Disclaimer: I still do not own CSI. If only I did, then think of all the fun that I could have!
A/N: After the kind reviews to my first fanfic, I decided that I would start writing a story that came into my head shortly after I finished All Mine. Please do read and review! There really is nothing like having a mailbox full of "review alerts." It's great I'm telling you! Lastly, thanks for taking the time to check out my story! More things will make sense in the coming chapters, I promise!
A/N2: Again I would like to thank the lovely, graciebutterfliedgsr, for the beta and for being my sounding board. She's fabulous! All mistakes are mine.
With a small groan of pain, Sara slowly regained consciousness. Her eyelids were heavy and felt as if they were covered with lead weights. When she finally managed to open her eyes, she immediately wished she hadn't. The florescent lights on the ceiling were blinding her. Blinking several times, she thought, "Can't someone please dim the lights?"
After two failed attempts to sit up, Sara collapsed back onto the bed. Questions were racing through her mind. Where am I? What happened? Why does my head hurt so damn bad, and why does my body feel like it has been used as a punching bag? She couldn't seem to help the wave of panic that was coming over her and was clawing at her throat as she struggled to remember her own name. Okay, don't freak out. Take a deep breath. My name is…damn why is this so hard? Okay, my name is… Sara. Yes, her name was Sara! She breathed out a sigh of relief. My name is Sara Sidle. That wasn't so hard. Well, harder than it should have been, although not impossible. However, she wasn't sure why the simple act of recalling her name seemed to have exponentially increased the pain in her head. What had seemed so painful moments before was now only considered a minor annoyance compared to how her head currently felt. To make matters worse, the pain she was feeling was starting to make her feel nauseous. I need some saltines and an entire bottle of Tylenol.
Moaning again and louder this time, she registered the sounds of beeping machines and came to the realization that she must be in a hospital. Which hospital and where it was located were the unanswered questions.
"Oh good! You're awake," a cheerful voice said. Sara was not sure where the voice originated from or to whom it belonged, but she quickly decided that she was in too much pain to care at the moment.
"My name is Mary," she continued. "I am going to be your nurse this afternoon. If you need anything when I'm not here, then you just push the red call button on the remote. I'll place the remote, which also controls the TV in the room, on your bed before I leave your room so that you can reach it easily. Anyway, after you press the button it will connect you to the nurses' station and all you need to do is to tell them that you need me to come. Shift changes at around 7 p.m., and Grace will be your night shift nurse. You will like her a lot. She's friendly and an excellent nurse. If you don't mind, I just need to do some routine checks. I promise to try to be as quick as I can and not cause you any additional discomfort. Also I need to give you your pain medicine. You are due for your next dose, and from the sound of things when I walked in, you are in need of it. I will warn you that it will make you sleepy. Although, in your current condition, sleep is well recommended."
As the woman came over to check her stats, Sara was able to get her initial look at the owner of the voice. She was a petite woman, who appeared to be in her early thirties and had curly red hair that was loosely pulled back into a ponytail. Her nurse was busy jotting down notes in her charts so Sara took the chance to look around her room for the first time. The walls were a stark white, which was broken up only by some truly ugly beige curtains, covering a window she assumed, and two medium-sized paintings. One showed a landscape of mountains and a river while the other depicted a desert scene that actually was halfway decently painted. In addition to the dressing drawer that sat to the right of her hospital bed, there was a forest green chair that looked to be so uncomfortable that Sara felt a pang of sympathy for anyone unfortunate enough to have to sit in it.
While she had been busy scanning her room, Mary had emptied a syringe full of clear liquid, the promised pain medicine she hoped, into the IV that had been inserted into the vein in her right arm at some unknown time. Her nurse had also been keeping up a steady flow of conversation, which was okay with Sara since Mary did not seem to mind or notice that she had yet to reply back.
Truthfully, she had only been half listening to the nurse's friendly chatter when Mary finally captured her attention by saying, "Your husband should be back any minute now. According to the other nurses on this floor, he has not left your bedside since you were placed into your private room. I don't think I have ever seen a man so worried about someone in my life. If I wasn't happily married with two kids, then I think I might be extremely jealous of you. As it stands now, I'm only just a little bit jealous of you, and that is because I'm working hard at that. I swear I had to tell him today that we were going to ban him from your room if he would not go take an hour's break. We would, of course, never ban your husband from your room. I promise. However, he doesn't need to know that…"
Sara started to tune her out. Her husband? With some effort because her body was sore all over, she slowly lifted her left hand. On her ring finger, a plain gold band sat. Confusion was quickly becoming a constant state of mind.
Snapping Sara out of her reverie, Mary exclaimed, "There's your husband now. I told you he would be back any time now."
Her eyes were beginning to feel heavy again but still Sara turned her head toward her hospital room's doorway. The man's clothes were wrinkled, and he looked like he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in days. He also looked vaguely familiar.
He came into her room, slowly. Their eyes met, and Sara could have sworn that he looked like he was nervous and a bit unsure of himself. But the moment quickly passed, and she assumed that she had been mistaken. Why would he be so hesitant?
The man continued into her room until he stopped at her bedside. When he spoke, he tenderly said, "Hi honey." Before Sara could ask any of the million questions she had, the effects of her morphine proved too powerful, and she succumbed to sleep once more.