Disclaimer: Haven't done one of these in ten chapters, and I thought I might as well remind you (and myself) that CSI, unfortunately, does not belong to me.
A/N: An update in less than three weeks? Wow, what's up with me?
---Warning: Long Boring A/N---
To my non-Snicker lovin' reviewers: In the last batch of reviews, a couple people expressed a disinterest in the Snickers ship. That's fine. Hell, I don't like every ship either, and I'm a firm believer in saying what you've gotta say. Honest reviews are the best reviews. But, I love my readers, I really do. And I'd hate to lose some of ya'll over shipperdom. So just for the record, chapter eighteen was probably the largest amount of Snickers you will see in this fic.
ETA: Okay, that's what I get for trying to make sense at three a.m on four hours of sleep. What I mean was that there will be more Snickers, but not as much as in chapter eighteen.
To the Snicker cliquers who may read this: If for some reason you feel the urge to retaliate on behalf of your ship (be honest, some of you were thinking it. Us shippers are a volatile bunch), please don't. It's not that serious.
And now that I've overreacted sufficiently, lol, I'll shut up.
Chapter Nineteen: The Eye's Have It
The moment Schilner and Wolf finished updating them on both Catherine and the baby's condition, Warrick and Grissom began making calls. Cell phone usage was prohibited within the hospital, so they were forced to endure the chill of the night as they dutifully called their friends and colleagues.
Warrick speed dialed Catherine's house, number three on his list, the shrill ring barely sounding in his ear before the call was answered.
"Hello?" Lily sounded harried and wide-awake, and Warrick doubted she'd slept much if at all.
"Hey, Lily," Warrick barely finished his greeting before she cut him off.
"Warrick? Has something happened? Is Catherine alright?"
"Catherine is fine," he broke in, his voice calm, reassuring in its tone. "She just got out of surgery."
"Oh, God," she sighed in relief. "Its only been a few hours. You calling this early….I thought something had gone wrong."
"No, things went better than they'd hoped. That's why they were able to finish so soon. They say we'll be able to see her briefly in an hour or so."
Lily let out another relieved sigh. "I'm just glad my baby's okay."
"Yeah," he agreed, silently adding and mine too.
"Let me tell Sam. He just dozed off…"
"Alright," Warrick nodded. "I'll see you when you get here." He told her goodbye and pressed END. He heard Grissom's sigh and the soft click of his phone closing and glanced up.
"Something up?"
Grissom shook his head no even as he absently explained, "Greg's on his way, but Sofia's car won't start. She thinks the battery is dead, so I'm going to go get her."
Warrick nodded. "Okay. I'll let Nick and Sara know what's up."
Grissom gave him a nod and headed for the parking lot, his gait quick.
Warrick, deciding that Sara would kill him if she were the last person to receive a call, speed-dialed her house. As he pressed the Motorola cell phone to his ear, he turned to face the glass entrance doors, keeping an eye on Lindsay. She sat staring at the TV, obviously bored with whatever was on the screen. The phone rang once…twice…three times…by the fifth ring he was ready to hang up.
"Yeah?" Sara's groggy voice sounded muffled on the phone. He was pretty sure he'd woken her up.
"Hey, Sara. It's me. Catherine's out of surgery, she's doing great. Everything went off without a hitch. We can see her in an hour."
Another sigh, the fourth in less than ten minutes, reached his ears. "Good. I'll be there in twenty-minutes, tops."
"Okay. You gonna call Nick? Your truck's still at the lab, right?"
"Oh, right." She hesitated. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll call him."
"Okay. See you in a minute, then."
They clicked off and Warrick headed back inside.
-x-
Sara set the cordless phone blindly on the nightstand with a soft thump and stared into the inky blackness surrounding her, blinking slowly. She'd been sleeping surprisingly well and cobwebs still clung to the recesses of her mind. She ran a hand over her face and lay there until they cleared away. It took a few moments, but was necessary. She had to be clear-headed when she dealt with Nick.
She reached out, her aim once again blind, but still managed to hit her target.
"Nicky? Wake up. Cath's out of surgery…"
-x-
Less than forty minutes later everyone had again gathered in the ER's waiting room, with the exception of Brass, who was still working the case he'd been called in on. The atmosphere amongst the group was entirely different from that of earlier, relief and quiet anticipation having replaced worry and fear.
Lindsay could barely stay seated, so strong was her relief. No one could fault the girl, though. They all felt quite similar and wished they could be as unabashedly happy as she. But age and decorum kept their expressions of joy to small relieved smiles and lighter-hearted small talk.
Schilner appeared another fifteen minutes later, sans the 'remarkable Doctor Wolf'.
"Ah," he said with a genial smile. "The gang's all here. Let me just run through the—for lack of a better word—the rules, and then the first two people can go on up."
"You're allowed to visit for up to five minutes. Try not to over-stimulate her. She's been through a lot tonight and though she may seem to be alert and just like she usually is, she's not. The effects of drugs, although having lifted somewhat, are still in place. One second she will be completely coherent and articulate, and the next she may barely be able to keep her eyes open. And the stress of the accident itself will definitely have an influence in this as well. Her body, for the next few days, will be demanding its rest so that she can recuperate."
He took a breath, "Aside from that, she'll be hooked up to monitors, which can be disconcerting, and she has some bruising on her face and body as well as some bandages. This is only natural, and believe me, it looks worse than it really is. Don't freak out. That's the last thing she needs, and I want you all to be prepared." He eyed the group before giving them a reassuring smile. "So…who's first?"
-x-
They'd decided as a group that Lindsay and Warrick should be the first to go so that Lindsay could get home and get some rest. Lindsay's expression told them all what she thought of going home now, but to her credit she didn't say anything, remembering what her grandmother had told her.
The pair had followed Schilner to the elevators, standing to one side as he pushed the button for floor six. Warrick had tensed imperceptibly as they slowed to a stop at floor four, relaxing only when a chubby and friendly looking older nurse with frizzy blonde hair joined them, giving them all a pleasant smile. He'd spotted neither Tina nor David during the short stop and was glad of it.
He'd pushed the pair from his mind and focused all attention on the sixth floor.
The chime of the bell alerted them that they'd reached their floor and everyone but the nurse piled out into another brightly lit corridor. The walls here were yellow also, but unlike in Pediatrics, the color was muted, a soft, buttery shade that lent more to calm than cheer.
Warrick had been to Recovery more times than he cared to count, interviewing victims or criminals or collecting evidence. He'd never been there as a visitor before, though. Not in the true sense of the word. With work, there was detachment. Now there were more emotions involved than he could think to name, although apprehension, tension, and relief topped the list. And also, if he were completely honest with himself, a little bit of anger.
She hadn't told him that she was pregnant with his child and try as he might to keep in mind what she must have been going through, it still rankled him. After all, it was his baby too, and he should have been the first person she told. He had a right to know, didn't he?
He was pushing those thoughts aside when Doctor Schilner stopped in front of room 627 and turned to face them. "Remember," he said, "this isn't TV where people come out of surgery looking rested and refreshed. She's gonna look like she was in an accident. But like I said earlier, it looks worse than it is." Schilner gently touched Lindsay's shoulder as he spoke, a comforting and strengthening gesture and though he had addressed them both, Warrick knew this second speech was more for Lindsay's benefit than his own.
"I'll alert the nurses that you're here. And remember: five minutes. She needs her rest."
Lindsay and Warrick nodded, watching as Schilner walked to the nurses station. Warrick then turned his attention to Lindsay.
"Hey, Linds? You mind me going in by myself for a minute? See how she is?" See if she had something to say…
Lindsay looked up at him, remembering that she'd spilled the baby beans.
Warrick read the slight panic that appeared in her eyes and gave her a grin. "It's cool, Lindsay. Your mom's not gonna be upset. Promise."
"Okay," Lindsay said after a moment's consideration. She trusted him, believed his words. "I'll wait here," she added, leaning against the wall.
"Thanks," he said, reaching out and ruffling her hair.
"Warrick!" she groaned, ducking out of his reach and smoothing her hair.
He chuckled, remembering how a few short years ago she used to have a giggle fit when he did that. "Sorry. Force of habit."
Lindsay rolled her eyes, but was smiling. "Right."
He reached for the knob, and, for him, all lightheartedness ceased.
-x-
Catherine had been awake, or, more aptly put, lucid for roughly thirty minutes now. She couldn't be sure, because when you were in the hospital hours and minutes had a way of running together, especially when you were loopy on painkillers and anesthetic, but half an hour seemed about right. Incidentally, considering what the doctor had told her about the extent of her injuries, she was forever indebted to the creators of the wonderful liquid relief being steadily pumped into her veins. She felt like hell as it was, and couldn't begin to imagine how much worse it would be without the drugs.
The majority of her injuries throbbed with a dull ache that proved more annoying than painful, and if you asked her, irritating beat excruciating any day. Her right arm, however, was completely numb, and the doctor had told her she'd dislocated it. She'd nodded when he'd told her, thinking sardonically that would explain the sling.
Before hearing about any of her injuries, though, or the surgery or anything else for that matter, she'd asked about the baby.
"A fighter like his mother," said a nurse who was busy shooting something into her IV with a frighteningly long needle.
The doctor, Schiller or Schandler, or something—she'd been too concerned and slightly delusional to really pick up on it—had quickly agreed, setting to work on allaying her fears. As far as he could tell, the baby "never knew anything had happened."
His reply had calmed her, though she was sure they'd put something in the IV to get her this tranquil. The doctor didn't supply that information and she didn't ask. Instead, he'd begun telling her about her surgery and all the subsequent information such as medications and recovery time—she'd be laid up for a month. A month!— and she knew she'd go stir crazy for sure. He'd wrapped up his homily by informing her that her family and friends were in the waiting area and that they could come up if she felt up to it. She'd said of course and for the past fifteen or so minutes she'd waited.
Now, she heard footsteps stop within a few feet of her door. Muted voices traveled through the windowless wood panel but she couldn't make out words or to whom the voices belonged. Just the rise and fall of two, maybe three, people talking.
The words stopped and the door slowly swung inward and she immediately recognized the tall, lanky figure coming through the doorway, gaze still on the door itself. She felt a tired half smile twitch into place.
"Hey," she said, her voice groggy and scratchy from a combination of drugs, fatigue and the tube they'd put down her throat during surgery.
He looked up, tired eyes met hers and, instantly, she saw it.
He hadn't said it. Hadn't said a word, actually, and he looked pretty much like he always had, save for the fatigue coming off him in waves. But it was there, in his eyes, and she saw it.
He knew.
A/N2: Alrighty, I'm just wonderin' what you guys are thinking.