Author's note: Hey everyone, sorry for the delay! I've had these
next few chapters written for awhile now, but I haven't had time to sit
down and type them out and post. Just a quick note, I have NO idea how
the whole ICU/hospital situation works, so a lot of this first chapter
is kinda just whatever came out of my head. That, and they were written
on a noisy bus at midnight on the way home from a marching band
competition. So, please enjoy, despite the lack of accuracy to the
whole hospital thing…
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to my friend Nicole, who moved to Chicago Saturday! I miss you already, Cye!!
………
The CSI's sat down in front of Dr. Peters. They looked up at him expectantly with teary eyes. They were silent, but their minds were racing with a thousand different possibilities.
Brain damage.
Paralysis.
Amnesia.
Dead.
No one wanted to say anything. Even Dr. Peters seemed to be holding back as he shifted nervously in front of the group. He rubbed his hands together as he cleared his throat, then put them into his pockets as he started.
"Mr. Grissom, I have good news and bad news. The good news is, Ms. Sidle made it through the operation," Dr. Peters paused as the group let out a sigh of relieve, "She's pretty banged up though," he continued, "Three fractured ribs, a broken arm, fractured right leg, broken left leg, multiple contusions and lacerations over her body, and a concussion. Not to mention, she had massive internal bleeding in her abdominal cavity, but we've gotten that squared away."
Again, he paused, but this time, he looked down at the floor. He licked his lips and looked back at the group of friends sitting in front of him.
"The bad news is… she's fallen into a coma. There is no telling when she could come out of it. It could be days, weeks… maybe even longer. And until she comes out of it, there is no telling to what extent the damage is to her brain. For all we know, she's perfectly fine, and lets pray that's the case. We'll just have to wait and see."
The CSI's looked stunned. They sat quietly, staring at one another, not wanting to believe what they had just heard. Grissom shook his head as his eyes wandered to the floor in front of Dr. Peters' feet. He rubbed his hands over his face, and looked back up at the doctor.
"Can we see her?" asked Grissom faintly.
"She's in ICU right now, but I'm sure it'd be alright for one person to see her. I can only allow for a few minutes right now, though. I assume you'd be going in, Mr. Grissom?"
Grissom looked at his team. Each one of them nodded in approval.
"Yeah," Grissom replied.
"Follow me then," said Dr. Peters as he turned and led the way.
It only took a few minutes to reach ICU. Dr. Peters pointed down the hall as they stopped near the nurses' station.
"Second to last door on the right. I'm afraid you only have a few minutes, though. A nurse should be in shortly to check on Ms. Sidle."
"Thank you," whispered Grissom as he started down the hall.
His footsteps echoed against the walls as he made his way to Sara's door. It seemed to take an eternity to reach it, but in just a few short steps, Grissom found himself standing in front of the room. He drew in a deep breath and laid a shaky hand on the cool door knob. He twisted it, and the door opened, allowing him to step inside.
The room was silent, except for the beeping of the heart monitor and the mechanical breathing of the respirator. The room was cold. The only window in the room was pushed slightly open, letting an unusually cool breeze in from the Vegas night. The dim light that hung over the bed illuminated the sterile white walls in the room.
Grissom's eyes, though, were immediately drawn to the still form lying in the bed in front of him. He tensed up, keeping himself from running to the bed. Instead, he slowly walked to the bedside.
He flexed his hands at his sides, unsure of what to do once he reached Sara's bed. He stared with furrowed eyebrows at the bandaged-covered women unconscious in the bed. Her left arm was in a dull white cast, her legs were the same. Stitches littered her hairline, and her cheeks were painted in deep blue and purple bruises. Grissom stared at the tube that ran into Sara's mouth. He shook his head as he pulled up a seat.
He hesitated before gently taking her battered hand. Grissom stared at it, then looked up at her still face. It had only been a few hours ago that those now closed eyes had been open and cutting through him with a fiery intensity all their own. Her chapped lips had been yelling back at him as, for the millionth time in forever, she had tried to defend herself against him, when she should have been laughing, joking, smiling. Anything other then yelling. Her bruised skin had been flushed with anger. She had been more alive. Walking, talking, breathing on her own. Now she was in this bed, trying to cling to life.
She shouldn't be here.
"Sara?" whispered Grissom, "Sara, can you hear me?"
He knew it was a stupid question, but he had to ask it. He watched her face, waited for her to blink, twitch, or sit up and start yelling at him for waking her up, but she didn't respond. He sighed.
"Sara… I just don't understand. You were supposed to be at a scene, not driving on that road. Why were you there?" he paused, as if waiting for a response, "God, Sara, I have so many unanswered whys."
Grissom chuckled mirthlessly. He had told her that before, her first day in Vegas. Now she lay in what could possibly be her death bed, and he was saying it again.
"Ironic, isn't it?" her thought out loud to her.
"Nick said there was something wrong with you when he let you leave. I think I know what was on your mind. Now you're here in this bed, and I can't help but wonder if it was me who put you there."
In his mind, Grissom could almost see Sara raise an eyebrow and cross her arms over her chest. He smiled, and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.
"I don't say it enough… hell, I don't even say it… but, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. If anyone should be in that bed, it should be me. You've never done anything to deserve this, you've never done anything wrong. It's always been me… my own fears and selfish actions. I've let this get out of control, and maybe that's why you were out on that road… to just… let go. You're here now… and there aren't enough words to describe what I'm feeling."
Tears rolled down his cheeks and his forehead touched the rough cotton sheets of her bed. His grip tightened on her hand, and he let his tears fall freely.
"Sara… can you hear me? There is so much I want to tell you, if you could just hear me."
He paused when he heard a light tap on the door. It creaked open and a nurse walked in.
"Hello, sir. I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to take Ms. Sidle's vitals."
Grissom quickly gained his composure before speaking, "No, it's alright. I was just heading out for a minute anyway," he turned back to Sara, "I'll be back in a bit."
He stood up and stared down at her. He brushed back a strand of loose hair and, against his better judgment, placed a kiss on her forehead before slipping quietly out of the room.
Once outside, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
Before he had gone in, he knew it would be hard to see her. He just had no idea how hard it would be until now.
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to my friend Nicole, who moved to Chicago Saturday! I miss you already, Cye!!
………
The CSI's sat down in front of Dr. Peters. They looked up at him expectantly with teary eyes. They were silent, but their minds were racing with a thousand different possibilities.
Brain damage.
Paralysis.
Amnesia.
Dead.
No one wanted to say anything. Even Dr. Peters seemed to be holding back as he shifted nervously in front of the group. He rubbed his hands together as he cleared his throat, then put them into his pockets as he started.
"Mr. Grissom, I have good news and bad news. The good news is, Ms. Sidle made it through the operation," Dr. Peters paused as the group let out a sigh of relieve, "She's pretty banged up though," he continued, "Three fractured ribs, a broken arm, fractured right leg, broken left leg, multiple contusions and lacerations over her body, and a concussion. Not to mention, she had massive internal bleeding in her abdominal cavity, but we've gotten that squared away."
Again, he paused, but this time, he looked down at the floor. He licked his lips and looked back at the group of friends sitting in front of him.
"The bad news is… she's fallen into a coma. There is no telling when she could come out of it. It could be days, weeks… maybe even longer. And until she comes out of it, there is no telling to what extent the damage is to her brain. For all we know, she's perfectly fine, and lets pray that's the case. We'll just have to wait and see."
The CSI's looked stunned. They sat quietly, staring at one another, not wanting to believe what they had just heard. Grissom shook his head as his eyes wandered to the floor in front of Dr. Peters' feet. He rubbed his hands over his face, and looked back up at the doctor.
"Can we see her?" asked Grissom faintly.
"She's in ICU right now, but I'm sure it'd be alright for one person to see her. I can only allow for a few minutes right now, though. I assume you'd be going in, Mr. Grissom?"
Grissom looked at his team. Each one of them nodded in approval.
"Yeah," Grissom replied.
"Follow me then," said Dr. Peters as he turned and led the way.
It only took a few minutes to reach ICU. Dr. Peters pointed down the hall as they stopped near the nurses' station.
"Second to last door on the right. I'm afraid you only have a few minutes, though. A nurse should be in shortly to check on Ms. Sidle."
"Thank you," whispered Grissom as he started down the hall.
His footsteps echoed against the walls as he made his way to Sara's door. It seemed to take an eternity to reach it, but in just a few short steps, Grissom found himself standing in front of the room. He drew in a deep breath and laid a shaky hand on the cool door knob. He twisted it, and the door opened, allowing him to step inside.
The room was silent, except for the beeping of the heart monitor and the mechanical breathing of the respirator. The room was cold. The only window in the room was pushed slightly open, letting an unusually cool breeze in from the Vegas night. The dim light that hung over the bed illuminated the sterile white walls in the room.
Grissom's eyes, though, were immediately drawn to the still form lying in the bed in front of him. He tensed up, keeping himself from running to the bed. Instead, he slowly walked to the bedside.
He flexed his hands at his sides, unsure of what to do once he reached Sara's bed. He stared with furrowed eyebrows at the bandaged-covered women unconscious in the bed. Her left arm was in a dull white cast, her legs were the same. Stitches littered her hairline, and her cheeks were painted in deep blue and purple bruises. Grissom stared at the tube that ran into Sara's mouth. He shook his head as he pulled up a seat.
He hesitated before gently taking her battered hand. Grissom stared at it, then looked up at her still face. It had only been a few hours ago that those now closed eyes had been open and cutting through him with a fiery intensity all their own. Her chapped lips had been yelling back at him as, for the millionth time in forever, she had tried to defend herself against him, when she should have been laughing, joking, smiling. Anything other then yelling. Her bruised skin had been flushed with anger. She had been more alive. Walking, talking, breathing on her own. Now she was in this bed, trying to cling to life.
She shouldn't be here.
"Sara?" whispered Grissom, "Sara, can you hear me?"
He knew it was a stupid question, but he had to ask it. He watched her face, waited for her to blink, twitch, or sit up and start yelling at him for waking her up, but she didn't respond. He sighed.
"Sara… I just don't understand. You were supposed to be at a scene, not driving on that road. Why were you there?" he paused, as if waiting for a response, "God, Sara, I have so many unanswered whys."
Grissom chuckled mirthlessly. He had told her that before, her first day in Vegas. Now she lay in what could possibly be her death bed, and he was saying it again.
"Ironic, isn't it?" her thought out loud to her.
"Nick said there was something wrong with you when he let you leave. I think I know what was on your mind. Now you're here in this bed, and I can't help but wonder if it was me who put you there."
In his mind, Grissom could almost see Sara raise an eyebrow and cross her arms over her chest. He smiled, and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.
"I don't say it enough… hell, I don't even say it… but, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. If anyone should be in that bed, it should be me. You've never done anything to deserve this, you've never done anything wrong. It's always been me… my own fears and selfish actions. I've let this get out of control, and maybe that's why you were out on that road… to just… let go. You're here now… and there aren't enough words to describe what I'm feeling."
Tears rolled down his cheeks and his forehead touched the rough cotton sheets of her bed. His grip tightened on her hand, and he let his tears fall freely.
"Sara… can you hear me? There is so much I want to tell you, if you could just hear me."
He paused when he heard a light tap on the door. It creaked open and a nurse walked in.
"Hello, sir. I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to take Ms. Sidle's vitals."
Grissom quickly gained his composure before speaking, "No, it's alright. I was just heading out for a minute anyway," he turned back to Sara, "I'll be back in a bit."
He stood up and stared down at her. He brushed back a strand of loose hair and, against his better judgment, placed a kiss on her forehead before slipping quietly out of the room.
Once outside, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
Before he had gone in, he knew it would be hard to see her. He just had no idea how hard it would be until now.