"I'd bring her soup, but I'd be afraid that she would drown in the bowl," Vartan said as we watched a very exhausted Sara sleep on a pile of paperwork.
"How much has she been working?" I asked as we stood in the doorway.
"I haven't seen her in the last seventy-two hours. It's possible that she hasn't left work yet," Vartan replied.
"She hasn't been doing this for the last three weeks, has she?" I asked as Greg snuck passed us in search of coffee. He looked equally tired.
"They kind of remind me of the zombies from the old horror movies," Vartan said with a smile, "They've been a little swamped. Sanders, you have the fiber evidence from the DB found on the Strip?"
"I, personally, have twenty open cases. You'll have to be a little more specific," Greg snapped.
"Fat, Hawaiian shirt, no apparent trauma, orange hair," Vartan rambled.
"I do, but Sara needs to sign-off on my analysis. I think she's sleeping on it right now," Greg said.
"Oh, when's Grissom back?" Vartan asked.
"Providing the skin graft took and all is well, he comes back tomorrow," Greg replied. I had absolutely no idea what Greg was talking about. Warrick, Sara, and Greg had all stopped by to 'check' on me, but we never talked about work. We spent hours talking about the most benign and meaningless things. I would have liked to know how Grissom was doing, but maybe it would have brought back the memories my friends were trying to avoid rehashing.
"When are you and Sara going to get some sleep?" Vartan asked.
"Whenever the murders stop," Greg said sarcastically.
"The brain trust has been a little over-extended," Vartan said to me as he tried to fish the fiber analysis out from underneath Sara. He ended up picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder while he used his other hand to shift through the pile. Surprisingly, Sara barely roused. She woke only enough to ask to be put down. Her protests were quiet. I don't think her eyes even opened.
"Sara's going to be pissed if she wakes up," I warned Vartan. I glanced over to see that Greg had rapidly fallen asleep at the table. I was glad that Catherine was allowing me to start working very part time as long as I was confined to the lab.
"She won't wake up. She fell asleep at the shooting range last week. I had fired off the entire clip in my glock before I noticed that she was napping on a bench. Poor girl hadn't even managed to get her ear protection on," Vartan said as he continued to balance Sara on his shoulder and manage to sift through the paperwork. "Found it. God, I hope that's Sara's signature. Does that look like her signature?"
I watched Vartan lay Sara down on the couch. I sat down where Sara had been seated and began trying to orient myself to what was happening in her pile of paperwork. There were a good twenty case files that need signatures and reports from various departments within the lab. Vartan had been very kind when he described it as only being over-extended; the night shift was more or less drowning.
"They'll be glad to have you back here," Vartan commented as he tried to make sense of Sara's handwriting.
"I promise you I'll have her back to you soon," I replied.
"Oh, we're just good friends. We gave it a try, but I had to stop working cases with Sara . . . we never saw each other," Vartan replied. I was thankful that he was at least direct with Sara; it probably would have killed me to watch her being led on again. "Departmental rules."
"She needs to get out more," I commented. I knew that I had made this comment several times before.
"She needs to get about a week's worth of sleep before she gets out," Vartan commented, "Does that look like oval or opal? Either way . . . it doesn't really make sense."
"Maybe she was writing in a foreign language," I joked as I tried to read the paper that Vartan handed to me. Sara's normally precise handwriting had been degraded to something akin to a kindergartener's scrawling.
"It says trilobal fiber," Catherine said as she walked up behind me, "It's not that bad. Did someone forget to tell me about the slumber party?"
I paused for a moment to decide whether or not Catherine was kidding. The tone of her voice confused me because her sarcasm used to be all in good fun, but it had become spiteful. I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but I had a hard time pretending that everything had magically gotten better.
"I need all the evidence from the Evans murders. We brought the husband in today. He signed a full confession, but you never know with these cases," Vartan said.
"It was a murder-suicide, but the husband decided not to commit suicide at the last minute. I'm willing to bet he has hesitation marks on his wrists," Catherine replied, "That's the family in Henderson. Four kids and his wife. Gruesome scene, Nicky."
"So what's on my agenda today?" I asked.
"Help Sara figure out what's coming and what's going. Her pile is a little worse than mine. Tell Greg to take all the incoming cases. Warrick is taking the incoming cases for swing into night shift. I'm going to start working on getting all my evidence signed, sealed, and out to the DA's office," Catherine replied, "It's good to have you back, Nicky."
Catherine got up and left the room. She looked peaceful. Catherine was rarely peaceful; there was always some kind of turmoil in her life. She never needed to seek out drama. Drama always managed to find her.
"Vartan, what happened after everyone found out that I was . . . you know?" I asked. The question visibly caught Vartan off guard. His mouth opened a few times before he managed to find the words that he was looking for.
"Grissom took charge, but Sara was the real shining star. She was the one that ended up taking charge. Greg, Warrick, and Catherine let her run the show without too much protest. You're lucky that Sara has a clear head," Vartan replied.
"How lucky?" I asked.
"Extraordinarily lucky. Your abductor was smart . . . Grissom said that he might even be smarter than all the CSIs," Vartan replied.
"I just wanted to know," I said.
"I don't claim to understand," Vartan said, "Make sure that Sara and Greg eat something. They both look a little thin."
Even the most far removed people seemed effected by my circumstances. I chose to call them circumstances because it downplayed the fact that I was indeed clinically dead for five to ten minutes depending on who you ask. I had spent the last two weeks trying to ask my friends what happened. I wanted to know what happened to Walter, but I was too terrified to turn on the news. I knew the sight of that man would probably throw me into a rage that I wasn't sure I could control. I also knew that I couldn't live like this forever.
"What the hell?" Sara said as she sat up on the couch. She looked confused. She looked around the breakroom as if she was still trying to figure out where she was.
"You fell asleep," I replied as I set down the case file I was looking over.
"Why are you here? You should be at home resting," Sara replied.
"Ditto. You look like you could use the rest a little more than me," I replied as I watched Sara struggle to a standing position. It was a lot like watching Bambi trying to stand for the first time. She swayed and stumbled her way to her chair and her pile of case files.
"I'm doing okay," Sara replied. She looked like she might have actually believed that she was doing fine.
"Liar. Vartan tells me that you and Greg don't sleep anymore," I replied as Sara began to root around in the pile. I watched her squint to focus her eyes on the file tabs.
"It's been a little hectic around here," Sara said very diplomatically. She knew her answer didn't really answer my question.
"I want to know what happened to Grissom. I hear people talking about his arm and skin grafts. Why didn't anyone tell me?" I asked. I barely recognized the anger in my voice. I could tell that Sara didn't recognize it either.
"Nick, Grissom didn't want us to tell you. He said that it wasn't important right now. Grissom wants you to rest and being to put everything that was broken back together. You know he's the stoic one," Sara replied.
"What happened, Sara? Why can't anyone give me a straight answer about what happened?" I replied.
"Your father wanted to do the ransom drop, but Grissom insisted that they didn't get anywhere near Walter. Grissom was afraid something would happen to them, so he met with Walter alone. I don't know all the details, but I do know that Walter detonated a pipe bomb concealed under his clothes," Sara recited, "Walter died. Grissom burnt his arms trying to save Walter. Without Walter, we had next to nothing to go on."
"Is Grissom okay?" I asked.
"He doesn't return our phone calls. He doesn't want us to worry. Grissom is supposed to come back to work tomorrow," Sara replied as she tried to smile. I could see the tears in her eyes. She became acutely self-conscious of the tears and turned away.
"I'm sorry I hurt you," I replied.
"I'm sorry Walter hurt you," Sara replied, "I need to get some air."
I watched her walk away. I knew just how much Walter hurt me, but I could barely fathom how much Walter managed to hurt my friends. The look in Sara's eyes told me that at one point, they truly believed that their best was not good enough. I choked on the sobs that threatened to come out. I didn't want to wake Greg.
I waited for five or ten minutes before ascending to the roof. Sara sat near the railing with her knees pushed into her chest. I could hear her sobbing before I even opened the door. I don't even think she heard me approach her.
"I'm okay, Sara. Look at me. I'm okay," I said as I sat next to her.
"I know, but I brain can't shake some of the images from . . . ," Sara said through her tears. I didn't know exactly what they saw. My mother said something about a closed circuit camera, but at that point, I wasn't ready to hear exactly what happened to me.
"I know. My mother told me you helped dig me out. My doctors keep telling me stories about how I was legally dead. I guess I'm lucky that I don't remember too much. Between the hypoxia and terror, I can't really distinguish what was a hallucination and what was real," I replied.
"You're lucky, Nick. You don't want to know everything that happened that day," Sara replied in a voice that nearly chilled me to the core.
"The last thing I thought about was you guys. I remembered thinking about that diner where Grissom always took us for breakfast. I wondered why we never asked Greg to come along with us," I replied.
"Things were so different then. They were so much simpler," Sara replied. She shivered despite the dry heat of the desert. I knew she was holding so much back. I wondered exactly what happened that was so gruesome that she couldn't tell me. I wondered if I would even want to know.
"You want to go out for breakfast in . . . I don't know . . . . eight hours?" I asked. Sara laughed.
"Sure. I should probably finish up my pile of paperwork," Sara said as she stood up.
"Catherine said that I should help," I replied.
"Sounds good," Sara said with a smile that tried, unsuccessfully, to cover up what she was willing herself not to feel.
"So what's this with you and Vartan?" I asked innocently.
"Every time we had the chance to spend some time together, I fell asleep. I wasn't a really good date. I guess it's just not in the cards," Sara joked as I opened the door for her.
"Some people find narcolepsy to be a turn on," I teased.
"Don't be like Greg," Sara replied.
"I was just saying . . . "
"Nick, no. At no time in the future will you be writing a dating profile for me."
The lab felt more like home than any other place on earth.