"Thanks for the ride, Nick," I said, getting out of the car at CSI
headquarters.
"No problem," he replied in his Southern drawl.
We entered the break room to find Grissom impatiently waiting to hand out assignments. "It's about time," Warrick muttered, slapping Nick on the back. He nodded a hello to me. We all turned expectantly to Grissom.
"Sara, Warrick, your case has been transferred to Ecklie's crew because of personal involvement. Warrick, you're working with Nick on a DB out in the desert." He handed the case notes to Nick before turning his attention to me. "Sara, I need to speak to you in my office." He turned and headed down the hallway toward his office.
Warrick shot me a sympathetic look, and Nick mouthed "good luck." I entered Grissom's office and found him already seated behind his desk, looking through a stack of papers. I took the seat across from him.
He took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. Placing them back on his face, he looked up and sighed. "Sara, I'm going to have to place you on leave." I opened my mouth to protest, but he rushed on before I could get a word out. "I'm sorry, but due to your personal involvement in the case yesterday, I really have to. Besides, it would give you a few days to catch up on your sleep."
"Fine," I shot out, jumping to my feet and turning to walk away.
"Sara," he called. I spun around to face him, knowing what he was going to say next. I already had my gun and ID in hand to give to him. "I'm not the bad guy here, Sara," he said softly, taking the items from my outstretched hand. "Now go home and get some rest."
I angrily turned my key in the ignition, and the engine purred to life. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and somehow found the strength to drive home.
As I opened the front door of my apartment, I had to stifle a yawn. "Well," I said aloud to myself, "Grissom was right about something. I do need me sleep."
I changed into a pair of sweats and an over-sized sweatshirt and climbed under the covers. I was exhausted, but I couldn't stop the thoughts that were swirling around in my mind.
I kept hearing Lindsey's small, tear-filled voice, pleading with her mother to wake up. I kept thinking that it should have been me lying in that cold hospital bed, not Catherine. Catherine has so many reasons to live. I don't.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to force the voices out of my mind. It wasn't my fault that Catherine got shot. But it should have been you, a voice in my head said. You should be the one lying in a hospital bed, in a coma. Hanging onto life by a thread
I bolted upright, suddenly remembering the Valium that I kept in the medicine cabinet. I tossed two pills into my mouth and swallowed them dry. I dragged them back into my bedroom with me and placed them on my bedside table.
I closed my eyes again, praying for sleep to come. But the voices wouldn't stop. I grabbed the pill bottle, downing four more pills. "God, just make the voices stop," I cried out, covering my ears, and grabbing a few more pills. In a few more seconds, the pill bottle was empty. "Dammit," I cursed, throwing the bottle against the bedroom wall.
The phone began ringing, but my legs were feeling too weak to carry me to it. A sharp pain split through my stomach, and my vision became blurry. I gasped for breath, and my heart felt like it would break out of my chest. The phone started ringing again. I screamed. The pain in my stomach was getting worse, and my head was pounding.
A loud banging came from my front door. "Sara," I heard Nick call. "Sara, are you in there." He fumbled with the spare key I gave him and then pushed the door open. "Sara," he called again. He rushed through the apartment.
I tried to call out to him, but my mouth had stopped working. I could hear my heart pounding in my head, and the pounding was starting to block out the shrieking of my conscience. I could no longer hear Lindsey's crying voice, or the report of the gun shooting Catherine. "I'm free," I whispered.
"Oh, God, Sara, what happened?" Nick cried out, running into the room. He rushed to my side and felt my pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief and then grabbed the phone. "Hold on, Sara, it'll be OK." He grabbed the phone and jabbed in 911.
"No problem," he replied in his Southern drawl.
We entered the break room to find Grissom impatiently waiting to hand out assignments. "It's about time," Warrick muttered, slapping Nick on the back. He nodded a hello to me. We all turned expectantly to Grissom.
"Sara, Warrick, your case has been transferred to Ecklie's crew because of personal involvement. Warrick, you're working with Nick on a DB out in the desert." He handed the case notes to Nick before turning his attention to me. "Sara, I need to speak to you in my office." He turned and headed down the hallway toward his office.
Warrick shot me a sympathetic look, and Nick mouthed "good luck." I entered Grissom's office and found him already seated behind his desk, looking through a stack of papers. I took the seat across from him.
He took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. Placing them back on his face, he looked up and sighed. "Sara, I'm going to have to place you on leave." I opened my mouth to protest, but he rushed on before I could get a word out. "I'm sorry, but due to your personal involvement in the case yesterday, I really have to. Besides, it would give you a few days to catch up on your sleep."
"Fine," I shot out, jumping to my feet and turning to walk away.
"Sara," he called. I spun around to face him, knowing what he was going to say next. I already had my gun and ID in hand to give to him. "I'm not the bad guy here, Sara," he said softly, taking the items from my outstretched hand. "Now go home and get some rest."
I angrily turned my key in the ignition, and the engine purred to life. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and somehow found the strength to drive home.
As I opened the front door of my apartment, I had to stifle a yawn. "Well," I said aloud to myself, "Grissom was right about something. I do need me sleep."
I changed into a pair of sweats and an over-sized sweatshirt and climbed under the covers. I was exhausted, but I couldn't stop the thoughts that were swirling around in my mind.
I kept hearing Lindsey's small, tear-filled voice, pleading with her mother to wake up. I kept thinking that it should have been me lying in that cold hospital bed, not Catherine. Catherine has so many reasons to live. I don't.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to force the voices out of my mind. It wasn't my fault that Catherine got shot. But it should have been you, a voice in my head said. You should be the one lying in a hospital bed, in a coma. Hanging onto life by a thread
I bolted upright, suddenly remembering the Valium that I kept in the medicine cabinet. I tossed two pills into my mouth and swallowed them dry. I dragged them back into my bedroom with me and placed them on my bedside table.
I closed my eyes again, praying for sleep to come. But the voices wouldn't stop. I grabbed the pill bottle, downing four more pills. "God, just make the voices stop," I cried out, covering my ears, and grabbing a few more pills. In a few more seconds, the pill bottle was empty. "Dammit," I cursed, throwing the bottle against the bedroom wall.
The phone began ringing, but my legs were feeling too weak to carry me to it. A sharp pain split through my stomach, and my vision became blurry. I gasped for breath, and my heart felt like it would break out of my chest. The phone started ringing again. I screamed. The pain in my stomach was getting worse, and my head was pounding.
A loud banging came from my front door. "Sara," I heard Nick call. "Sara, are you in there." He fumbled with the spare key I gave him and then pushed the door open. "Sara," he called again. He rushed through the apartment.
I tried to call out to him, but my mouth had stopped working. I could hear my heart pounding in my head, and the pounding was starting to block out the shrieking of my conscience. I could no longer hear Lindsey's crying voice, or the report of the gun shooting Catherine. "I'm free," I whispered.
"Oh, God, Sara, what happened?" Nick cried out, running into the room. He rushed to my side and felt my pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief and then grabbed the phone. "Hold on, Sara, it'll be OK." He grabbed the phone and jabbed in 911.