Part Three
Warrick hated waiting, but no matter how many doctors he managed to track down, they all told him the same thing: wait. So he did. It was still mid-afternoon, but Warrick felt utterly and completely exhausted. He nursed his cup of coffee, his third since arriving at the hospital. It gave him something to do.
Warrick surveyed the crowded halls, looking for a doctor that he hadn't had the chance to annoy yet. Two of them suddenly appeared from around a corner and came rushing down the hall.
"…Too early to know the full extent of…" one was speaking quietly but urgently to the other.
Warrick followed them with his eyes, but when they came to the 'T' in the hall, they went in the opposite direction from where Warrick had watched them bring Nick.
Warrick let out a deep breath and leaned back in his chair until the back of his head rested against the wall. He closed his eyes, and didn't realize that he had fallen asleep until a hand on his shoulder woke him abruptly. He opened his eyes and found himself looking at Catherine, leaning over him. Her eyes were wide as dinner plates, her face pale. Behind her, Warrick could see Greg and Sara fidgeting anxiously.
Warrick sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, I must have dozed off for a minute."
Catherine looked back at him with a small smile, obviously forced, and she rubbed his shoulder. Her mouth may have smiled, but her eyes were serious. "What happened?" she asked.
At the same moment Sara demanded, "Where's Nick."
Warrick focused on Sara first. "He's not awake yet. I haven't seen him."
She nodded and looked away, and Warrick could see tears in her eyes. He turned next to Catherine, but couldn't get his mouth to form the words to answer her question.
"What in the hell happened, Warrick?" she asked again, more demanding this time.
Warrick shook his head and forced himself to speak. "I don't know. I went out to the truck to get the ALS, and when I came back into the house, I found him at the bottom of the basement stairs."
Sara sank heavily into the chair next to Warrick, but Greg stood stiffly at the wall across from them, hands in his pockets, staring at his feet.
"You went out to the truck?" Catherine took her hand off of his shoulder.
Startled, Warrick looked up at her. "Just for a second, Cath, I swear. Nick asked me to get it, and I was only gone for a second…" Warrick didn't care if he was repeating himself, he didn't care if it sounded like he was making excuses. The only thing he cared about was his friend.
Greg spoke up. "I'm not saying Nick's middle name is Grace or anything, but do you really think that he just fell down a flight of stairs?"
Warrick shook his head again. Firmly. "No. I don't."
"You think Nick was onto something?" Sara was sitting rigidly in her chair, her back straight and tense.
Catherine crossed her arms. "And someone, what, pushed him down a flight of stairs?" she asked incredulously. "He wasn't doing anything different from the rest of us."
"He was alone." Warrick was furious with himself. He stared at the floor, unable to bring himself to look any of them in the eye. The other CSIs stared at each other for a few silent moments.
"He did think that there was something off about the dad, right?" Greg asked tentatively.
Both of the women stared down at Warrick, who disappointed them with a shake of his head. "He was out front with Callahan the whole time." Their shoulders sagged.
The small group fell quiet again. A sharp cracking sound perked everyone's ears, and their heads whipped around to face Greg, who stopped popping his knuckles and looked back at them, wide-eyed.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "I don't do tension very well."
Catherine put a hand on his arm. "It's okay. Neither do I."
Greg cleared his throat. "I think I'm gonna go find some coffee. You want?"
Warrick raised his half-full cup in reply, while both Sara and Catherine declined. It took Greg a moment to move, but then he shuffled slowly down the corridor.
Warrick thought of something, and brushed Catherine's hand. "Cath."
He was surprised when she withdrew it from his touch quickly. "Yeah?" she answered, playing it off like she was flexing her fingers.
Warrick didn't have the space in his head to worry about that right now, so he didn't. "Did you call Grissom?"
"Oh, no, I didn't. I will." She didn't move to get to her phone.
"Cath?"
She pulled at the ends of her hair. "Well, I'm not going to call him until we know something. I don't want him to spend the rest of his trip worrying."
"He'll just be mad that we didn't call him right away," Sara said hollowly.
"She's right, Cath." Warrick reached for his phone.
Catherine sighed. "Okay, okay. I'll do it." She went for her own cell phone, but before she could punch in Grissom's number, a doctor approached them, holding a file.
"Excuse me, are you waiting for information on Nick Stokes?" the doctor asked, smiling kindly at them from behind dark-rimmed glasses.
"Yes," the three of them responded in unison. Warrick and Sara stood.
"Is he okay?" Sara asked.
The doctor continued smiling. Oh, no, Warrick thought.
"I'm Doctor Lowell. I've been monitoring Mr. Stokes since he was brought in. He's… doing well." The doctor looked down at his file, presumably Nick's.
"What does 'well' mean exactly?" Catherine asked. Warrick detected a note of desperation in her voice that he hadn't heard until now. Catherine's game face was fading fast.
Doctor Lowell flipped a page. His expression was neutral…unreadable. "Well, the good news is that the only real damage was a concussion, but it was pretty severe. He's not awake yet…but hopefully will be soon."
Warrick, Sara, and Catherine all held their breath as the doctor consulted his chart.
"He's also got a sprained ankle and a few ribs that are either cracked or severely bruised."
Warrick rubbed the back of his neck. "Can we see him?"
Sara and Catherine looked eagerly at the doctor.
He nodded. "Sure."
The sound of rushing footsteps drew their attention, and Warrick turned around just in time to see Greg skid to halt beside Catherine, sloshing a bit coffee onto the front of his shirt.
"I saw the doctor can we see Nick yet how is he is he okay?" Greg said a rush. He turned to Doctor Lowell. "Is he okay?" he repeated.
It was Greg's turn to get the doctor's generic kind smile. "We're going in to see him now."
Greg nodded. "Okay." He looked down at his dripping coffee cup and the stain on his shirt, embarrassed.
Doctor Lowell led the way down the hall, Warrick and Catherine right on his heels.
"It's okay," Warrick heard Sara say to Greg, who mumbled something back that he didn't catch.
The group paused at a door, and Doctor Lowell grabbed the handle. "Now," he said, turning to face the anxious CSIs. "I can only allow two of you in at a time."
"But isn't he asleep?" Sara asked, obviously not wanting to wait any longer.
"Yes, but I'd still like to keep the environment of the room as quiet and calm as possible. We don't want to overwhelm him if he wakes up."
The four looked around at each other, none of them waiting to have to sit out in the hall any longer.
Catherine looked around at her colleagues. "You guys go ahead," she said to Warrick and Sara, who must have appeared the most upset. Catherine swallowed. "I need to call Gil anyways, right?"
She pulled her phone off of its clip on her belt and smiled at the doctor, but Warrick could see that her eyes where shining. "Excuse me." She hurried down the hall back towards the chairs where they'd been.
Greg watched her leave. "It's cool, really. You guys go in." He thanked the doctor and retreated in the same direction as Catherine.
Warrick watched them both leave, and frowned at the pang inside of him that wanted to follow Catherine. Doctor Lowell opened the door, and the pang disappeared quickly as it was suddenly overcome with the need to see that his friend was okay.
Beep.
Something was beeping, or ringing. Or possibly buzzing…Nick wasn't quite sure. Everything sounded the same…a kind of dull hum. With the occasional beep. It was a weird way to wake up, like he had cotton in his ears or something.
Beep.
His ears weren't the only things that felt strange. His eyelids were heavy, and when he tried to open them, the skin on the left side his face pulled. Like it was tight.
Beep.
His right ankle felt huge. And foreign, like it didn't belong on his leg.
Beep.
Breathing was interesting, too. Slow, or else it hurt too much to even bother. His left side was achy and tight…in an appealingly numb kind of way.
Beep.
He didn't know what was going on, but something was obviously wrong with him. Nobody liked waking up, and Nick had sure had his share of slow mornings, but never anything like this. His body was fighting him, telling him not to move, or breathe, or even think.
Beep.
Just thinking was hurting his head, which felt very big and, strangely, not heavy, but light. Like it was detached from the rest of his body, which felt as weighted down as if his blood had been replaced with liquid lead.
Beep.
He was tired…really, really tired. Which was odd, because he felt like he'd slept for a week. Maybe he'd just slept too much, and once he got up and going, he'd be fine.
Beep.
Up. There was the hard part. Let's just start with the eyes, he decided.
He managed to get one, he wasn't sure which, to open just a crack, but shut it immediately, hissing. Hey, there was a start…sound. Maybe if it wasn't so damned bright, he could get his eyes to work, too.
Beep.
Nick thought he heard his name. But it was far away, and muffled. Like the speaker had the same cotton in his, or maybe her, mouth that he had in his ears.
He wanted to answer. What's wrong with me? he wanted to ask. Scream, actually. He was starting to panic. It was dark, and he was cold. There was something lying along his arm, thought he wasn't quite sure yet if it was the right or left. It felt like a snake, a small one, but a snake nonetheless, and he wanted to shake it off but couldn't get his arm to move.
Beep.
What the hell was that? Alarm? Phone? It was new…but vaguely familiar.
Beep.
That was it. The last straw. The last fricking beep. Time to get up.
Nick managed to get one eye, it felt like the right one, to open about half-way. It wasn't as bright as he'd thought, and that made sense, because he didn't figure he'd go to sleep with the light on. It wasn't completely dark, though, just dim. He must have left a light on the kitchen or something. Weird. He wasn't one to do things like that.
There were shapes in the room, and not the shapes he was expecting. His dresser, sure. A person, definitely not. Two people, even more wrong.
Nick was even more disoriented with his eye open than he'd been before. The left one decided that it wanted to open, too, and it did, straining and pulling his skin. And for the first time, the numbness gave way to a sharp flash of pain. It seemed to tear through his head, straight across, setting his brain on fire.
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, the pulling of his skin now nothing compared to the pain ripping apart the inside of his head.
There was a faint pressure on his arm, something gripping his hand. Nick wanted to pull away, but that would take too much effort, so he allowed the foreign object to remain on his arm.
He felt his fingers tense, and he heard his name again. Closer, this time. And he could make out a voice. It was familiar. Male. Warrick.
Okay, just open your eyes, and stop acting like a baby. The pain in his head subsided to a dull throb, so he figured it was safe to try to open his eyes again, and it was much easier this time.
Eyes are a go, Nick thought. They seemed to be staying open okay, too. Not entirely in focus, but one step at a time. He tried to look down at his arm…at the snake and the other thing that was touching him, but it increased the throb, so he gave up, and settled with looking straight ahead. Which seemed to be up, actually. He could make out the patterned tile surface of a ceiling, and not his. One he'd seen before, though.
Hospital. It hit him hard. That's where he was. That's why it didn't feel like his bedroom. It wasn't. It was worse.
What in the hell? Well, something was wrong with his head; that much was obvious. This was not how his head usually felt. He wanted to sit up, so he could know just exactly what in the hell was going on.
Warrick! Warrick was there.
"Warrick," Nick didn't know if he actually succeeded in getting the words to come out or if he just thought them, but after a moment, he was pretty sure that he had managed to speak. One of the shapes drew closer, and he stared at it until he could make out Warrick's features.
"Nick, man? You okay? Can you hear me?"
"Uh huh." Nick wanted to roll over. Not that he wasn't happy Warrick was there, but he was way too close, inside Nick's personal space bubble. And Nick's bubble had shrunken considerably over the past few months.
"What happened?" Okay, so talking was easier than he had thought it was going to be. Everything was still pretty muffled and fuzzy, though.
"We were hoping you could tell us." It was a different voice. But he still knew who it was. Sara, coming from the direction of the snake and his friend.
He lifted his head up…weird…and tried to focus on her. She looked sad, or worried, or both, and she was gripping his hand. Her hand was warm, which was okay because he felt really cold. He looked at the snake. IV.
He took a moment and focused on what Sara had said. So, something had happened. He was apparently supposed to tell them something…but wasn't sure what they were looking for. "Huh?"
That was not the answer Sara seemed to want. Nick saw her look over to where Warrick was, on the other side of him. Nick kind of wished they were both on the same side. It was going to get really annoying if he had to look back and forth between them.
"You don't know what happened?" That was Warrick. Great, he had to look over there again. Warrick didn't seem to be quite as concerned about this as Nick was. "Nick?" Warrick touched Nick's shoulder, and Nick dragged his eyes over to look at him.
Warrick's eyes were wide. "Do you know what happened?"
Nick shook his head. At least, he guessed that he did. That's what he was going for, and his skin pulled again, so he assumed there was some kind of movement going on.
This was also not what Warrick wanted. "Anything? Nick, do you remember anything about what happened? Do you know why you're here?"
Nick swallowed. His throat felt dry. "No. What happened?" He looked around from Warrick to Sara, both wearing the same expression. They were really, really worried.
Nick was, too.
"You've reached Gil Grissom. Leave a message and I will get back to you when I get the chance."
Catherine threw her head back and sighed. This was not how she wanted to tell Gil about what happened. She didn't want to be the one to tell him at all, actually. But it needed to be done, so she waited for the beep.
"Gil, it's Catherine. There's…been an accident." Catherine paused. "It's Nick. He's fine, really. I – I don't think it's anything too serious, and I don't want to get you worried. I'll try and call again later, or else just call me when you get this." She shut her phone and stared at it for a moment.
She heard a throat being cleared behind her, and she whirled around to face Greg. He'd followed her from Nick's room, and was standing against the wall, shifting his weight from foot to foot, looking just as uncomfortable as he had while they were waiting here before.
Catherine motioned to the chairs, and they sat, neither speaking. She looked over at Greg, maybe to take a stab at some bit of small talk, but he was staring down the hall, back the way they had just come from. She laid her head in her hand and shut her eyes.
"Catherine?"
"Hmm?"
"I want to be on the case."
Catherine opened her eyes and raised her head. "What are you talking about? I thought they needed you in the DNA lab."
Greg shook his head. "No, Mia came in this afternoon, and technically, it's my day off…but I want to help."
"Greg, I can't put the whole shift on one case. What if something else comes up?"
"Then move me when it comes up. But right now, I want to be on the case."
Catherine had never heard Greg so serious. She nodded. "Okay. But remember that you offered. If anything comes up, you're on it."
"Okay."
They waited.
"Solo?"
"What?" Catherine looked back at Greg, who had a small smile on his face.
"When…whatever comes up, am I solo?"
Catherine had to laugh. "Don't push it." She spotted Warrick moving towards them, and her laugh died away. Greg had done what he did best, killed the tension and lightened the mood, but Catherine was roughly jerked back into the seriousness of the situation. "That didn't take long," she said softly.
"Huh?" Greg turned to follow her gaze and stood quickly. "How was he…is he?" he amended quickly.
Warrick walked up to them and stopped. He sighed and put his hands on his hips, avoiding eye contact.
"Warrick," Catherine said. Warrick looked at her, and her heart sank at the look in his eyes. "What is it?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Warrick took a moment before he spoke. "He's awake."
Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that's great. Can we see him?" She made a move to get up.
"Cath."
There was something in Warrick's voice that stopped her, halfway out of her chair. She sank back into the seat. "What's wrong?"
Warrick looked away. "He doesn't remember."
"What?" Greg asked.
"He doesn't remember," Warrick said again.
"No, what doesn't he remember?" Greg asked. Catherine just sat there.
Warrick looked away again. "He said he remembers coming into work yesterday, and bits of things that happened last night…but everything after that is just gone."
"So he doesn't know what happened to him?" Greg slowly sat down again.
"Doesn't look like it." Warrick stared at the floor. "The doctor said that it could all come back, but…"
"But what?" Greg asked anxiously, but Catherine could tell that he didn't want to hear the answer any more than she did.
"He hit his head pretty hard." Warrick pointed to his temple. "Stitches and everything. They want to give him another CAT scan…"
"Did you tell him?" Greg stared up at Warrick.
"Yeah."
There was more subtext to that one word than in some of the longwinded scientific journals that Catherine had in her office. She stood. "I want to see him."
Warrick nodded and gestured down the hall. "Sara's still in there, and his doctor might be, too."
Catherine looked down at Greg, asking him with her eyes if he wanted to come, too, but he shook his head.
"Go ahead. I think I just need to sit here a minute."
Catherine rubbed his shoulder, and then headed down the hall. She looked back at the corner and saw Warrick sit next Greg. Warrick patted Greg's leg, and for some reason, the image brought tears to her eyes. She quickly wiped them away and attempted to pull herself together. She didn't want to be falling apart when she saw Nick.
Nick stared at the ceiling. He could feel Sara watching him, but he couldn't look at her, because every time he did, she looked like she was going to cry, and he just couldn't deal with that right now. His brain was on overload as it was, and it didn't really feel like he could fit a whole lot in there anyways.
He was feeling very confused at the moment. There was a big hole in his consciousness, in the chain of recent events he could remember. Warrick had tried his best to fill in the gaps, and the doctor had explained the situation. Nick got the general gist…severe concussion, short-term memory loss, not uncommon, blah, blah, blah…he just wasn't really in the state of mind to try to focus on anything medical right now. He just felt like sleeping. Of course, his doctor had made sure to let him know that even that wasn't going to happen, as he would have to be woken up every hour. Standard procedure with the severity of his concussion. More blah, blah, blah.
If he couldn't sleep, then he at least wanted to sit up and feel like he wasn't helpless, but he knew that it would hurt more than it was worth at the moment. The doctor…Lowell?...had told him that he had a few bruised and cracked ribs, and they hurt so much lying down, he didn't even want to think about how much it would hurt if he was sitting upright. Plus, he didn't know if his head could handle it.
Nick heard the door to the room open, and saw someone enter the room out of the corner of his eye.
"Hey," Catherine said quietly.
Nick didn't know if she was talking to him or Sara, but decided that even if it was directed towards him, he could play it off like he thought that she was talking to Sara. He really didn't feel like talking to anyone. The whole time Warrick had been talking to him, he'd felt so stupid, just lying there with no idea what was he was talking about. It was listening to someone describe a dream they had.
"Hey," Sara answered.
Score. Maybe he could close his eyes, and pretend he was asleep. Or better, actually fall asleep and get a whole hour where he didn't have to think about how much he hurt or trying to figure out what had happened.
It was a very strange feeling. To Nick, it still felt like it was the previous evening; he didn't know any better. But apparently, a lot had transpired since last night, Nick just couldn't remember it. The last thing he could really remember, and it took quite a bit of effort, was his visit to Ryan Walsh's house. And even that was only bits and pieces. Little flashes of pictures in his mind. Walsh standing in his doorway…a little boy peeking his head out of his room…it was all fuzzy around the edges.
Nick had lied to Warrick, told him he remembered more than he actually did. He didn't want his friends to worry about him. Not more than they already were, anyways.
Catherine's shadow drew closer, and Nick closed his eyes.
"Hey, Nick," she said soothingly.
He peeked his eyes open and looked to the left. She was leaning over him, uncomfortably close, and he swallowed. "Hey."
Catherine stroked his hair, and he could tell that she was being careful of the left side of his head, which was swollen and throbbed like crazy. He wanted to be annoyed, to tell her to stop babying him, that he was fine…but her touch was comforting, calming.
"How do you feel?"
"Not too bad, actually," Nick said. He raised his right arm just a touch, indicating the IV line. "This stuff they got me on is pretty nice."
Catherine smiled and sank into the chair that Warrick had pulled up to the edge of the bed. Sara was still on the other side, apparently. Keeping her distance, like always. It was fine; Nick was feeling crowded enough as it was.
Nick swallowed again. "So Warrick tells me I'm missing some stuff up here, huh?" He gave just the slightest jerk of his head, and even the small movement made him wince.
"Nick." Catherine leaned forward and touched his arm.
Nick wanted to yank it out of her reach, but he suddenly felt drained. So much so that he couldn't even move his arm. Pathetic. He felt his eyelids start to droop, and the pressure on his arm increased. His eyes flew open…too fast, and he winced again.
Catherine smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Nicky, but I don't think the doctors want you to fall asleep just yet."
Nick sighed and stared up at the ceiling. So what was he supposed to do? He couldn't sit up, he couldn't sleep…and he really didn't want to lie here all night and try to remember what had happened that day…it would hurt his head and drive him crazy.
A cell phone rang and Catherine took her hand off of Nick's arm. The ringing was quickly silenced. "Forgot to turn it off, better get it out of here before they kick me out."
There was more to the call; Nick could hear it in her voice. Otherwise, he was sure she would have just turned off of the phone.
Catherine leaned over and kissed the top of Nick's head. "I'll come by later on tonight, okay?"
Nick nodded, a single, painful bob of his head. Catherine said goodbye to Sara and he heard the door open and shut again.
The television was on. The volume was very, very low, but it was still on. Nick couldn't see it without craning his neck, which would hurt like hell, and he was pretty sure that Sara wasn't watching it. He didn't really know why it was on or who even turned it on, but it was background noise. It kept the room from being completely silent, and gave Nick something to focus on besides forcing himself to remember the events of the day.
Nick heard Sara move, and a second later, she came into his field of vision, lowering herself into the chair that Catherine had just vacated. He could feel her eyes on his face again, and he concentrated really hard on the ceiling, and trying to pick up what the TV was saying. News, maybe.
"It's weird, isn't it?"
Nick looked over at Sara. "What are you talking about?"
She shifted in her seat. "The whole memory loss thing."
Nick just stared at her.
"Yeah, I know. I mean, I know. The same thing happened to me when I was a kid. Well, not the same thing…"
Nick continued to stare at her, hoping she was going somewhere with this, because he really didn't want a pity party.
Sara tried again, a small smile on her lips. "I was in second grade. We had field day at school…do you remember those? Well, I got a bunch of ribbons. When I got home, I took a ride on my bike around the neighborhood. I hit a storm drain and flipped over my handle bars." Sara paused to make sure that Nick was listening to her. He was. "I still don't remember what I got the ribbons for."
Nick looked up at the ceiling. "You couldn't have just asked somebody?" he said with a small smile, his first since he had woken up.
Sara huffed and gave him a light slap on the arm. "That wasn't the point of the story."
"I know." Nick looked back over to her. "Thanks."
Sara smiled and acted like she was going to grab his hand or something, but pulled it back into her lap.
Nick's eyes were starting to feel very heavy again, and he allowed them to close. He listened for a few minutes to the faint sounds from the television, and drifted into a fitful sleep.
Catherine ended the call from Gil and leaned heavily against the wall. It hadn't exactly been an easy or pleasant call, just as she'd anticipated. He'd been worried, and then after being assured that Nick was going to be okay, he'd been angry. Said he was catching a flight back and he wanted both Catherine and Warrick in his office as soon as he arrived. Not exactly something she was looking forward to.
Catherine checked her watch. It was nearing evening, and she really needed to get back to the lab. She wanted to stay with Nick, but there was still a job to do. And now that job included finding out what had happened to him, and who was responsible.
Another shrill ring of her phone drew not only Catherine's attention, but the attention of several other people waiting in the area.
"Sorry," she mumbled as she whipped open the phone. "Willows," she answered, and started moving down the hall to a less populated area. "Hi, Jim. No, he's doing okay. Yeah, but…what?"
Catherine stopped right in front of where Warrick and Greg were still seated in chairs. Both stood and moved over to her.
"Cath, what is it?" Warrick asked.
Greg simply stared at her, wide-eyed.
Catherine listened to Brass for another minute, taking in what he was telling her. "Okay, Jim. No, no, I'll take it. We'll manage. I'm sure he'd like that." They said their goodbyes and Catherine shut her phone.
"Cath?" Warrick reached out and gently touched her elbow.
"That was Jim. PD just responded to a call. They've got a D.B. out in Henderson. At the home of Mike and Judy Miller."
Even though Nick was asleep, Sara was perfectly content staying in his room. She had a feeling that as soon as she went out into the hall with the others, they would want to talk about what had happened. Sara didn't want to talk, she just wanted to think. Nick's room was quiet; the only sounds were the faint volume of the television and the occasional beep coming from the machine dispensing Nick's pain medication.
Even though Catherine had told Nick he couldn't go to sleep, Sara didn't see any harm in it. Doctor Lowell hadn't told them not to let him sleep, just to let him know when and if he did, which Sara had done. She was expecting the doctor back in about forty minutes…plenty of time to sit in the calm and quiet room.
Well, quiet anyways.
Sara wasn't exactly in the calmest of moods, was very nearly pushed to her limit. Her stress levels had been through the roof for the past couple of days, and this was definitely not helping. She and Catherine were butting heads, and she wasn't entirely sure why, except that they both had a tendency to be extremely stubborn. Not to mention that without Grissom around, they were missing their buffer.
Then there was the case. A horrible murder of an innocent boy, with no evidence to work with.
And now this. It was driving Sara crazy not knowing what had happened to Nick. She was ninety-nine point nine percent sure that someone had done this to him. It didn't seem plausible that he had just tripped and fallen down that flight of stairs, but they needed proof. Part of Sara wanted to run right out to the house and look for some kind of evidence of the phantom pusher, but the other part just wanted to stay here, and pretend that there was nothing going outside of the room, and there was no one out there who would even think of hurting one of her friends ever again.
Nick's face was screwed up like he wasn't sleeping soundly, but Sara guessed that was to be expected. When he'd been awake, she'd wanted to yell at him. He was lying there, telling Catherine that he didn't feel too bad…and Sara knew that it was lie. Nick was always acting like there was nothing wrong him, when so much had happened to him. Catherine had believed him because she hadn't been in the room when Nick woke up. Sara had been taken aback by how young and helpless he'd seemed.
"What happened?" he'd asked them, sounding scared and lost.
Sara hadn't been prepared for one of the strongest people she'd ever known to sound like that. But she supposed it was a long time coming. Nick had been through a lot, more than she would have ever been able to handle. She'd had enough bad things happen in her life, but it seemed like nothing when she compared.
There was a knock at the door and Sara was roused from her thoughts. She glanced at her watch. Has it been forty minutes already? It had been only fifteen. She turned around in her seat as the door opened and Catherine popped her head into the small room.
"Hey, Sara, how's he doing?"
Sara glanced at Nick. "Sleeping. He hasn't been for too long, though," she added, knowing how protective of him the other woman was bound to be feeling. She wanted to make sure that Catherine knew she wasn't disobeying doctor's orders.
Catherine nodded. "Did he seem okay?"
For some reason, Catherine didn't enter the room but stayed in the hall, just poking her upper body in through a narrow opening.
Sara shrugged. "I guess. I don't think he's quite as well as he'd like us to believe, but he will be." That last part was mostly for herself, but it worked for Catherine, too.
"He will be," she agreed. "Hey, I've got a crappy favor to ask. Do you mind taking a D.B.?"
"What? Now?" Catherine expected her to just forget about Nick and investigate a murder?
"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, but we're kind of tapped out. Especially with Nick out." A shadow fell over Catherine's face, and she looked at the ground. "It pertains to the case," she said.
"What does? The body?" Sara was confused.
"The vic is Judy Miller."
"Miller." Something clicked in Sara's mind. "Isn't that the woman that – "
"Yeah." Catherine looked out into the hall and down at her watch with the air of someone who was trying to hurry something unpleasant along, but Sara knew that she was just stressed out, and she could relate.
"Wow. Um, okay, that's a little unexpected." Sara turned her chair. It was getting an annoying having to look over her shoulder.
Catherine took the hint and cautiously stepped into the room, just as cautiously avoiding eye contact with Sara.
Sara sighed. "Catherine, I'm not mad at you, though I might have a reason to be. There are more important things going on."
Catherine seemed surprised by Sara's mini-outburst. "No, no…it's not that. I just can't…" She looked away. "I just can't see him like this. Not already." Catherine bit her lip.
Sara realized that it was in an attempt to keep tears in. "I know. It's hard for me, too."
The two women shared a silent moment before Sara cleared her throat. "I guess I'll head out then." She turned back to Nick, still sleeping, and rubbed his arm. "Get better, okay?" she ordered him quietly, not enough to rouse him.
Catherine held out a slip of paper. "Address," she said simply.
Sara took the paper and moved past Catherine. "I'll see you later," she said as she slipped through the door.
"Take Greg with you."
Sara raised an arm in acknowledgement and continued down the hall. "Let's go, Sanders," she said as she came upon the guys in the hall.
Greg stood. "Right behind you."
They said their goodbyes to Warrick, the whole exchange seeming very somber. Sara and Greg heading out to a crime scene, Catherine and Warrick waiting to endure the inevitable wrath of Gil Grissom.
Sara did not envy their position.
Warrick watched Sara and Greg leave and remained standing in the middle of the hall. He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be doing. Catherine had already sent people over to the Miller house, and there was nothing to do with the evidence they had pertaining to Nathaniel Walsh's murder until they heard from someone in the lab. He had an itchy trigger finger and nowhere to shoot. And no one. Not yet.
Reflexively, Warrick looked down at his pager. It was silent, and displayed only the time. "What now?" he said out loud.
He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to find out who had hurt his friend and make them pay. However, he wasn't sure that was the way to stay in what little of Grissom's good graces he had left. He was already in the doghouse, and ignoring protocol would not be the wisest thing to do.
Warrick frowned, turning back towards Nick's room. Catherine hadn't come out yet. He was waiting for her so he could find out what in the hell he was supposed to be doing. It was hard to focus on anything at the moment, and he shifted anxiously from foot to foot. He just kept replaying finding Nick at the bottom of the stairs in his head, not his most pleasant of memories.
Catherine emerged suddenly from the door down the hall and put a hand to her face.
Warrick felt his heart drop. He went to her and folded her into his arms. It was a hug of friendship and comfort, and nothing more.
Catherine sobbed into his shoulder, and he tried to calm her down. "Shh," he said soothingly. "He's gonna be okay. You need to be strong, you hear?" He felt some kind of movement in his armpit and assumed it was a nod.
Catherine raised her head and wiped her eyes, laughing at the mascara that came away on her fingers. "I know. It's just so hard to see him in there like that…again."
Warrick said nothing, but squeezed her shoulder. He, himself was trying hard to keep his emotions reigned in. That's what she needed the most from him at the moment.
Catherine smiled up at him with slightly red eyes. "Thanks."
He smiled back and wiped a smudge from her cheek. "Let's find out who did this, okay?"
Catherine nodded. "We have to get back to the lab."
"Okay." Warrick let Catherine lead the way, so he could take a moment to collect himself before going out into the world again. He had to be strong for her, for Nick, for everyone.
If Warrick had to be the glue that held everyone together, then so be it. It would keep him from falling apart.
"You want a Coke?" Greg asked, looking out of the passenger side window as they passed a convenience store.
Sara glanced over and shook her head. "No. Do you?"
Greg shrugged. "I don't know," he mumbled.
He wasn't even sure why he had spoken, except to break the silence. He was doing that a lot lately. Breaking the silence, playing the role of the comic relief. It was okay, it had kind of come to be expected of him, and he had eventually come to fit into the role.
Greg wished he had a time machine so he could go back in time and do some things over, stop worrying about the stupid little things in his life. He had come to realize that his life was cake. While Nick had been pushed down a flight of stairs and landed hurt and unconscious, what had Greg been doing? Worrying about the girls finding out where his coffee was.
He was disgusted with himself. Even more so because he hadn't been able to build up the courage to go in and see Nick, and he wasn't even sure exactly why that was. With the exception of a row of stitches in his forehead, Nick wouldn't have looked that bad. So it had to be something else. Maybe a reminder of how fragile the whole concept of life was. Or maybe that was trying to be too deep, and it was just as simple as this: Greg hated hospitals.
That was it, plain and simple. His stay a few years ago had been short, but painful and nerve-wracking, and he just couldn't be in one of those rooms again. Even to be there for someone else. He was doubly disgusted. At least the others had been polite and not mentioned it, but he was sure they were all thinking about how selfish he was.
Greg stared out of the window, watching as the passing buildings gave way to housing editions. They were getting close, and he was going crazy in the silence. Time to play the tension-breaker again.
"So what in the hell do you think is going on here?" he asked.
Sara stiffened.
Okay, minus one point for the tension-breaker, Greg thought. He saw her hands tighten on the wheel.
"I don't know," she said. "I mean, I guess we assume the two murders are related and we go from there."
"Same murderer," Greg said to himself. "We'll have to see." He looked out of the window again. "Do you think the killer attacked Nick?" The question came out before he realized how nonchalant he sounded and immediately regretted it.
Sara gripped the wheel even tighter, her knuckles, along with her face, white. Greg wasn't sure if it was the word "killer" or "attacked," but Sara had definitely reacted.
"Sorry," he said.
"You're fine," she said, but it didn't sound like she meant it. "I just…can we not talk about it right now?"
"Yeah. Sure." Greg drummed his fingers on the armrest.
Sara squinted but didn't tell him to stop.
He checked an upcoming street sign with the address on the piece of paper he was holding and pointed. "There it is."
They came to a stop at a small clapboard house only two streets over from the house where the Walshes lived.
The body was in the living room, sprawling on the carefully varnished hardwood floor in front of the sectional sofa. Greg pulled out his camera and started snapping photos. He made sure to get extra shots of the bullet hole in her chest. While he took pictures, Sara walked slowly around the room, taking in the scene.
"Looks like a struggle," she said.
Greg looked up to see what she was talking about. Several books had been knocked off of the bookshelf, and there was a glass of something spilled on the coffee table. Smelled like alcohol. He turned to the officer at the door. "Where's the husband?"
"Brass took him in for questioning. He was saying something about how he found her when he got home from work and that Brian or somebody did it."
Sara looked over, her eyes narrow. "Ryan?" she asked the officer. "Ryan Walsh?"
The officer snapped his fingers. "Yeah, that was it. The guy was completely out of it, but it kept saying that it was Ryan."
Sara looked sharply at Greg. "We need to find some goddamned evidence right now," she said, not sounding at all like herself.
So much so, in fact, that it took Greg a moment to respond. He managed only to nod, and turned back to his camera. The flash of the bulb reflected back at him from a spot near the body, and Greg lowered the camera. He snapped on a glove and knelt, reaching under the couch.
"Hey, Sara," he said, studying his find.
"Yeah?"
He held up the handgun for her to see. "Will this help?"
Catherine busied herself with straightening her office. Of course, there was nothing to straighten, because she was by nature neat and organized, so she was basically just pushing papers around on her desk and rearranging pens, her hands trembling slightly, from exhaustion, anxiety, and the fact she'd barely eaten the past couple of days.
She looked up at the clock on the wall. It was nearing eleven. She had been on for nearly two straight days, and for the first time, was really starting to feel it. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to shower. She wanted to eat. She settled for changing shirts and grabbing a granola bar and coffee from the break room.
On the way back to her office, Mia flagged her down. Catherine sipped her coffee as she opened the door, willing her hands to settle in the presence of another person. "What's up?"
Mia picked up a couple of papers from her desk. "After restoring order to the DNA lab," she said, annoyance apparent, "I got time to run those samples that Nick dropped off."
This was news to Catherine; she didn't know that Nick had dropped off any evidence to be processed, and she told Mia as much.
Mia shrugged. "Yeah, it was here when I came in, labeled to be processed for DNA. Didn't say whose it was, though."
Catherine frowned. "That's not like Nick. What was it?"
Mia gestured to a sealed evidence bag sitting on the counter. "A plastic cup. I'm not sure where he got it."
Catherine thought for a moment. "I'm drawing a blank." She took another drink of her coffee. "Well, what are the results?"
Mia handed her the paper. "I pulled two different samples, one male, one female. No hits in the system on either, but there was a note on the bag to compare it to…" She surveyed the countertop. "The results from this gum." She held up the jar.
Catherine nodded. "From our original scene."
"Sure. Anyways, it looks like the male DNA donor from the cup is related to our gum chewer." She handed Catherine another paper. "Father, brother, son?"
Catherine looked over the results. "Well, it's not a son. The gum was from a kid." She looked over at the bagged cup. "I wonder where Nick got that," she said.
Mia raised an eyebrow. "It would have helped if it had been labeled properly."
Catherine frowned at the lab tech. Considering the circumstances, the tech's customary clinical way of speaking seemed inconsiderate. "Thanks, Mia."
She headed back to her office, planning to enjoy her snack, when her cell phone rang. It was Gil. Catherine groaned. Show time. "Hey, Gil," she said.
"I'll be at the lab in twenty minutes."
That was it. No greeting, no inquiry. Catherine checked her watch. "Okay – "
"Meet me in my office. Be sure to tell Warrick."
The call ended. Catherine stared at the small screen for a moment before flipping shut the phone. "Great," she said under her breath. "Can't wait."
To be continued...