Author: Sazmuffin

Disclaimer: I own nothing of CSI or the song 'What Sarah Said' by Death Cab for Cutie.

Title: What Sarah Said

Ship: Nick/Greg

Rating:

Length: Song-fic

Tension crackled through the hospital, sending chills down Greg's back. Interns shuffled around, pushing a cot through the halls or reading a patient's file as they made haphazardly made their way down the hall. The medical institution was cold, the kind of cold feeling you get when no one cares and you're just another person standing in the crowd. Patients who were well enough to move from their beds walked around with IVs, pouches filled with clear, sticky fluid that kept their pain at bay. Greg just couldn't take it anymore.

He leaned against the plain, white wall, his head resting in the crook of his elbow. His clothes were wrinkled and dirty, his face felt like he wore a paper machེ mask. His feet screamed and his heart ached. The doctors, the ones who always had been portrayed as those who help in a time of need, divulged close to no information about Nick's current state. Greg stared into the clear, glass window into Nick's face. He looked like he had been put through a shredder. His face and arms were blotchy, bumpy, and bright red. Greg couldn't begin to imagine the degree of pain his friend was experiencing right at this very moment.

"I can't take this anymore," Greg removed his face from his arm and started to pace nervously, back and forth.

Warrick looked up from his sleeping position. "This is all we can do to help, Nicky, Greg. Just sit and wait."

"There has got to be something we can do," the Level One CSI countered, "We're scientists. I can't just stand here and pretend everything is going to be okay."

Grissom looked at him, "No, Greg, it's not going to be okay. Nick is probably going to carry this tragedy with him for the rest of his life. No one can change that. We just have to hope for the best and pray things will go okay."

Greg angrily pounded his fist against the wall, and then wincing at the pain. "I can't just... I have to see him, I have to talk to him."

"We'll let you see him first, Greggo. As soon as the nurse comes and tells us we can see him," offered Catherine.

He smiled and thanked her.

The hours passed and finally, a nurse clad in a white lab coat approached them, holding Nick's file in her arms. She was an older woman, her grey hair pulled behind her head in a bun. Her scrubs were mint green and white, orthopedic shoes housed her feet.

"You are the family of Nicholas Stokes?"

"Coworkers," Grissom stood, and shook the woman's hand. "I'm his supervisor, Gil Grissom. These are his coworkers, Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, Sara Sidle, and Greg Sanders. His parents are out of state and should be here tomorrow."

The nurse nodded and replied, "You may see him now." She turned and walked away, dropping Nick's file into a basket nailed to the door of his room.

Warrick nodded to Greg and he understood. His hand came into contact with the icy door handle, and he took a deep breath as he opened the door.

What met his eyes almost made him want to sink to his knees and cry. Nick's pain was magnified by a thousandfold as he struggled to sit up and see who it was walking into his room. A small smile formed on his lips, but it slowly morphed into a wince of pain. Greg grabbed a chair from the side of the room and brought it right up against his bed.

"How are you feeling, Nicky?" he asked, and then swatted himself in the face. "Of course you're not feeling good. You just..."

Nick tried to laugh but it came out as a strangled chuckle. "It's okay, Greggo."

"Do they hurt?"

"They did at first, but the pain is just more like a dull ache. I've become somewhat numb to it," he shrugged.

"I'm sorry this had to happen to you, Nicky."

"It's not your fault."

"I know it's not," Greg shook his head, "But it could've been any one of us. And you've already been through a tragic moment in your life, you don't deserve another one."

Nick gulped slightly, and responded with, "What's done is done. No point in analyzing it."

"Ah, but we're scientists, Nick. Analyzing is what we do best."

A real chuckle came from Nick's throat and he smiled a real smile. "How true you are, Greg, how true you are."

The rest of the night shift soon entered the room, all getting their chance to talk to him. They pranced around the subject, not knowing whether or not to tell Nick who kidnaped him or why they did it. Soon, they figured that he'd ask when he was ready to know, if he wanted to know at all.

All but Greg left around an hour later, after Nick had fallen asleep. Greg had stayed to watch over him, to keep an eye out for him, something he should've done the night he was kidnaped. He soon fell asleep in the chair, his body slumped forward and his head resting on his shoulder. Greg awoke by the frantic pleas for help from Nick in his slumbering form. He stood, his neck cracking many times as he rolled it out.

Greg kneeled against Nick's cot and gently woke him, stirring him from his nightmare. Nick looked around, confused as to where he was. When he saw Greg, his hands latched around his arm and wouldn't let go. "Where am I, Greggo?"

"Nick, you were having a nightmare. You're in the hospital, safe. You've been here for almost two nights."

The Texan's manner seemed to calm down, as he laid back against his pillows. They didn't exchange words for a long while, until Nick asked, "Do they ever go away? The nightmares?"

Greg looked up, gulping. "With time. With time you'll come to accept it and then you'll be able to move on."

"And the scars?"

"I wouldn't know. I can't really see them without looking into a mirror from behind."

"Oh," Nick said, his voice quiet. "Can I see them?"

Greg shrugged and turned, lifting his shirt. He then felt cold fingers trace over the long scars, his back slowly growing goose bumps under Nick's touch. Once the fingers were no longer there, he sighed inwardly and pulled his shirt down, turning back to Nick.

Conversation ended there. Both men rarely met each other's eyes, hardly even glancing in the other's direction. The air was thick with medicine, perspiration, and failed attempts at rekindling conversation. All Greg really wanted to do was wait and sit and pray for Nick to be okay, for him to live, for him to be the same way he was before all this happened. But he knew that wouldn't happen. It wasn't in the cards. Nick Stokes was forever changed and there was little he could do about it.

"Greg, you really don't have to stay here," Nick's voice startled him.

"It's fine, Nicky."

"You know, Greg, to tell you the truth, I'd really rather be left alone."