Author: Signs Of Sun
Series Title: Touched By Gravity
Genre: General/Angst (Series)
Characters: Nick and Sara. Whole team although light on Greg.
Spoilers: None for future episodes, but a few references to past seasons.
Notes: Thanks everyone for the reviews! Much appreciated. Here's a nice long chapter for you. Enjoy!
Summary: Nick's investigation of a case is abruptly interrupted. It may take a little teamwork to solve the case without him in the picture. Or is he really? Just might he still be able to provide an essential connection to the truth?
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Touched By Gravity IV
Sara took a deep inhale for herself then another to give to him and returned her lips to Nick's. Giving him a slow breath she clung to the image inside her memory of those brown eyes peering up at her only minutes earlier. There had been light, plenty of life, left in them. Although intense with fear and pain at first his gaze had fought away that darkness and smiled up at her. She wasn't going to let that slip away from her into nonexistence.
One more breath for him and it was time to check his pulse again so she pulled her lips from his mouth. Sliding two fingers onto his neck and waiting his heart beat once for her. And finding that the next was severely delayed in arriving she encouraged him.
"That's it Nick. Fight it," she whispered, leaning back in preparing to breath for him again. Her lips were so close to his when she spoke that Sara could feel the heat of her own breath bounce back against the skin of her cheeks.
She longed to cry. The tears were there collecting in her heart, building up pressure until they were about to spill over into their physical form and make their presence known by rolling down her cheeks. But her intellect demanded she hold back the selfish tears and focus for Nick's sake. She was the only shred of hope he had at that moment. Without her he would die.
So falling into a steady careful rhythm of taking in long deep breaths then lowering her mouth over Nick's Sara refreshed his air, his life. Each time her skin met Nick's she used the warmth of his skin as a weapon to battle off the tears. Somewhere in her mind the heat that radiated off him was irrefutable evidence. It empowered her. He was still here. She just needed to help him fight. She just had to force the darkness tugging at him to retreat.
And soon her internal fight had been victorious, the tears were prisoners locked away inside her, and she was on autopilot breathing life into Nicholas Stokes. The rest of the world dissolved away and there were only two things that existed in the entire world, her body and his. There was simply nothing else. Because nothing else mattered.
It wasn't until the two men were just outside the doorway to the studio that their voices penetrated through the thick haze encircling Sara's mind.
"Paramedics!" a call finally came crashing in. She gave Nick one more long offering of air and sat back on her heels.
"In here!" she yelled back. The desperation in her own voice took her by surprise. Once method had taken over she had forgotten about the intensity of her emotions. But now she had just been pulled from that surreal place, almost like waking from a strange and very deep dream world.
She tore her gaze from Nick's closed eyes and breathless lips for long enough to glance over her shoulder and see them entering the room.
"He's not breathing!" she informed them. The first medic made it through the maze of debris that had been strewn about by digging Nick out. He dropped his supply bag and squatted a foot to Sara's left. He quickly checked for a heartbeat and breath sounds.
"Okay, no resps. Lindley, I need a Ambu bag and mask." the paramedic told his partner and extended his hand out into the air to his left in anticipation of the other man handing it to him. With his free hand he made an initial check to see if Nick had a pulse.
"Got a pulse. Slow but present."
"Ambu bag," the other medic said placing it into his partner's grasp. He took it and held it up in the air, showing it to her.
"I see you're LVPD. You know how to bag someone?" he asked Sara who was kneeled near Nick's right shoulder. She nodded and took the bag from him, placed the mask over Nick's mouth, and started squeezing air into his body at an even pace. She let her gaze float away from his face and watched the two medics work. The one who had handed her the bag had retrieved a stethoscope and the other held onto a backboard while pushing debris away with his foot. Once a large enough area was cleared he laid the board down along Nick's right side and Sara scooted closer to the top of Nick's head.
After the first medic had listened to Nick's chest for a few seconds and then slipped a C-collar around his neck he quietly questioned Sara.
"Name's Tierney. You're CSI?" he said, gesturing a hand briefly towards Sara's vest.
"Yeah. Sidle. Sara Sidle."
"Normally I'd say nice to make your acquaintance, but given the circumstances I'll put manners aside and get down to business. Any idea what happened?"
"He fell…from up there," Sara responded and nodded her head upwards, her hands occupied supplying oxygen to Nick. Finished with checking Nick's eyes for reaction with a pen light Tierney directed the beam of his larger flashlight at the huge hole in the ceiling above their heads.
"And how long ago was that?" he asked, laying the light back on the floor and methodically but rapidly giving Nick's body a survey for injuries.
"I'm sorry. I don't know exactly. He was here alone for a while. When I found him he was unconscious," she responded with a hint of sadness seeping through inside it.
"Quick Scoop?" the other medic asked, referring to the rate at which they would evaluate and load into the ambulance.
"Yep. Let's get him on the board," he responded and positioned his hands on Nick's body to roll the right side of him off the ground so his partner could slide the backboard underneath. Sara assisted, momentarily removing the mask, and placing a hand on either side of Nick's head to prevent any potentially harmful movement there when they rolled him.
"Do you know his name?" the other medic, whose name tag read Lindley, asked.
"Nick. Nick Stokes."
"Was he responsive at all?" Tierney jumped in with.
"He opened his eyes briefly. Disoriented at first but then he recognized me."
"Any idea of how long he was awake for?"
"A couple of minutes. No longer."
"And how long ago did he stop breathing?"
"It seemed like a long time but that's probably just an illusion. Few minutes maybe."
At this answer Tierney helped his partner strap Nick onto the backboard, ensuring he was in a straight line and immobilized.
"Ready?" Lindley inquired, moving the ambulance cot as close as possible amongst the wreckage from the ceiling.
"Tired yet? Can you continue to bag him for one more second?" Tierney rapidly threw out to Sara as he went to get Nick's pulse rate again. She had been watching their movements so intently she had once again gone into autopilot. Her right hand squeezed the next burst of air into Nick's lungs while her left held the mask in place over his face. She swallowed hard as a trickle of emotion leaked back to the surface. For a guilty second she preferred the autopilot haze from earlier. It was less painful than looking down at Nick bound to a backboard, his body limp, and unable to even breathe on his own.
Sara shook her head positively at Tierney; she would maintain her hold on the mask and the attached bag that was getting precious oxygen into Nick.
"Ready. Set. Go!" Tierney instructed his younger partner and they lifted the backboard onto the stretcher and secured it in place. Tierney then placed his hand on the air bag that Sara has holding. She didn't remove her hand so the medic tried to jumpstart a reaction from her.
"It's okay you can let go. We're going to intubate him now," Tierney stated. And Sara almost reluctantly let him take over and stepped aside. But empty handed, which made her feel useless, she searched for something to offer. Merely a breath later she was holding onto Nick's right hand tightly.
"Ready with the laryngoscope?" Tierney asked the other man.
"Here you go," Lindley replied, handing the scope and ET tube to him.
"Okay we're gonna tube him and then hit it out of here. I could use some additional lights guys," Tierney stated. Both his partner and Sara reacted by holding up flashlights for him to work by. The medic had to fight a little to get Nick's jaw to open wider. The left side of Nick's face had started swelling and the hard shelled collar around his neck made it difficult, but the medic managed finally to achieve what he needed. Sara suddenly had to look away. She had seen the procedure done before up close. This was Nick though and watching him have a tube put in him was a harsh blow to her heart.
"Got it!" he finally announced and Lindley attached the bag-valve apparatus to the tube and started to push air into Nick's lungs. Tierney delicately secured the very last strap across Nick's forehead.
In the next heartbeat the world seemed to speed up for Sara into a fast forward blur. Just as carefully and calmly as the paramedics had evaluated and prepared their patient for transport, they just as urgently and determinedly got him in the awaiting bus and on his way to the hospital.
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As the SUV exited the parking lot onto the street Warrick balled his right hand into a tight fist and fought the urge to punch the dashboard. There had been so much lost time while he had had to wait for Catherine to organize the scene enough for the others to take over before they could depart. It had to be done, but the lapse had given his mind too much opportunity to create worst case scenarios. Realizing he was rapidly losing the battle to not bash the dashboard into a new design he shifted in his seat, hoping it would relieve some of the physical energy that had pent up inside him since Brass' call about Nick. Catherine noticed the awkward restless movements and glanced over at him from the driver's seat.
"You okay?" she asked, returning her gaze to the road.
"No. I'm not okay Catherine."
"Warrick you know what I meant."
"Yeah I'm sorry. It's just…"
"Hard?"
"Yeah."
"Sometimes we make the mistake of forgetting how tough Nick is. He'll be okay."
"He shouldn't have to Catherine. Hasn't he had his fair share of crap the last couple years?"
"True. But like the rest of us he chose this line of work and we have all had to take the good with the bad of it. Nick knew that, but, yes, he does seem to have gotten his serving a little heavy with the negative."
"You're blaming Nick?"
"No. I'm not blaming Nick. How could I do that? We don't even know what happened. Besides I wouldn't do that. You know that Warrick. At least you better."
Silence took over the interior of the car for an entire two mile stretch. Warrick kept checking his watch even though only a few seconds had passed each and every time and Catherine focused on driving. Finally when they had to slow their speed because of a truck that was pulling off the road up ahead of them Warrick regained some of his focus.
"I shouldn't have snapped at you Catherine. It's just that this…all of this… recently has made me realize something. Nicky is like a brother to me. Growin' up I had friends. Ya know to hang out with and get into trouble with. But I grew up in the world of gambling and even when somebody was your friend there was never complete trust there. Because of the environment. Because of the agendas. But Nick…Nick…he's the real deal."
Sensing Catherine's gaze on him Warrick glanced at her and she offered him an agreeing smile. So Warrick continued.
"I've had my moments where I'm tempted with old bad habits. Sometimes I get further than others. The last time that I got a little too far Nick was there for me. Didn't rag me out, didn't judge, just sat down next to me and was a friend. The real deal."
"Heart o' gold," Catherine said quietly with a unique mixture of sadness and smile in her voice.
"Yeah. All the way!" Warrick responded and they were silent again for a moment. Catherine studied the reflection in the rearview mirror intently.
"What is it?" Warrick asked and looked in his own side mirror.
"I thought I saw something before we went over that last rise," she replied and rolled down her window a crack. The sound was faint, but unmistakable. There was the harsh wale of an ambulance siren approaching tearing apart the calm night air. They exchanged a quick glance and then returned to keeping a watchful eye on the rearview mirror. Hearing the haunting cry of the siren and not being able to see the ambulance, for some reason, knocked the air out of Warrick's body.
"It's coming from the right direction," Catherine commented tensely. Not a heartbeat later the brilliant red lights of an ambulance appeared in the reflected image of the section of road that they had just covered. When the other vehicle had closed the distance a little Catherine pulled the Tahoe over to the side. The eeriness of the siren's cry made waiting torture. Catherine distracted herself from it by flipping on the lights on their own vehicle which she had forgotten to do when they departed their crime scene. Warrick simply fixed his gaze on the image in the mirror. The sirens may have torn through the still air with urgency but the ambulance seemed to close the gap in slow motion. The reality of how fast it was actually traveling at only struck Warrick and Catherine when it flew by them. The instant it cleared them Catherine pulled back onto the road and laid on the gas pedal.
"Hang on," she commented, doing remarkably well at keeping up with the ambulance. The ambulance that had to be carrying Nicky.
"God, they're flyin'," Warrick stated, concerned. Catherine glanced down at the speedometer and saw it wasn't an illusion. They were flying and that couldn't be good.
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The cycle of the ambulance's siren had become part of Sara. From where she sat at the head of the cot behind the driver's seat she could both watch the portable heart monitor attached to Nick and be attentive of the rise and fall of his chest. As the ambulance's cry grew, ascending to a high pitch she anticipated the spike on the monitor that indicated a beat of Nick's heart and as the siren descended into a lower pitch she checked his chest to make sure that the air being pumped into him was getting where it needed to go. It was becoming rhythmic the way she would watch the monitor and then him then the monitor and him once again. The medic, Tierney, had noticed what she was doing as he was taping the IV line down on Nick's hand and then gone about checking his blood pressure. Sara had just stolen her gaze from the monitor when she caught his understanding smile out of the corner of her eye. She had then explained to Tierney how the repetition of the two focused tasks was a good method to stay levelheaded. At that the medic's understanding smile evolved into a grin and he voted for his theory, that the tasks served as distraction. Supposedly the theory was based on years of field experience, but Sara informed him that although she would take his theory into consideration her preference was how own. Secretly she thanked him for trying to make the ride pass by with the thoughts. A long lull in conversation followed in which the sound of the siren, the heart monitor, and the vehicle bouncing over the imperfections in the road filled the air. Sara's gaze trailed away from the monitor's screen to Nick's chest as the low section of the siren's wale arrived once again. His body had changed though, it wasn't as relaxed as it had been. She instantly looked down at his face and realized something was wrong. Nick's whole body had become rigid.
"What's happening to him?" Sara asked. The stress in her voice saturated each word. The medic looked from Nick's body to the portable monitor as the slow predictable rhythm that had been there changed into a more frantic disorganized one. Next he studied Nick's slight jerky movements for a few seconds.
"What's wrong?" Sara tried again, demandingly. This time it was nearly more angry than worried.
"He's going into a seizure," the paramedic answered and got up off the seat to retrieve supplies from the compartment above the stretcher.
"Lindley! Radio in for a meds order. He's seizing!" the medic called out to his partner who was driving the bus. Just as he finished the words Nick's body began to twitch more violently. His arms, legs, and head involuntarily strained against the constraints of the straps holding him down against the back board.
"You got it!" the other man returned with just as Nick went into full fledged convulsions. Sara could hear the muffled radio communication as the medic leaned over the stretcher no more than two feet from her and prepared the drug that he would administer to Nick to hopefully stop the seizure.
"You're good to go!" his partner yelled back. His voice was followed by a significant jump in their speed over the road. Sara could tell they were pushing the limits of the vehicle and she was grateful to the driver. If he hadn't been pushing it she would have been even angrier. Sitting back down Tierney, at Nick's side, emptied the contents of the syringe he had prepared into the IV.
"C'mon Nick," Sara whispered more as a wish than encouragement to Nick.
"C'mon Nick. Fight through it."
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Grissom tossed his empty coffee cup into the trash can and stuffed both hands into his pants pockets. The right one only stayed there a few seconds before he decided to check his watch again. He liked to keep a mental log of how long things took in urgent situations. It gave him an objective guideline for signs of progress. He noted it had been minutes less than he had anticipated and wandered to the edge of the waiting room. Studying the goings on there he spotted Brass near the nurse's station. He had his cell phone to his ear and was taking a quick sip from his coffee. Gil was about to head over to him, but his own cell rang stopping him.
"Grissom."
"It's Warrick."
"No news yet Warrick."
"Actually I think that Catherine and I are behind the ambulance. We just turned onto Sand Street. About five minutes out."
"Thanks Warrick. See you in a minute then," Grissom responded and flipped the phone closed. After tucking it back in his pocket he headed over to Brass.
"Again it was Jim Brass of the Las Vegas PD and my number is 702-505-6622." Brass turned off the phone and lethargically stuffed it back in the inside pocket of his coat. Then he stared down at his coffee, mentally checking off items on his to do list. He didn't notice Grissom arriving at his side so when the other man spoke he jerked to attention.
"Warrick just called. He and Catherine are probably tailing the ambulance that is carrying Nick. They should be here in a few minutes."
"Okay," Brass responded and nodded his head. His distraction was obvious.
"Anything I can help with?" Grissom inquired.
"Oh, no, it's just I've tried Nick's parents three times now and only ever get their voice mail."
"We'll get a hold of them. If not tonight then certainly in the morning at their offices. We don't even know Nick's condition yet. They would have had questions that you probably don't have the answers to anyway."
"Yeah. Yeah. You're right," Jim replied, but failed to convince either of them that it had helped any. He was going to follow up with a list of the other calls he had made, but a familiar voice ended him relaying it to Gil.
"Grissom! Grissom! How is he? What exactly happened? How bad is it? What are his injuries?" Greg questioned in rapid fire as he nearly jogged to where they stood at the desk.
"We don't know yet. The ambulance should be here any second. Wait a minute. How did you find out?" Grissom said.
"I overheard Ecklie talking about it."
"And how did Ecklie know?"
"I called him. To let him know what was going on and get Mr. and Mrs. Stokes number," Brass stated, filling in the blanks. Any further discussion was dropped when the siren of an ambulance, pulling into the ambulance bay outside, floated into the ER. The three men didn't say another word, just moved to the end of the nurse's station where they could see anyone entering and waited.
Gil's steady normal heartbeat tracked the time until it had hit seventy five counts. Then before the next beat could arrive the first set of doors to the ER slid open. There was the length of a hallway and the second, closer set, of doors in between but they could see a flurry of human beings in motion filling the entranceway. Grissom studied the body on the cot that was being quickly wheeled in, but his view was obscured so he looked up to those on foot. There was a medic using a bag and mask to force oxygen into the patient's body then another medic and a nurse, who must have been outside to meet them in the ambulance bay. He looked further back and saw her as she came around the corner following the medics. It was Sara which meant that the person on the cot was Nick. Jim must have seen her too because at the same instant they became unfrozen and moved a little closer to meet the group as they passed the desk. Gil hoped to get a glimpse at Nick and he knew that the window of opportunity would be short lived.
Additional nurses and at least one doctor headed towards the second set of doors that separated the ER from the hallway that lead out into the ambulance bay. Just as the second set of doors opened sound seemed to rush back at Grissom. The collection of voices became layered over one another and Gil struggled to make out as many bits and pieces as possible as they passed by. He focused in on the medic's voice knowing that he would offer the most information at that point.
"Nick Stokes. Mid 30s…fell from second floor height……LOC times..…in respiratory arrest. This is his second seizure…."
That was all that Gil managed to catch. It wasn't much due to the rate they passed him by and the jumbled verbal slush caused by too many people talking at once. The glimpses he got of Nicky didn't offer much in addition other than that based upon the bruises on the left side of his face he had taken an impact against something pretty hard.
It wasn't until Grissom looked back a few feet to where he expected Sara would be now that he noticed that directly behind her were Warrick and Catherine. They all ended up standing at the corner of the nurses station watching as the stretcher carrying Nick was wheeled into the trauma room and the curtain there was drawn, hiding him away their sight.
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"You don't give a damn do you?" Sara snapped out. The entire group standing at the back of the waiting room just stared at her. This had been going on for a long string of minutes now, Sara having selected a target for her anger. Focusing in on laying blame kept her from processing what she had gone through with Nick. This was so much easier and came so much naturally to her.
"I do care. Very much," Grissom stated, sounding slightly annoyed that this particular fact wasn't obvious and needed to be verbalized repeatedly. Sara shook her head in disbelief, complete disagreement.
"Right. Right. That's why Nick was alone out there for god knows how long. You have a funny way of showing you care Grissom."
The conversation was rapidly becoming circular. The words were varied a little but the meaning was the same each time either Sara or Gil spoke. The same accusation followed by the same answer over and over. Brass ran a hand over his head onto the back of his neck before jumping in.
"I know you're upset Sara. We're all worried about Nick, but this isn't helping him." His intention was good, but Sara just couldn't see it right then.
"We're all worried? Well not all of us saw how much pain he was in. Not all of us were there when he couldn't breath. Not all of us….I'm sorry. I'm sorry Brass," she practically yelled out before reigning her emotions in enough to apologize and cut it short.
"No apology necessary," Jim replied while he tried to think of something more substantial and helpful. They were interrupted before he could find anything though.
"You're here for Nick Stokes, right?" a voice inquired, approaching the group gathered in the corner of the ER waiting room.
"Yes, doctor, how is he?" Grissom replied as everyone turned their attention to the middle aged man clad in sky blue scrubs, a long white coat, and a pair of multi colored Adidas cross trainers.
"Just so you know I'm Dr. Timmons. We've done an initial evaluation. At the scene he went into respiratory arrest and it's my understanding one of you was there and worked on him until EMS arrived?"
"That was Sara here," Catherine responded and gestured to the woman standing to her left.
"Good work," he softly stated to her specifically before returning his attention to the group as a whole and continuing.
"As you may have noticed when he was brought in we had intubated him. His left lung had collapsed. Mr. Stokes also had a series of seizures. First in the ambulance then here in the ER. We are giving him medication to control the seizures and those appear to be working now so hopefully we can get the tests we need. We'll be bringing him down to CT in just a few minutes. I did have a few more questions. It was Sara, correct?"
"Yes."
"The medics stated he fell through a ceiling, from the second floor to the first?"
"Correct. I didn't see it happen. I arrived afterward."
"And he was on the floor when you found him?"
"Yes."
"EMS provided me with some information of his position when they arrived on scene. Did you move him at all?"
"No. Other than performing rescue breathing and holding his hand I didn't touch him. I know better than that."
"I apologize if that sounded accusatory. It wasn't my intention. It's just that Mr. Stokes is severely bruised on his back, neck, and the back and left side of his head. I'm trying to piece together how he fell and how he landed so I can better treat his injuries."
"Well he was in kind of an odd position," Sara thought out loud.
"What do you mean by odd?"
"It didn't look like he dropped straight down. First, his upper body was angled sharply to the left. Second, there was debris not only on top of him but a lot underneath him too. If he'd gone straight down there probably would have been mostly pieces of the floor itself under him but there was a significant amount of other debris.". Sara concentrated for a moment, letting the image wash over her mind.
"What is it Sara?" Catherine prompted when after the passage of nearly half a minute she was still silent.
"It's just kind of all coming back to me. Nick's head was bent awkwardly to his left shoulder and on the right of his head there wasn't even an inch of space between it and…well…there was a stainless steel pottery kiln there. If Nick fell straight down, judging from the direction the rest of his body was pointed in, there's no way his head and upper body cleared that kiln. There wasn't enough room."
"Well some of the bruising on Mr. Stokes back had a strange pattern, but now that you tell me this I think that it's possible that he maybe impacted the kiln first and then went to the floor."
"Anything else you can tell us about his condition?" Brass interjected with.
"Well possibly some broken ribs. His left knee is dislocated. We've realigned and splinted it. We'll know about any long term damage on that, torn ligaments etc., in a little while. Did you happen to notice his leg and how it was positioned? Again the medics noted it, but I find sometimes the more small things people notice individually can create a better and more complete picture. I'm sure you can understand that being crime scene investigators, right?"
There was a soft chorus of "absolutelys" and "sure cans" before Sara answered his question.
"His leg was tucked up underneath. Bent back so the heel of his left foot was tucked under the upper thigh area of his other leg. Almost like if you are squatting down on your heels. Or sitting cross legged. I'm sorry it's kind of hard to describe. I hope that helps."
"I think I understand what you are getting at. Probably his leg was bent when he landed so it ended up tucked back underneath him. I'll make special note for radiology to check that leg for possible fractures," the doctor said and glanced at the notes he was carrying.
"Does he have any family?"
"I'm Detective Brass. I've left messages for his parents, but haven't managed to get a hold of them directly though. We'll definitely be able to contact them through their offices in the morning if we can't get them at home. But his family is in Texas so they'll need to catch a flight and everything."
"We're Nick's family too. We're the ones who see him every day. We're the ones who are supposed look out for him," Sara commented almost angrily. Her gaze was directed more at Grissom than the doctor though when she spoke, but Dr. Timmons was the one who replied.
"I understand. My brother is LVPD and I've witnessed it personally."
"I knew I recognized that last name. Brian Timmons, sergeant on days, right?" Jim asked.
"That's him."
"Great cop," Brass added.
"He loves what he does and I love what I do so I should be getting back to Mr. Stokes here. My greatest concern right now is head and spinal cord injury. With the respiratory arrest, loss of consciousness, the seizures, and his elevated blood pressure my preliminary concern is brain injury. That's all I know for right now really. I'll update you as soon as I have more information."
"Thank you Dr. Timmons. We appreciate your time," Grissom said quietly.
"You're welcome. We do need to get him down to Radiology, but if maybe one or two of you would like to see him for a just a moment while we are getting him ready to go that would be okay."
"Gil. Maybe you and Warrick would like to go?" Catherine suggested. After a beat of agreeing nods, no objections had been raised so Catherine gave Warrick a tiny encouraging push forward, seeing that he was stalled in the spot he was standing in.
"This way," the doctor offered and headed towards the hallway. Grissom fell in step directly behind and Warrick lagged a little behind the pair at almost injured pace.
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Warrick struggled to find some words that captured his emotions properly. But for all his searching those specific words didn't seem to exist in any dictionary that he knew of. And the ones that came closest he couldn't seem to organize into a straight enough line to say them aloud. So looking down at his injured friend he placed a hand on his right shoulder and simply let him know he was there.
"It's me bro. I'm here and I'll never be very far away. So if you have a problem with me crowding you you'll just have to wake up and kick my ass outta here. Cuz, otherwise, you're not getting rid of me."
Grissom looked on from a few feet away as Warrick fell silent. Letting his hand remain on Nick's shoulder Brown hung his head sadly for a few seconds. Gil could see the strain in Warrick's features that fighting not to reveal the depth of his emotions had created. But the emotions were putting up a good fight and Warrick was forced to leave the room abruptly to keep them at bay. The doctor and a nurse tailed him, discussing the tasks they needed to cover.
It left Grissom alone with Nick, the only exception one nurse who was deeply involved in the actions necessary to prepare her patient to be taken out of the ER. For a few extended beats Grissom lingered by the edge of the exam room. The space within the curtained off area there was certainly not large, but somehow being closer to being outside than in it helped the balance of power inside him tip more towards intellect than emotion.
Completing her current task the nurse noticed that Gil hadn't moved since he had entered the room. She offered him a soft encouraging smile before moving on to her next task. It drew him out of his corner, partly because he had been caught in his hiding spot, but mostly because he owed it to the man laying there in front of him.
"Hi Nicky," he whispered finally moving to the spot beside the bed that Warrick had occupied a few moments before. Quiet fell back in the air surrounding the bed as Grissom studied Nick's face, taking note of the details. The harsh lighting in the exam room might have made some minor contribution, but the younger man's face was far from normal complexion. Next there was how his closed eyelids with their unhealthy dark shade stood out so dramatically from his other features. Then the mean looking bruises on the left side of his face demanded attention. And, lastly, the size difference between Nick's left cheek and his right caused by swelling around his left cheekbone was undeniable. Inventorying these details in his head focused Grissom enough to offer Nick something more meaningful than just his initial greeting. He spoke soft in volume, but strong in tone.
"Brass suggested that maybe we shouldn't let you outside of the lab anymore. And at first I seriously considered it, but then I realized that if I keep you locked up in the lab all day I'd be sabotaging myself. Because you see if you're in the lab I'd be short aCSI out in the field. And great CSIs don't grow on trees. They're really rather a rare species. So don't take too long to come back to us. We need you out there. I need you out there Nicky. And I know sometimes you don't think so, but that doesn't make it any less true," he said and in the next breath he had found himself back out in the hallway. The staff members that had exited the room earlier now returned and less than a moment later they emerged, navigating the bed that Nick lay in through the doorway and off down the hall. Grissom's original plan had been to rejoin the others back in the waiting area, but the night was calling him out to take a walk. He needed the sky, the crisp air, and the feel of earth under his feet.
So Gil proceeded past the turn that lead down to the waiting area, through the chaos of the emergency room, and out into the night alone.
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The warm water running over her skin healed the soreness in Sara's hands a little. She hadn't even realized that they had started to cramp up from holding that mask to Nick's face and squeezing the bag that gave him air. She had managed to escape the other CSIs and Brass using the excuse that she needed to freshen up. Catherine had tried to tag along, hovering worriedly. Luckily upon finding the closest bathroom they discovered that it was just around the corner and turned out to be a private one. Sara had deliberately let Catherine use it first so she would have a few unwatched moments for herself once Catherine returned to the waiting room.
She turned off the faucet and dried her hands with a paper towel. Dropping it in the trash she looked up at her reflection in the mirror. And immediately realized it had been a mistake to look because despite every single distraction she had collected along the way the sadness was on her face and in her eyes looked back at her clear as day. They had all seen it and she could no longer deny it.
She leaned against the wall to the right of the sink, hiding from the reflection and suddenly needing the support for her exhausted body. Keeping in physical motion or tangled up something easier, like anger, had kept away unwanted things.
But now all the images and information of Nick had piled up on her. Piece by piece since she had found him a picture had been forming. Like building a puzzle, at some point the scene is there enough to fill in the blank spaces.
Sara fought back the visualization from playing inside her mind. But it won out and the scene unfolded in her head as if she was present observing the whole thing as it happened.
Nick stood alone in the darkness of the second floor of the Marshall's studio. Shining his flashlight around the north side he made his way carefully amongst the items there, searching. Reaching the very end of the room he set his foot down on a weak spot in the floor and it gave way beneath him, sending him hurtling through the air. On the way down he slammed hard into the top of the stainless steel pottery kiln, his head and back taking the brunt of the impact and creating a heavy thud sound. Nick's body bounced of the right edge of the kiln and dropped onto the floor. Quiet took hold ofevery inch of space inside the room. And, finally, Nick's flashlight which had landed a few feet away flickered twice and then went dark.
Sara tried to choke back a sob as the last image faded out, but it was a futile effort. Using the wall as her guide she sunk to the floor then simply sat there and finally let herself cry.
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Dr. Steven Timmons moved briskly along the hallway which lead into the Radiology Department. Skimming back over Nicholas Stokes' chart as he made his way towards CT he nearly slammed into one of the techs coming around the last corner. He barely noticed though, too distracted by what the initial evidence suggested about his patient. Timmons only looked up when he arrived at the door to the viewing room attached to the CT area that Stokes occupied.
"Dr. Zuriff," he said to the already present on call neurologist.
"Dr. Timmons. How are you tonight?"
"Long version or short version?"
"It's late. So the short."
"Well, then, let's just say that's it's been a very long day."
"Well if you intend to follow Mr. Stokes' treatment closely, as I know you have a famous habit of doing with your PD patients to an extreme, then it's about to get a lot longer."
Dr. Timmons didn't like the ominous answer or expression that Zuriff offered him. After a silent beat the neurologist provided him some direction.
"Take a look," he stated, lifting his pen from the notes he was getting down and pointing it towards the monitors. Timmons leaned in and peered over the CT technician's shoulder. It only took a heartbeat of study for him to see what Zuriff was talking about. A tense but adrenaline filled quiet captured the room before Timmons managed an adequate response.
"Damn. That was what I was afraid we were going to find. I was just hoping maybe I was wrong," he stated and pushed a heavy concerned breath from his body. Zuriff rubbed his left temple and followed with a short but powerful comment.
"Yep, either a very long night or one cut tragically short."
To Be Continued…