The scene was a mess, fire trucks blocking the entrance; lights still blinking and casting bluish jolts of light over the asphalt. Security guards trying to stop him at the entrance, looking skeptically at his CSI tag. He simply glared and pushed his way through. Stepping inside he felt like the smell of smoke hit him square in the face, but there was no actual smoke seeping from under the doors. The ICU was on the second floor right above the ER and he made his way to the stairwells and was promptly stopped by a fireman yanking hard at his arm.
"Step away!"
Flashing his ID he tried to gain access again.
"Listen, the fire is not under control yet, we're checking out the electrical system. You won't be safe."
"Anybody up there still? Got 'em all out?"
"All out, this ER is closed and the patients have either been moved to ordinary wards or right here in the ER. It'll take us a couple of days to clear this mess."
"Arson?" Warrick asked.
"You betcha," the fireman responded grimly before his intercom signaled and he left Warrick standing there, with a thousand questions unanswered.
Turning he watched the frantic scurrying of personnel at the end of the hall that led into the wing that held the ER. He approached holding his ID visible, looking for someone in charge. At the front desk he found a nurse with frazzled hair trying to cope with multiple phone calls all at once. Looking around he found a rack of charts and went directly for the letter S. Nick's wasn't there.
"Hey!" The nurse held the phone from her ear and cast daggers in his direction.
"CSI Brown, I'm looking for Nicholas Stokes."
The nurse peered to get a better look at his ID before she looked at a paper in front of her.
"They're working on him exam room 2," she said, pointing further down the corridor and returning to her call.
Working on him? His mouth went dry and he remained staring at the nurse for a moment. Needing to know why they were working on him? Complications with the injuries? Injuries from the fire? Smoke inhalation? But the desk nurse didn't bestow him with another glance. With an increasing sense of alarm he maneuvered himself further down the aisle, trying not to block the path of medical equipment being pushed by stressed out personnel snapping at him.
He spotted Sara standing outside a room with the doors shut, her arms crossed over her chest and her face drawn.
"Sar!" He lunged to reach her and she looked at him, startled. There was an expression of rage and fear mixed in her eyes as they met his.
He steeled himself to look inside the room. Not really knowing what to expect. Nick was back on the vent, his face covered from the shunts pumping air into him and blood pressure cuffs on both his arms, a third IV line inserted.
"He was cramping all the way down," Sara spoke, "so hard the entire bed shook. It went on and on before they figured out what the cause was. He wasn't getting any air and ripped out his IV in the process. I thought we'd lose him right there and then. Doc says he probably injured his lung further during the seizures. The ribs snapped again and they don't know if the lungs punctured because his polsox keeps dropping. If it is he's gonna need another operation and he's so weak they don't know if he can take the strain. They're waiting on the equipment to assess him because he can't be moved in the state he is right now."
Warrick moved his hand to cup Sara's elbow, not entirely sure if he was steadying her on holding himself up.
"They keep pumping glucose into him with a rapid infuser but his level keeps sinking far too low, it was 30 when they found out why he was cramping. The dosage was huge. Another seizure and…." Her voice trailed off into a sob.
Warrick's head was reeling. Glucose level and seizures?
"Sara, what?"
"I didn't realize Warrick, I felt the smoke in the hallway and this male nurse came in and injected him, told me it was a sedative. I had to keep Nick down because he was getting agitated when the fire alarm went off, he nearly crawled off the bed. It was because he didn't use the IV line to administer it and the fact that he smelled of smoke that it finally dawned on me. I tried to stop him but I didn't dare shoot with everything that was going on and Vega was called away to get the portable 02 for Nick. It happened so fast and he slipped away. I didn't even see him clearly 'cos the lights went out."
"Sara, back up a step here, injected him with what?" Warrick realized Sara was close to a breakdown, her rambling was totally out of character and it seemed she kept up her litany of cold facts to avoid letting the fact that this was Nick get to her.
"Insulin." She stated curtly and a small shiver ran through her.
"Someone injected him with insulin?" Warrick asked incredulously. "They got to him right here?"
Sara nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. "Fast acting Humalog the doctor suspected. It takes around 10 minutes to take effect, Much faster of course in a person that doesn't suffer from diabetes and has a normal glucose level, peaks at approximately one hour and the duration is up to four hours. With the massive dosage he would have been dead in 20 minutes. I have the syringe."
"You what?"
"I picked it up off the floor but I didn't have gloves on. I think I might have destroyed all possible fingerprints."
She uncrossed her arms and brought a shaking hand forth for Warrick to see. In her hand, wrapped in a paper towel lay the 50 ml syringe used in the attempt to once again take Nick's life.
"Did you know they de-railed the ambulance?" she continued. "They would have been closer, by 10 minutes to the Sunrise but somebody called them en route and directed them to Desert Palms. Somebody wanted him here Warrick." Sara's voice had turned laconic and Warrick realized she was slowly unraveling.
He looked back inside the room, the blood pressure now alarmingly high and swift movements blurred his view as Nick's body cramped and medication was pushed into his IV line. Even from here Warrick was able to see the sweat gleaming on Nick's pale skin while his body seemed to be in a constant state of tremors.
"His liver has to work overtime, counteracting the insulin with glucagon, but with that massive dose it does very little anyhow," Sara continued in the same eerily emotionless voice. "They need to keep his epinephrine levels elevated and that takes a toll on his heart, add to that the risk of brain damage if the glucose level drops under 40 for any length of time. It's a hormone you know, artificially manufactured as early as in the 1920s, used primarily for the treatment of Diabetes type 1 but it was used instead of ECT's as late as in the 50s. Didn't do a very good work though so they stopped the use as soon as the revolutionary psych meds were approved in 1958. But before that they tried to cure depressions by inducing hypoglycemic shock, they give the entire nervous system a jolt and..."
"Sara," Warrick spoke with a raspy voice, desperate to get her mind off the track it seemed to have gotten stuck on.
She took a deep breath, her exhale quivering and rushed. The arms back around her chest, like holding herself together. Another deep breath and her voice came out in angered rushes as she spoke.
"He can't die on my watch, I won't allow it. It was all my fault Warrick. I just can't lose him like this. Not while I was supposed to watch over him, not ever!" Sara's voice finally broke and Warrick scooped her into his arms when huge sobs wracked her body.
Warrick was thrown off base by the outburst. He could handle the anger and the resentment oozing off Sara but he had no idea what to do with the tears, so he did nothing, except stood there in silence. It seemed they had been standing there for hours, Sara slowly gathering herself and his eyes glued to the scene behind the window pane. But the clock inside the exam room told him it had only been ten minutes. Ten ghastly minutes during which he had inwardly cursed, begged and tried to bribe what he expected was something akin to God. His thoughts were a complete jumble and a sickening lump was lodged in his throat.
A nurse came up, carrying IV bags and casting a glance at Sara hunched over, leaning on Warrick's shoulder. "Need any help?" she asked.
Still holding on to Sara, Warrick asked for a chair.
"You'd be better off in the waiting room," she remarked with her hand already on the door knob.
"No!" Sara spat, shaking her head.
With a last glance for guidance at Warrick she hollered for someone named Auriello to bring chairs before she slipped into the room, briefly letting the beeps and voices seep out before she closed the door.
Suddenly all lights flickered on and the green exit signs dimmed and the corridors were bathed in bright lights as if the entire hospital was jump started. Two rickety plastic chairs were pushed towards them and Warrick unceremoniously placed Sara in one of them.
When he looked up he saw Gil Grissom standing before him, visibly shaken. Catherine behind him, walking up and placing her palms on the window pane. "Nicky? What's happening?"
"Someone got to him," Warrick stated bitterly. "Right here, where you're supposed to be safe, someone got to him."