Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: Nothing specific, set mid third season.
A/N: Each chapter is told from a different point of view. I owe enormous thanks to M and J who are two wonderful beta readers. Also, I'd like to tank everyone who has reviewed this story and provided constructive criticism.
I had been out for about six hours when I came to again in the hospital. My first thought, as far as I can recall, was that I was alive -in pain but alive. In fact I had gotten off fairly lightly. Daryl Marks had hit me at the height of the first and second rib, which had broken as a result of the close range impact. No organs or major arteries had been hit, thankfully. Had that been the case, I would have bled to death. While many aspects of our investigation didn't go well, and there were both mistakes and bad luck involved, I think it still could have been a lot worse, all in all.
I was drifting between sedation and waking. Pain all over my lower ribs was telling me to stay out as long as possible, but my subconscious was nagging, telling me that I needed to be awake for something that could not wait. At first I could not put my finger on it. It was just a vague feeling. But then, the memory came back crystal clear. I sat up with a jolt. The pain from the movement drove tears to my eyes and I was gasping for air. Only the thought that I needed to tell someone about what Daryl Marks had told me kept me going.
Sometimes, this makes me feel that I am a lousy mother; my first thought was not of my daughter, but of my job. It's not supposed to be like that. But on the other hand, I know that it was the right thing to do and had I not done so things might have ended a lot worse.
Without the urgency of having to warn somebody, I would have just stayed in the pillows. Once I could breathe a little bit more easily again, I pressed to(the) call button. I half expected to have to put up with some resistant nurse, but I was pleasantly surprised, I don't think I could have argued, no matter the stakes. The effort of moving at all took all I had. A nervous nurse turned up soon after I had called. She didn't ask me any questions when I told her to call CSI and tell them that I needed to talk to someone very urgently. I didn't known that the hospital was informed about my involvement in the cases and that both Nick and I were under guard. She assured me that she was going to do as I asked. I was just about to drift off again, in spite of my best efforts to resist, when Warrick showed up. He was looking like hell. That was the first thing I thought when he came in. Then it occurred to me that he could not possible be there already so soon after my call. But I pushed aside the question and came to the matter at hand, skipping the small-talk.
"Marks said something about ... a fire, burning the city, burning the sinners. I think they are planning ..." I struggled for air.
"Take it easy Catherine. Was he talking about today?" Warrick looked concerned, maybe even anxious, an expression I had never expected to see him wear. I didn't know yet how the situation had developed. I think it was better that I didn't know. I needed all my strength without worrying about the case. It's an egoist view, I know, but what good would me having known about the hostage situation have done at that point. I also told that to Warrick, when he later apologized for not having told me straight away. I didn't have a problem with that.
"Think so." It was hard to stay focused, both on the memory of what Marks had said and on the conversation.
"Did he mention any location?"
"No, sorry." I could hardly keep my eyes open. I had never felt so tired before.
"Nothing to be sorry about," Warrick said softly. "One more thing: did you notice anyone else besides Marks?"
I just shook my head. I still had many questions such as who was looking after Lindsey, was Nick going to be alright, what had happened to Marks. But that would have to wait. My body's demands were overriding my mind and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.