DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, and I'm not making any money off them. I'm just playing.
Afterwards, Catherine was glad that she had the night off when the call came in. It meant that Grissom and Greg got the two dead girls and Catherine got called to Desert Palm to do her "people person" thing. It was a hell of a task, but she would rather have done that than see the real aftermath of what had happened in that deserted factory.
Her instructions from Grissom were to "try and do something with Sara." Catherine couldn't help feeling that Grissom was relieved to be dealing with the dead people in this situation, rather than live ones. He didn't acknowledge her when she said she'd been intending to take Lindsey out for breakfast before school, spend some quality time with her daughter for a change. He just said, in a dull tone, that he needed her.
Catherine hauled herself out of bed and went.
She was, after all, the people person.
The streets were nearly deserted, as was usually the case with the suburb around Desert Palm at two in the morning. Catherine, though focusing mostly on the road, seized the chance of easy driving for a little thought. To say she was angry, she thought, would have been inadequate. She'd been woken up in the middle of her night off to deal with a situation that had arisen through someone else's stupidity.
Pulling into the hospital parking lot, Catherine turned the Tahoe's key and sat for a few moments, gathering her thoughts and trying to dull the anger. This wasn't the time, or the place for overt displays of emotion. The media would no doubt be lurking around, and she wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of getting any more dirt on CSI.
As for Sara and Nick could just wait until the hospital let them go - assuming, of course, that Ecklie and the Sheriff didn't get to them first, Catherine thought as she strode into the emergency room.
Catherine was familiar with blood. It came with the territory, after all; so much so she'd become almost immune to the sight of blood.
Despite herself, despite the fact that blood came so normally to her, despite the fact that she wasn't inclined to be sympathetic to Sara, she couldn't help a low exclamation when she found her co-worker sitting on the edge of a bed in a small cubicle and arguing with the nurse.
Catherine's immediate thought, which proved to be correct, was that there was no way all that blood could be Sara's. It wasn't - some was Nick's, and some belonged to the two dead girls - but the possibility that it was all hers was disturbing. Her right cheek had several stitches along what was clearly a deep cut running down to her jawbone and everything she was wearing seemed to have large quantities of blood on it.
Sara was insisting that nothing was wrong when Catherine, vaguely brandishing her credentials at the nurse, entered. "I just need to go home and sleep, and I will be fine."
The nurse seemed to be fairly equal to Sara. "I would not advise you to go anywhere until we've sewn you up."
"I don't need to be - " Sara stopped when spotted Catherine. "I'm fine, aren't I?"
"With that much blood on you?"
"Where's Nick?"
"I don't know."
"Catherine, I need - " Sara broke off her sentence again, but Catherine hadn't been designated the people person for nothing.
"I don't think you're getting anywhere near Nick till you're fit to leave the hospital."
The nurse stepped in again, probably with the hope that now Catherine was here, Sara would be more co-operative. "Sara, if you want to get out of here you need to let us see where you're hurt."
"Sara."
"Fine." Sara pulled her shirt over her head in one swift movement, balled it up, and threw it on the floor. She wasn't quick enough to disguise the look of pain on her face.
Catherine tried to look away, but there was as much blood on Sara's skin as there had been on her shirt, and most of it seemed to be coming from a nasty cut on her left breast, above her bra. That was going to leave a scar.
"All right. I'll get that cleaned up, Sara, but I think you're going to need stitches."
Catherine let her eyes flit around the cubicle, trying to find something, anything to look at, rather than Sara sitting there in a blood-soaked bra. They'd never really been friends. They'd been out together, just the two of them, only once, and that after Sara had discovered that her boyfriend had been using her to cheat on his long-term partner. Catherine remembered the awkwardness of that evening spent in a small bar off the Strip, and how they hadn't quite known how to talk to each other. It had always been like that with them.
There were so many things Catherine wanted to say, about stupidity, and responsibility, but the first thing that came to mind was the memory of an explosion, and Greg lying pale and quiet in a hospital bed. She looked at Sara, who looked like a scared, guilty, vulnerable child, took a deep breath, and tried to forget that they weren't friends. She put a hand on Sara's shoulder, noted how cold she felt, and said, inadequately, "It'll be okay."
Sara shrugged Catherine's hand away, and then brushed at her eyes. "It's not okay." Sara pressed her hand to her mouth for a few moments, then removed it. "Can you find Nick? Please?"
The nurse, who was almost finished with the stitches, looked up at Catherine. "Who's Nick?" she asked.
"Sara's - " Catherine paused, and then used the two words together for the first time. " - boyfriend. He came in with her."
The nurse sighed, and her eyes met Catherine's. "If the nurses have finished with him - "
Catherine nodded. "Thanks."
It was a relief to be out of that cubicle. The air seemed somehow fresher out here, less to do with blood and Sara and what felt like Catherine's sudden uselessness as the "people person". Moving around the emergency room, all her senses alert in her search for Nick, she saw two uniformed policemen, whom she knew, questioning two teenaged boys in a corner. They were clearly homeless, more than likely part of the gang that based itself around the old deserted factory. She swallowed, and kept going.
The next familiar figure was Warrick, leaning against a wall with his eyes closed. No doubt, if it was Catherine's job to cope with Sara, Grissom had made it Warrick's job to deal with Nick. "Hey," she said, more grateful than she had ever expected for the friendly face. "Fancy seeing you here."
Warrick's eyes met hers for a moment and he smiled. Catherine caught herself, unexpectedly, smiling back. He always had that effect on her. "Yeah," he said. "Fancy that."
"So, you got Nick hidden away anywhere round here?"
Warrick shook his head. "Police have taken him back to the station. I'm supposed to be processing these kids when the police are done with them."
"We're covering our backs, huh? This is such a mess. Whole thing's going to go to hell." Catherine rubbed her forehead.
"Yup."
"How's Nick?"
"He's got twelve stitches."
"Sara's probably got more."
Warrick sighed. "Shit. This is a disaster."
Agreeing wholeheartedly, Catherine nodded. "Tell me about it. I don't know how the hell Nick could possibly have been so stupid."
"I notice you're not asking that about Sara. How is she?"
Catherine sighed. "Oh, who knows?"
"Shit," said Warrick again.
Catherine sighed again. She was tired, and hungry, and there was nothing she wanted to do less than go back to Sara, and then, later, probably have to speak to the media, who would be all over this like a pack of rabid dogs. "Well, I suppose I get to tell Sara she can't see Nick yet."
"Rather you than me."
"Ha. Thanks. I'll see you later, okay?"
"Yeah. See ya," said Warrick, flashing another grin. Catherine wondered, as she walked, how it was he managed to still be smiling.
Sara was in a hospital gown now, and lying on her side as the nurse stitched up yet another deep cut, this one on her hip. She tensed as Catherine came in, but as Nick didn't follow the look of disappointment in her eyes was obvious. "Where's Nick?"
"The police have taken him back to the station. Sorry."
Sara tried to shrug. "It's okay," she said dully.
Catherine sighed, took up a post in the corner of the room, and waited.
To Be Continued...