Consciousness returned like a drip feed, one fragment at a time. Head spinning, the floor felt uneven, like a ship's deck on turbulent waves. She tried to grip it to steady herself, felt coarse dust beneath her fingertips.
Far distant voices gradually seeped through her cloudy consciousness.
Brass' came first, fast and panicked.
"Jesus Christ ... Catherine!" His words barked. "Grab the other end of that! Get this stuff off -"
She became aware of something heavy pressing into her back, pinning her down. Somewhere distantly Grissom was calling her name. There was a stampede of rushing feet, then Sofia's commanding voice.
"Get the other end -"
"That's it -"
Sharp wooden crashes reverberated in her ears; the sound of rubble flying as they dug. A moment later the pressure on her back vanished, though the pain didn't. Her back and abdomen felt twisted in the wrong order. Sharp pain pierced her torso; her head throbbed.
She heard Grissom's voice. "Catherine! Can you hear me?"
His urgent fingers slipped to probe her neck, her pulse.
"She's alive -"
She heard Warrick. "Cath?"
"Catherine, are you hurt?"
Her head spun. Amid the turbulence scraps of memory returned. Shouting, a fight, and three gunshots ... But though her torso and head throbbed, there was no hot pain of a gunshot wound. It was not her that was dead.
"I'm fine, I -"
She gasped the words through her pain, fighting to raise her head to see who was shot. The dusty hut swam into view.
"Reed's dead," Grissom provided. "Sara shot him down. He had your gun trained on you."
Though her head throbbed, the dizziness eased. She saw Grissom, Warrick, Brass and Sofia all kneeling around her, concerned. Nick stood beside Sara, who seemed to be in shock. She stared at something on the floor across the room. Her gun was still half-raised.
"You okay?" Brass asked. "Need help?"
She saw deep concern in his eyes, that he was a split second away from summoning an ambulance. She forced herself to move, determined to head him off.
"No, I'm fine," she said, projecting confidence. "I'm good."
She accepted Warrick's helping hand as she stood, felt Grissom's on her back. They did not let go immediately, held her until she nodded she was okay.
Her eyes fell to Reed across the room, sprawled on his back. Blood seeped from the three gunshot wounds through his torso. His face was frozen in shock. She recognised her own gun still in his hand. Opposite him, Sara had still not broken her gaze.
Sofia moved near, eyeing the limp weapon. Her voice was gentle yet firm. "Let me take that -"
Sara did not resist, did not seem to even notice her presence.
For a moment silence gripped the room, the sense that it was all finally over sinking with relief into her veins. Her torso and back still twisted in pain, the spot on her cheek where he had punched her throbbed. She fought off a wave of dizziness, willing to stay on her feet.
She looked to Sara.
"You okay?"
Sara nodded blankly, still in shock. "Uh-huh."
"It's over," Nick told her soothingly, arm around her shoulders. "You're okay now, all right?"
She nodded again, uncomprehending.
Catherine moved to squeeze her arm. "You can relax. It's done."
She felt more piercing pain twist in her abdomen. Feeling the sudden overwhelming urge to leave, she squeezed Sara's arm briefly.
"I'll be back in a minute."
She did not wait for a reply, heading for the door. She heard Brass call after her.
"Catherine?"
"I'll call it in!" she called confidently.
She was grateful when they did not debate the point. She found herself then in the freedom of the cool night-time desert, the fresh air against her bruised face. She breathed in deeply, hoping it would swill the pain away from her burning stomach. She was mentally assessing the damage just as Sofia unexpectedly fell into stride beside her. They walked silently for a minute before she spoke, when they were well clear of the hut and heading up the starlit slope.
"You really okay?" Sofia asked.
"Fine," Catherine replied. Seeing Sofia still watching, she added, "I just need a minute."
Sofia nodded, understanding. She glanced over her shoulder, checking they were alone.
"I keep a first aid kit in the back of my truck," she offered. "There's some painkillers in there, some gauze to wipe the blood."
Unaware she had been bleeding, Catherine nevertheless thanked her. As they reached the cars Sofia peeled off, taking the radio from the front. Catherine headed to the back of the SUV, opening the doors. In the low light it took her a moment to find the first aid bag, but realised as she opened it that her temple did in fact sting. She touched it tentatively, and found blood on her fingertip. Sighing, she sat on the edge of the tray, looking out into the starlit desert, grateful that her colleagues were all too occupied with Sara to pay attention to her. It allowed for a precious moment alone, her and the twisting pain in her abdomen.
As she sat, willing the throbbing to ease, she overheard Sofia talking on the radio.
"Control, this is Detective Curtis."
A female answered. "Go ahead, Sofia."
"You can call off the backup, we have a secure scene here. CSI Sidle is safe and unharmed."
"Roger that. And the suspect?"
"You'll find three bullets in his chest."
"Will you be requiring EMS?"
"Send a bodybag along with the coroner. No fanfare."
"Confirmed."
The call ended. The pain in Catherine's abdomen increasing, she sat with her elbows on her knees, head in her hands. Suddenly she felt hot; the bullet proof vest was stifling, yet she was too weak to remove it. She felt too hot and weak to even pull at the velcro strapping on her back.
"How're you doing back there?" Sofia called.
Catherine's head spun, the world dipped. She gripped the tailbar of the truck hard, and tried hard to keep her voice level.
"We got any water?" she replied.
Sofia's reply was casual. "Sure."
There was the crunch of desert sand as she crossed to the next car, soft thuds as she opened and closed the passenger door.
"I'll tell you one thing, I'm glad this is over. I feel like I haven't slept in -"
She broke off abruptly.
Somewhere in the far distance - across a horizon - Catherine heard her voice echo.
"Catherine?"
The world spun, hot and heavy. Her sweaty hands slipped in effort to grip the tailbar.
"Catherine!"
There were distant thudding footsteps, a frantic hand pushing back her hair.
"Oh my God -"
Unable to sit upright any longer, Catherine slumped forward, forehead on her knees. The world swayed perilously.
"GRISSOM! WE NEED SOME HELP UP HERE!"
The world was silent.
"BRASS!"
Catherine held her eyes closed, the world spinning beyond control.
Sofia's voice coaxed somewhere nearby. "Talk to me, Catherine."
But Catherine couldn't. In the distance she heard jogging, people panting as they came up the hill. Suddenly she was amongst a swarm, Sofia at the centre shouting instructions.
"Get on the radio! Get EMS here immediately!"
She heard Sara's voice. "What's going on?"
There were hurried footsteps as they rounded the back corner of the car, then Grissom's voice.
"Oh my God -"
Brass' panicked voice assailed her ears. "Control, this is Jim Brass, we need EMS here immediately, we have a CSI down ..."
"What happened?" Grissom demanded.
"I don't know," Sofia said quickly. "She came back here to clean up, I went to get her some water, and found her like this."
Grissom's voice was suddenly close, and very clear. "Catherine, can you hear us?"
His fingers slipped under her folded form to search for her pulse, then probed her forehead.
"She's burning up!"
Brass' commentary continued. "... she's been physically assaulted, is semi-conscious and in a lot of pain. Nature of injuries is unknown at this stage but you'd better get here fast ..."
"We need to get the vest off, cool her down -"
Suddenly she felt claustrophobic. She felt them leaning over her, hands reaching for her back, slipping towards the piercing pain in her back and stomach. Fear caught her, lifting her temporarily out of the fog.
"No, don't -"
She lifted a hand, trying to push them away.
"I know you're in pain Catherine, but we need to take off your vest," Grissom said clearly, hand on her shoulder. "Your temperature's skyrocketing, we need to get it down until the EMS get here. We'll be incredibly gentle, okay?"
"Don't touch me, I -"
She trailed off in a wave of dizziness, consciousness nearly leaving her.
"You can trust us, Catherine," Sofia said clearly.
The world swayed, black and without form. She felt Sofia leaning over her, fingertips tugging with extreme caution at the velcro on her back. Grissom's hands were firm on her arms.
She heard Sara's voice. "She's going to pass out. We'd better get her on the ground."
Nick replied, somewhere close. "I'll get a blanket ..."
"Keep talking to us Catherine," Grissom said. "Try to stay conscious."
She fought the black cloud, but it pressed in upon her.
"Cath, can you tell us where the pain is?" Warrick asked. "Can you point?"
She tried to gather the reins, to haul her brain out of its unravelled fever and into some order. She felt Sofia finish with the straps and take the edges, gently lifting it up to her neck. Grissom pulled her hands away, helping Sofia lift it over her head. They put it aside, and the cool night air grazed her white tank top. Even so she still felt dizzy, the pain and heat too intense.
She fought to gain control, to find her voice. "Grissom -"
"I'm here," he assured.
She heard her own voice tremble. "Something's wrong ..."
"All right," he said. "Just stay calm. Don't panic. We're going to help, but you need to tell us where the pain is. Can you point?"
Again she fought for control, fending off her dizziness.
"My head's spinning," she confessed.
"He hit you in the head," Warrick said. "I think you've got a concussion."
"No, it's not that, it's -"
But she trailed off, unsure. She felt the pain swelling in her abdomen, and something strangely sharp in her back.
"I think I've hurt my back," she said. "A vertebrae -"
"A spinal injury?" Grissom repeated.
"From the desk," Warrick said. "That thing weighed a tonne, landed straight on her back."
She heard Sara's voice. "There can't be any damage to the spinal cord, she walked up here."
"Do you feel any numbness?" Grissom asked. "Any parasthesia?"
She shook her head, the questions overwhelming. The heat prickled against her skin, sent her brain matter cascading against her skull. The pain in her abdomen still throbbed. She tried yet again to explain.
"Something's torn, something's -"
She moved a trembling hand toward her abdomen, not daring to touch.
"Do you mean you have an abdominal injury?" Sofia asked, alarmed.
Catherine nodded. "Something's wrong ..."
"All right," Grissom said, tone changing as he resumed control. "Let's get you on the ground before you collapse."
She felt arms slip around her to help, and she leaned into them. An arm slipped under her knees, and then she was carried the short distance to the ground. A woollen blanket was laid out ready, and they placed her on top of it.
Almost immediately Sofia produced a wet cloth, and held it to her forehead. The cold water dripped in rivers down her skin.
"Try to stay as still as possible," Grissom said, voice tense. "Don't move unless you have to."
Catherine placed a palm flat against the woollen blanket, trying to stop the world spinning. She caught blurred glimpses of her colleagues as she turned her head each way, trying to catch something. Her entire body was thick with heat, as if her cells were melting.
"It's too hot," she gasped.
She felt her heart skip a beat, fluttering dangerously. Her ragged breathing echoed around her.
"Stay calm, Catherine," Grissom said firmly.
"Damn, we need some ice -" Warrick echoed.
Nick's voice was heavy with warning. "Her pulse is flying ..."
"Gil, it's -"
But the effort of the words was beyond her. She grasped pitifully at the hem of her tank top, the boiling cotton strangling her torso.
"Do you need to take that off?" Grissom asked.
She turned her head, back and forth, gripped in fever and intense pain. She tugged at the hem.
"Catherine?" Sofia prompted.
The world spun. Somewhere in the distance she could hear Brass yelling demands on the radio.
"Something's wrong," she repeated weakly.
She gasped for breath, struggling to draw in lungfulls of the cool desert air.
Grissom's voice came clear again. "Catherine, do you trust me?"
His words blurred, slipping into one another. She had no energy to untangle them. The world faded -
With a firm voice, Grissom took charge. "Give me a hand -"
Suddenly his firm hands were on the hem of her shirt. Her own fell limply aside.
She heard Sara's voice. "You can't -"
He cut her off. "We need to get her temperature down, or else she's in trouble."
"She's in trouble now," Warrick said.
Catherine felt someone take her arms. For a moment she resisted, her instincts wanting to protect her abdomen from their hands.
"Arms up, Catherine," Sofia said clearly.
"Don't hurt me," she said weakly.
She felt a twinge of embarrassment as she heard her own irrational words, but it was quickly swept aside by Sofia's calm voice.
"You're going to be fine, we're just going to lower your temperature. Just stay very still."
Catherine let her lift her arms above her head, and they carefully lifted her tank top over her head. She felt immediate relief as the cool night air soothed her burning torso. Her dizziness dipped a notch.
A strange silence dropped, broken after a moment by Warrick.
"Holy mother of -"
He fell abruptly silent, as though swiftly warned by someone else.
The silence stretched, ominous and frightening.
"What's wrong?" she breathed.
More silence. She felt fear prickle the air.
"Nothing's wrong," Sara said, with transparent calm. "You're going to be fine, Catherine."
She felt a stab of impatience. "Cut the crap, Sara."
She searched for reason, and through her dizziness managed to open her eyes to find Grissom's. She saw fear rattling his irises. He quickly stifled it.
"You have a nasty bruise," he said truthfully. "I think the blow he delivered to your stomach has caused you to bleed internally. You may have even ruptured an organ."
It took a second for her to absorb his words - her brain barely able to register anything more than the incredible pain - but when they did she felt the first pulse of pure fear. An organ rupture. She was experienced enough as a CSI to know what that meant. Even on the strip it was life threatening, on the ground in the remote desert, it was insurmountable odds in favour of the crematorium.
"Catherine?" Grissom prompted.
He was looking at her as though he had asked her a question, but she did not recall one. In the background she heard Brass, talking low.
"... level of consciousness is patchy, more out than in ... her awareness is low ..."
She forced her eyes to focus, inclined her head a centimetre to catch a glimpse of her pants undone, pulled down a few inches to cool her. A section of her black underwear was exposed. She wondered when that had happened, did not remember a thing. Her fear intensified. It was accompanied by a wave of acidic nausea, inching up her throat.
"Catherine, did you hear us?" Grissom asked.
She wondered what she was meant to have heard.
In the distance she heard Warrick. "Cath?"
The nausea bubbled into her throat, hot like poison. She shook her head, restless with heat and pain. The world dipped -
A strange choking noise ...
"She's choking!" Grissom yelled. "She's choking on her own vomit! Turn her head! Turn her!"
His hand locked her jaw, turning her head to the side. Other hands were on her body, rolling her into the recovery position.
"Vomit it out, Catherine," he encouraged.
Blackness took her, tumbling her around in a vortex. Was that Nick shouting? Warrick?
"Spit it out, Catherine," Sofia said loudly.
She was faintly aware of her internal muscles convulsing, her throat lurching. She felt something wet leave her mouth. It poured onto the ground against her cheek. The wetness felt hot against her skin, hot from her body temperature.
"Clean it away from her mouth," Grissom said. "Don't make her lie in it."
A damp cloth wiped at her face, scraped at the desert dust on the ground.
She searched the dizzy blackness for her last remaining dregs of consciousness.
"You gotta get me outta here," she pleaded.
She heard a whimper in her voice, realised her eyes were wet.
"We have an ambulance on the way, Catherine," Sofia said loudly.
"You just hang in there," Nick echoed. "It's gonna be fine, okay?"
The blackness closed in. She knew there was no time, they did not understand ...
"Can't wait that long," she whispered into the ground.
"Hang in there, Catherine," Nick repeated. "We're gonna get you safely to the ER, okay? We promise."
"You gotta get me ... into the car ..."
There was an ominous hesitation.
"We can't, Catherine," Grissom said. "It's too dangerous."
She was too weak to move, but stretched out trembling fingers into the darkness.
"Help me up ..."
Sara's voice was soft. "Catherine ... if we move you, we'll kill you."
She felt a wave of anger at Sara's voice. It was Sara's recklessness that had pulled her into the desert, that was now killing her. Sara and her loose cannon attitude ...
Lindsey flitted through her mind, her mother ...
"Go to hell, Sara."
And the darkness took her.
XXX
Thereafter, she registered things only in pieces. She drifted, the dizzy blackness occasionally wavering into faint consciousness. When she next became aware of her surroundings, she knew instinctively that some time had passed. No one was shouting anymore. She felt Grissom's fingers clamped into her wrist, monitoring her pulse. She felt a rush of gratitude that he had not left, that they had held to their promise.
She moved a finger, tracing a path in the dust.
"I think she's awake again," Warrick observed.
"She's drifting," Grissom said.
He squeezed her hand firmly, reassuring. She relaxed again, grateful.
As she lost consciousness again, she felt a woman's fingers gathering her hair back into a ponytail. She felt an elastic tighten.
"Let's keep it safe out of the way," Sofia explained, holding her shoulder.
She wondered faintly if she had been vomiting again, realised she must be. She drifted unconsciousness before she could figure it out.
The second time she returned, it was to hear Grissom talking. He spoke as if answering her question, though she did not remember asking any.
"We can't give you water, Cath. You're going to need surgery."
She felt disappointed. Someone dabbed at her lips and cheeks with a damp cloth. It was not enough.
"Is she conscious?" Brass asked softly.
"Delirious," Sofia whispered back.
She tried to open one eye, anxious. She failed, head spinning.
"You're okay, Catherine," Sofia reassured. "We're right beside you. We won't leave."
"We're right here, Cath," Grissom echoed.
She felt another surge of gratitude, that Sofia and Grissom both seemed to have a grip on the situation, that they understood what she needed.
Safe within their promise, she let herself slip again, drifting into the painless world of unconsciousness.
The third time she woke, the desert was alive with a cacophony of noise. She heard engines revving and sirens wailing, multiple dull thuds of slamming car doors.
She opened her eyes, feeling hope edge through her agony. She only had the energy for one word.
"Ambulance..?" she breathed.
"It's SWAT," Brass said apologetically. "Our backup."
She heard him rise to meet the herd jogging toward them. She fluttered her eyes open, focusing on Sofia beside her, just in time to see her swiftly unzip her windbreaker. She shed it quickly from her shoulders and moved to lay it gently over her torso, covering her exposed lingerie. She tucked it in around her, felt Nick help.
"Wandering eyes," she explained, looking beyond her to someone behind.
Catherine's eyes caught Sara, sitting close by. Her face was stoic and silent. Catherine sensed something strange; that Sara seemed to be deliberately sitting back, as if unwelcome. She did not offer reassurances or affection like the others. A faint sense of deja vu touched her, that she had said something damaging, but could not remember what.
She drifted again before she could riddle it out, hearing Sofia shout as she faded.
"Can she have some privacy please?"
The last time she woke, it was to siren lights flashing across her face. Unfamiliar hands were all over her. A plastic oxygen mask was strapped to her face, something rigid and hard against her back.
She heard Grissom talking fast, urgent and scared.
"... She was complaining of a spinal injury before she lost consciousness, make sure you tell them to check for fractures. She's bleeding internally in the abdomen, has been in severe pain. Her pulse is irregular, it's deteriorated dangerously over the last half hour ..."
Someone was strapping her to the spinal board. She felt disoriented, struggled to focus. She felt anxiety take over, unable to see her colleagues.
Grissom's face swam into view.
"They're paramedics, Catherine," he assured her. "They're taking you to hospital. You're going to be fine."
His hand gripped hers. She held it tight, terrified.
"Are you coming, Sir?" A strange voice asked.
"Absolutely," Grissom answered.
She was being carried. The pattern of stars above her shifted as they moved for the ambulance. There was a crash of metal as they slid her in.
She heard Brass. "We'll be right behind you."
"You'll be okay, Catherine!" Sofia called.
There were echoes from Nick and Warrick, and then the doors slammed closed.
XXX
The night was still young when they arrived at the hospital, the Las Vegas lights just beginning to glow, the distant rainbows visible from the carpark of the Desert Palm Hospital. Nick held on tight as Warrick swung into the spot with a screech of brakes. He leapt out of the car, ducking back just in time as Brass skidded in beside them. Sofia and Sara got out of the car, Brass taking a grip of Sara's elbow. He had not let her out of his sight since they had recovered her at the scene.
They jogged together toward the entrance, Nick taking two steps at a time, and rushed through the automatic doors into the emergency room. He paused for a second, scanning the crowd until he spotted Grissom at the admissions desk.
He hurried toward him.
"Grissom!"
He looked up, pale and grey.
"How is she?" Warrick asked, stopping beside him.
Grissom did not reply immediately. He finished signing the admissions form, and passed it back to the clerk with a "thank you". He gathered up Catherine's personal items left in his care: her wallet, keys and ID badge, and turned to walk with them toward a quiet waiting area. He turned to face them with a weary, haunted expression.
"She coded in the ambulance," he said. "They used the defibrillator."
The statement blindsided him. For a minute there was silence, the words giving a deadly echo. It took him a moment to catch them.
"But she's alive?" Sofia asked quickly.
Grissom did not confirm it. He hesitated, as if he wanted to debate the term.
"They think she has a ruptured spleen," he said. "They've taken her for surgery."
Nick could read the prognosis in Grissom's eyes. His stomach twisted, heavy.
"It looks bleak," Grissom finished.
They stared in shock, unable to speak.
"Jesus," Brass said weakly.
There was a dreadful pause.
"I have to call her family."
He deposited Catherine's things into Nick's hands, and dug for his cell phone. He retreated quietly up the corridor.
"Oh my God ..." Nick started.
He stared around, not knowing what else to say. The same shock was mirrored back at him from all directions. He saw his own stunned face reflected in the waiting room windows.
"If she coded in the ambulance there's no way she's going to survive surgery," Warrick said quietly.
Nick held up a hand, unable to bear the thought.
"Let's not go there, man," Nick pleaded. "Okay? Not yet."
But it was too late. The thought of Catherine dying had already settled heavily into his stomach, the vision of her funeral burning into his mind. No one in the force ever thought it would happen to them, and when it did ... He did know whether he wanted to vomit, faint or punch something. He turned on the spot, feeling suddenly more helpless than he could ever remember feeling in his life. There was nothing to do but wait.
Sofia turned, a frustrated, weary hand over her eyes. She walked a few steps away, shoulders tense.
Sara, who had still not said anything, sank shell-shocked into a chair.
"I guess we wait," Warrick said.
"Yeah," Brass said weakly.
The two sat down. Nick did not join them, could not bear to merely sit. He turned on the spot, trying to think of some way to help, but coming up blank. He tried to blink away the hot tears in his eyes.
Brass gave a deep sigh.
"What were you thinking?" he asked quietly.
The question was directed at Sara. She looked up, brown eyes in gutted disbelief.
"You might as well talk to us," he said. "'Cause you know you're not gonna get a fairer hearing with Ecklie."
Sara stared.
"I did the right thing," she said simply.
Across the room Sofia turned around, stunned at the statement. "The right thing?"
Sara did not reply.
Sofia's eyes were lethal, her voice enraged. "She's dying in there, Sara."
"You're talking like it happened at my hand," Sara retorted.
"Oh, you think it didn't?" Brass questioned.
Nick watched as Sara stiffened, as her temper rose.
"I shot him. I saved her life."
Sofia spun around. "It shouldn't have been up for offer in the first place, Sara!"
Her shouting singed the room. Nick saw several distant people look up.
"You can't gamble with your colleagues' lives. You just can't abuse her trust and rush off carelessly into the desert to confront a killer when you knew she'd follow -"
"I never asked her to," Sara said quickly.
"You didn't?" Warrick asked, lines in his face etched hard. "You left Grissom the message. It sounded like a suicide note."
"I don't know why she -"
"Because she's loyal, Sara!" Sofia answered angrily. "I mean, damnit! This is why we have protocol. This is why we learn procedure. So you can get the job done without getting your friends killed."
The outburst sizzled.
A cold voice came from the doorway.
"I couldn't have said it better myself."
Nick glanced over to see Ecklie. He stood in his usual suit, but his eyes were menacing.
Eyes wet, Sara got up. "I have to go to the bathroom -"
"Oh, you wanna try that one again?" Brass asked. "Don't even think about it."
Sara faced him with forced calm. "I'm not pulling anything. I have to urinate."
"Then you can do it where you stand," Ecklie said viciously. "You don't get to flee, Sidle. Don't think you're going to run and hide in some cubicle. You're going to sit there and face it, just like Catherine has to with the mess you've landed her in. You're not clocking out until she does."
Sara's eyes burned, in both hurt and anger. Nick felt powerful pangs of sympathy, but did not dare move.
"Sit down," Ecklie ordered, jabbing a sharp finger at the seat. "If you value your career you'd better sit there and pray she lives."
For a long moment she sized him up, like two opponents facing a duel. But then at last she sat, and the agonising wait began.
Been a long time since I've written an argument. It felt really good. Poor Sarah, but seriously, someone needed to drum some sense into her!