Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of the characters used in this story. Please no sue. I'm a poor overworked, underpaid twenty-seven year old!

Spoilers: Targets of Obsession

Pairings: Lou Vartann/Catherine Willows

Notes: First of all, thank you to Heather for beta-in this monstrosity. You are an amazing person and I appreciate all of your help, support, suggestions, knowledge, ideas, tips, encouragement, and transfusion information. You are the absolute best! Also, please take the time to review. I am my own worst critic, but I love how this turned out. I'd love to see what y'all think. Finally, I am thinking of extending this (when I have time!). Let me know if you like it and it's worth continuing.

Thanks, and enjoy! –Katie

~/~

It seemed ironic that at this point in her life, she was praying.

She was an ex-stripper, a former drug addict, a single mother, and the lead of the grave shift for the Las Vegas Crime Lab located in the Las Vegas Metro Police Department. Those were among so many other things she was either proud of or not so proud of. She had seen hundreds of dead bodies, kids who were abused, and had even shot a few people; however, she never turned to prayer.

Until now.

With the bomb ticking down to its final seconds, Catherine Willows prayed.

Her eyes squeezed shut, she held Lou to her chest. The wound to his leg had stopped bleeding, thankfully, but he was still in danger. Catherine felt as if she held on to him tight enough, they would never be separated, be it through loss of blood or a bomb strong enough to shake the building to its foundation.

Catherine prayed to God, hoping with all her heart that this wasn't her time. She had blown off a call from Lindsey just an hour ago, more focused on the case. Now, she may not have a chance to ever talk to her daughter again. Guilt crept through her bones, and Catherine thought of all the times that she had let Lindsey down. She prayed that she would have another chance to talk to her daughter, to tell her how much she loved her, how proud she was of her.

Then, the nightmare in the warehouse was over.

She heard the ominous ticking stopping, and wondered if she was imagining things. Surely, stopping a bomb with seconds to go only happened in the movies…

Moments later, Nick was in front of her, babbling that they were okay, that Lou was okay, that they were going to get out of there soon.

Catherine stood up, her jaw hanging open. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know if she could – should – believe it. She attempted to say something, anything, but all it came out was a choked sob.

"Hey, come here," Nick said. "It's okay."

Before Catherine could protest, Nick's arms were around her. She wanted to cry, to sob, to let out all of her emotion about nearly dying. She couldn't, though. Her thoughts were not on the strong arms holding her; rather, they were on the man who was lying on the ground, in pain, still close to death.

"GET DOWN!"

Kip's panicked yell barely registered to the redhead as she swung her head in his direction, her mouth dropping open. Catherine was still processing his words when Nick pulled her to the ground, attempting to shield her body with his own. With strength she didn't know she possessed, Catherine ripped away from him, diving towards Lou, and covering his upper body with her own. Catherine moved to shield his legs as well, but it was too late.

The explosion was deafening and forceful. It sent pieces of metal, wood, and other debris flying towards Catherine, Lou, and Nick.

She felt Nick's hand on her back, keeping her down where she would be safe. Not like she had any plans on standing at the moment anyway. She cringed as she felt objects reigning down on her. Catherine whimpered softly as she felt flames lick through the plywood that they were hiding behind, biting at the sensitive skin of her hand. She pulled her hand back, only to wince as something heavy fell on it.

Catherine forced her eyes open, trying to make sure that everyone was okay, but it was too bright. It was so bright that she couldn't focus. She could feel Nick's hand, still against her back, and Lou underneath her, so she knew that they were still together. Catherine needed to do something, anything, or they wouldn't make it out of there.

Slamming her eyes shut against the offending light, she lifted her head. Her ears were ringing, and everything seemed muted. However, she somehow knew that there weren't anymore bombs. She shuddered, wondering just how she was going to get the two unmoving men to safety with an injured hand.

Catherine felt, more than heard, the second blast, an aftershock that shook her to her very core. Her eyes were still slammed shut, and for that she was grateful, because she knew from the last time that she opened her eyes the light would be too bright.

However, she didn't see the large object falling from the ceiling, striking her face and head, hard.

Catherine Willows was knocked out before her head landed on Louis Vartann's chest.

~/~

She felt warm.

That was the first thought that ran through Catherine's head. She was laying on someone who was soft, and she felt comfortable and safe.

Then, her senses clicked in. She quickly took in her surroundings and felt her adrenaline ramp up.

The first thing that she noticed was the pain. The pain was coursing through her cheek and head, along with her right hand. She wondered briefly if it was broken.

Her nose took in the smell of smoke, which made some sort of sense to her foggy brain. After all, a bomb had gone off. She wondered if there was a fire in the building, and if they should evacuate. She couldn't hear any alarms going off, not that the hellhole they were in even had them. It was then that she realized her ears were ringing. If there was an alarm going off, she probably wouldn't know it.

Catherine didn't dare open her eyes, her memory filtering back to the blinding white light that had invaded her vision the last time she opened them. Instead, she kept her eyes closed, feeling the chest below her stomach slowly rise. She smiled to herself.

As long as Lou is alive, I'll go back to sleep. I'll just forget about the pain, and the ringing of my ears. Lou will keep me safe.

She started to drift off, but she felt herself being roughly pulled away from Lou. Her heart pounded slightly as she winced. The sudden movement sent shockwaves of pain through her head as her desire to protect Lou was almost overwhelming. Catherine forced her bleary eyes open warily, expecting to see that horrible white light again. It was a bit more of a relief to see and feel an oxygen mask being placed on her face. Instinctively, she raised her right hand, holding the object in place as air that she had not realized she desperately needed flowed into her lungs.

Her head was pounding and her hand was throbbing, and she felt like her brain was going to explode. However, she still faintly heard the words of the paramedic that made her heart stop.

Life.

Threatening.

Injuries.

She glanced at Lou, looking desperately for the rise and fall of his chest, but saw nothing. Fear gripped her entire body. With a shaky hand, she pulled the oxygen mask away from her face, not thinking as she slowly guided it toward Lou's face.

"Ma'am, you need to keep that on your face," the paramedic scolded gently, catching her hand. Catherine flinched as his hand covered her injured one, and she moaned slightly.

"He…needs…more," she managed to gasp. "Bullet. Leg. Artery maybe," she continued weakly. Talking was difficult, and was taking all of her energy. She felt lightheaded without the oxygen flowing into her lungs, but her thoughts were not on that. They were on the man that was next to her, clinging to life. She glanced over, relieved to see that Nick was moving, that he seemed to be in one piece. Catherine felt the sudden urge to explain their situation to the person who came to their aid, to explain how they had ended up in this position. "Explosion," was all she managed to desperately add, her head lolling to the side as she looked at Lou. She hoped that the paramedic understood what she was trying to tell him.

But the paramedic replaced the oxygen mask on her face, using the elastic to hold it in place. Before she could take it off in protest, she saw one being placed on Lou. Catherine smiled to herself, laying her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes.

"Ma'am, you need to stay awake," The paramedic's voice was gentle yet firm. He shook her shoulder and Catherine opened her eyes irritably, mustering up her best glare to send at the young paramedic. She briefly wondered how old he was. He couldn't be older than thirty. Catherine groaned, thinking about the last time a young person in the field of emergency was there to "help" her. She ended up getting punched in the face and left lying in a pool of a victim's blood.

"What's wrong, Ms…Willows?" the young man seemed to finally have taken note of the name that was stitched on her vest. "Are you in pain?" He released the loop holding her gun holster, pulling the object away from her side so that she could lie more comfortably without her gun pressing into her hip.

"No, I'm fine," Catherine answered through the mask, which was somewhat the truth. The pounding in her head had subsided a bit, even if the burning in her hand hadn't. Her ears weren't ringing as badly as before. Words and sounds were starting to sound a lot clearer. She was able to think somewhat easier with oxygen flowing through her lungs. Wincing, she moved to sit up, using her uninjured hand to balance herself.

"Ms. Willows, you shouldn't try to move," the paramedic said gently.

His words fell on deaf ears, as Catherine sat up gingerly, testing her limbs cautiously. She shook her head carefully to clear it, looking at the young paramedic. "My cell phone is in the Denali in the parking lot. I need you to tell someone to call Captain Jim Brass," Catherine told him after releasing the mask. "Tell him to put an APB on Jason McCann. Also, please call Greg Sanders, and tell him what happened. Tell him that we are on the way to the hospital, and that Nick and I are fine," Catherine continued.

A glance at Nick confirmed her words. The younger CSI seemed to be moving on his own and was talking to the paramedic, his words somewhat clear and movements fine. "We'll call with more information." She took another deep breath of oxygen before pulling it off her face.

"Now tell me what we need to do in order to save his life," Catherine said steadily as she looked at Lou Vartann.

The paramedic looked at Catherine with admiring eyes. This woman had just been through a very traumatic event, had a possibly broken hand and concussion, yet she was the one who was clearly in charge.

He smiled gently at Catherine, then looked at Lou's leg. "He's still breathing, and the bullet didn't nick an artery," the paramedic said. "He'd have bled out by now." He felt guilty when he saw the look of horror pass over Catherine's face. "His pulse is thready, but he's breathing on his own, which is good."

Catherine nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

"Look at the bullet wound. Is it still bleeding?" the paramedic instructed. Normally he would have done it himself, but he sensed that the redhead sitting across from him needed some sense of control.

Catherine glanced down, using her left hand to push the pieces of pants away. "It doesn't seem like it," she finally said.

"Okay, good," he replied. "It looks like he lost a lot of blood. Would you happen to know what blood type he is?"

"He's AB positive," Catherine replied quickly.

"Are you sure? That's pretty rare for someone to have that blood type," the paramedic said. "I can only use AB positive blood as a transfusion and I don't have any on the truck." A quick glance at Catherine showed that she was on the verge of hysterics at this statement. "How do you know his blood type, anyways?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood somewhat.

But Catherine wasn't laughing.

"I'm AB positive," Catherine ignored his joke. "Use my blood."

The paramedic smiled gently at Catherine. She was obviously much attached to the man lying on the ground, unconscious. "He should be okay until we get to the hospital," the paramedic told her. "Can you tell me anything else about him?"

"His name is Louis Vartann. Forty-eight years old. He's a detective with the LVMPD. No health problems," Catherine rattled off. She glanced at Nick, noting how dazed her second-in-command seemed to be after all, then said, "He's Nick Stokes. He's a CSI Level 3, LVMPD. No health problems either."

"And who are you?" the fireman asked gently.

His question caught her by surprise, and Catherine blinked. "I, uh…I'm Catherine Willows. CSI Level III Supervisor to the grave shift," she told him. "I'm fine."

"The burn and swelling of your hand, as well as that scrape on your face seem to tell a different story, but I'll take your word for it," the paramedic said with a small smile. "I'm Mike Smith. I've been a firefighter for eight years, and I volunteered for four years before that." Catherine nodded, her eyes flicking back towards Lou. "Hey," Mike said gently, drawing her attention back to him. "Catherine, I'm not going to let anything happen to your friend. He's going to be okay. But right now, I need you to settle back and let me do my job," Mike said softly. "I know you're probably used to being in charge, and taking care of these guys, but you need to dial it down a notch and trust me, okay?"

Catherine nodded weakly, and as if on cue, more paramedics entered the warehouse with two stretchers. She sat there, watching mutely as Mike and other colleagues worked quickly to stabilize Lou and Nick. A third stretcher was brought in, and she shook herself out of her trance, and she shook her head at the two females who accompanied it.

"I don't need that," Catherine said as strongly as she could. To prove her point, she stood, praying that her shaking knees wouldn't betray her words. "Help them, I'm fine."

One of the females opened her mouth to protest, but a quick shake of his head from Mike silenced them. Instead, the two females made themselves busy by helping the other paramedics to prepare Nick and Lou for transport. Catherine stood back, unsure of what to do in order to help.

Nick was put on the gurney first, and Catherine patted his hand as he looked up and met her eyes. She could tell Nick wanted to say something, probably along the lines of how she needed to be on a stretcher herself, but he just looked so exhausted.

"Get yourself fixed up, Nicky," Catherine said softly to him, patting his hand as he passed her. "I need you in one piece."

He nodded tiredly as they wheeled him out of the warehouse, then Catherine turned her attention to Lou, who was now on the stretcher. She forced her legs to move as they wheeled him out of the warehouse. They put Lou in the ambulance, and without waiting, Catherine launched herself into the back as well, perching herself along the bench next to him as the paramedics hooked him up to a blood pressure machine.

One of the female paramedics gave Mike a look of amusement that was twinged with annoyance, but he merely shrugged. "I told her she could ride along," Mike lied. "Now let's get going!"

With that, he hopped in the ambulance, pulling the doors shut behind him. He wasn't surprised to see Catherine attempting to roll up her sleeve, ready to donate to Lou as the ambulance started to move. He saw her blue eyes focused on the heart monitor, and knew what she was thinking. His heart was beating way too slow, his blood pressure way too low as well.

"Have you ever given blood, Catherine?" Mike asked gently as he double checked to make sure that Lou's stretcher was secure.

"Yes, I donate all the time," Catherine replied, frustration setting in as she couldn't roll up her sleeve with her injured hand. That was the truth. With as much death and injury as Catherine had seen throughout her career, she had decided several years ago that she was going to be a regular blood donor. It wasn't her favorite thing to do, as the first time she had donated, despite being an expert in blood spatter analysis she had embarrassingly passed out as she watched the tube fill with blood. That had not deterred her donating, though, as Catherine knew there was a shortage of blood donors across the country. That combined with the fact her blood was one of the rarest types constantly convinced Catherine to make monthly trips to the blood bank.

"Then you know it has to be processed, tested, and screened before it's sent to the recipient," Mike said softly as he hooked up Lou to a saline solution drip. He was showing signs of dehydration, and Mike wanted to get him prepared for surgery as quick as possible. "And besides, Catherine, unless your blood is in a private facility, the donor is usually anonymous," Mike added to fill the silence.

"I know, but…" Catherine allowed her voice to trail off, her eyes dropping to Lou's face briefly. She brought her eyes back to Mike, the sorrow settled in her eyes reflected back to the paramedic. "I just want him to be okay."

"You can still donate blood to him," Mike informed Catherine. "He will get a transfusion when we get to the hospital, but if you want to donate in case he needs it again, I can guide you in the right direction."

"Yeah, I'd like that," Catherine muttered, but Mike had a feeling her words were more of an automatic response rather than an actual comprehension of what he said. "Can he survive until we get to the hospital?" Catherine asked worriedly. "Do you know if they even have his blood there?"

"He should be okay," Mike attempted to reassure Catherine. "His stats are the same and he seems comfortable. And in regards to the blood, I'm sure that they have some there. Even though his blood is rare, the hospital usually has some in stock. It's people like you, unselfish people who donate all the time, who help people like him live. I hope that helps you feel a little better about that."

Catherine didn't seem reassured, but she nodded anyways. She gripped Lou's hand with her uninjured one, resisting the urge to smooth his hair back. She was almost afraid to touch him.

"While we are moving, do you mind if I take a look at your hand?" Mike asked her. Catherine nodded, offering her injured hand to him.

Mike took in the skin, noting the swelling and blistering. "It looks like something could be possibly broken, but without an x-ray, it's hard to tell. At this point, I'm more worried about the burn. It's a second degree burn, which isn't as bad as a third degree, but still painful, right?" At Catherine's nod of admittance, Mike continued, "I'll put some cream on it, and wrap it, but once we get to the hospital, you should really get checked out thoroughly. That includes a head CT, Catherine. You were out for a significant amount of time and your reactions are sluggish. Don't think I haven't noticed that."

"I will," Catherine promised, closing her eyes. "I just need to know that Nicky and Lou are okay," she added softly.

Without replying, Mike smoothed a generous amount of burn cream on Catherine's hand. He knew that it was soothing because a look of relief passed along her face. When he drew his eyes down to her hand once more, he noticed a scar along the inside of her wrist that almost looked like teeth marks. He briefly wondered what that was from. That, along with the bombing, was giving him a whole new perspective of crime scene investigators. He had originally thought, thanks to an onslaught of police procedurals and police dramas on television, all they did was collect evidence. However, Catherine Willows was a unique woman, and he knew now that she and her colleagues faced the same dangers as firemen and police officers.

Mike wrapped Catherine's hand in white gauze, and then turned his attention back to the Lou. The saline seemed to be working, as Lou was getting some color back. Catherine looked a little too pale for his liking, but there was really nothing he could do about it other than make sure she didn't pass out.

Minutes later, they arrived at the emergency room. Their arrival was met with a flurry of activity, doctors and nurses meeting them with shouts and yells.

Then they were gone.

Catherine stood there, silently, in the middle of the ambulance bay, her knees shaking and threatening to give out beneath her. Her fingers tugged at the gauze around her hand as she felt lost. All the adrenaline seemed to leave her body at once as she stood there. She looked down at her hands, blinking slowly as she saw the blood all over them: Lou's blood. Catherine could feel her knees weakening even more, and thought she was going to collapse in the ambulance bay.

"Hey," Catherine heard someone call as she looked over. Sara and Greg were rushing towards her, looks of concern washing over their faces. They stopped at a halt in front of their boss, taking in her appearance. She looked exhausted, her face was scraped, her hand was wrapped, and she was covered in dirt and dust. There was blood on the hand that wasn't wrapped as well as her once cream sweater. The sweater, which Sara knew was one of Catherine's favorites, was undoubtedly ruined.

"Are you okay?" Sara finally asked. "You don't look so good. Did you get checked out?"

"I…I'm fine," Catherine answered, not trusting her own voice. She took a deep breath, moving forward as she willed her body to cooperate. "I need to find out where they took Nick and what they are going to do with Lou."

"What happened?" Greg asked softly, falling into step next to Catherine. Sara was on the other side, and both seemed ready to catch Catherine if she were to stumble in the least.

"We went to the building and found Dr. Huxabe dead. His body was wired, and that triggered a bomb to start. We couldn't get to it because there were lasers, so Kip," her voice caught at the mention of the young bomb tech who had perished, "Kip jumped over it and attempted to disarm the bomb. While we were looking for stuff to pile up, Lou stepped on a booby trap and ended up getting shot in the leg. I stayed with Lou and kept pressure on the wound while Nicky and Kip worked on the bomb. Kip disarmed it, but then a few seconds later he was yelling for us to get down, and next thing I knew, there was a huge explosion. I covered Lou but got hit in the head, and was woken up by the paramedics," Catherine explained.

"Where's Nick now?" Greg asked.

"I – I don't know," Catherine admitted. "As soon as I figured out where they are taking Lou, I was going to check on him."

"What about you?" Sara questioned gently. Catherine looked back at her with confused blue eyes. Sara continued, "You have a nasty scrape on your face, and you said you were out. And we heard on the radio that you had a possibly broken bone in your hand, unless there's another female in a CSI vest running around getting into trouble," Sara said lightly.

Catherine smiled slightly, shrugging her shoulders. Truth was, she ached all over, but until she knew about Nick and Lou, she wasn't getting checked out. "I'm okay, guys," she reassured Greg and Sara. "I'm still here."

They arrived at the front desk. Catherine inquired about Lou and Nick. Nick was in the emergency room, but Lou was being prepared for surgery. Greg went to check on Nick, toting a bag with clean clothes along with him. Sara held a similar one, which she carried as she followed Catherine to the surgery ward of the hospital.

As they arrived, Catherine could see Lou being wheeled on a gurney toward an operating room. She broke out into a run, ignoring the protests of the nurses as she ran to his side.

"Lou, you're gonna be okay," Catherine whispered, taking his hand in hers and kissing it. "I'll be right there when you wake up, I promise." She kissed his hand again. Relief fluttered through her stomach when he opened his eyes, smiled tiredly at her and winked.

And with that, he was gone, leaving a trembling Catherine Willows behind. Sara stood next to Catherine, laying a hand on her shoulder in support. She waited quietly for Catherine to make the first move.

Finally, Catherine sighed, looking at Sara. "I look a mess, don't I?" she asked softly.

Sara laughed, shaking her head. "Come on, Cath, let's get your head and hand looked at."

Catherine shook her head in response. "Not until I know that Nicky and Lou are okay," she protested.

Sara nodded in response, knowing not to push the redhead. When Catherine had her mind set on something, especially something this grave, the brunette had learned not to mess with her. "At least change your clothes, okay, Cath?" Sara offered the bag that she held in her hand still.

Catherine nodded, setting off to the bathroom where she finally took a look at herself. The scrape on the side of her face was nasty, and she was covered in debris, dirt, and blood. That explained the looks that I've been getting, Catherine thought wryly, pulling off her CSI vest. She heard rattling and looked in the vest pocket. Her reading glasses, the ones that Lou had made fun of all the time, were broken. The one's Lou constantly made fun of yet found her irresistible when she wore them. The one's he teased her about when she first got them until she attacked him with kisses leading to them eventually making love on the couch.

She laughed to herself at the memory, but the sound caught in her throat as she saw the blood all over her vest and clothes. She hadn't realized that there was that much and she felt a wave of panic come over her as she stared at her reflection. There was so much blood. There was no way that Lou could survive without a blood transfusion. She felt guilt creep over her in a wave that coated her very being. I should have made Mike hook me up so that he could have gotten my blood! Catherine's mind screamed.

Catherine felt a sob rise to her throat as she realized that things would never be the same again, but she willed it away. She wasn't going to lose it. Not here, not now. She couldn't.

Undressing quickly, she took note of the cuts and bruises that were covering her fair skin. None of them seemed life threatening, so Catherine dressed in the dark jeans and purple sweater that Sara had grabbed from her locker. She kicked off the heels that were killing her feet, slipping into the more comfortable Nikes that she rarely wore.

Using her left hand, she threw her clothes and heels back into the bag, scrubbing her face with soap and water from the sink. Wincing at the pain in her hand, she pulled her hair back with an elastic band.

Catherine felt a little better as she exited the bathroom, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Greg standing with Sara. "How's Nick?" she asked quickly. "Is he okay?"

"He's getting a head CT, and he's whining about it, so I'm guessing he's fine," Greg joked. He didn't make a comment about her needing to do the same thing, so Catherine guessed Sara had told him not to say anything. "You need anything, Cath?" he offered kindly. "Coffee, water, food?"

"I'm okay for now, Greg," she answered, settling down into a chair. "I just need to know that Lou is okay."

That was the last words that Catherine spoke until a doctor made his way out of the operating room an hour later. "Catherine Vartann?" he called, and she stood up, making her way to him.

"It's Catherine Willows," she corrected, instinctively sticking her hand out before remembering her injury, allowing her hand to drop back down. "I'm Detective Vartann's girlfriend and emergency contact," Catherine said. She didn't see the surprised look that Greg and Sara exchanged behind her back. "We're not married. Is he okay?"

"He's going to be fine," the doctor said. Catherine finally breathed a sigh of relief. "We removed the bullet and stitched up his leg. When the initial injury occurred, did someone keep pressure on his wound?"

"Yes, I did," Catherine answered.

"Well, Ms. Willows, that, combined with the blood transfusion we did right when he got here, most likely saved Detective Vartann's life," the doctor informed her.

Catherine nodded slowly, taking in his words. "Can I see him?" she asked in a small voice, hoping that her voice wasn't as wavering as she thought it sounded.

"Of course," the doctor said. "Just let the nurses finish wrapping his leg, and allow them to settle him in a room, and you can see him for a little bit."

It seemed like forever, but they finally wheeled Lou into a room. Sara and Greg left with the promise to check on Nicky and to make sure that lab stayed in one piece. Then, Catherine found herself standing by Lou's bed, looking at the man that she almost lost.

Call me when you're ready.

The words echoed in her head. She had to fight back tears as she thought about three long months ago. How she had told Lou to call her when he was ready. They hadn't talked for a long time, skipping over Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Years, only talking to each other in a professional setting. It wasn't until three days before, when Lou showed up on her doorstep on Valentine's Day of all days, wearing a suit and carrying a dozen roses, did they actually talk. They sat in her living room for three hours, sorting out their differences and discussing what they were afraid of in the relationship and what they wanted. They had ended the night with a promise to be more honest to each other, and wound up in her bedroom until they both had to report for emergency backup for the day shift.

And now, after almost losing Lou, Catherine was realizing that she needed to make some changes.

She perched herself on the edge of his hospital bed, picking up his right hand in hers. She rubbed her thumbs over the worn calluses of his hands, taking in the feel of his skin touching hers. She saw a faint trace of blood on his hands, shuddering as she remembered just how close she came to losing him, how he had shaken and trembled under her touch with just four minutes left until the bomb went off. His skin was covered with dirt and soot, and she knew that his favorite suit was ruined.

It was a miracle that he had not only survived the bombing, but the trauma of being shot as well.

She sat there quietly for several long minutes, just staring at Lou. She didn't move, didn't talk to any of the doctors or nurses that came into the room, nor to Nick, who either checked himself out or didn't need further observation, Catherine wasn't sure. She was too exhausted and mentally drained to form words.

Finally, after about an hour and a half, Lou stirred slightly. She watched as he blinked slowly, bringing the room into focus. His eyes held a brief look of panic until they settled in on Catherine sitting across from him.

"Welcome back," Catherine said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "The doctors patched you up, you're gonna be okay." A slight beat, then she continued, "Kip didn't make it."

Lou nodded slowly, biting his lower lip as pain shot through his leg. Catherine noticed the action, and immediately made a move to get up. "I can get the doctor," Catherine started, only to stop as she felt Lou wrap his fingers around her hand.

"Stay."

That single word was all that Catherine needed to sit back down, this time moving closer to the man she knew without a doubt that she loved. She used her free hand to run her fingers through his short hair, playing with the spiky bangs that she loved. "How do you feel?"

"I…I don't know," Lou admitted. "I'm sore, but…Everything right before the explosion is really fuzzy and I don't remember anything after you and Nick moved me behind the lumber." He looked at Catherine, his eyes pleading her to tell him what happened.

She swallowed slightly, allowing her mind to go back to the warehouse, as much as she hated to. In a way, she had blocked some of the events out of her mind, her brain refusing to go back to those horrible eighteen minutes. The eighteen minutes that were filled with fear, danger, anger, reflection, and so many other emotions that filled her being.

"I, uh…" she hesitated, then continued. "I stayed with you while Nick hung out with Kip, who was trying to disarm the bomb. You were really out of it, shaking, and convulsing, going into shock. But then, Nick came over to me, telling us that it was okay, that Kip had disarmed the bomb. He hugged me, and next thing we knew, Kip was yelling at us to get down. Nick pulled me down, and there was a really loud explosion when the bomb went off."

For some reason, Catherine left out the part about her protecting him. She didn't understand why, but for some reason she didn't feel obligated to. "I guess that something struck me in the head, because I was knocked out. I came to when the paramedics got there, and they took you guys to the hospital."

"Did you get checked out?" Lou asked softly, picking up on her choice of words and looking into Catherine's eyes for the truth.

"I had my hand looked at," Catherine answered carefully, showing him the carefully wrapped limb.

"And your head?"

"It's still attached," Catherine joked lightly. "I'm gonna get it checked out, Lou. I promise. I just had to make sure that you were okay."

Lou smiled sleepily at her, lifting his hand tiredly to trace the scrape on her face. She closed her eyes against the gentle touch. "You're beautiful," Lou whispered. "I'm so glad that you are here."

Catherine opened her eyes, smiling back at him. It was then that she realized how truly exhausted she was. Her eyelids were heavy, and she had the sudden urge to rest her head against his muscular chest and sleep for days. "Where else would I be?" Catherine questioned.

Lou rubbed his thumb across her face, carefully tucking strands of fiery hair behind her ears. "I love when you wear a ponytail," Lou said sleepily. "Makes you look sexy."

Catherine laughed slightly. "I'm dirty and gross. Only you would think that I look sexy at this point," she said.

"I'm allowed to," Lou pointed out. "You're amazing. You're perfect and you're caring and you just…you're amazing. I don't know what I did to deserve you in my life, but I'm glad that you are in it.

Catherine felt the lump in her throat growing by the second. She was afraid to open her mouth in fear the tears would start flowing. That was something that she didn't want to get into right now, when she was mentally and physically drained. "Thank you," she finally managed. "You always look for the best in me."

"I don't have to look very hard," Lou pointed out sleepily. "I can't imagine my life without you."

"Me either," Catherine whispered, running her thumb across his hand. "You look exhausted. Get some rest. I'll be back," she promised.

Lou nodded, his head lolling against the pillow. "Please, Cath, promise me that you will get checked out before coming back?" he asked.

"I will," Catherine promised. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I'll be back. I promise."

"Okay," Lou answered sleepily, watching as Catherine stood up and walked to the door. "Hey, Cath," he called softly. She turned slowly, her blue eyes meeting his steely gray ones across the room. She was surprised to see how soft his gaze was. For as long as she had known him, he had a hardened gaze, one that he had perfected over years of working as a detective. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "Once you get me sprung out of here, can you play nurse for me?" Lou asked innocently.

A genuine smile spread across Catherine's face, the first in several hours since the nightmare had begun. "Of course," she said silkily. "Complete with white stilettos."

She winked and turned around, leaving a stunned Lou Vartann behind.

Catherine chuckled to herself, pushing up her sleeves as she entered the hallway, smiling weakly at Nick, who was pacing the hallway. He looked deep in thought, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Nick saw Catherine exit Lou's room, and he walked quickly toward her. "How are you doing?" Catherine asked him, taking in the cuts and scrapes along his strong jaw and forehead.

"I'm okay," Nick told Catherine. He glanced around, then brought his attention to Catherine. "How are you doing?"

"I'm still in one piece," Catherine answered with a shrug.

"Yeah, you should probably get checked out anyways," Nick pointed out, looking around again.

Catherine smiled wryly. "That's usually my line," she informed him.

Nick seemed surprised by her words as he finally made eye contact with his supervisor. He smiled slightly. "Well, you're always taking care of me," Nick pointed out. "Why don't you let me take care of you for once?"

Catherine felt her heart skip a beat as she processed Nick's words. It was almost as if he knew what she wanted…better than she did herself. She looked at him for a long time, realizing for the first time how capable Nick was of handling things if – no, when – she left. Catherine was finally seeing that it was only a matter of time until she left the lab. She had promised herself that she wouldn't get burned out like Grissom and Sara did, but everything, especially the events of today, was taking a toll on her psyche. The twenty-five-plus years that she had spent as a CSI was finally catching up to her, and the bombing, the near death situation, had shaken her to her very core.

She took a deep breath, staring up at Nick for several more long moments. "Okay," she finally said meekly. Nick smiled at her again, that charming smile that made hearts of many ladies flutter.

Instinctively, gratefully, she stood on her toes, trying to cut down some of the height difference as she wrapped her arms around Nick's shoulders. Catherine rarely noticed just how strong and big Nick was. She felt safe for several long moments after Nick's initial surprise at her display of affection disappeared, and they held each other in the hallway.

When they finally broke apart, Catherine was surprised to see that Nick's eyes looked a little misty. He swallowed thickly, smiling at Catherine gently. "You gonna get that looked at?" Nick's question and gesture to the scrape on Catherine's face broke the silence.

"Yeah, I, uh…soon," Catherine answered, throwing a glance over her shoulder. "I want to…I need to make sure Lou's okay. That he stays okay."

Nick nodded his understanding, but surprised Catherine by walking past her toward Lou's room. She turned so that their positions were changed. "You go get fixed up, and I'll stay with Lou until you get back," Nick offered. "I'm just not gonna hold his hand."

Catherine laughed at this, shaking her head. It was such a typical Nicky response. "Okay. I'll be back as soon as possible," Catherine told him. She paused, then added, "Are you up to watching over the lab for a week or two? I want to stay with Lou as much as possible while he recovers and I…uh, I think I might need to take a couple weeks off to get my head straight."

Nick gave his approval in the form of another smaller hug. This time he only squeezed Catherine's shoulders. "Take care of yourself," he told her seriously. "He'll still be here when you get back."

"Okay," Catherine whispered, turning away. It was difficult to do; she felt the anxiety of not being there for Lou if or when he would need her kick in. She willed herself not to break down as she made her way down to the emergency room to finally take care of herself.

~/~

Catherine sat on the edge of the hospital bed, waiting for the MRI technician to come in. Her appearance in the ER had been met with concern and immediate results once they realized that she was involved in the bombing in the warehouse. Word spread quickly in Vegas; that was something that she had learned from her father. The staff at the hospital all showed their concern, but she also had a feeling many of them simply wanted to know what had happened in the warehouse.

Catherine had been saved by a short, red haired woman who she suspected had no tolerance for games. She seemed strict, even a little short, with her staff, but she had a calm bedside manner, which Catherine appreciated. She was especially grateful that the doctor, upon hearing that Catherine simply wanted – needed – to get back to Lou, took immediate action. The doctor ordered her staff to treat Catherine before any other non-critical patients. She also promised the redheaded CSI that if she would be admitted, she would be with Lou.

That eased some of Catherine's shaky nerves, but the waiting game was starting to catch up to her. She had been poked, prodded, x-rayed, given vision and hearing tests, along with several other tests that the doctor ordered. Catherine briefly regretted listening to Lou and Nick. She was starting to become irritable with being stared at and looked at as if she were some sort of hero. She was resisting the urge to leave the ER against medical advice to be with Lou.

The x-ray of her hand had been negative for broken bones, but the limited range of mobility along with the swelling caused the doctor to determine that she had a bad sprain. Her hand was now encased in a heavy splint, the gauze and cream underneath protecting and soothing her second degree burn, which Mike had correctly diagnosed in the ambulance.

The doctor had determined that she possibly had a concussion, due to the extreme tiredness, dizziness, and headaches that she was experiencing. The MRI was the last test that the doctor ordered. The doctor promised, and Catherine hoped to be released pending no serious head injury.

A light knock on the door startled Catherine, and she looked up to see a nurse standing there with a wheelchair. Not mustering the energy up to glare at the offending object, Catherine simply stood and allowed the nurse to help her sit in it, and remained silent until they arrived at the machine.

She allowed the nurse to help her sit on the machine, listening quietly to the explanations and instructions the nurse was stating. Catherine nodded in what she hoped was the right times and laid back, trying to relax as the machine started whirring.

Catherine felt herself moving, remaining as still as possible so that she could get it over with.

The sudden lonely feeling that hit her like a Mack truck surprised Catherine. It was quiet in the machine as the doctors looked at her brain, looking for anything alarming that would cause them worry.

Her thoughts immediately went to Lou, and how she had almost lost him today. She had almost lost Nicky as well, and God rest poor Kip's soul. He was so young, and he knew what he was doing. Kip hadn't even had a chance at life.

It wasn't fair. It didn't make sense, and she didn't like it.

Catherine realized just then how much death she saw. She saw it nearly everyday. Tourists who came to Vegas hoping for glitz and glamour; families that had their happiness cut short with a natural death; suicides, homicides, rapes, breaking and entering, robberies; abusers, gangs, murderers, and thieves: they all fell in the same miserable category that Catherine realized she hated.

It took her twenty-six years to realize it, and it made her sick to her stomach as she wondered just how she had made it this far.

It was in the protection of the solitary MRI machine that Catherine Willows finally broke, allowing the silent tears to slide down her cheeks.

~/~

End Part 1. Should I continue?

Either way, thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think!