As always, I don't take the credit for anything CSI - characters, Grave Danger storyline etc etc. Please review - its only one chapter. Please?
A little bit of nothing....
Jillian Stokes sat by her son's bedside, gripping his hand tightly in her own, and watching him sleeping soundly - albeit, drug induced. She drew her eyes from the rise and fall of his chest to his face - relaxed and peaceful despite the angry red welts. The fire-ants had feasted on the tender skin of his face and arms and the resulting bite marks were beginning to peak in ugly pustules. The pain must have been excruciating, Jillian thought - feeling sick at the thought that her beloved boy would have suffered so much before finally being rescued.
Fortunately, he had been sedated shortly after having been assessed in the ER - enough to send him into a deep, dreamless sleep, but not quite enough to stop him swiping drunkenly at particularly painful stimuli. But his mother's gentle hands would always be there, guiding his arms back down and holding them still until he settled again.
There was so much activity within the intensive care unit itself - the whole area was open to a central nurses station, with the individual cubicles separated by Perspex walls and curtains. A nurse sat at the entrance to the cubicle where they could both keep a close watch on their patient as well as being available to assist others in the event of a medical emergency. Doctors were working at the central station reviewing charts and patient histories before assessing their respective patients.
And Jillian Stokes sat, oblivious to it all, only concerned with what was happening with Nick.
She looked away from his face, and her gaze fell, once again, to the rise and fall of his chest. The quiet beeping of the cardiac monitor, slow and even, was almost hypnotic. She thought back to the events of the last few hours. The phone call which had finally come through as she had waited, almost going out of her mind with worry, with her husband at a nearby hotel. Fearing the worst, she had watched as Roger Stokes answered the call, speaking very little before bringing a hand to his face as his whole body began to shake. For a split second, his reaction had confirmed her very worst fear - they had found her baby and he was dead. Then she heard the words that she doubted she would ever forget.
"They've got him, Jilly. He's alive! They're coming to take us to the hospital."
He turned his attention back to the call and she didn't hear anymore. She remembered trying to be strong - preparing herself for the news and steeling herself to get through the ordeal of telling her other children that they had lost their brother. She realised she had never really expected a positive result. She had hoped and prayed for one, but she had not expected it. Suddenly, the confirmation. He was alive. He was coming home. All she could remember doing after those few short words from her husband was crying. She had felt a burst of immense happiness explode in her chest followed rapidly by the tears of relief. She sat on the edge of the hotel bed and sobbed, doubled over in ecstatic agony. She was dimly aware of the strong arms of her husband wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her close and of the soft words of comfort he offered her through his own emotions.
The drive to the hospital had seemed to take an eternity. There were swarms of police and media outside the emergency department and it was a relief when they were taken to a back entrance and escorted into the waiting area away from prying eyes. They recognised Catherine Willows - waiting with a tall, dark man - as they passed one of the many department waiting rooms. They both looked exhausted and extremely strained. Catherine offered a stressed smile but the Stokes' were led past and into a separate, private waiting room.
After what seemed like hours, a doctors came into the waiting room and sat with the exhausted parents, explaining the details of their son's injuries, the treatment he would be receiving and the likely outcomes and long term effects. Finally, Jillian got her wish, she was taken to the emergency room cubicle and got to see her son briefly before they transported him upstairs to the ICU. He was barely awake as the effects of both exhaustion and pain relief medication started to affect his system. He reached out as he registered his Mom's arrival. He didn't know if he was dreaming, hallucinating again, or if it was real. And he didn't really care. He was comforted either way by her image. But then she reached him and he actually felt her as she took his outstretched hand in hers and held it tight. He felt her cool hand against his flushed face. And he heard her voice, murmuring words of comfort as she had when he was small and waking from a childish nightmare. It was the first time since he had been found that he realised he was really safe. His Mom was there with him and he would be OK. And he let himself succumb to sleep. He could stop fighting because she was there with him.
Jillian had watched Nick's eyes lose their battle to stay open and she kissed him gently on the forehead, careful of the cumbersome oxygen mask which covered his nose and mouth. Pulling away she got a closer look at the bites. They were everywhere. Over his forehead, over his cheeks, at the creases at the corner of his eyes. Even on his eyelids. His features were slightly distorted as the bites continued to swell. One of the nurses noticed her look of concern and reassured her the antihistamines would reduce the swelling. Cool washcloths were repositioned to his forehead and cheeks and he was finally wheeled upstairs.
Jillian and Roger had trotted alongside the trolley, standing back as he was transferred to the ICU bed and made comfortable. He barely stirred until the transfer sheet was pulled out from underneath him - aggravating some of the bites on his back and causing them to rupture. Nick moaned and brought his arms up to protect himself. But he settled quickly as he was administered the first dose of sedative.
Both his Mom and Dad sat with him for the first couple of hours. Both were quiet, barely speaking - both shell-shocked by the events of the last 24 hours. Their son slept quietly, moving occasionally when doctors or nursing staff tended to him. They stepped out only briefly on one occasion so that CSI colleagues could spend a few minutes with him.
Finally, a request came from the Undersheriff for a statement from the family. After a brief consultation with his wife, Roger Stokes agreed and left to speak with the waiting media throng.
Jillian continued to sit by Nick's side. Nothing would move her from her vigil. Not until she could rest easy that he was OK.
The hours ticked by. Her husband arrived back and sat for some time with his family again before heading off a second time. He went back to the hotel to both get some much needed sleep and to contact the rest of the children to fill them in on their brother's safe return.
And still Jillian sat by her son's bedside.
It was several hours later when Jillian finally received some much longed for company. She had managed a short sleep in the uncomfortable hospital chair and had just started reading a newspaper - provided by the nurse caring for Nick - when she became aware of being watched. She looked over at her son and found two dark, sleepy eyes looking back at her. She smiled warmly at him and got to his side quickly. Perching precariously on the edge of the bed, she reached out her hand and rested it against his temple, stroking his face tenderly with her thumb.
Nick mumbled something incoherent.
Jillian smiled again and moved the oxygen mask slightly away from his face so she could hear him better.
"Try again." she said softly.
" 'mm dreamin'?" he drawled - not yet in complete control of his voice,
Still smiling, Jillian shook her head.
"No, my darling. You're not dreaming. I'm here and you're safe."
Nick raised his eyebrows with effort.
"Sure?" he managed.
Jillian nodded this time.
"I'm positive." she said. "You're OK. We're in hospital - and you're going to be fine."
She leant down and lay another gentle kiss to his forehead before replacing the oxygen mask. She ran gentle fingers through his short hair as she watched his eyes get heavy again.
"Now sleep, Nick. I'll be right here when you wake up."
His eyelids dropped shut again and his breathing evened out as sleep once again overcame him.
"Sleep well, my angel." Jillian said as she moved the chair closer to the bed and, once again, sat down. Resting her head against the edge of the mattress near Nick's head, she shut her eyes and let herself succumb to sleep once more.
And both mother and son slept, safe and content in each others company.
The end