It had been 3 weeks, 4 days and 11 hours since the accident and still Nick was in a coma.
Catherine sat by his bed side reading some sports articles to him from the paper. She wasn't sure if he heard her but it made her feel better. His mother sat on the other side holding his hand and listening. As she was reading about the latest Cowboy's game an alarm by his side sounded. Catherine looked over at Sandra and saw her own panic mirrored in her eyes.
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He could hear his alarm clock going off but he just could not wake up enough to roll over and turn it off. He wanted to stay asleep for a while longer. So he would be late for work. They could live without him for a while. He fell asleep again.
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"What was that from?" Catherine asked.
"I don't know," Sandra responded.
A nurse came into the room and asked Catherine to stand aside while she checked the equipment by his bedside. Again, another alarm. Fear gripped Catherine's heart for the first time in weeks. 'Not after all this time, don't let him go now.'
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'Not again! I don't want to go to work today. I'm so damn tired.'
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The nurse turned and saw the frightened expression on the women's faces. "You can both relax," she said, "That was the respirator alarm. It means he is taking breaths on his own. That is an excellent sign. I'll send in the doctor next time he is down to check up on him. Meanwhile, I'll turn the alarm off so as not to frighten you anymore."
"Does that mean he is waking up?" Sandra asked.
The nurse hesitated, "I don't want to get you hopes up but this usually is the first sign that someone is coming out of a coma. Still a long way to go yet."
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He must be dreaming. He could have sworn he heard his mother's voice. But that was not possible, she was in Dallas and he was tucked in his bed at home in Las Vegas, trying to wake up enough to get out of bed and go to work. Nope, definitely not his mother.
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The nurse left the room and Catherine took her seat again beside Nick. Picking up the paper she began reading again, a small catch in her voice the only indication of her immense relief.
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He walked into work and sat at the break room table. Catherine sat across from him reading the sports section of the paper aloud. 'Funny that, she doesn't like sports. Cowboy's lost. Damn it! Warrick will give him shit all day about that.' He tried to ask, "Catherine why are you reading to me?" but the words wouldn't come out. He felt like he had something in his throat, blocking it.
She looked up at him. "You're dreaming silly."
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Sara and Greg were both by his side, talking quietly. Catherine had told them both about the respirator and they were both hoping this would all be over soon.
"I miss him hanging around the lab," Greg said. "I used to pretend I was pissed off and would kick him out but he was.... sorry IS..... the only one who comes in and talks to me, and not just see if the 'results' were in, you know. I miss him."
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'Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up!' Didn't matter how hard he tried he could not get those eyes to open. 'Greg? Why is Greg in my bedroom?'
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"I know what you mean. I never realised how much I used to talk to him. I mean, I talk to the others, but Nick..... I really..... TALKED to him, you know. I just wish he would wake up."
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'I'm trying to Sara, get off my back will you.' He slammed his locker door and walked out of the locker room. He knew Sara would realise he wasn't cranky at her but at himself.
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"Gris, do you think people are born unlucky?" Warrick looked over Nick's prone body to his boss.
"What do you mean?"
"Well Nick, he had some bad shit happen since he came here. I just wonder if he attracted some bad karma from a past life, you know."
Gil looked over his glasses at Warrick. "Shit happens Warrick."
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Nigel was there. He could feel him. Watching him. He spun around. Not behind him! He looked up. There was only sky above. He knew he was there somewhere.
He heard someone cock a gun. He spun and came face to face with the barrel, but he couldn't see who was holding it. 'Grissom! Where are you man.'
Gil appeared beside him, "Shit happens Warrick."
"My name isn't Warrick, it's Nick... Nick Stokes." Gil smiles and walks away.
"Here's the body Nick." Nick turns at the sound of Doc Robbins voice. He is in the morgue as he walks towards the table and looks down at the body of Kristy Hopkins. She looks like she is sleeping. But she isn't, she is dead. He should have stayed that night. Maybe this wouldn't have happened.
Her eyes snap open, "Why did you let me die?"
He screams.
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"Did you hear that?" Warrick leant closer to Nick. "He moaned I think."
"His heart is racing. Maybe we should call a nurse."
"OK."
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The nurse tried to pry Nick out of his mother's arms. He wouldn't let go. He was only nine and he wanted his mom to make it all better. Make what happened go away, but now he was at the hospital. He had scared his parents because he wouldn't talk when they came home. He had sat on his bed, arms wrapped around his knees and tears streaming down his face, rocking backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards.
His father had yelled at the babysitter because she said she hadn't been in to check on him since he went to bed after dinner. She said she had no idea what was wrong with him. She lied. She knew exactly what was wrong.
The nurse continued to try and get Nick to let go of his mother, to take him in to see the doctor. Doctor's make you better. He couldn't make this better. He wouldn't let go.
"Nicky, tell me what happened, tell mommy what scared you so much," his mother rocked him while he sat on her lap, she held him tight and placed her hand on his head, "Nick darling, wake up and look at me."
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Nick's mother was by is side again. Gil had told her what had happed while he and Warrick were visiting and she was sure he would wake up soon.
"Nick darling, wake up and look at me," she said as she placed a hand on his head.
"We all want you to open those beautiful brown eyes, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?"
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"OK, mom."
He opened his eyes... slowly... they still didn't want to open but he was going to. Everything was blurry but they were opening. Focus.... Focus.....
His mother was leaning over him, her right hand holding his left, and her left hand resting on his forehead. That was how she used to wake him when he was sick and it was time to have his medicine. So THAT was why it had been so hard to wake up. He was sick! But he would be OK now, his mommy was here.