Nick's POV:

The extent of her injuries were bad bruises around her neck and hypoxia. The doctors were able to remedy the hypoxia with oxygen, but they could do nothing about the horrendous bruising. Sara lay perfectly still on the gurney. It reminded me of being in the hospital after Nigel Crane had at me. I had also been terrified to start interacting with the world . . . that would mean that everything that happened would become real.

"Sara, I need to take your statement," I said as I sat next to her gurney. She tried to turn her neck so she could face me, but Sara hissed in pain before she made much progress.

"He didn't want me. He was looking for Catherine," Sara said in a flat, blunted voice. I wasn't sure what was more chilling, Sara's voice or the fact that Sara wasn't the intended target.

"Can you tell me what happened, Sara?" I asked as I began to fidget uncomfortably.

"I couldn't find my car keys. I was about to go back into the lab to see if I left them in my locker. This guy kept asking me if I was Catherine. He scared me . . . there was blood on the bottom of the right cuff of his jeans. I'm so stupid . . . I don't think I ever told him that I wasn't Catherine," Sara said as she narrated her story. Her narration was chilling because she talked like she was describing the events that happened to someone else.

"You're not stupid. It was all a case of mistaken identity," I replied.

"I tried to push him away when he pushed me against the car. He started choking me. He kept talking about how Catherine sent him to jail ten years ago for a crime he didn't commit. He kept telling me that he would kill me. That's when I heard Brass. The guy pushed me to the ground. Then, Brass was there," Sara said in the same flat voice, "I think I might have been able to get some of his DNA under my nails."

"Okay. Do you remember anything else?" I asked as I struggled to write down everything that Sara was saying.

"No. I don't look anything like Catherine. It should have been her," Sara whispered in a very factual manner, "Where's Greg? I could hear his voice when I was on the ground. Is someone making sure that he's okay?"

"Sara, Greg's fine. He's waiting in the hallway to see you. It's okay to start feeling something . . . I'm not going to tell anyone else," I replied.

"What would you say if I said that I wished it was Catherine instead of me?" Sara challenged.

"I'd say that I understand. I'd say that there were times when I wondered why Warrick wasn't thrown out of a second story window instead of me," I replied. There were so many times that I wondered that. In my nightmares, sometimes it was Warrick that took my place. I always woke up in a cold sweat before Warrick hit the ground.

"That's different because you are friends with Warrick. I'm not friends with Catherine . . . it should have been her," Sara replied angrily, "Does that make you think less of me?"

"No, Sara, no," I said as I tried to think of what to say to her.

"You should start collecting evidence before you lose it," Sara replied, "You might be able to get epithelials from my neck or under my fingernails and trace transfer from my clothes."

I obediently did as she asked. I wasn't about to take away the little control that Sara had. She closed her eyes as I took pictures. She grimaced in pain as I took fingernail scrapings. I rarely did this on live people. I was thankful that evidence collection ended with fingernail scrapings – I don't think I could have handled the thought of a nurse having to do a rape kit on Sara.

"Hey, Sar," Greg said as he walked into the room. He was carrying a small stuffed animal, a lion. It was the perfect choice for Sara. She was fierce, intense, and fearless . . . normally.

"Greg," Sara whispered.

"I got you this . . . something to keep you company," Greg stammered. I watched them enviously as I put the evidence into safe storage in my kit. Sara and I used to be friends when things used to be simpler. That was sometime before these shift changes . . . sometime before swing and nights started pretending they were never a team. It seemed like it might have been another lifetime.

"Greg, you didn't have to," Sara said as she examined the stuffed animal.

"You always have my back . . . I'll always have yours," Greg said. Part of me wanted to pipe up and tell Greg that that was my line. I was shocked at how nights managed to come together as they did. I had pictured Sophia and Sara killing each other, but they had all become friends. Sara even had a healthy relationship with Grissom for the first time in years.

It was bittersweet to watch. It made me wonder why we couldn't hang on to all those yesterdays.