There was a small whirring noise, barely audible over the other noises on the ward, as the machine delivering one of the drugs ticked over. Sara couldn't quite make out the name of the drug from her position, but whatever it was she knew it would be another 56 seconds before it happened again. Sara counted everything she could to push out thoughts of how Rosie came to be laying there. Everything could be counted and recounted. The lines going in, the drains going out, drip rates, blood pressure, and heart rate. Sara watched as Rosie's chest rose and fell with the regularity only associated with a ventilator. Sara counted each breath and calculated the rate, checking herself against the screen displaying Rosie's vitals. Occasionally there would be an extra one or two shallow breaths evident on the screen that fell outside the rate set by the ventilator and complicated Sara's calculations.
"Spontaneous respiration," one of the nurses had explained earlier. "It's a good sign it means she is breathing for herself, even if it is only occasionally."
The screen was at the head of the bed and every ten minutes or so, a nurse would come and note the numbers. Now and then, the nurse might adjust a drip rate or the oxygen supply, but mostly she would simply note down the figures and ask Sara if she or Sidney, who was now asleep on Sara's lap, would like anything.
The counting and recounting, the gentle whirring of the machines in the warm hospital and having Sidney asleep on her lap, had a rather soporific effect on Sara; she had been sitting in the same position for a little over 5 hours. Sidney had finally fallen into a restless sleep an hour before and Sara's leg had now gone numb under the weight of Sid's head on her thigh.
Sara's mind wandered to what Catherine had said as she left. What did it explain? Was she being obvious? Warrick always said that every player had their 'tell' and Sara wondered what had supposedly given her away. She was so careful to keep her private life away from work; with good reason. Her previous experiences had taught her not fish from the company pier. After what had happened in San Francisco, she was dubious of even getting her toes wet.
The CSI's heavy eyelids were threatening to close; objects in the room had become blurry blobs through her eyelashes. Just before sleep crept up on her completely, she noticed movement from the bed. Her eyes flew open as a cacophony of alarms sounded, rousing both Sara and Sidney.
"What is it what is going on?" The sound of panic was evident in Sid's voice.
"I…I don't know." stammered Sara.
Rosie's arm was thrashing about and it was the first time that Sara had seen her eyes open. The girl in the bed was reaching up to her face.
"Get them out of the way!" barked a ferocious sounding nurse. Sid and Sara backed towards the observation glass. Sara could see a flurry of hands working on Rosie. Each second ticked by in an age. "She's trying to pull out the tube."
"What has her sats been like?" Sara sought out the owner of the new voice and saw a doctor probably a resident looking worriedly at her friend.
"Ninety-seven, ninety-eight on 10 litres," came the reply.
"Fine. Let's try breathing without the tube then." The rather young looking doctor then started to talk to Rosie. "Rosie hi, my name is Ellie, I'm a doctor here and we are going to make you feel a little more comfortable. There is a tube in your throat helping you to breathe but now you are awake we are going to take it out. Okay?" The doctor had a reassuring voice.
"What's going on Sara?" Sidney asked, close to tears.
Sara looked at her friend and smiled warmly. "She wants to breathe by herself. The tube is irritating her and so she's trying to pull it out."
"That's a good sign, right? Sidney asked expectantly.
"Yes, that is a good sign." Sara reassured her old friend. I told you she's a fighter."
"Suction."
"Rosie what I am going to need you to do is calm down. Concentrate on breathing rhythmically. Ignore us and just concentrate on breathing." Sara could see the doctor looking directly into Rosie's eyes. "When I tell you I want you to try and cough. You may not be able to do it but I want you to try." Rosie's head moved a millimetre as she tried to nod. Sara's heart leapt, Rosie was at least aware of what was going on around her. "When you cough," the doctor continued, "I'm going to pull out this nasty tube. Your face is swollen and bruised so this might hurt. You are on some medication that might be making you feel a little weird."
Sidney grabbed Sara's hand and put her other hand to her mouth in anticipation. Sara gave Sid's hand a friendly squeeze never really looking away from what was happening to Rosie.
"Come on we need a mask over here. I want 15 litres of humidified oxygen," the nurse demanded
"Okay Rosie on three cough. One, two, and three…" on three as the doctor spoke, she pulled the tube from Rosie's throat.
"Suction."
Sara looked expectantly at the machine and sure enough Rosie began breathe on her own.
"Ninety-eight percent saturation on fifteen litres. Excellent."
There was a period of adjusting drip rates and medication before the activity settled to relative calm. Sara fixed her gaze on the monitor watching to make sure Rosie was okay. The doctor approaching broke her concentration. "We have extubated her for her own comfort. So long as she maintains her oxygen saturation, the way she has been, I'm happy to let her breathe for herself." Sara went to say 'thank you' but a fog of grief and exhaustion was threatening to settle and she didn't genuinely feel thankful for anything at that moment. The young woman reached out and rubbed the top of Sara's arm, giving her a sympathetic look. "You need to look after yourselves." She said gently and then cleared her throat as her tone changed to a more professional one. "Now the tube is out she will be able to speak but remember her throat is going to be very dry and sore. Make sure your friend realises Rosie is also on a huge amount of pain medication so even if she does speak she may not make sense."
Sara had not even noticed Sidney leave her side. She looked over to where Sidney was knelt by Rosie's bedside and stared at the two as Sidney chatted to Rosie and stroked her head and hair. The noises of the unit fell away and a rushing sound filled Sara's ears. Rosie looked so small and beaten up. The smell of the alley from earlierfilled her nostrils and the memory of all that blood filled Sara's consciousness. She felt sick or angry or both; it was hard to tell. Suddenly she felt she had to do something, stop sitting around in the hospital and find the guy that did this. Sara's heart began to race as she left the unit and ran down the hall in search of elevators; cursing herself under her breath, that she had let Catherine take the Tahoe.
Finding that pressing the elevator buttons rapidly and repeatedly did not make the elevator come any faster, Sara looked around for the stairwell. Her eyes, nose and back of her throat were burning and as she found the steps, the grief that had been building for the last six or so hours finally broke Sara. The strength she had found for Sidney had left her and she sunk on the top stair, sat holding the handrail for support, and wept for her friend and the injustice of it all.
