Title: So Far from Ok

Disclaimer: If the world was good, it would be mine….

Spoilers: Direct spoilers to "Grave Danger", but anything up to that is fair game.

Summary: A post-ep to "Grave Danger": Sara's thoughts on one of the most hellish nights she's seen. Snickers because it satisfies.

Companion to "End of the Nightmare"

A/N: Again, this took me forever to come up with a title that I liked. I wracked my brain for at least three days after this was completely done (and it took about three or four days to write), and finally came up with this. I still don't really know how, but I suppose sleep depravation does have its benefits…

And fine, Lin, once again, check out QTPiL13 for some cool stories (not any CSI though, she says she can't write it…)

(Sara's PoV)

This whole thing…it's just been one big nightmare, and even now, as Nick was being loaded into the waiting ambulance, I couldn't believe we found him. He was right there; I could see him through the cluster of paramedics, but my mind kept flashing back to that live feed. Nick screaming, Nick panicking, Nick buried somewhere in a Plexiglas hell. Why couldn't I just see him in front of me? Worry and stress and exhaustion made my mind play tricks on me.

I wanted to run away; run so fast and so far until I found a place where this never happened. But even as my mind threw itself against he confines of my skull, on hell of a headache in the making, my body wouldn't move. I was numb.

The ambulance's urgent wail cut through the air, driving off into the night. I let out a shaky breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Next to me I heard Grissom talk to Ecklie: "I want my guys back"

I needed to get out of here.

The raspy croak that came out of my throat surprised me: "Grissom, we're done here?"

He gave me this look…full of something I didn't have the energy to decipher. "Are you ok, Sara?" His voice was calm, a soft lull, and was nowhere near the choked hysteria of mine. A swell of nausea made me inhale deeply, fighting to keep control.

"We don't…is this a crime scene?"

"We have everything we need back at the lab…" Grissom said to me, a perplexed expression forming on his face. He frowned. "Why? Sara, are you -"

But I had heard what I needed to hear. I dodged his question, running blindly behind the nearest sapling…there was a whole forest of them, waiting in burlap bags to be planted…and no longer concerned with contamination of the scene, I threw up.

My mouth burned with the sour taste, and long after my body had expelled what little there was in my stomache, I couldn't stop shaking, dry heaves wracking my body.

I was sick and miserable and cold, and in desperate need to talk to Nick. The cold air stabbed my lungs as I inhaled, but it alleviated the taste of bile in my throat, so I forced myself to take several deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

Greg's car was parked haphazardly next to mine; he was leaning against the side of it, eyes wide open. He was pale and shaking and as worried as I was about Nick, my mind spewed forth images of the lab explosion. He looked now worse than he did then…I traced the tiny pink scar on my hand unconsciously before walking over and slipping my arms around his waist, drawing him into a hug.

I buried my head into his neck, sobbing as I felt his arms wrap around my back, making comforting "shussing" noises. My tears soaked his collarbone.

"He'll be alright, Sara. He's alright" Greg choked out, and I nodded, needing to believe him.

"He's ok." I pressed my words into the soft fabric of his shirt. "We'll all be ok."

I pulled away, suddenly self-conscious. Greg offered me a small smile, and I sniffed. "I'm going to…the hospital. Need a ride?"

Greg shook his head. "I can't leave my car here…I can't ever come back to this place. I'll, uh, take off soon…"

Greg's hands were shaking, and I realized he was right; he was in no state to drive.

Looking back on it, I probably wasn't either. But I couldn't not get into my car, turn the key and floor it, spitting dirt out from underneath the tires as I watched Greg and his car disappear from my rearview mirror.

I don't remember driving there. I don't know which way I went, which neon signs flashed by my car windows. I know I was going well above the speed limit, but I couldn't tell you how much.

I got to the hospital in time to see Judge and Mrs. Stokes pull inot the parking lot; had I beaten them here? How fast had I just been driving? They parked a few spaced down from me. We walked into the hospital together; trooping by the orderlies and nurses and the overwhelming sterile smell of hospital.

We found our way to some sort of desk; I wasn't paying attention, merely following Nick's parents. I was alert enough, however, to hear the girl behind the counter: "Intensive care"… "those in ambulance and"… "family only".

I swear, in that one moment, I felt my heart plummet.

"We're his parents, young lady" Judge Stokes' voice carried an air of authority, but the pain behind it was evident.

She stammered, before turning on me. "And you?"

I faltered, unsure of what to say. As much as I wanted, needed, to see Nick, how was I supposed to feel ok about lying in front of his parents? It would be like an insult, inviting myself to be part of their family.

I barely noticed when Mrs. Stokes slipped an arm around my shoulder, smiling at the girl, "She's family."

The girl, if she noticed anything, didn't push, instead directing us towards the ICU. Judge Stokes thanked her, and we made our way down the hallway.

"Thanks" I sighed softly. Mrs. Stokes raised an eyebrow, and I though she was about to say something, but she restrained.

"Anytime, dear" she smiled, patting my arm gently before increasing her stride to walk ahead of me with her husband.

I think we noticed them before they saw us. They were slumped in two chairs looking thoroughly…worried. We all are, I guess. Warrick was the one who caught my eye first, and I just felt a stab of hurt rush through me. As strong as Warrick is, anyone could tell this was eating him alive.

He whispered something to Catherine, and she, too, looked up. I couldn't deal with this right now; sitting waiting for them to tell us Nick was alright. I felt like crying, and the white walls of the hospital were too bright for me not to close my eyes as I threw myself into a chair next to Catherine.

I leaned back, allowing the wall to support the weight of my head as I tried to suppress a wave of nausea. I hate hospitals…too much time spent on the receiving end of treatment as a kid. I learned quickly to associate hospitals with beatings, and being here… I clenched my hands together, not needing to look to know my knuckles were turning white.

"Sara, are you alright?" Catherine asked from her seat next to me. I just shut my eyes harder, willing this to all be a nightmare.

"I'm ok, Catherine."

Even I could tell that was a lie.

I wasn't really paying attention when the nurse came bustling through a set of swinging doors, which somehow I knew Nick was behind. But I heard her tell us, "You all can go in now, but, uh, he's still a little overwhelmed so we'll have to ask only two visitors at a time."

It was no question as to whether or not Nick's parents should be the first to see him. Judge Stokes stood up immediately; I watched form under eyelids heavy with exhaustion. But Mrs. Stokes…she took a moment, before laying a hand on Warrick's shoulder in a motherly gesture.

"I'll be right out, dear. I'm sure Nick will want to see you."

I opened my eyes to see Warrick look…broken, and Catherine watching Mrs. Stokes curiously.

"All of you" she amended her statement, and I stiffened a bit in my seat as my imagination filled in a small smile that I swore was directed at me. Or was that not real?

Nick's parents took their leave, walking hand in hand to see their youngest son in a state he never should have been subjected to.

I took a deep breath and buried my head in my hands. I stayed like that for ages, and when I lifted my head to look around, Mrs. Stokes was there, telling Warrick with a tearful expression, "You can go on in now."

You could barely hear Warrick's "thank you", but the sincerity behind his words shot through me, and I realized, really realized, how tough this was going to be for Warrick.

It could have very well been Warrick down in that coffin, fighting off hysteria and ands and the overwhelming feeling of death. Just watching Nick down there…I could physically feel the air being compressed from my lungs. What Nick was feeling, what Warrick just barely escaped from, I couldn't begin to comprehend.

And so, my mind blank, I watched Nick's mother slump into Warrick's empty seat as he walked down the hallway to see Nick.

I needed to get up. Sitting here, waiting? I felt the walls start to close in, and I just couldn't stay still. Not doing anything, not being able to do anything, was killing me. Plus, Catherine kept sending me these little reassuring glances, and that was just sending me over the edge. Because behind the comfort was curiosity, and I couldn't handle someone trying to dissect my emotions right now.

"I'll be right back." The words were out of my mouth before I could process them, and so I stood up, making my way to the ladies room.

I didn't recognize myself in the mirror; I looked so tired. My eyes were rimmed with pink, and they scared me because they seemed so hollow. I ran the tap, feeling the cold water run over my hands. I splashed some water on my cheeks in an attempt to wake myself up.

I rested my forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, closing my eyes and trying vainly to imagine myself anywhere but here…in any other situation.

Instead, I thought about Nick.

About how when I first met him, covered in roof dust and sweat, and knew I was going to get along with him. About how I couldn't help flirting with him, even though I'd already decided to pine away for Grissom, because I knew he'd never respond and that brought a much needed measure of safety. I thought about how Greg and I would tease him about his "ladies man" status, and about how later I lamented that persona, because I didn't fit into it.

Then I thought about recently; about the shift split. About how when Adam Trent held that shard of ceramic pressed against my throat I was looking at Grissom but thinking of Nick. About how all of our interactions had been reduced to meaningless small talk in the halls.

I missed him. And even though common sense said he wasn't that far away, resting in a hospital bed, my gut wouldn't let me forget he feeling that accompanied my watching that footage for the first time.

Or anytime after that. Especially when I walked in to find Mrs. Stokes there just…standing there and watching her son. I backed out of that room as quietly and quickly as I could; the last thing she needed was someone intruding on her like that. But she knew I was there. She caught me in the hallway and when I introduced myself she smiled and said, "Nick's told us so much about you."

That comment caught me off guard, but if Nick's mother noticed, she didn't let on.

"You'll find him" she confided in me, before amending, "You guys will find him." The way she said it…it's like there was this unspoken question mark tacked onto the end.

"We'll sure as hell try, Mrs. Stokes" I told her, and though I tried to hide it, I'm sure she heard the hitch in my voice. "We all want Nick back."

She shook her head back and forth slowly, seeming to contemplate something. "He talks about you all the time" she spoke after a while, her voice a strained whisper as she looked me up and down subtly. "All the time."

That did it. The next thing I knew, Mrs. Stokes pulled me into a hug and we both had a good cry. I remember hoping no one saw.

I took a deep breath, rubbing my eyes before I walked back to where Catherine and Mrs. Stokes were sitting. I heard Catherine say "Never mind" as I sat down, and I wondered what they'd been talking about. I tried to swallow the paranoia that maybe they were talking about me. It almost worked.

Mrs. Stokes' watery voice cut through my thoughts, "Did you girls know that when Nicky was seven, he wanted to live in a fort underground?"

She startled me; I jumped in my seat and took only minimal comfort in the fact that the seemed to spook Catherine as well. But Catherine recovered quickly; "What happened to the good ol' tree fort?"

I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes as I let Mrs. Stokes' words roll over me. Something about a tunnel under her favorite flowerbeds. I did my best to listen, but my body's deprivation of sleep was beginning to take its toll; my eyelids fluttered as I began to fall asleep. I don't think either of them noticed. They were too busy trying to forget what had happened for just a moment by diving into clichéd "mom stories". I didn't fit into that conversation.

I opened my eyes as Catherine began to tell Mrs. Stokes about Lindsey and her would-be hole to China. Suddenly, I was too tired to sleep; instead I focused on a wilting plant decorating the nurses station, starring in the opposite direction of Catherine and Mrs. Stokes. A conversation about childhood stories was not something I wanted any part of.

"Sounds like you have a sweet child" I heard Mrs. Stokes say, and the words were out of my mouth before I could catch myself:

"So do you, Mrs. Stokes."

I kept my gaze trained on the plant, not able to face Nick's mother, who whispered a thank-you to me, or Catherine, who would surely have a probing glance or two to greet me with.

I froze in my seat when Mrs. Stokes tried to keep the conversation alive (why hadn't I thought to excuse myself again, until they were done?) :"What about you, dear? And secret tunnels or forts in your family?"

Damnit.

How could I explain my life to this woman who lived the classic perfect "leave-it-to-beaver" lifestyle back in Dallas? How could I convey to her, or to Catherine, the hellhole I was supposed to have been able to call home? Nothing I could say would let them understand the sting of a "father's" hand across your cheek. Nothing I could say would make them understand countless visits to the hospital; countless doctors, countless stitches and countless excuses. They would never understand how it felt to not be able to look away form the castoff on the walls, the air thick with a copper smell, or your mother's face gaunt and hollow, staring at you from the inside of a cop care, bruised and beaten. Hell, I lived through it, and I don't even understand…

"My family wasn't that close."

An understatement if there ever was one.

I could tell they both didn't get it completely, and I just couldn't bring myself to elaborate. I was glad for the welcome distraction of Greg running down the hallway to meet us.

Catherine stood to greet him, drawing him into a hug. "Greg" she grinned warmly before taking a seat.

I was too tired for that. Instead I just listened to him explain what a monster traffic was, and how he "ran all the way up here". A nagging voice in the back of my head wondered if traffic really was horrendous; how long had Greg stayed at that nursery, standing next to his car and starring at the hole in the ground where Nick had just been, trying to claw his way back to reality?

And how did he get past that girl at the desk? Had he been quick enough to pass himself off as Nick's brother?

"Hey Greggo" I greeted him as he all but collapsed into the chair next to me.

"How's Nick?"

Mrs. Stokes fielded that question: "He's alive" she assured him, though her voice shook.

Judge Stokes' voice was more solid, something to believe: "That he is" he quipped as he and Warrick returned from beyond the swinging doors. "And in good enough humor to complain about hospital food."

The pair took a seat next to Mrs. Stokes as Warrick told Catherine, "Two more can go in now, Cath."

No one moved.

"You ladies go ahead" Greg offered. "I'll see him after you."

I locked eyes with him for just a moment before standing up. "Thanks Greg" I whispered, and he nodded before I followed Catherine through the swinging doors.

I couldn't believe it was him lying in that bed, but for the first time since the beginning of this whole nightmare I felt a weight being lifted off my chest by just seeing him.

Catherine stood at the foot of his bed, patting his foot through the blankets in a way that anyone would have guessed she was a mother. I opted to stand closer to Nick, on the side of his bed. My hand rested on the blankets, and as Catherine asked him how he was, I found myself wondering if he'd mind so very much if I laced my fingers through his.

"You look better" I offered quietly, watching him.

"Thanks." His voice was a whisper. I watched out of the corner of my eye as his fingers inched just a bit closer to mine.

"Greg's outside" Catherine told him. "He'll want to see you."

I was gladdened to see Nick smile at the news before answering, "He can wait a little; you guys just came in."

"I think I'll go wait with him a bit" I heard Catherine say, before I blinked and she was gone.

I felt Nick's fingers brush against mine, and I smiled as both of us watched our fingers lace together.

"Hey" he whispered a greeting, eyes locking with mine.

"Hey." I offered him a watery smile before, "Oh God Nick, I'm just so glad you're…" I was going to say 'ok', but for Nick, for all of us, this whole thing was far from ok.

"I know, Sara" he said, and I felt his thumb start to trace little circles on the back of my hand.

"I missed you" I whispered.

"I missed you more" he admitted, scooting over in the bed and pulling me down to lay next to him.

I felt him guide my head to rest on his shoulder, his head rested atop mine as my eyes fluttered closed, our hands still clasped together.

And I guess Greg must've been quite surprised to find us like that, because he woke us up with his scream.

A/N: Again, this one took an ungodly amount of time to write, but I really like how it turned out. Let me know what you guys think of it!