Sara's POV:

My sleep was restless. The dreams were so real that I could feel the sensation of warmth on my skin and hear the words in my ears. I could feel the semi-trailer hit my SUV. The dream doesn't end there; it ends with Brass screaming at me to open my eyes, then everything fades to the darkest black I have ever seen. The dream keeps repeating, but each time the background noise is a little different. The background noise varies from Nick talking, he sounds a million miles away, to the haunting harmonies of jazz music that I have never heard before. I want to wake up, but I feel like a lead blanket is covering my eyes. I am not strong enough to life the blanket, so I sit replaying the never ending reel of my horrible dream on the back of my eyelids.

Occasionally, thoughts were interspersed with the horrible dreams. I wondered if Nick's steak was still marinating in the marinade I made this afternoon. After his mother, Linda, found out I was a vegetarian, she bought me a cookbook; it contained sections for vegetarians and meat-eaters. I had taken to trying to make Nick something of an animal persuasion, if I was going to make myself something with 'too many combinations of weird vegetables.' I was learning; I had even purchased meat at the supermarket. It was something I had never really done before. Nick always put the groceries away; he was careful to make sure that his animal products were in a different area in the freezer . . . far enough away from tofu crumbles and frozen vegetables. He was understanding of my desire not to take the life of any animal; Nick had even eaten tofu several times . . . never complaining. I was so lucky.

I wondered if the evidence was taken out of my SUV with care. I had bagged several brown paper bags of various treasures that the murderer had carelessly left with his victim. I wondered if Grissom was going to call in his 'lady friend' to reconstruct the face of the victim from the skull and bones I found. I wondered if Greg was going to be able to extract DNA from the molars. I wondered if the truck driver was okay.

My throat burned. It felt like it was on fire. My chest throbbed. I could hear something about a tube being out. I wasn't really sure what that meant. I could feel a variety of hands touching my body; some spots were more sensitive than others. I could feel something being ripped from my skin; the sensation was much like pulling off a Band-Aid that had been resident to your skin for several days. I could feel my rings on my left ring finger; I thought I had left those at home today. They were always on my nightstand. I put them on right when I got home from work. I wondered why I had been so careless today.

"Hey, you. You finally woke up," Nick said. I hadn't realized that my eyes were open. The scenery around me was severely blurry. I could barely make out anything; this was a welcome change from the dreams.

"You don't have to talk. Just rest," Nick instructed. I wanted to remind him that I was dreaming for what seemed like ages. I wanted to know where I was. I couldn't remember what happened after the car accident; I was hoping that I was in my own bed, but I knew my bed wasn't as uncomfortable as this one.

"Where am I?" I asked. Nick held my hand; his lips were warm against my cheek.

"Desert Palms. You needed to have an operation," Nick replied. The thought that my restless sleep was a coma had never crossed my mind. I didn't realize that I had an operation; I wasn't in any pain. My only complaint was that whatever was done to my throat hurt like hell.

"Oh. Am I okay?" I asked. It was an awkward question; Nick laughed at it. I knew that I wouldn't be talking if I wasn't okay, but it just seemed like the appropriate question to ask.

"You are down a spleen, but everything else is going to be okay. How's you right arm?" he asked. I tried to lift my right arm, but it felt like it was asleep. There was intense tingling, but the stupid thing didn't seem to want to cooperate.

"It's still sleeping. I don't think it got the message that everything else was waking up," I commented. I could hear Grissom laugh. I wasn't sure where he was, but I could hear him. I didn't know what to think about that besides my accident must have been pretty bad if Grissom was here.

"Just calm down. James is here," Nick said. It must have been really bad if my brother had stopped using license plates as a canvas and flown to Las Vegas to see me, "Linda and Jacqui are here too."

It must have been really, really bad.

"That bad?" I asked.

"I don't know. I didn't go out to the scene, but Brass said it was bad," Nick rambled.

"It was bad, Sara," Grissom clarified. Bad didn't really mean anything to me. I guess I just wanted to know how lucky I was.

"Oh. I remember seeing Brass. How's the truck driver?" I asked. I wasn't thinking emotional yet, so my reactions seemed blunted. It was like I was inquiring on a story I heard on the news or read in the newspaper. As my vision began to clear, I could see that it was bad. Nick's face said everything that his words didn't.

"In jail," Nick replied, "That's not important. Do you want me to call James?"

"Later. I'm really tired," I commented. Nick laughed; I knew I must have been 'sleeping' for hours, "What the hell is that thing?" I could see a huge lump under my hospital gown. The lump was just above my umbilicus.

"It's a drain. You needed to have a liver laceration stitched up. I guess there was still some drainage or something. The chest tube in on your left side," Nick replied. I looked at all the equipment amazed. I couldn't even feel these things; I was afraid to imagine the intensity of pain I would feel whenever the drugs wore off.

"Wow," I commented.

"Are you in pain?" Nick asked.

"No. I'm just . . . wow . . . did I have a tube in my throat? I remember feeling my throat burning," I replied.

"You had the full deal," Nick replied. He looked worried.

"I'm hungry," I commented. His face softened; I wondered if he thought I sounded as crazy as my brain told me I did.

"I'm supposed to be the one that says that," Nick replied. I tried to laugh, but my chest muscles were a little too tense.

"What did you eat?" I asked. The small talk was a comfort. It seemed to comfort both Nick and me.

"Brass is picking something up for me," Nick replied. He had to have been extremely worried if he had forgone food for any substantial amount of time.

"Does everyone know that we are married?" I asked. I could hear Nick snicker.

"Do you think I handled hearing about your car accident well?" Nick asked. It was a stupid question; there was absolutely no way he could hold his emotions in. I'm glad that he couldn't; I probably would have never figured out that he saw me as something more than a friend if he hid his feelings like I did. They knew; the entire lab knew that Nick and I were married.

"Oh. Did the evidence make it back to the lab okay?" I asked. I was afraid to find out the repercussions of marrying a coworker. I was terrified of having to be transferred or having to work a shift opposite of Nick.

"Sara, it isn't important," Grissom replied. He could have said something about Nick and me; I wanted him to acknowledge that I no longer needed him the way that I needed Nick.

"Did Greg get to work on the bones? We worked on facial reconstruction last week. It would be a good chance for him to learn," I replied. The situation still seemed so surreal. I didn't feel hurt; I only felt tired and a little disoriented.

"Greg is sleeping in the family room," Nick commented.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"About eight in the evening," Nick replied.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready to go to work?" I asked. It was another stupid question, but it for some reason still seemed like a very valid question.

"I'm going to take some time off to be with you . . . unless you are kicking me out of your room already," Nick replied. He was trying so hard to smile; it was what looked like a pained smile. I wished that Grissom would leave so Nick could get out whatever it was that he needed to. I knew Nick was trying to stay positive for me; he was always the optimist . . . I was always the pessimist.

"I want you here. I can't think of anyone who I want here more," I replied. I'm glad that I couldn't see the look on Grissom's face. It must have been one hell of a day for him; surprise Sara married Nicky . . . surprise she's on an operating room table and you have no right to hold her hand. I cursed myself for thinking that way; my intentions were not to hurt Grissom, but some days it seemed like an added bonus for all the times he hurt me.

"Okay, you've talked me into it . . . I'll stay," Nick replied. He still had that pained smile on his face; I never thought that I had been close to death. I must have been knocking at heaven's gates. He must have been dying inside while he was waiting for me to wake up.

"I'm going to sleep. I love you," I whispered as my eyes grew heavy again.

"I love you, too," Nick replied as he brushed the hair off my face. I hoped that my dreams would be less torturous than the previous ones.