Disclaimer: see first chapter


Nearly a half hour later, Detective Reynolds came out to find Nick in the waiting room, anxiously running his palms back and forth over his thighs.

"I'm finished talking to her for now, so I guess you can go back in," Reynolds announced awkwardly. "Have you spoken to Willows at all?"

"Yeah, she came to pick up the kit about a half hour ago." Nick stood up, anxious to get back to Sara and see how she was doing.

"Well, I'm sure Ms. Sidle wants to get out of here soon…"

"Can I take her home?" Nick paused, an unspoken question lying between the two men, and Nick was grateful for Reynolds's prompt answer.

"She's free to go for now. I've spoken with her, and as long as the autopsy and the sexual assault kit don't contradict it, I'm ruling this one as accidental. If I need anything else from her, I'll contact her at home…does she have someone who can stay with her? She still seems pretty shaken up."

"I've got that covered…thank you," Nick told him, a bit hoarsely, hearing the first piece of good news all night.

"No thanks needed. If I thought that this went down any way other than what she told me, I wouldn't hesitate to bring her in, CSI or not," Reynolds replied matter-of-factly. "But so far, all the evidence points to this being a case of her trying to fend off an attacker."

Nick picked up the bag of clothes that Catherine had dropped off and stood up. "I'm going to go check on her."

Reynolds headed towards the exit as Nick walked quickly down the hallway to Sara's room. He knocked lightly on the door again, but after receiving no response, he opened the door fractionally, hoping that he wouldn't be walking in on an examination or anything else embarrassing. What he found was Sara lying on her side, facing away from the door.

"Sara," he called softly, not wanting to scare her again.

"Yeah?" she whispered, the wobble in her voice betraying the fact that she had been crying.

Nick walked around the bed, sitting in the chair opposite the door so that he could see her face. Her eyes were red rimmed and her cheeks tearstained. She was curled into herself, and as Nick sat down, she closed her eyes and sniffled.

"Catherine dropped off some clothes for you to change into. As soon as the doctor gives the word, I'm gonna take you home, alright?"

"Yeah," she whispered again, wiping at her face before sniffling one more time. As she lay in the bed, looking so lost, Nick wondered for the first time that night, whether or not he would be able to help her. As it was now, he had no idea what to do to even begin to reach out to her in a way that wouldn't make it worse. He wanted very badly to pull her into a hug, but instead he settled for pushing his chair a little closer to the bed and beginning to softly stroke her hair with one hand, resting the other on the bed by her arm. He was surprised when a few minutes later, Sara reached out, tentatively grazing his fingers with her own, before entwining her fingers with his.

"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely, looking up at him briefly. Nick squeezed her hand once and mustered a smile.

"Anything for you Sar."

Sara once again became lost in her own head, staring past Nick, to the window behind him. It scared him that she could go so easily from talking one minute, to escaping inside of her own head the next. He wanted the doctor to hurry up and discharge her, so that he could get her out of there.

Nick got his wish fifteen minutes later; fifteen long minutes of watching Sara close herself off again. He couldn't do anything but rub the knuckles of the hand that was clinging to his, and brush the occasional stray piece of hair away from her eyes.

The doctor was brief, making a few notes and looking Sara over once more before telling Nick that the nurse would be in shortly. He was handed several papers, including prescriptions for a painkiller, a sedative, and her discharge care instructions. It wasn't until he shuffled through all of the papers, that he realized Sara was still lying in the hospital bed, staring at the window.

He leaned forward, grasping her hand again. "Sweetheart, as soon as you get dressed, I can take you home. I can wait outside, unless you need some help?" Nick wasn't completely sure that the offer wasn't awkward, but he figured it would probably be one of many moments over the course of the next few days.

His query seemed to get Sara's attention, and she shook her head. Nick stood up, releasing her hand after one last squeeze. He made his way to the doorway, but didn't fully exit until he was sure Sara was in fact going to get up. When he saw her reach for the bag of clothes that Catherine had brought her, he closed the door gently behind him.

He was pacing in front of the doorway, debating whether or not to knock, when the door suddenly opened in front of him. He watched Sara hobble somewhat awkwardly back to the bed, sitting on the edge to fold the hospital gown. She almost looked normal, in the jeans and tee shirt that Catherine had dropped off, if only Nick could ignore the bruises, and the fact that she had only one sneaker on.

He must have been staring, because Sara softly explained, "My ankle is too swollen for the shoe to go over it."

"We'll get some ice for that when we get back to your place. We just have to stop at the pharmacy to fill your prescriptions."

As Sara dropped the extra sneaker into the bag, the nurse entered the room, wheelchair in tow. "You ready to go hun?" she asked with a smile.

Sara nodded and sunk into the chair, clutching the bag in her lap.

"You're going to have to stay off of that ankle for a few days now. Apply ice in twenty minute increments for the swelling, and once you have full ankle motion, you can start applying heat. There's a few other things we need to go over…" The nurse shot a look at Nick. "Maybe you want to go get the car?" she asked politely.

Nick took the hint. "Yeah, I'll pull around by the revolving doors…I'll meet you there in a few minutes."

The door shut behind him as Nick made the long trek to the hospital's parking structure. It was going to be a long night, that he was sure of.