilbert? Oh my!"
Gil's face resembled a thundercloud, so Sara asked, "Who are you? And how do you know his name?"
"Please," her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "Please hear me out. I'm Siobhan. And I do know how insane I sound, but I've been looking for you for years."
Sara studied the woman. She had met her share of mentally unbalanced people throughout her life. From her mother to a wide range of criminals, they all had one thing in common. But this woman, Siobhan, seemed sincere. She looked at Gil, trying to tell him with her eyes to relax. After a few moments she saw his shoulders loosen. Finally, he lowered himself back to his chair.
Turning back to Siobhan, Sara leaned back and crossed her arms. "Look, I'm not sure what you're trying to do, but neither of us puts much stock in dreams or visions or whatever. You could've been following us here today and heard our names. So, why don't you tell us what it is you want so we can all get on with our days?"
"I don't want anything. Just the chance to talk to you, the chance to finally see the people I feel like I've known forever." Siobhan drew in a deep breath and seemed to be gathering her thoughts. "You see, when I was a young woman, seventy years ago give or take, I started having the dreams. Maybe they are more like visions as you said, I'm not really sure. I just know that I saw this couple, Gilbert and Sara, over and over in different times, different settings. They were young or old, happy or sad, lovers or mortal enemies. No matter the circumstances there was always this aura of completeness around them. As if one could not be whole without the other.
"Lately, the dreams have been more frequent, more…vibrant. And definitely more erotic." She shrugged, color staining her cheeks. "I'm sure, based on your words, neither of you believe in reincarnation, but I am convinced that you're the couple I have been seeing."
For a few moments no one spoke, then Gil said, "Why do you think we're the couple? Better yet, why do you think they're real? This could all be a figment of your imagination."
With a nod, she acknowledge the veracity of his statement. "I thought the same. I convinced myself many years ago that these people were nothing more than an over-romanticized ideal my brain came up with. The dreams were stronger when my heart was troubled. When I had a loss in my life. When my marriage was troubled. When my first real love broke my heart. Those were the times they came to me, and oddly, I took comfort in knowing those people were out there with a love that lasted through time and adversity."
"Wow," Sara blinked while Gil simply stared at the woman in fascination, like she was a piece that didn't fit the puzzle he was working on.
Siobhan chuckled. "I know I sound like a dotty old woman, but these dreams have been coming to me since I was in my twenties."
When Sara and Gil simply continued to stare at her, she stood. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you. Thank you both for indulging an old woman."
She reached for Gil's hand, clasped it and slowly let it go. Then she reached for Sara's. As soon as their palms touched, Sara was transported.
The fire reached far into the sky, sparks shooting toward the heavens. On the ground beside the pyre two people were entwined, their bodies taut and firm with the freshness of youth. She knew the plane of the man's back, the curve of his buttocks, the rhythm of his movements. She heard her own voice, rising above the roar of the flames, crying out in release, his name spilling from her lips.
In a blink a man and woman were sitting before a stone fireplace in what appeared to be a log cabin. It was dark with no light peeking in around the door. The single room contained a table, two rocking chairs and a bed. She was studying the man next to her while he read a well-thumbed book. His beard was neat, his hair dark and curly, and his eyes impossibly blue. "Gilbert," she whispered and he turned to smile at her, his blue eyes soft with love. Her heart swelled in her chest.
Suddenly, with a swirl of light, they were before another fireplace. This one was inside a home, with wood lath for walls and hardwood floors. The fireplace was ornate, as was the furniture. Sofas and chairs and a carpet on the floor. Their clothing was austere in comparison; high-necklines and long sleeves, tight boots and a bonnet. Sara plied a needle through the cloth stretched tight in an embroidery frame. There was tension in the room. The man, Gil, or Mr. Grissom as he preferred to be called, sat stiffly in his chair, a drink in his hand. There was a chill around him, a wall she could never penetrate. On the floor at his feet was a huge beast of a dog. Beneath her breasts her heart ached. Love not returned is as painful as death.
On a sigh, she was twenty-two. The lecture hall was filled with eager young forensic scientists, all of them waiting for the Entomology presentation to come. Front row, two seats right of center because someone got there earlier than she did. When he walked out and began arranging his materials on the podium, Sara simply stared. He was not what she expected from a doctor of Biology. Not at all. Unbelievably handsome. Dark curling hair, a beard that she could imagine against her skin and the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. When he glanced up and caught her watching he simply smiled and nodded and looked away. The rest was a blur of memories: the weekend spent exploring San Francisco; the first time they made love, the wedding chapel; all the hurts and all the healing. It rolled through her like a movie played in fast forward. In her heart, peace.
"Sara!" Gil's voice was bordering on panic and she forced her eyes to open. "Are you okay?"
His face hovered over hers, his eyes wide with fear. She took a second or two to take stock, not sure why she was laying in the grass. "What happened?"
"I think you fainted." Gil brushed the hair off her face, his hand lingering on her cheek. "You bumped your head on the table so I put you on the ground."
Confused, she pushed up on her elbows. "Where's Siobhan?"
Gil looked around, finally spotting the woman coming toward them with a bottle of water and a worried expression. "She's coming. What happened? One second you were fine and the next you were out like a light."
"Help me sit up, please?" Before he could ask, she nodded. "I'm fine. Maybe I just got overheated."
By the time the older woman reached them, Sara was sitting in the chair with Gil sitting beside her holding her hand. Sara accepted the bottle of water and took a long drink.
"Thank you."
Hands fluttering, Siobhan stood in front of them. "I'm so sorry. I had no…I've never…Oh, I'm so sorry."
"What?!" Gil demanded. "What did you do?"
Sara laid a hand on his arm. "She didn't do anything. And I'm fine." She turned to look at the distressed woman in front of her. "I saw it. All."
Siobhan nodded. "I know. I don't know how I know or why you saw it, but I know."
"Saw what? Sara, if you need a hospital we should go."
"I don't need a hospital, Gil. Really. But I am ready to go. Pretty sure I have a nap in my immediate future."
As the stood, Gil holding her elbow to make sure she was steady, Siobhan said, "I think I understand. This time you finally got it right."
Sara's smile was wide. "I think you're right. Maybe this was our last chance or maybe it became the last one we'd need. Either way, I would do it all again."
"And that, my dear, is what makes this life worthwhile. Be happy Sara and Gil. Be happy."
With that, she turned and melted into the crowd.