Disclaimer: see chapter 1

A/N: okay rating is still the same. Sorry for the long time between updates. Things have been crazy at home; car accidents, auditions, film work, and then RL have imposed, not to mention the other writing I have on the go. The next update will not take nearly so long. PROMISE. Right now I am in a hotel room in Cancun – with NO internet… there are some things in life that are not fair. That is one of them. I am going to trek to the Mexican convenience store that is down the way and post this.

Thanks to you all for your patience and your kind reviews.

Chapter 10

The step down unit of the med-surg ward was excruciatingly quiet, though it wasn't entirely unexpected with it being mid afternoon on Christmas day. As was standard with most holidays, there was only as skeleton crew working most of the floors and wards at Desert Palms; the bustling emergency room being the only exception to that particular rule. What would have been surprising to someone unfamiliar with the workings of a big city hospital was the fact that the staff head had actually added a few extra bodies to that locale, in anticipation of an increase in emergency admissions - as was usual during the holiday season.

The woman making her way down the hall at a hurried pace was well acquainted with this practice, and as she listened to the soft footfalls of her rubber soled shoes along the seemingly endless hallway, she ruminated on how during a time of piece, joy and love, so many people found it necessary to hurt, maim, and kill others or themselves.

The waiting room was empty as she passed. This in and of itself was surprising. Checking the slip in her hand she compared the numbers on the doors lining the corridor and stopped in front of one at the end. Expecting the bodies that should have been in habiting the waiting room, to be crammed into the room she was about to enter, she slipped the door open and was surprised to find the room occupied by only a young Mexican nurse, and the patient who appeared to be still sleeping. She turned away quickly when the woman stepped away revealing way more of Nick Stokes than she had ever expected to see.

"Sorry." The nurse was supremely flustered and pulled the curtain across immediately in a flurry of movement. "Please don't report me I'm still a student and I forgot we're supposed to pull the curtain across."

An exhausted sigh escaped the brunette, and she chuckled softly. "It's okay. How is he?" He'd looked severely battered even to her own tired eyes, and she wanted more than ever to feel his warm hand in hers to confirm that he was still alive.

"He's going to be alright. He's pretty badly injured but the doctor said he should have a full recovery." The nurse's Spanish lilt made it a little difficult to understand her, but the woman on the other side of the curtain managed to make sense of it.

"Have there been other's here to visit?" Despite the fact that it was Christmas it seemed odd that Nick had been left on his own to fend for himself in the hospital.

"Yes…He has a lot of relatives. The curtain moved slightly and the woman's head popped out momentarily. "Who are you? You know this place is restricted to family."

The brown haired woman nodded softly and grinned. "I'm his sister. Can you tell me where everyone went?"

The nurse inspected the man in the bed and then returned the woman's dark stare. "The waiting room was full until a few hours ago. Once he was settled they all seemed to leave except for his brother." She corrected herself. "Your brother." For once the woman in front of her actually did look like she could be related to her patient.

"There are a lot of siblings in the Stokes family. Can you describe him?"

"Tall black man named Warren…?"

The woman waved her hand. "Warrick…"

"Oh so you know him then." Smirking, the young nurse ducked back behind the curtain and returned a moment later with a basin full of reddish pink water which she promptly dumped into the bathroom sink and then refilled.

"Yeah he's my brother." The brunette grinned sadly.

"Si. Well I told him I would be a while giving Mr. Stokes a bath, so he went down to the cafeteria for cake and coffee. You should go too; I'm going to be a little longer and the cake's free."

The visitor stepped forward her hand resting on the curtain. "Can I see him before I go? I came as soon as I got the message. I would like to…" She pointed inside the curtain. "And then I'll hit the cafeteria." As soon as she said that a loud rumble emanated from her stomach emphasizing her need for nourishment. It had been 24 hours since she'd put anything in her mouth except for an expired package of almonds she'd grabbed on the plane. Christmas surely wasn't turning out the way she had anticipated…

Juanita eyed the woman in front of her, noting the tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. "Sure just a minute, okay…" She disappeared behind the curtain again, the sound of metal hitting wood sounded and then a moment later she tugged aside the material barrier.

A slight gasp was heard, as the slender brunette moved up beside Nick's unmoving form. "God…Nicky…" Was all she could manage her long slim fingers lacing their way through his. He was warm to touch, allowing a measure of comfort to seep into her flesh. Her mouth found its way to his forehead and she planted a soft kiss on the only uninjured patch of skin. There were bags of urine and blood winding their way under the damp sheet the nurse had haphazardly draped over him, and he was wearing what looked to be a temporary cast. "Has he come to at all?"

"Not since I've been here." Withdrawing a pitcher from the bedside table she bent over and emptied the almost full urine bag. "He just came down from recovery an hour or so ago. He has a concussion too apparently, so it could be a while."

The woman nodded and dropped her mouth onto his head again, her free hand trailing over the thick stubble near it's crown.

"I should only be another 10 minutes. Go for coffee, find your brother, and then I should be done."

She shook her head. "I don't want him to wake up there not be anyone here."

"I'll be here until someone gets back, and I'll tell him you are here." She indicated the cooling water sitting on the table beside the bed. "I need to finish and then dress him. I'll have them page you if anything happens before you get back."

Reluctantly the woman nodded, and gave Nick Stokes' hand a tentative squeeze. "I'll be back in ten." With that she left.

Jim Brass' face was a horrible shade of white as he walked from his Impala, towards the hospital, a somber Gil Grissom at his side. Slow noises of affirmation emanated from him into the phone he was holding, but he'd turned away so as not to allow the man beside him to see the look in his eyes. Flipping the phone closed he erected his mask and then quickened his pace hoping desperately to avoid the question he knew was coming.

"What did Greg have to say?"

The way his normally collected friend stumbled over the words was heart rending even for a seasoned cop used to dealing with victims, and their families.

"He has nothing yet." He was never much good at lying.

Grissom stopped and shook his head. "I need to know the truth Jim."

"That was the truth." Well the lite version.

"Please…" The word was plaintive and drew a heavy sigh from the police detective.

"Okay…" Brass worked to find wording that wouldn't fully kill the man's already slim hope. "Greg said he got a partial match only. The sample doc gave him was too degraded from the heat to run a full DNA analysis. He's had a sample of bone marrow sent up. He was going on in some geek speak, about the partial being nothing in the scheme of things…"

Grissom nodded silently, and kept moving towards the doors despite the fact that he was already beginning to collapse in on himself. The thought of never being able to see Sara again, smell the light clean scent of her hair, touch the supple softness of her skin, hear the tentative huskiness of her voice; was emotionally killing him; piece by tiny piece. Worse yet were the recriminations his own grieving brain was tossing out amidst the chaos in his head.

"Any news?"

The yell came from across the parking lot but its distinctive pitch identified the words as those belonging to Catherine even before the two men turned to look at her as she ran to meet them.

"Not really…" The detective shook his head, and motioned towards the entrance they were approaching. He waited for Grissom to fill in the rest, but when the man beside him couldn't seem to find the words to explain Brass continued on. "My men just got through checking all of the parking lots at McCarran – most of them giving up time with their families to do it. There was no sign of her car there or at any of the hotels on the strip, which is hopeful... And I just got off the phone with Greg; he has to rerun the samples. Apparently, there was heat degradation?" The last part came out as more of a question than a statement of fact. We're just getting back now. Maybe Warrick has news."

"What's taking so fucking long?" Catherine was never one to hide her feelings at the best of times. When faced with the possibility of a dead colleague and friend, one she'd realized after much self analysis, she'd treated pretty unfairly over the years; she was firing on all four cylinders.

"Thought you were going to spend the day with Lindsay….? We would have called if there was any news." The resonance of Jim's voice was tempered and sounded like more of a warning than the light question it had been phrased as. Gil Grissom was already coming a part in a way that Brass had never seen him do. An emotional Catherine Willows would only make things infinitely worse for him and everyone else for that matter. He hoped that despite her own internal war, she had enough sense to realize this. This wasn't about her or her own guilt; it was about the potentially crippling loss of a vibrant young woman its effects on everyone – in particular Grissom. His hand unconsciously slipped into his pocket and he fingered the small gift wrapped box hidden there. This was all way too morbid, he decided, and unnecessarily so. Greg had not gotten anything definitive, he told himself and continued his way towards the doors, Catherine and Grissom following along beside him.

"Mom, and if you can believe this – dear old dad, are taking her to a private tour of the white tigers' domain and then off to one of the Cirque shows – Vegas truly never does sleep, or celebrate Christmas it seems… I backed out. I would have just sat there thinking of this whole mess and I wanted to see if Nick had come around."

Brass simply nodded and moved through the automatic doors.

The lobby when they entered was a bustle of activity, visitors carrying a few brightly colored packages, and doctors examining new arrivals cluttered the hallway and somewhere down the hall there was a woman crying hysterically. Despite the crowd and noise, it was easy to make out the tall black man standing in front of the elevators jamming his fingers into the buttons.

"Hey Warrick…" Brass's words caused a drop in the clamor as most of the people stopped to look at where the voice had originated from.

A thick dark hand with long slim fingers waved at them, and then continued poking at the buttons as they approached.

"Any news?" Catherine hoped that his response would be more enlightening that Brass' earlier one.

Warrick shook his head grimly. "Nurse was cleaning him up so I came down for a coffee; I'm on my way back now. What about you?"

Brass related what he had learned over the past few hours and the three of them stepped onto the lift once it had opened and cleared.

In the back of the elevator Catherine slipped her arm around the shoulder of a quiet Gil Grissom, and squeezed him against her. He's been silent since her arrival – not unusual for a man who spent most of his time in his head, but still she knew he was hurting more than he would willingly admit to anyone. "Maybe Nick's awake now?" She offered hopefully as the elevator dinged shut.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal a frantic woman sobbing maniacally. The slim brunette gave her a wide berth as she exited into the main lobby and stepped around a gurney shoved off to one side, its occupant moaning softly. For a moment she was tempted to stop, and call someone over to the writhing form. Then she smelled the alcohol and realized that he was probably just some poor soul coming down off a bender, so she moved on. Her destination: the cafeteria for a very large cup of coffee, and sustenance… It was going to be a long day…

TBC

any mistakes are not the results of too many margaritas