Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or anything relating to them, just borrowing them to satisfy my stupid brain. Any references to real life events; anything I may have read, seen or heard are completely unintentional and coincidental. I gain nothing from this other than to finally get this idea to stop repeating in my head. So please don't sue me or threaten to kill me. if this offends you in any way or it just plain sucks, I apologize that you've wasted several minutes of your life you'll never get back. Just pretend you never saw this, know for future reference to avoid it at all costs should you ever see the title again, and go on with your life. Any and all mistakes are mine. Also, any names, places or references are purely fictional!
Even though we are at the hospital and the doctors and nurses are doing their jobs, I know my baby is gone. My only hope is that it happened so fast she didn't feel any pain.
I know she was scared and that torments me to no end. It's our job as parents to protect our children from the horrors of the world. Given my family history and genetics I should have never let myself take on that role. I failed our daughter and I failed Catherine.
I shouldn't have taken that shot. She wasn't in my cross fire but I should have taken into account that his gun could go off. Somewhere deep in my brain I know I'm being selfish feeling sorry for myself, but right now I just don't give a damn. They won't even let me in the ER room with her. They let Cath in because she's her real mother; apparently I don't count.
Suddenly my thoughts are interrupted as the doors to the waiting room swing open and a young nurse steps through. By the look on her face, whatever she has to tell someone can't be good.
"Is there a Sara Sidle here?" the nurse quietly asked. Go figure...I should have known.
I can't seem to find any words, I think my mouth has gone on strike; all I can do is stand up. The nurse seemed to catch on because she walked toward me.
"Please sit down miss Sidle." The nurse softly said as she sat down in the chair beside me. "Are you the family of Miss Willows?" The nurse asked just to make sure she wasn't breaking confidentiality.
"She didn't make it did she?" I ask while looking at my feet. I already knew the answer, I knew the second his gun went off. But I still need to hear someone say it. To confirm what I already know in my heart; that a part of my soul is lost to me forever.
As if sensing what I need, the nurse waited for me to make eye contact with her before placing a comforting hand on my arm and saying, "I am so, so sorry. She passed away a few minutes ago. I can take you to her if you would like?"
"Yes please. Is Catherine...her mother...there with her?" My poor sweet Catherine. What do I say to her...sorry I killed our daughter? You both took the chance and let me into your lives and this is what you get in return. God Sidle quit the pity party! Catherine needs you to be strong! Get her through this, then you can focus on yourself. My mental scolding is cut short when the young nurse next to me stands up and offers me her hand.
I wonder if she would still be this caring and understanding with me if she knew the truth. If she knew that the beautiful girl with her mother's eyes and sharp intellect laying lifeless on that table is there because of my short comings.
"You don't have to go in if you don't want to. There is no right or wrong way to mourn. There is no shame whatsoever to not want to see the body of a loved one who has just passed. If you like, I could..."
"No, I'm sorry. I was just lost there for a second." I interrupt when I realize she's still holding her hand out to me and I haven't moved. Taking her hand and pulling myself up I continue, "I was there when it happened. I know how bad it is. I think it was instant actually."
Immediately gentle but strong arms pull me into a hug effectively cutting off the horrible images that are replaying through my head. I didn't even realize I was crying until I felt her hand rub circles on my back and a huge sob overtook my body. She pulled me back at arm's length for a second, looking me over before asking, "Do you need medical attention? Were you hurt at all hun?"
"Just here." I sob putting my hand over my heart; to which I got a harder squeeze in reply.
When she pulls back the second time and looks me over; I can't help but notice she looks older than she did a second ago; like she took the burden of my words onto herself physically. I know what that's like. I have been there several times when a case I was working on hit me harder than I'd like to admit.
I will myself to stop crying and try to convince myself I can do this; that I'm going to be strong for Catherine. I continue this mantra in my head as the kind nurse explains what I'm going to see when I walk in the room. I notice for the first time that her name tag says Elizabeth RN and there is a gold pin stuck next to it with the letters ICU. If she's an ICU nurse, why is she down here in the ER?
"Sara, sweetheart. I think you're in shock dear. Do you want to sit down for a minute? Let me get you something to drink. I'm afraid you're going to pass out. You're quite pale and cool to the touch." Elizabeth asks looking very concerned. I know she's probably right. I feel very numb.
"I'll be fine thank you. Could you please take me to my family?" I ask, sounding more sure of myself than I actually am. But that doesn't matter right now.
Gently but firmly I allow Elizabeth to guide me toward the room where my family died. When the doors open the smell of iron hits me like a wall. Catherine doesn't seem to notice our intrusion as she sobs over the bloodied shell of what was her only flesh and blood. I think Catherine looks worse than Lindsay.
My feet seem to be rooted in place as I take in the scene. Please someone tell me this isn't happening. Wake me up! Please...Catherine, I can't breathe! Make this stop!
My heart is pounding so hard and so fast that not only can I hear it, I think it's moved up and lodged itself in my throat! No wonder I can't breathe! Every muscle in my body has contracted and is screaming for relief. My fingers and toes have that pins and needles feeling that you get when you cut off the circulation for too long.
Somewhere deep in my mind I realize that since I'm standing, it's probably not a good thing that they are tingling like I've been sitting on my foot for 10 minutes. I wonder what's causing it, since I'm clearly not sitting right now.
While I'm at it, I wish I could stop shaking. I think my teeth are even chattering.
"Sara?" a small shaking voice in front of me asks.
"Oh God Sara! Sara!...Lindsay's...Sara!" The warm familiar feeling of Catherine in my arms actually makes me jump because it's such a stark contrast to my cold tingling limbs. I think she's the only thing keeping me upright right now. Seeing Lindsay so still and pale...normally I'm having to pry her off me she's so full of energy...maybe Elizabeth was right...I may just pass out.
As if sensing my peril, a chair is placed behind me next to Catherine's chair and the kind nurse guides us both down. All I can do is hold Catherine and cry. Our tears merge together and lay to rest on our daughter's still chest. My baby is gone; and it seems so is my life.