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: You are all very generous with your reviews and I love you for it. Thanks so much! You are awesome.
Summary: Nicks investigation of a case is abruptly interrupted. It may take a little teamwork to solve the case with him out of the picture. Or is he really? Just might he still be able to provide an essential connection to the truth?
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Touched By Gravity VI
Catherine watched the tepid peaceful glow of the sunrise grow against Sara's features. They'd been standing at the window just down the hall from Nick's room for a few moments, but no spoken words had passed between them yet. Sara's gaze was set out through the glass to the city drenched in the early morning light and Catherine was pulled to study her, intently searching for the secret she seemed to be withholding.
"Anything you want to talk about?" Catherine inquired softly. Her well of patience had dried up rapidly. She blamed exhaustion for that. There was something tangled up in Sara's mind creating a half intellectually analytical, half heart full of hope expression on her face.
"It's just weird ya know," the other woman commented, but not turning away from the window.
"There's a lot of weird stuff out there Sara. Any chance you can be a little more specific?"
"You'll think I'm crazy."
"Who isn't?" Catherine responded seriously and leaned back against the wall to the left of the window where Sara stood. Catherine's eyes wandered her surroundings from the room numbers to the hospital staff purposefully coming and going from each room in a blur of blue, purple, and white attire to the muted green hue, a gentle sage, that had been chosen for the walls. Finally she tilted her head down a little and studied the contrast between her black shoes and the French vanilla color that saturated the floor. Must have be the exhaustion once again, but a wave of dizzying scenery overload seemed to have crashed into her senses.
"I was there with him," Sara stated so quietly it was almost less than a whisper. Catherine caught it though in her apparent state of hypersensitivity.
"Yep, you were and we're all grateful you were. If you hadn't of found him when you did I don't…"
"That's not what I meant Catherine," Sara snapped.
"Then what? Talk to me Sara."
"I mean I was there with him when he processed the Amlyn Marshall crime scene. Like I was observing or something."
"Just now?"
"Yeah."
"Sara you fell asleep and dreamt you were there."
"I told you it sounded crazy, but I was with him in that house. I know it doesn't make any sense. I mean I know Nick is lying in a hospital bed, but that paper…that paper was there."
"Sara, what the hell are you tal…?"
"When I jumped out of the chair the folder with all the case information spilled all over the floor."
"Yeah I saw that."
"One of the papers, a diagram of one of the rooms in the Marshall house was there. It had a pink stain on it."
"You've lost me."
"When I was…there with Nick he had spilled something, something pink. It got on the papers on his clipboard. That's how the stain got on the paper. I saw it happen."
"Or because that's what your mind filled in the blanks with."
"It doesn't feel that way."
"He's in a coma Sara. His brain is swelling. He can't even breath on his own. It kills me to say it, but he's not there. He's can't be communicating with you or whatever you think it is that happened."
"Why what's your take?" Sara probed for with just the slightest bite bordering the question.
"I think that you were reading through the case file, fell asleep, and your mind continued to think about it. Even if you don't remember seeing the stain before you fell asleep you must have caught a glimpse of it somewhere along the line, flipping through the file or something. Your brain simply came up with a way to account for it. It's Nick's case so it's only natural he would be in those thoughts."
"It's just it was so vivid. So tangible."
"Oh Sara. I know it felt real but it was just a dream. I wish it was more. I really do."
"I know it isn't logical. All the evidence says that you're right. But my gut tells me I am."
"Your mind was just working through the case."
"I'm losin' it, aren't I?"
"Not anymore than the rest of us. Sara, you're exhausted. Two hours of sleep and that little nap you took just now, if you'd even call it a nap, isn't going to cut it. You need more sleep."
"Maybe you're right. It was just a dream. Just my mind working overtime. Apparently I can't stop working even when I'm asleep huh?"
"Guess not. I know have some pretty wild vivid dreams when I'm completely wiped out."
"Wild huh?" Sara commented, raising an eyebrow at Catherine.
"Wild as in crazy not wild as in…well…Tarzan, Jane wild."
"Sure Catherine."
Catherine opened her mouth to say something to regain less embarrassing ground, but her voice never made it out of her throat.
"Ms. Sidle? Ms. Willows? Correct?"
"That would be us, yes," Sara answered and turned from the light of the window to face the short woman in scrubs that had just arrived where they stood halfway down the corridor.
"I'm Dr. Lavene. I've been working with Dr. Timmons and Dr. Zuriff on Mr. Stokes' case."
"How is he?"
"Well the alarm that went off was his blood pressure monitor. Mr. Stokes' blood pressure had gotten so elevated that it was in the danger zone. We have managed to lower it. His neurologist, Dr. Zuriff, is with him now and will be out to let you know more," Dr. Lavene stated. The petite woman with light brown hair had an eternally optimistic aura surrounding her. Both Sara and Catherine had noted the beginnings of a sappy encouraging smile teasing her lips as she had spoken about Nick. Somehow it struck them as a little too relaxed in relation to the circumstances.
"Did you have any further questions or concerns for me?" the doctor asked when both Catherine and Sara seemed content to just stand and stare at her with an acute squint.
"Uh, no. We appreciate you coming out and letting us know," Catherine responded. It wasn't that she didn't have more question but more that she preferred Dr. Timmons friendly understanding to Dr Lavene's overly hopeful encouragement. At least Timmons didn't skim details or sugar coat things.
"Okay, please do let me know if there is anything I can clarify or answer for you. I'll be more than happy to do the best I can to help."
"We can see that," Sara replied with an embedded unique sarcasm that Catherine caught, but the other woman did not.
"Remember we got the blood pressure under control and that's wonderful news."
"Blood pressure lowered so we're happy campers. Got it!" Catherine returned this time. Dr. Lavene gifted them with a gigantic smile and then headed back off, almost bouncing on her toes down the hallway. On her way she nodded to a doctor coming from the opposite direction. The silent communication seemed to let him know she had spoken with the two women that now awaited his arrival.
"Dr. Zuriff I presume," Catherine whispered to Sara as they watched him calmly make his way towards them. His stride held an evenly paced but intense rhythm to it. The subtle confidence it reflected was somehow comforting. Dr. Merrick Zuriff was also very easy on the eyes. At around six feet three, lightly tanned, and athletically built, by the looks of it solidly as cement, he would have been pegged more as a career lifeguard than a neurosurgeon by most people.
"Might want to close your mouth before he gets here Catherine. You wouldn't want to drool on him. Not really attractive," Sara teased. Catherine, her gaze still transfixed down the hallway, lightly smacked Sara's arm instructing her to knock it off.
"Hi. I'm Dr. Zuriff," the man offered in a steady voice. The tone was strong, but his volume surprisingly subdued.
"Hello. I'm Catherine Willows."
"Nice to meet you Ms. Willows."
"Catherine."
"Okay, Catherine it is."
Catherine was just about to open her mouth to respond with something she hadn't come up with yet when Sara's voice took over.
"Sara Sidle."
"Good to meet you. Is it Ms. Sidle or Sara?"
"Let's stick with Ms. Sidle for now."
"Okay," Dr. Zuriff stated, flashing a brief bright smile before he continued.
"As I'm sure you are aware we have chosen the option of treating…" he began, but abruptly stopped a beat later with his attention drawn over Sara's left shoulder. Both women followed after his gaze to see Grissom just arriving to join the group.
"Am I late?" he asked, adding a bit of sarcasm to it in response to everyone suddenly turning to stare at him as he made his way along the hallway.
"You, Gil? Late?" Catherine replied with a smirk.
"At least I'm consistent," Grissom commented and then turned his focus to the doctor.
"Gil Grissom," he introduced himself and held out his hand to the other man. Both Sara and Catherine immediately noticed how Grissom's tone and body language was less reserved than normal when meeting new people as if he had known Zuriff for a long time.
"Dr. Merrick Zuriff," he responded in kind, accepting Grissom's hand in a brief handshake. Catherine was tempted to ask if the two had met before. Grissom's usual first introductions method of operation was less animated, more stiff and untelling. But before she could act on the thought Grissom's voice arrived first into the open air.
"Please, continue with what you were saying Dr. Zuriff," Gil encouraged.
"Yes, as I was saying, I'm sure you are aware we had chosen the option of treating Mr. Stokes' epidural hematoma conservatively. Which means we were using medications, including osmotic diuretics, to hopeful reduce it effectively. I have periodically reevaluated his condition as well as performing another CT scan a little while ago. The last evaluation of his condition being just now when his blood pressure became so high it triggered the alarm on the monitor. It's unfortunate, but I'm not seeing the improvement I would want at this point."
"What were you looking for? Specifically?" Grissom inquired.
"First, the fact that Nick's blood pressure hasn't leveled out and, preferably, dropped. Also he is no longer having spontaneous eye opening which most likely indicates a deeper level of coma. His ICP, intracranial pressure, hasn't significantly changed. The diuretics are not producing the output of fluid I would like to see. Those indications are the most glaring points."
"So what now?" Catherine asked, her voice heavy with the gravity of the news.
"It is my professional opinion that the risks of continuing with this course of treatment now outweigh any ultimate benefits of taking this route. His condition is possibly on the brink of deteriorating very quickly. So the best option now is surgery to remove the clot."
Dr. Zuriff could easily see that the three people in front of him had an idea of what the surgery entailed; shaving an area of the scalp, making an incision then creating a small hole in the skull and removing the clot. There was a thoughtful span of seconds while the information was processed internally by Catherine, Sara, and Grissom. Sara's voice was the one to break into the empty air.
"The risks?" she asked calmly.
"With any surgery, of course, there is the risk of infection or creating additional bleeding. With a procedure such as this there are risks that include possible damage to brain tissue or blood vessels. And with the combination of the effects of the hematoma itself and the surgery there is some risk of nerve damage or loss of mental functions."
"But those are low, correct?" Grissom asked, clearly confident in a positive response.
"Every condition is different. Nick has things that make some of the risks more of significant concern and then there are aspects that reduce the chances of some of the other risks. We take all of that into careful consideration. It's a balancing act in a way. In terms of the surgery I'd say my greatest concern is additional bleeding and risk of nerve or muscle damage."
"We appreciate your honesty Doctor. I can see Nick is in extremely competent hands," Grissom stated, with a thick air of approval in his voice. Both Catherine's and Sara's gaze shot to him then to each other. Most surprising was the presence of the approving inflection in Grissom's voice. It wasn't something handed out freely by Gil Grissom and hearing it pass over his lips brought mixed emotions. First, was a fragile thread of security. Somehow if Gil Grissom was openly confident with Dr Zuriff's skill it held weight. But, secondly, came the more unsettling, even angering, sense that maybe it was Gil's detachment that had let it slip out. Where Nick was concerned all too often Grissom chose distance over immersion into the situation. Perhaps the distance or possibly indifference allowed Grissom to just not be rattled in the least by placing Nick's life in this stranger's hands. Sara had chosen to cling to the anger aspect more tightly than the other possibility. She only let her eyes elude to it though, opting not to verbalize it. Catherine wanted to embrace the feeling of security. But her mind finally comprised and placed her bets on that Grissom's ever present but hidden protectiveness of Nick always accounted for his detachment. If he distanced himself then it is more difficult to get hurt, at least in the world of Gil Grissom.
"Catherine, did you have anything further to ask?" Grissom's voice penetrated the thoughtful fog she had wandered off into. Catherine glanced at the two men then to Sara. All three were looking at her, apparently awaiting an answer to a question she hadn't even heard the first time around.
"Uh no. I think that's I'm all set for now."
"Well then I am going to go prepare for the procedure. Just one last question. It was my understanding that there have been attempts to reach Mr. Stokes parents in Texas, but that no one has gotten a hold of them as of yet?" Zuriff asked and scanned their expressions, choosing Grissom's to settle upon. Almost instantly Gil tackled the question.
"As of a few hours ago, no, not at home. But their offices are opening up about now and I'm sure we can reach them there."
"Are any of you aware if Mr. Stokes has any specific wishes in terms of medical efforts to be used in the event of cardiac arrest."
"Nothing legally binding," Grissom replied matter of factly. His voice was followed by Catherine's.
"We're all a hundred percent certain that Nick would want you to make every effort possible."
"Understood," Dr. Zuriff stated firmly and after a beat of no one offering anything additional he left them, moving along the hallway at the same strong steady pace he had approached them with.
Grissom blew out a weighted breath. His attempt to do it without it being noticeable failed and Sara and Catherine drew their focus to him. Out of reflex to avoid the inevitable question of whether or not he was alright Gil pulled his cell phone from his pocket.
"I have to make a few calls," he informed them and in a mere blink of the eye was off down the corridor, dialing his phone.
"Typical," Catherine commented and glanced at Sara who bobbed her head in agreement.
"He always leaves it to me to go find everybody and fill them in," the older woman continued. Sara manufactured an understanding grin at its truth then finally spoke.
"Speaking of finding people where did Warrick disappear to?"
"Well I gave it my best shot to try and convince him to go home and get some sleep."
"Sounds like you failed at that endeavor."
"Miserably. But Greg was determinedly working on a plan when I left them while they were getting coffee. Something about drugging Warrick or some other potentially illegal method of getting him outside the hospital. This is Greg so I'm not sure I want to be in on the details. Looks like it worked though, whatever it was. Haven't seen either one since."
"So which one of us gets to be the bad guy and call him and wake him up?"
"I was already the bad guy pushing him to leave. Your turn."
"Oh thanks."
"Anytime," Catherine responded adding a smirk. Sara pulled her cell from the pocket of the thin denim jacket she wore and flipped it open.
"I'm going to grab some coffee. I could use an entire pot about now," Catherine whispered as Sara brought up Warrick's number on the display on her phone. Before hitting the button to call the number Sara looked up and nodded half heartedly. Catherine disappeared around the corner and Sara turned to look out over the city as the sun melted away any lingering traces of the night. She blew out a heavy breath and hit the button then put the phone to her ear. Inside the brief moment of dead air before the first ring her attention was drawn back to the hallway by the sudden rise in the number of voices and sounds of activity down the hall a bit. Her gaze found a collection of men and women in assorted hospital staff attire emerging from Nick's room out into the hallway.
"Brown," came the voice in her right ear. Sara didn't remember it having rung, but maybe she had missed it with the distraction. But she had only been pulled part way back from being lost in the image at the other end of the corridor. The image of the doctors and nurses expertly navigating the bed in which Nick lay out of the room and into the hallway.
"Hello? Hello?" Warrick asked. This time his voice was slightly more urgent and in need of a response. But Sara was frozen. At that instant the dense grouping of bodies surrounding the hospital bed had cleared slightly and Sara could finally see Nick's face completely.
"Sara? Sara, are you there? Are you okay?" Warrick's urging came again, even more desperation inside his tone. He must have finally checked the caller id on his phone. With a delay Sara realized she had let out the tiniest of sounds, a sound somewhere between a forced exhale and a sob. Warrick must have heard it.
As Sara looked at Nick, his eyes closed, his eyelids several shades darker than normal, his usually softly amiable features altered by ugly bruising and swelling she had realized something.
There was a strong chance it would be the last time she might see him alive.
This might very well be the final heartbreaking image imprinted on her mind of her friend.
It wouldn't be the image of that boyish grin of his that spread over his face when he had been first to discover something huge at crime scene. It wouldn't be that charming Texan smile he brought out from the hiding place he tucked it away in until an occasion arose for it. It wouldn't be that delicate smile of silent understanding he had offered her in the moments she had needed the smile of a non judgmental friend the most.
It wouldn't be those beautiful mental snapshots of him that would fade out the last page of album of memories of Nick. Instead it would be a more brutal one. One missing that heart enslaving smile.
"Sara tell me what is wrong!" Warrick demanded of her finally.
"I'm sorry. I was just distracted there for a minute."
"No apology needed. Just tell me what's up."
"It's Nick. They're taking him into surgery. They said they didn't feel it was worth the risks to wait on the medications. They are going to remove the clot surgically."
"They are taking him in now?"
"Yeah."
"Why didn't you guys call me sooner?"
"We just found out Warrick."
"Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. I'm on my way now."
The line went to dead air before Sara could say any words of agreement. She returned the phone to its place in her jacket and ground her teeth a little bit in thought. She could go join the others and sit uselessly or she could see what else Amlyn Marshall's case file held. The decision was easily made. Sara's body was immediately in motion towards Nick's now empty room in search of the photos and notes that hopefully could lead her down the path that Nick had already traveled before her.
sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Warrick cut the engine and relaxed back against the seat. He released his seatbelt lethargically then seized the moment to run his palms down over his face. He had already been two blocks away from his house by the time the idea occurred to him that maybe he should have at least splashed some cold water on his face to gain some alertness. When he had completed the motion and had dropped his hands back into his lap, the thought impacted his heart that he could wash away some of the physical damage like sleepiness still clinging to him, but it couldn't wipe away the knot of fear tied so tightly inside him. Warrick was by no means a doctor but he knew enough about Nick's injuries to know that his life still hung in midair. Nick could float indefinitely unresponsive. He could come out through the cloudiness. Or he could take a sudden dive and fall, crushing the life out of him. Warrick had been praying for the second, uncertain how he felt about the first, and couldn't even begin to control the spread of dread that the last possibility set in motion. The quick strong knock on the window to the left of his head prompted him to open his eyes, which he hadn't even realized he had let slide shut.
Seeing Doc Robbins and David standing outside the drivers' side of his car he hit the button to lower the window.
"Hey!" he greeted them, ending up surprised at how awake he sounded.
"Please tell me you didn't sit here and sleep in your car?" Robbins inquired.
"No, man. I promise I went home and got some crash time. I'm just coming back now because…have you guys heard?"
"Heard what?" David asked concerned.
"They had to take Nick into surgery to treat the hematoma."
"The medication wasn't effective? Or was there another development?"
"I don't know the details. Sara called to let me know."
"We should probably go in then and see if there's any additional information," Robbins suggested.
"Yeah. Yeah," Warrick replied and after rolling up the window he exited the car and trudged after the pair across the parking lot and into the hospital. Several mini conversations passed between Doc and David, but Warrick didn't seem able to focus enough to follow them from beginning to end. He broke into their latest one with a question.
"That kind of surgery can be pretty lengthy, right?" he inquired while hitting the button for the elevator. He had directed the question at Doc for the most part but would really have accepted an answer from either.
"In most cases, yes," Robbins replied as their elevator arrived. The three were silent for a moment while they stepped in and David selected the number 4 from the choices of floors. The passing curiosity of how David had known what floor to pick came and went through Warrick's mind, but he didn't choose to address it. Instead he continued on his original course.
"And Nick's health before the …before this…could play into how things go from here?"
"The fact that Nick was in good health, physically fit, and not too young or too old when was injured certainly could help him through this I believe."
"Good. Good," Warrick responded quietly as the elevator ceased its upward movement and a beat later the doors slid open. David stepped out first and started down the hallway towards the private waiting room Dr. Timmons had acquired for the CSIs. David glanced back once over his left shoulder. Seeing that Brown and Robbins had left the elevator, but were stalled not two feet outside of it, he continued along without them.
"Be honest with me, Doc. Does Nick have a shot?"
"I'm not a neurosurgeon Warrick."
"C'mon Doc. I trust your opinion."
"All I know medically is what I've already told you. That the fact he was in excellent health before the accident will be a positive contribution. What I know personally is that Nick won't give up without putting up a fight with everything he's got."
At this Warrick grinned a grin that captured his entire expression.
"What is it?" Doc asked, unable to resist a small smile of his own. Warrick's had been instantly contagious.
"You've never played basketball with the man. Even when he's losing, and I mean seriously losing, he doesn't give."
"Sounds like he'll do fine holdin' his own then," Robbins commented and the pair were both back in motion again, progressing along the hallway silently to the waiting room. When they rounded the corner they saw David, coffee cup now in hand, open the door to the small waiting room. This revealed its other occupants as Grissom and Catherine.
"So do you think that Amlyn Marshall was killed over her baby," Catherine was suggesting in response to something Grissom had said while Warrick and Robbins were still just out of earshot. Whatever Grissom's words had been Warrick and Robbins only saw them as his lips moving with no sound. As soon as they made it through the doorway Warrick acquired the first empty chair to collapse into, but the other man remained standing for a moment.
"There's one problem with that theory," Doc Robbins voice interjected.
"Oh yeah, what's that?" Catherine asked, very curious if Robbins had found additional medical information that could be useful.
"Well, your theory involves Amlyn Marshall," the medical examiner responded. Grissom fielded the return.
"Logic leads us down that path. Our DB, Amlyn Marshall, is the center of our investigation."
"That would be all well and good if your DB were Amlyn Marshall, but she's not. Amlyn Marshall that is," Robbins stated, taking a seat across from where Grissom and Catherine sat.
"Amlyn Marshall is not our DB?" Catherine jumped in with.
"Sorry no."
"Based on what?" Grissom asked and shifted to a straighter posture showing his attention had been gained.
"Mrs. Marshall and Amlyn's fingerprints." That was Doc's simple answer at first, but the silent intense stares from both the CSIs seated across from him drew further explanation.
"Brass had gotten a hold of Amlyn's mother, Camille Marshall, who flew back from Chicago this afternoon. She came to see Amlyn and give the id. Well, according to Mrs. Marshall the girl in the morgue is not her daughter and has no idea who our DB is."
"Is it possible that it was some type of denial at seeing her daughter deceased?" Grissom proposed. Everyone was surprised when it was David and not Robbins that responded next.
"Nope. Fingerprints confirm it. Before Nick left the lab and went out to the crime scene he came by. Doc had stepped out for a few minutes. Nick asked me if it was possible to put a priority on retrieving and confirming the DB's prints as Amlyn's. He didn't say straight out that he thought they wouldn't match, but he gave the impression that he felt something was off. So I got the fingerprints and went to have them run against the prints Amlyn's high school had taken. They didn't match. Nor did they match anyone on file."
"So this girl was living in the Marshall house but Mrs. Marshall has no idea who she is. How was she identified as Amlyn Marshall in the first place?" Grissom grumbled slightly irritated that this was just coming to light now. This time around Doc filled them in.
"She wasn't yet positively identified. There was no one on scene to do the id. Mrs. Marshall has been out of town doing an art show tour for the last few months. There were pictures in the house of our decedent and some of the photos had Amlyn's name handwritten on the back. We were in the process of getting a positive on that."
"I have another excellent question, where the hell is Amlyn Marshall?" Catherine asked.
"As of right this moment Amlyn Marshall is missing," Brass announced from the doorway of the small waiting room.
"I also have some other news," he added, moving further into the room so he stood at the head of the U-shaped grouping of chairs.
"About Amlyn Marshall or the DB?" Grissom asked. Brass shifted a little, to turn to the left to look the other man directly in the eye.
"Neither. I found out why we couldn't reach Nick's parents."
To Be Continued…