Wow!  It's been, what, a lifetime since I've posted!?  I'm sorry!  Truly I am…I'll explain more at the bottom of the page!

To all of you who posted reviews, you are amazingly encouraging and thoughtful!  When the story is completed, I'll try and make a page solely for the reviewers!

Dealing:  Chapter Eighteen!

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Nick was gone from the hospital for twenty minutes.  Earlier at the hospital he had snapped, just a little, but he knew that the people around him were just trying to help.  Still, the eyes of bewilderment and sympathy that followed his every action were becoming too unnerving to handle.  He felt as if he would burst.  He wasn't getting the answers he needed—no one was willing to fill him in on Sara's condition.  He wasn't even allowed to see her.  Not even a peek.  All of that mixed together, coupled with the sobering presence of his co-workers was doing some crazy things to his mind.  Every second was a blow to his sanity. 

So he left.  To seek respite, maybe.  The way his mind was working, or rather not working, he couldn't be sure.  But he knew he needed to get out.   

His mind was a blur as he drove home.  What he felt was no longer sorrow, but anger and frustration.  Mad at the world.  Nick was mad at the world. 

Nick pressed down harder with his foot, wishing that maybe he could outrun all the horror. 

Minutes later, Nick arrived home.  Standing in the shower, he dropped his head, feeling, all at once, the sting and comfort of the hot water as it rushed down his tired body.  In an almost zombie like trance he watched the coppery liquid as it mixed with the water, swirling down into the drain. 

Blood. 

It had been Sara's blood.

Nick brought his wrist up to his mouth, thinking for the second time that night that he might throw up. 

Accumulating anxiety filled his gut, and Nick reached out to grab a hanging towel for balance as he stepped out from behind the shower curtain.  Wrapping the large towel around him, Nick's body was overpowered by weakness.  The hopelessness of the moment weighed heavily on him, physically dragging his body down until he rested on the bathroom floor, his back pressed against the cold wall. 

He couldn't get it out of his head.  His eyes glazed over, he couldn't do anything except remember. 

That night.  The night he and Sara shared together.  The way he consoled her.  The way they talked.  The way they kissed.

She felt so hopeless that night.  She was lost.  She was fighting her personal demons.  And he was there for her.  Helping her through it.  Comforting her. 

And now?

Where was she when he needed her most? 

Not there…not with him. 

Would she ever be there with him again…?

***********

Nick entered through the main entrance of the hospital, his heart already fluttering at the possibility of being able to find out new information at Sara.  He gripped onto all his hope as he, head held high, made his way to the front desk.  He watched with impatient eyes as the front desk clerks moved constantly, taking phone calls, grabbing files, and speaking with people. 

He swallowed hard and then exaggeratingly cleared his throat.  "Excuse me…" 

"It'll be one second, sir."  The woman responded, her eyes preoccupied with a file.

Nick nodded without responding.  Just be patient, he told himself although his body was screaming inwardly.  Several seconds passed.

"Listen, I—," Nick began again and this time the woman looked up briefly before becoming distracted once again by the ringing phone before her.  Without hesitation she grabbed for the receiver and turned her attention to the phone call. 

Nick breathed deeply, in through his nose, out through the mouth.

The woman held her hand over the speaker and looked at Nick.  "Just one second."  She whispered.  Nick, already jittery and not knowing what to do with his hands, began tapping his fingers without rhythm on the counter. 

Finally, the woman finished the call, but instead of turning her attention to Nick she took out another file and began writing something.  Every muscle in Nick's body tensed in frustration.

"Ok, hi…"  Nick knocked loudly with his fist on the counter.  The woman's head jerked upwards.  "I'm trying to be a patient man, here, but you see, I've been waiting for hours now on feedback concerning a patient of yours.  If you don't at least acknowledge my request than I'm going to have to come back there and get it myself." 

The woman cleared her throat, obviously irritated, and nodded.  She forced a smile.  "I was just about to get to you, sir.  Now what did you say the patient's name was?"

"Sara Sidle.  The last I heard she was in ICU."

"Okay."  She turned and pushed her chair backwards towards a computer.  Seconds later she returned to Nick.

"She's still in ICU, however, nothing else has been given to me at this moment.  That's all I can tell you." 

Nick's heart dropped once again and his head sank.  Not wanting to cause a problem he nodded and uttered a "thanks anyway" before turning and moving away from the counter. 

Nick could have gone upstairs, waited with the others until news arrived on Sara's condition.  But he needed space…he needed air.  Walking back through the automatic glass doors he found a dark grassy patch off to the side of the main entranceway, away from the lights of the hospital, to sit down on.  The grass was moist from the earlier rain and as he came to a rest on the ground the wetness and dirt immediately clung to his pants.  He found he didn't care.

Running his fingers through his hair he tried not to reflect back on the day.  Right now, he wanted so badly to feel devoid of all emotions.  He wanted to be free to not think, to not worry, to not feel.  He knew it impossible, yet nonetheless, it was something he wanted. 

Nick rested his arms on his knees and tilted his head back to look at the night sky. 

All seemed silent as he glanced up at the pearl moon. His dark eyes fixed on the crescent shape and he allowed himself to become hypnotized by its radiance.

Less than twenty four hours ago his world was at ease—all seemed normal.  But now, the world stopped spinning its usual rotation.  Everything was at a halt.  Or at least it seemed that way to Nick.  To him, this was the day the earth stood still.

His eyelids pressed heavily against his dark brown eyes and even though his body was tired he knew he could be in the comfiest bed and still not be able to sleep.  He couldn't sleep, nor did he want to.  Even if his body allowed him to doze off he wouldn't give himself the satisfaction of it all.  To be awake right now was torture for him, every second seemed like an hour, every hour an eternity.  Every piece of time that passed brought uncertainty; Nick was unaware of what lied ahead for him.  But he knew he did not deserve sleep.  To sleep was to momentarily escape from the world.  Blaming himself for what happened to Sara, feeling as if he could have somehow saved her from the bullet, he believed he deserved the waking torture.

The hospital doors pulled open and Nick's thoughts were interrupted with the chattering of two hospital nurses.  They meandered over to a curb not far from where he sat and leaned against a railing, lost in conversation.  Nick watched as both lit up the cigarette in their hand and seemingly began enjoying their smoke break. 

Nick, not truly interested in listening, only heard a snatch of their conversation, but it was enough to make his head jerk up in attention.

"CSI…" was the first word that he actually heard.

"It was bad.  I got a glimpse of her when they first rushed her into surgery."

"Do they know yet if she's gonna make it?"

"I haven't heard."  She took a drag.  "Gosh, though, there was so much blood.  I've seen bad in my day," She grunted, flicking her cigarette to release the ashes.  "This was bad."

Both women took a long drag at the same time.  Nick continued to watch, his ears pricked.

"Those CSIs…"  The one woman blew out a cloud of smoke as she held the cigarette close to her face, lost in thought.  "Always tryin' to be the hero." 

Nick blinked as a sickening knot rose in his throat.  Always trying to be the hero, he repeated in his head.  Several scenarios then invaded his thoughts, one of which consisted of him grabbing the lit cigarette out of the nurse's hand, putting it out on her forehead and screaming at her to mind her own business. 

Nick took in a deep breath, mentally calming himself as the nurses headed back indoors.  He reminded himself that they did not know Sara, and not to take it personal. 

Ten minutes later the hospital doors opened once again.  Nick was still on the ground, his attention focused inwardly, not on the outside world.  Exhaustedly, his arms rested on his knees, his head hanging and eyes closed, his body seemingly being drained of every last ounce of life in him.  The clicks of heels on concrete were only a faint echo of noise as they moved past.  The heels abruptly stopped click clocking, and feeling as if eyes were watching him, Nick lifted his head.  Catherine stood peering into the shadows, as if not one-hundred percent sure of the figure she was gazing at.

"Nick?"  She called out, approaching him.  The corners of her lips turned downward as she came closer, her eyes drooping with a look of concern as she noticed his body sagged over. 

Nick spoke nothing. 

"Hey…"  Her voice was soft.  "We thought you were gone." 

Staring at the ground, Nick slowly nodded his head, not particularly in the mood for conversation.  But he'd be nice, listen to her, talk to her, waste time with her; he was lonely out there, but also reminded himself that he left the waiting room where his co-workers were for a reason.  So he'd keep himself back, allow the wall around him to stay intact. 

"Any news?"  Nick's voice was tight, ragged, as he continued to gaze into the darkness before him. 

Catherine wordlessly shook her head, taking a seat next to Nick on the ground.    

A gentle breeze blew past them, sending wisps of Catherine's hair into her face.  Nick did not feel it. 

"I was just on my way out for a little while.  I was going to take care of some things at the lab and then come back with Greg."  Catherine spoke awkwardly, obviously tense with worry. "Grissoms been trying to get a hold of Sara's parents for a while now.  So far he hasn't had any luck."

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Catherine ventured, "How're you holding up, Nick?"

It doesn't matter, was what he wanted to say.

"Okay," he spoke without much emotion, still not meeting her eyes. 

"Are you hungry?  Maybe you should go get something to eat…"

"I'm fine."  He said unconvincingly. 

Catherine looked at him sideways and then let out a deep sigh.  Her heart ached for Nick at that moment.  His eyes were darkly shadowed, not by pain, but by something else. 

Despair.

"You want to talk?  I can stay if you need someone to talk to." 

"No."

"Nick…"  Her voice pleaded.  Nick sat motionless, his body stone-like.  Catherine rubbed her face, searching for the right words to say to get him to bring his guard down.

"Nick," She repeated, trying to get him to focus on her.  "We are all hurting right now.  Every one of us.  Don't think for one second you're alone in this."

Nick sat silent for a second before taking in a breath so deep it made his ribs hurt. 

He exhaled slowly before speaking.  "What if I told you that I could have prevented Sara from getting hurt and didn't.  What if I told you that she didn't have to get shot?  Would you still want to talk to me then?" 

Catherine turned sharply to his downcast face.  "Stop that, Nick.  You cannot blame yourself for what happened to Sara tonight.  It was a horrible accident, but that's just what it was.  An accident."  Her voice was low, stern. 

Nick pressed his lips together, not trusting himself to speak.  Catherine leaned closer to Nick, searching him with troubled eyes.  "Listen, I'm not going to pretend to know exactly what you are going through right now.  You and Sara…well, you had something that went deeper than simple friendship.  I could see that.  For goodness sake, just the sight of you would make her eyes light up like I've never seen before." 

Nick slowly turned his eyes on Catherine.

After a slight hesitation he spoke.  "Catherine, I don't know if I can stay here.  I mean…"  He looked away but his eyes weren't focused on any particular thing.  He was looking inward.  "I feel so guilty.  Like I was responsible for what happened…"

Catherine had the urge to jump in, to tell him he was all wrong but knew he, at that moment, just needed someone to listen to him. 

"Sara had this guy pinned all along—I mean, from the beginning her instinct led her to McMasters.  And I was the one who doubted her.  I feel like we could have prevented this, gotten to him sooner if we really tried to.  But we didn't.  We held back."

Catherine nodded but allowed him air to continue. 

"The whole time Sara put those kids before herself.  She didn't even hesitate to go after Claire, to get Claire back."  Nick's voice caught slightly.  He paused before continuing.  "I hate Sara for putting herself in such danger.  But I hate myself even more for not doing something to stop what happened.  I honestly don't know if I can see her in that hospital room."

Catherine, knowing he had let a lot off his chest, decided to add her two cents.  "What you're thinking is only natural, Nick.  But that doesn't mean it's the truth.  You are in no way responsible."

"Then why can I barely breathe when I think about it?"

"Because you care about Sara.  Because, I think, Sara has claimed a piece of your heart and you've gotten to a point where you put her before yourself.  Maybe that's why you feel the blame.  But you can't go on thinking the way you are." 

They both gazed outward, allowing the silence to permeate their thoughts.

"Why…"  Nick whispered, his voice shaky. 

Catherine narrowed her eyes at Nick, gazing at him questioningly.  He wiped one eye with the back of his hand. 

"Why Sara?"

Catherine glanced down, fighting back her own tears.  "I don't know, Nick.  I don't know."

**********

For the next twenty minutes Catherine and Nick talked about inconsequential things when the silence was too unnerving to bear.  The conversation wandered here and there.  Catherine mentioned that Greg had been calling her and Grissom just about every five minutes to get updates—he was a nervous wreck.  That's half the reason, Catherine explained, why she was going back to the lab.  She was going to pick him up.  The other half, she said, was because the anticipation of being in the waiting room was making her lose it.

The simple drift in conversation was soothing; Catherine did her best to get Nick's mind off the accident.  By talking about something else, anything else, from Catherine's perspective, made Nick breathe easier. 

They rose soon after, Nick deciding to check back with the nurses, Catherine deciding to go ahead and make her trip to the lab.  As they slowly moved to the sidewalk, about to part ways, the hospital doors pulled open and Grissom and Warrick slowly walked out. 

Surprised, Nick frantically searched their faces.  Why are they leaving?  Were they told something? 

The color drained from Nick's face.  He stared at his fellow co-workers, his frightened eyes trying to interpret their unreadable expressions. 

Grissom looked up and made eye contact with Catherine, only to then let his face drop, a look of defeated sadness. 

Nick rushed forward to meet them halfway.

"Wh—what's going on?"  He stammered, bracing himself for the worst. 

Warrick sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  "The doctor spoke with us."

Nick felt breath leave his lungs, a suffocating, dread taking its place.

"Well what did he say?"  Nick's tone was frantic. 

Grissom stepped forward.  "It seems as though Sara's vital signs have stabilized.  But she's still unconscious."  Grissom paused.  "They let us see her briefly."

The silence that followed answered any questions that lingered in Nick and Catherine's minds concerning Sara's condition.

"I'm sure they'd let you see her now."  Warrick added.  Catherine turned to Nick and saw the fear in his eyes.  She knew that just as badly as she wanted to see Sara, Nick needed to see her that much more.  Alone. 

Her throat was dry as she spoke.  "Why don't you go ahead.  I'll go get Greg and be back later to see her."

For a moment, each stood silent, unmoving.

************

Almost paralyzed with fear, Nick inched his way slowly, mechanically, inside the small hospital room.  Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.  Bruised and battered, Sara laid motionless on the bed, tubes and monitors everywhere.  A respirator kept her breathing, and Nick's heart raced twice as fast as the steady beeps coming from the monitor.

Grief gripped him with icy hands and the muscles in his body tensed.  For several moments, Nick just stared at her.  Then he grabbed a chair and placed it next to the bed where he could sit and be close to her.

"Oh, Sara," he whispered. 

Nick wanted to reach out and hold her hand, but he was afraid to hurt her, to touch her.  Instead he leaned closer to her.

"Sara, if anyone can pull through this mess, it's you.  You just have to wake up." He told her, his voice low.  "I need you to wake up."

Nick lifted his head, feeling his vision blur.  His eyes wandered the pale walls of the room.  He was ashamed, ashamed that Sara was kept in a room that room felt so empty, so dead…heartless.  It wasn't right that she was there.  And there wasn't a single thing he could do to change things, to undo what had happened.  It was Nick's worst nightmare.

Nick settled back into the chair, his eyes still studying Sara's face. 

Exhaustion was settling in once again, taking its toll on Nick's body.  Suddenly a wave of emotion crashed down on him, leaving him rubbing his face with both hands, desperately trying to hold back the tears of pain and shock, trying to maintain self-control.  He shook his head repeatedly, considering the bitter irony of life, the general unfairness of it all. 

All of a sudden, every problem, every difficulty he had faced with Sara didn't seem important anymore.  What mattered now, despite everything life had dealt them, was the question of whether they would even be allowed another chance at it all. 

*************

She was floating through an unknown, vast darkness.  The blackness consumed her, cloaking her sight from any objects around her.  Fragments of noise, broken and distorted, came rushing towards her like a rapidly approaching train.  Her ears vibrated with a low, hellish rhythm, and her vision slowly began to clear. 

It was familiar.  She had been here before.

Still, she could not remember where she was or how she got there.

She remembered the glass before it happened.  When it exploded around her, shattering in a blinding rainfall, she opened her mouth to scream, but before any sound came out of her that dream faded.  Soon rematerializing was another dream, yet with different surroundings. 

Faces flashed like a warped, crazed slideshow before her.  Voices swam around her head, some too faint to make out, others as clear as day. 

"You can talk to me about, you know, whatever. Anything."

"With the explosion, and now with this new case….I don't know…maybe you should take some time off."

"I just don't know what it is I'm doing that's making you shut me out."

"You can trust me, you know."

"C'mon, Sara. I know there's a smile in there somewhere."

The words were so familiar.  She heard them all before.  More voices flooded together.

"I'm just saying that sometimes when you get too involved in a case, things can get too personal, and the result can be….well, messy."

"Sometimes you look so serious."

"…there is nothing you could say to me right now that would change the way I feel towards you."

"Sara, you make me crazy."

"Only mom called me Tinkerbell."

"…once you give yourself time to take a break, to get away from it all, that's when you begin to appreciate the things around you, rather than dread them."

"…look me in the eye and tell me our kiss meant nothing to you."

"Are you getting any sleep at all these days?"

"Sara, you've got some things that you need to deal with before you come back to work."

"He took Claire."

"Stay with me, Sara. It'll be okay."

The words sounded so low, so drawn out, almost as if someone had recorded them and played them back in slow motion.

"We need an ambulance!"

The voices began subsiding, so much so that Sara could not form any more clear words. 

Then a bright flash.

Sara began choking on the darkness.  It was like a wave, furiously pulling her back. 

Rushing over her again, the blackness fought to steal her energy.  She felt hopeless against the force. 

Slowly, her arms slumped and she remained motionless, drifting….drifting…

"Sara…"

A voice.

It called out to her. 

"Sara…"

Pleading.  The voice was pleading with her.

It was Nick's voice.

Struggling, with every ounce of energy, Sara slowly reached her hand out into the darkness, reaching towards the voice…

To Be Continued…

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A/N:  You guys, I am so sorry it took me this long to update.  I honestly have been trying to post sooner but life has been getting in the way and I have found less and less time available for my chapters!  I could have posted sooner but I didn't want to throw together a chapter and have it suck so I kind of branched out the sections and took my time with it.  Actually, I was planning on chapter18 being my last but I found I have more to add and can't quite bring myself to finish the story just yet.  Anyways, thanks to my faithful few who return no matter how long I make them wait.  You are why I continue despite everything!  Thanks!  And please review!  Let me know that some of you actually still read this!

**Oh yeah, if some of you are severely confused on the quotes in Sara's dream/coma like state, the "voices" she was hearing are actually quotes from previous conversations involving Sara and someone else(mostly Nick).  If you get a chance, go back and read the chapters if you'd like to see where they came from!