Author's Note – Yay! Lots of reviews! You guys are fantastic! Some people have been requesting that this story be a Nick/Sara piece but I am not going to do any pairings between anyone in this story. But if it makes you feel better, I have an idea in the works, so you may get a romance fix soon. I think that's it for now. Hope you enjoy this chapter and remember that the more you review, the more inspired I am to write! As always, CSI and its characters don't belong to me (no matter how many times I say this, I still feel depressed!)
* * *
Grissom, Catherine and Warrick were all anxious to go in and check on their friends, but the doctor stopped them. He explained in a gentle voice that Sara was still in Recovery following her surgery, and Greg had passed out from the combination of alcohol and shock. He was on gurney in the Emergency Room and as soon as he awoke, they would be informed. The doctor looked at the three tragedy masks in front of him and wished that he could say something that could make those faces happy again. But words could be of no consolation and he had to get back to his rounds. He politely excused himself and slipped back into the jungle of life and death. The CSI's stood silently for a moment, each trying to figure out something to say that didn't sound like a bad Hallmark card. There was no solace in their thoughts because all they could imagine was the worst. The only thing that they knew for certain at the moment was that there was much that needed to be attended before they received clearance to go and see their friends. They parted ways for the time being, each trying to find the words that would make some sense of the situation.
* * *
Her hands were shaking as she dialed the familiar numbers on her cell phone. The morning breeze was warm on her skin, but she shivered anyways. She was trying to rehearse what she was going to say, but she knew that there was no easy way to explain any of this. There was a faint click as someone picked up the other end of the phone, so many miles away.
"Nicky? It's Catherine. No, I'm not fine actually. Listen Nick, I need you to listen, ok? Don't talk because I am only going to be able to say this once. There's been an accident. Greg and Sara were apparently out together and they crashed the car. Greg's alright but Sara's in a bad way Nicky. They took her into surgery as soon as they arrived at the hospital and she's still in recovery. No, we don't know how bad it is yet. They won't let us in to see her until the anesthetic wears off. What am I not telling you? God, you do know me well. I wish there was some easy way to say this…the accident was a single car accident. The car went off the road and met up with a tree. I haven't seen the car yet, but the nurse told Grissom that Greg and Sara were lucky to be alive at all. But there's something else…the doctor tested their blood alcohol; they were both well above the legal limit. Oh God Nick…Greg was driving. He was drunk and he got behind the wheel of that car and he put Sara in the hospital. I'm sorry; I swore to myself I wouldn't lose it like this. It's just that I feel like I am in some kind of bad dream that I can't wake up from. It makes no sense to me. Why on earth would Greg even think about driving while he was drunk? You're right, I didn't think he was much of a drinker either. And for that matter, neither is Sara. Neither one of them drinks heavily, that's for sure. Maybe he just underestimated how much he had to drink. But still, this is so bad...I think Brass is on his way down here now. I'm sure that he's going to have to press charges. I know that Greg isn't like this normally, but the doctor has to report what he found. And like it or not, Greg IS a drunk driver. Listen, I want to get back to the waiting room, but you need to get yourself on the next plane out. I don't know how bad Sara is, and after Grissom gets a hold of him, I'm not sure how well off Greg is going to be either. If you need anything call me, ok? I sure hope everything will be ok Nicky. I'll see you soon."
* * *
He was tired of pacing. He felt like a caged lion. There had to be some sort of answers. It had been hours. He spotted the doctor and managed to catch his eye. The doctor looked tired, but he recognized the questioning look in the other man's eyes and knew that he had at least some of the answers that he was seeking.
"Hi Doctor. My name is Warrick Brown. I'm a friend of Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders. You worked on them earlier, right? Oh good. Listen. I just need some information. Well, we are going to have to fill out a report, yes, but actually I need to find myself some piece of mind. How bad is it? We'll start with Greg. How deep was this wound on his head? Wow, that's pretty bad – almost twenty stitches. Poor kid. How serious of a concussion is it? That doesn't sound too bad. Yeah, it could have been worse. So he injured his chest as well? Oh, well yeah, I see your point. The seat belt would have pulled pretty hard, especially if he slammed on the brakes. But the shoulder wasn't dislocated, right? That's good to hear. Listen doc, I think you and I are both dancing around the real issue: how drunk was he? He took the Breathalyzer and failed it twice? Oh, I know you guys report that – although we will need a copy at a later time. Did he say anything before he passed out? Oh man. Yeah, he is the type of person who will let the guilt get to him. I'm not surprised to hear that he came in apologizing. He must be so worried about Sara. Speaking of which, how bad is it? And don't sugarcoat it. Define 'massive internal injuries' for me doc. So you had to take out her spleen? How bad was the damage to the liver? Oh God, were you able to stop the bleeding? I hope so to Doctor. She also took a blow to the head then? But there were no facial lacerations? How long will it be until she wakes up? What do you mean, you don't know? I don't…are you sure? You think she may be comatose? Oh my God, how am I supposed to tell the rest of the team…no, it's alright, I'll do it. But you'll be around if we need to ask you anything? Great. Yes, please page one of us as soon as she's up in the ICU – we all want to see her. Thanks a lot Doctor. I appreciate all your help."
* * *
He rolled the quarter around in the palm of his hand as he eyeballed the coin slot on the pay phone. He could not think of anything he could want to do less than this. He wished that there was someone else to do his dirty work for him, but that simply wasn't an option at this point. It was all up to him. The weight of the world was pressing firmly on his shoulders.
"Ecklie, its Grissom. I'm at the hospital. No, it's not me. Sara and Greg got in an accident last night. Yes, Sara and Greg. They're not dating Ecklie, and it still wouldn't be any of your business even if they were. Look, can you stop being your usual acerbic self for two minutes? This is serious. The doctor said that Sara is freshly out of surgery, but they didn't tell us more than that. Warrick was talking to him the last time I looked, and things don't look too optimistic. The doctor and Warrick both look really serious, and I am willing to bet that Sara is a lot worse off than we originally thought. Gee, was that a note of actual compassion in your voice Conrad? I should have recorded it for posterity's sake. Sorry, you're right. I do sound like you. It's just that…oh, things are bad here. Not just with Sara. No, Greg's not hurt. At least not too badly. The doctor said he emerged 'unscathed', whatever that's supposed to mean. I' m assuming 'unscathed' refers to any injuries that aren't life threatening. The problem with Greg, Conrad is that he was driving the car when it crashed. No, that's not the worst of it. The doctor told us that he was intoxicated at the time. No, I'm not kidding. You think I could joke about something like that? He was drunk. Inebriated. Hammered. Whatever you want to call it, his blood alcohol level was exceeding the legal limit. Yeah, Brass knows. He called me while I was driving to the hospital. He told me that someone found Sara's CSI badge in the car and called headquarters. I guess someone put them in touch with Brass, since he is the Captain. He is at the accident scene now, but I can't bring myself to call him and tell him about Greg. I was wondering if you…thanks Ecklie. I owe you. Yeah, have him meet me here. How am I doing? Why Ecklie, I didn't think you cared. Sorry. I am…fine I guess. I want to see Sara and see how she's doing. I don't know what I am going to say to Greg. I am so angry right now that I have very little that he would want to hear. He's a disappointment and because of his lack of judgment, a very good friend of mine is in the hospital. I am keeping my distance for the time being. Well great. I'm glad that I have your permission to be pissed off. You know Ecklie, you sure aren't one to tell me how I ought to react. So how about you call Brass for me and then handle your caseload? We've got it from here. Yeah, thanks. Oh and Conrad? If word of this gets around headquarters before there is any official information released, Greg won't have to worry about being the focus of my wrath."
* * *
They met back up and looked at each other with tired eyes. The waiting room had begun to empty a bit by then, as the evening rush of accident victims had subsided. There was a handful of people left, all too consumed with their own grief to notice the young man emerge from Emergency Room. He wore a blood stained T-shirt, a bandage on his forehead and a look of complete despondence. He didn't speak, but his presence spoke volumes. His three superiors turned in seemingly slow motion until all six eyes were focused on him. He shifted uncomfortably under their glare. He could only think of one thing to say.
"I'm sorry".
At that moment…
Nick was packing his bags.
The Doctor was tending to a sick child.
Ecklie was relaying the new information to Brass.
And Gil Grissom snapped.