These characters do not belong to me, although I'd love to own them!
I know it's been ages since I've updated any of my stories, and I apologize deeply for that. It's been one crazy, hectic summer. My small, vulnerable state has suffered from two serious hurricanes, the second of which destroyed my home and the majority of my possessions. For the last three weeks, I've been struggling to keep my sanity, find a place to live (because my brother won't keep me forever), stay caught up with work and school, and somewhere in there, remind my daughter that I haven't abandoned her.
Things seem to be coming together, I got a call on an apartment today, and I've managed to buy enough essentials with my company's generosity to begin to start over. And, for the first time since the first hurricane hit on August 29th, I've managed a single, solitary quiet shift at work, allowing me enough free time to not only handle personal business, but leave a few hours to daydream and come up with this story idea.
You guys have NO idea how therapeutic this is for me, I feel so relaxed now that I can torture someone more than I feel tortured (lol, just kidding). My personal computer has been destroyed, and now that I'm not living with my brother I won't have his computer at my disposal, so I'll probably finish this up this weekend at work (It's only a three-parter) and then I'll try to work on my older, neglected stories. I don't know if I'll be able to get into that mindset again, I hardly even feel like the same person I was in July, but I'll give it my best.
Please let me know what you think, if anyone is interested I'll post a second part of this tomorrow or Sunday.
Jenny
Reminders:
Chapter One: Family
I never thought we'd be called to the home of one of our own. Although I knew that danger lurked everywhere, assaulting even the kindest and conscientious hearts, it never really sank in that any of us could be violated off the job. When working, we were aware that accidents happen, that anything can go wrong at any moment. We're prepared to take that challenge. We also know that the possibility of being attacked exists on every street corner of Vegas. We've seen that first hand. We just never thought it would cross our path, invade our home, incapacitate one of us. We felt like we were invincible. We were wrong.
When one of our own fall prey to an accident or crime, everything changes. The case is no longer just a case, it becomes more personal and painful than even our most trying scenarios. There are no witty and sarcastic comments, no ice-breaking and stress-relieving quips to lessen the tension, only silence as we give the case 110 percent of our dedication.
Today we would see just how far we could bend before we would break. Today was another challenge to see if our team would survive another brutal attack. From the moment we walked into the locker room, the air was thick with tension. I hadn't even had a chance to slip on my vest when my supervisor's voice filled the air, "Everyone grab your kits and meet me in the parking lot, ASAP."
"What do we have?" One of my coworkers asked, I'm not even sure who it was, because the moment I heard the pained voice utter the instructions, I knew this case was different from the rest.
"Shouldn't we wait for--?" Another voice began, confusion clouding his voice.
The response was short and hard, "No. Hurry it up, the scene isn't going to process itself."
I was instantly reminded of the last case that had him so tense and edgy. Looking over my shoulder, I flashed a brief smile to the young Texan standing at his own locker, knowing I was unable to keep the sadness out of my eyes. The worried expression he wore mirrored my own concern. One member of our makeshift family was in trouble, and looking around the locker room, it could only be one of two people. Of those two people, only one could have upset him this much. I could only pray I was wrong.
My fears were confirmed when we arrived at the normally quiet, small apartment complex a few miles away, now alive with sirens and lights. Sure enough, we walked up to Brass just in time to see the pale brunette being wheeled on a stretcher towards the waiting ambulance, an entourage of paramedics at her side.
"What happened, Jim?" I asked, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice as I heard the men at my side gasp, "What's going on?"
"One of the neighbors heard a crash, and went outside to investigate. He saw a hooded figure running from Sara's apartment, leaving the door wide open. The neighbor walked in, saw the destruction, and used Sara's phone to call 911. He found her in her bedroom, my guys showed up moments after the paramedics."
Grissom spoke quietly, clearing his throat to conceal his cracking voice, "What did the paramedics say? Is she going to be okay?"
"She lost consciousness shortly after I arrived, she was unable to speak, and seemed to be having trouble breathing. They were giving her artificial respiration when they loaded her up."
"I'll go to the hospital." I offered, my voice sounding surprisingly strong, despite the nervousness I felt.
As soon as I spoke, I could see the suspicion in everyone's gaze. Sara and I were known for not getting along well, for starting trouble with each other. Guilt flooded through the pit of my stomach as I realized how we had never really made peace with each other, only learned to avoid one another to keep things civil. There was so much I didn't know about her, so much I wanted to know, so many things I wanted to say. Even though it was extremely selfish, I wanted to be the first person who got to see her, only to make amends.
It had been a wake-up call when Nick had been kidnaped. I had suddenly realized just how dangerous our jobs were, moreso than when he had been stalked, moreso than when Holly Gribbs had been shot. Right now, though, to go in with the knowledge that she had not been on duty, not even on call, and had still been a victim made my heart plummet into my stomach. Life was too short to hold petty grudges, to dislike someone for some unknown reason, perhaps just because that's what we had grown accustomed to. I needed to make things right, and until I did, I would feel like a traitor working her case.
"I'm not going to hurt her, I just think she should have a woman present...they're going to have to do a...well,...a..."
"A rape kit." Warrick supplied, when I was unable to bring myself to utter those two horrible words. My stomach churned as I realized what I had just said was a definite possibility. If some man had violated her, sexually, she would have such a hard time recovering. Rapes and abuse cases haunt her the most, and if she fell victim to one of those sick bastards, she would be broken.
Grissom motioned for me to follow him away from the others, and once we were out of earshot, he said softly, "Catherine, I don't have to tell you how important it is that you get any evidence off of her. As soon as you know something, give us a call. You may want to call in Greg to help out, bring anything you retrieve back to the lab. It's his night off, but he'd probably want to be part of this."
"Definitely." I replied, already dreading that phone call. Sara and Greg were very close, as close as Warrick and I had been before his impromptu wedding. This news would devastate him.
I slid into the driver's seat of my Tahoe, putting my key in the ignition with a worried sigh. I had to be strong for the others, I was the one with the least amount of emotional attachment to Sara, I owed it to them to be strong and level headed. The drive to the hospital seemed to fly by, and when I pulled into a parking space, I realized I didn't remember driving there at all. I stepped out of the car, my body and mind numb as the reality of this situation sank deeper and deeper in.
I walked into the emergency room, relief flooding through me when I recognized the on call doctor as an ex of mine. I took a short minute to thank God that I had ended things on a good note with him. I took a deep, steadying breath before striding over to him.
"Timothy."
"Catherine."
"A colleague of mine, Sara Sidle, was just brought in via ambulance. I need to see her."
Timothy shook his head, and I felt the sudden urge to strangle him. Didn't he understand what I was going through? Didn't he understand that I needed to see her, and I needed to see her this instant? What was going on through his pea-sized brain?
"I can't let you in there just yet, Catherine, we're still stabilizing her. We called in a gastric specialist as well as a respiratory specialist. She's got some serious internal damage, but she's in good hands."
My eyes narrowed suspiciously as worry flooded through my already weary body, calling in a specialist so soon was always a bad sign. "Tell me everything."
"Paramedics report that she was having severe difficulty breathing when they arrived on the scene, as well as difficulty communicating. Her eyes are bloodshot, and by visual observation they recorded several burns on her skin resembling chemical burns. We tried to intubate her when she was brought in, but there is a significant deal of swelling in her mouth and throat. She's been constantly vomiting, there has been a great deal of blood in her vomit, and even with assisted breathing, we're having a hard time getting her respiratory rate up."
He paused, probably to allow me to ask questions, but I couldn't form a coherent sentence. Things did not sound good, not even slightly. After a few moments, the professional side of me started to speak, and I said with a weak voice, "I need a sample of her stomach contents, a written report on her condition, her clothing, and any personal items. What do you suspect is the cause of her illness?"
"We're suspecting some sort of chemical ingestion. The insides of her mouth and throat are severely damaged and burned. The vomiting and burning are common for household chemicals. How is her mental stability? Is it possible she tried to commit suicide?"
"No!" I exclaimed, overly loud and defensively, attracting the attention of a few onlookers, "Sara is not that type of person. There is no way she tried to kill herself, there's got to be another way. What are her chances? When can we see her? What are you going to do next?"
Timothy rubbed his forehead, and I immediately recognized that as one of his nervous habits. My eyes narrowed, and he said gently, as if he was about to break some really bad news to me, "We've pumped her stomach and we're trying to flush her system out. We're not going to be able to continue bagging her, so after we're sure whatever she ingested his flushed out of her system, we're probably going to put her on a respirator. We're hoping that as we flush out the toxins, her breathing will return to normal, or at least stabilize. We've done all we can for the burns, we're applying a salve to minimize scaring. It's touch and go right now, we won't know more until we're able to survey damage to internal organs. She's unconscious right now, but she should be awake when we move her to a room. You should be able to see her in a few hours. Have a seat, I'll come and get you if there are any changes."
Timothy walked away and my legs began to violently shake, giving me only a few seconds before they completely gave way, sending me collapsing into an uncomfortable plastic chair. I knew I should call Grissom and the boys, but as Timothy's words rang through my ears, all I could do was cry.
Gradually, my tears ceased and I began to compose myself. Just as I was about to call Grissom and tell him what I knew, Timothy reappeared. My heart stopped and my stomach sank at the nervous expression on his face. With a gentle voice, he knelt down in front of me, "Catherine, I'm sorry."
TBC