The new bed he was on was barely more comfortable than the one he'd slept in last time, but at least the sheets and blanket were clean and smelled good. He'd been stripped of his clothes, the doctor's and nurse's efficient maneuvering minimizing any embarrassment he may have felt, and truth be told, he was too tired to protest or help in their efforts anyways. He'd been given a sheet and a scratchy navy blue blanket to cover up with and he folded up on his side to go back to sleep.
"Sorry, Nick. Not ready to let you sleep quite yet."
Nick. Not 'T'. Was going to take some getting used to.
The doctor was back; her calm voice with its Spanish lilt was comforting. And it was the first comfort he'd felt in so very long.
He'd wandered the streets of Vegas for an unknown amount of time after his phone calls. It was all a blur of lights and faces walking past him. He'd gotten a few sneers from nicely dressed people out on the town as he'd wandered into a more populated area, past girly shows and casinos. He'd brushed past them silently, allowing their insults without response. He'd tired easily and stopped whenever a bench appeared, or in quiet alleyways where he could collapse against the side of a building and rest.
As morning came the heat of day pounded on his head and back worse than any fists or weapons and his strength had ebbed in pace with the rising of the sun.
His wanderings had brought him to a small city park. Jungle gym. Roundabout. A few wooden plank swings. A dirty looking sandbox. And several benches, one of which was tucked in behind a copse of trees.
He had headed for the bench and sat, watching a few mothers play with toddlers in the morning sun. A few of the moms had thrown him funny looks and once, as a small boy had wandered his way, the mother had jumped up and grabbed the kid, ignoring his protesting squeals, and pulled him by the hand back to the swings.
He felt badly scaring the moms, but he didn't have the strength to move on. And he had no place to move on to. He had thirty some cents in the pocket of his dirty jeans. He had no knowledge of friends or family. He couldn't even make it back to the fixit shop he realized, as he had no real idea what path he had taken and had never gotten the address. He didn't even know Alberto's last name, or the name of the shop.
Without realizing it he had begun to laugh. A pathetic, tired, half sobbing laugh but as it grew he felt eyes on him and looked up to find the few remaining moms giving him the wooly eye.
Crazy homeless guy laughing to himself on a park bench.
The thought had made him laugh harder, tears coming out of his eyes. It was short-lived. Sapped him of any remaining stamina he'd had til he rolled over on his side with a groan and curled up on the park bench, the sun's rays barely shaded by the leaves above.
He'd been awakened a short time later by harsh voices and something hard cruelly poking him in his already sore ribs. He saw two men hovering over him, one of them wielding the baton that was hurting him.
He had tried to grab the nightstick, to push it away, but the baton was wrenched from his grasp and moments later he saw it descending back towards his face. He threw up his arms together over his head and the nightstick struck his forearms in a fiery burst of pain. He braced for another strike but the second man had grabbed his attacker's arm and yelled at him to stop. He heard the two men fighting between themselves, then hands grabbed him and dragged him over to a patrol car where he was thrust into the back seat.
His next memory was of a different man, this one in a suit, hovering over him in the jail cell. He'd responded the same way, by using his arms as a shield, expecting to be hit again, but this man had been kind.
He was the first to call him Nick. And he kept calling him Nick while he talked to him and as he sat in the ambulance next to him. It wasn't until they'd talked a bit that the man said his name was Sam.
He had waited on the gurney while Sam and a female doctor had talked quietly in the corner. When she came over, she called him Mr. Stokes.
It felt so good to be able to smile, and ask her to call him Nick.
She'd told him her name, and given him a quick once over. She asked him a bunch of questions that he didn't have the answers to. He apologized each time he had to say, "I don't know."
When the exam light was turned on it was a repeat of when Alberto had flipped on the light back at the repair shop. The doctor had been very solicitous and she'd whispered reassuringly in his ear while he waited through the pain. The halos and lights returned after his vision cleared and the pain eased to the normal throb.
She'd then taken a pair of scissors and cut off the fabric bandage from his arm. When it ripped away from the flesh it had melded to he swore at the pain, then quickly apologized again to the doctor for his harsh word. She had smiled at him and laughed gently. Told him to go ahead and swear as much as he cared to. He fell asleep while she worked on his arm.
A short time later he had awakened to find a tall black man with green eyes had entered the room. He called him Nick, too. He wore what appeared to be a police officer's badge around his neck. The badge glinted in the exam room light, its reflection couched in the now familiar halo, and he reached out a hand to brush the cold metal surface. He'd been so unsure of what was real for so long, and at its touch he felt grounded.
He'd suffered through the pictures and the indignity of being undressed and now he just wanted to sleep. And yet here she was, the doctor's voice back in his ear, telling him he couldn't sleep yet. She poked and prodded and asked him more questions and made him sit back up so she could look at his back. Then she let him lay back and close his eyes. He opened them as he felt her lift his right hand.
She took out a cotton-topped wooden stick and swabbed at the bite mark on his hand. He watched for a moment until his heavy lids closed once more.
"I, um, already washed my hands. I washed that out."
"Okay, Nick. Why are you telling me this?"
He paused. Wasn't really sure why. But what she was doing looked so familiar.
"Dunno. Just seemed like you should know."
He felt her pause and opened his eyes to see her looking at him with a small smile on her face.
"What?"
"Nothing, Nick. So. You ready to go for a ride?"
"Where to?"
"More pictures." She smiled gently at the look of consternation on his face. "Not to worry. These are of your head. And you get to lay down for them."
" 'Kay. So that guy who was in here before? The cop who said he works with me? That true?"
"From what I understand, yes. You both work with the police. Why?"
"Can I…can I, um, talk to him a second?"
"Sure. I'll have him come back in. Just rest for a bit. I'll send him in, okay?"
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Warrick left the room after having bagged the fabric bandage and slipping it into his pocket. He initially headed back to the nurses' station, but not seeing either of his colleagues there he gave the busy waiting room a quick scan. He saw Catherine sitting in a hard plastic seat off to the side staring at the cell phone in her hand. He wandered over and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up in mild surprise. Gave him a sad smile and ran her hand up his arm and back down to give his hand a quick squeeze.
"Hey, there."
"Hey, Cath. Where's Grissom?"
"He got a call from Brass. They ran down the payphone Nick's call came in from last night. I guess he's headed out there. So how did it go in there?"
"You were right. Man, he is looking rough. And it's so damn eerie the way he looks at you and there's nothing there, you know?"
"Yeah. I know. Did the doctor say anything more?"
"Nah. I, um, got pictures. He looks like he was worked over by the guy who killed our Jane, plus a few others. And that arm…that's no bullet wound."
"Yeah. We've seen enough of those to know, I guess, huh?"
"Yeah. No doubt." He ran a frustrated hand along the back of his neck, grimacing at the sweat that came off on his hand.
"Man, don't they have any A/C for this place?"
"Probably not in the budget, Rick. X-Ray or A/C is probably what it came down to. You think we should inquire about moving Nick uptown to the Desert Palms?"
"Nah. Doc here seems competent enough, and Nick seems to like her. Trust her, I mean. And I think that's probably what he needs more than anything right now. Can you imagine what it would be like, Cath? To look at me, or Linds and not know us?"
"I'd like to think I'd always remember my daughter, Rick. But I don't know. I mean, the brain's a funny organ, you know." She paused to give his question more thought and played with a piece of her hair as she considered it. "I think I would be mighty lonely."
"Yeah. The doc's in there now- finishing up with him. With his clothes and stuff. I just couldn't…"
"I know, Rick. I know."
He sank into the plastic chair next to her with an explosive sigh and covered his face with his hands. Catherine reached a hand around and rubbed his back and shoulders gently through his damp shirt.
They remained that way until they noticed the doctor approaching them.
Warrick quickly straightened in his chair and gave his face a quick swipe.
He'd been happy to let the doctor finish the rest of the exam to give his friend some dignity but his greatest fear was that she'd find something else he'd need to capture with his camera.
His stomach dropped and his heart crystallized into a lump of ice as the doctor asked him to come back in the room. He dashed a quick look at Catherine and noted the look of dawning horror on her face.
The doctor caught the look as well and realized where their thoughts were probably headed. She knew they saw all kinds of victims in their line of work and were probably used to expecting the worst.
She gave a small reassuring smile and put out a hand to touch Warrick's arm.
"He's fine. Everything is fine. I've got his clothes bagged for you. But he's actually asking to talk to you."
"Yeah? Great. Do you know why?"
"No. Why don't you ask him? Go on in. We'll be bringing him up to Imaging shortly, but there's always a delay. Go ahead."
He dashed a quick look at Catherine who gave him an encouraging smile, her eyebrows raised in surprise, and nodded her head.
As he entered the room he opened the door partway and gave a light knock, poking his head through the opening. He saw Nick was now propped part way up on the half raised gurney, a sheet and blue blanket pulled up to his chest. His eyes were closed but they fluttered open at the knock and he flashed Warrick a tired smile.
"Hey, Bro. You wanted to see me?" he asked as he eased the door shut behind him.
"Yeah."
Warrick waited for him to go on. He saw him struggle to sit up a bit straighter, pulling the blanket up to his neck and up over his uninjured arm.
"Yeah. Look, I need help with something and I'm not sure if you can help…"
"Anything, Bro. What's up?"
"I have a friend who might be in trouble. She… she's missing."
Warrick's fists clenched as he realized where this was going. There was no way he could tell Nick about the girl. Not this way. But he knew he needed more information.
He cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice casual.
"Missing, huh? Who is she?"
"Her name is Mari. Maria. I think she was with me when…"
"Okay. Mari what?"
Nick gave his head a small shake, grimacing at the pain it elicited.
"I don't know. Just Mari. She um, she works at a restaurant. She's uh, in the country illegally, I think."
"Maybe she's home."
"Nah. Her family hasn't seen her either."
"Her family? She has family?"
"Yeah, uh…brothers. Two brothers. And a grandfather, I think. The rest of her family is back in Mexico."
"What does she look like, Nick?"
Nick closed his eyes and sighed, ran his tongue across parched lips and pulled the blanket up tighter. Warrick noticed he was shivering under the covers.
"She's, uh, like thirty, maybe. Long brown curly hair. She smells like onions sometimes," he said, a small smile crooking up the corners of his mouth.
Warrick could tell that Nick was fading fast, but he was desperate to try to pull more information from his friend.
"Nick?" He touched his leg and shook it gently to try to bring his friend's attention back.
Brown eyes flew back open and fought to focus.
"Sorry. I'm really tired. I haven't slept in…"
"Yeah? In how long, Nick? Do you know when …this…happened?" he asked, waving his hands over Nick's form on the gurney.
"I think…ummm…sorry. Time's kinda fuzzy for me." He bent his head to look at the window and as Warrick followed his gaze he noted that evening was approaching. "I guess night before last. No. That's not right. Three nights ago."
"Okay. So where have you been since then, Nick?"
"Umm. Not sure. Walking."
He turned his head away and wouldn't meet Warrick's eyes for the first time since he'd re-entered the room. It was also the first time that he got the impression that Nick was deliberately keeping something from him.
"You have new bruises, Nick. What happened?"
"Umm, they, uh, rousted me from a park bench. I had been sleeping. I guess there's a law against sleeping on park benches." He gave a small laugh that turned into a cough and he groaned and pulled the blanket up tighter to his chin. "Damn, it's cold in here. Think you could ask the doc if I could have another blanket?"
Warrick pulled the fabric of the front of his shirt away from his sweat soaked body. It had to be over eighty in the room.
"Yeah. No problem, Bro. I'll, um, get the doc and ask her, okay?"
His only response was a small nod as Nick curled up on his side and closed his eyes.
Warrick waited a few minutes to see if his friend was going to wake up, to say anything more. He heard Nick's breathing even out and realized he was out like a light.
He turned and as he headed back to the door he noted a hospital issue plastic bag sitting on the counter. He walked over and pulled it open to find Nick's clothes. He grabbed the bag, threw a final look at his friend's sleeping form, and headed out the door.