Title: In Hell with Love

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

Author's note: To Hyades, Meg-Breanne, Mma63, necira, gt4good, apcJodi, CrazyGunFire, jdcocoagirl, Gear's Girl, The Chosen one 16 and xoSnickersxo, thank you for your reviews and for satisfying my review-junkie ways.

My heart goes out to the families and victims of Virginia Tech. The shootings happened a day after my birthday. I keep thinking about it. It makes me sad to know that the world can be so ugly and wrong. My prayers go out to all of you. Be strong.

"Virginia Tech, we remember you."

Chapter 16

There was darkness, and agony, and voices.

Sara… The doors…

No. No, no, no, no…

W-Warrick—over h-here

What are you waiting for? Help me get her out of here.

If there were dreams in that dark slumber, she could remember little of them afterwards.

Oh my Gosh.

Nick…go with her…

…. Take care of her.

She had a sense of rolling over in darkness… of tumbling, of free falling through infinite lightless space.

You'll get through this. Everything's going to be okay.

Sara, can you hear me? C'mon, open your eyes. Stay with me. Sara?

There was no fear in the dream…

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We'll get the guy who did this. We'll find whoever's responsible, prosecute him…

Those were the only thoughts going through their minds as they made their way to the hospital. Grissom had placed Catherine and Sofia in charge of Sara's medical examination. His main reasons—The doctors at Desert Palms were not in the business of collecting evidence and according to protocol, it would be best if a person of the same gender did the examination. They were certain those weren't the only reasons but they didn't push the issue further.

They had more important things to think about.

The car bounced as Sofia drove towards Desert Palm. They knew that tonight Sara would be there. After nearly two years, she'll finally be somewhere; in a place where they could see her, hear her and touch her, without the need of dreams or imaginations. As they headed towards the hospital, they were excited, ecstatic beyond comprehension, despite having to work in the middle of the night. But the closer they got to their destination, the women felt afraid, and they continued their journey in silence.

Staring out of the window towards the moon, Catherine sighed a breath of sadness and longing, closing her eyes slowly in a state of mediation. A few hours ago, someone told her that her friend was dying. Moments passed, and they'd managed to rescue her, only to find out that she wasn't breathing. Finally, at the hospital, they were told that the doctors had stabilized her. A heartless battle of life and death. Everything depended on one thing: Sara's capacity to survive. Catherine rubbed her forehead just as the car jerked to a stop; for a moment she felt the pressure of the entire team on her back, the vibration of the road still working up through her seat, into her feet and along her body, becoming an ache on her shoulders. As the vibrations stopped, she felt her body settle into the present, her silent thoughts interrupted by the chill that Sofia was allowing into the car.

They have arrived. They have finally arrived.

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Nick wasn't going to lose her. Not like this.

That was the prayer he had repeated to himself from the moment he saw her, chained to the wall in the room. Treated like animal—like she wasn't a person. Like she didn't matter to anyone.

Left behind to die. Left for dead.

They had moved her to the back of the ward, away from obvious prying eyes. Nick grabbed a chair to sit with her, trying to will his eyes to stay open despite the utter exhaustion that made his arms and legs heavy. He kept his eyes on Sara, who lay unmoving on the same gurney that she was brought in. She was made to lie on her right side; the injuries on her back made it impossible for her to heal if she had lay flat. Nick didn't mind. At least he didn't have to move to see her face. He could still see the tear tracks through the blood and dirt on her cheeks, before disappearing into her hair. Her skin was pale beneath the bruises, which were getting uglier with each passing minute. The doctors had cut away her bloody clothes, and placed them in a paper sack that now sat on the counter marked 'evidence'. The nurses had dressed her in a loose-fitting gown that seemed two sizes too big for her, some of her blood seeping into the fabric.

They promised to get her clean up after the evidence had been collected. Protocol…

Her body was still bloodstained and unkempt. She had a nosebleed and solidified blood on her cheeks cracked and flaked as she breathed through her mask. She had needles stuck all over her body, wires connected to the area around her heart. Her wounds were still fresh and he didn't know how long she'd be unconscious. He had no one to ask and that worried him. The hospital staff had left them alone once she had been stabilised, keeping their touch to a minimal in fear of compromising the evidence. Nick didn't blame them…

He wasn't allowed to touch her either.

He wasn't allowed to smooth her hair back from her face. He wasn't allowed to wipe away her tears with his thumb. There he sat, within an arms length from her and he wasn't even allowed to hold her hand. All he could do was look at her and say words that he had already said. He found it ridiculous, but then again, those were the rules. He was given the task to watch over her until Catherine and Sofia arrive to examine her.

And he made sure he did the job well.

He watched her anxiously as he waited, unable to take his eyes from Sara's unconscious form. Angry red marks circled her throat and he could see that the damage was just enough to almost choke her to death. Almost being the key word. Rage surged through him as he stared at her injuries. For the first time in his life, premeditative murder seemed almost appealing and pleasant.

An eye for an eye.

He shook his head, hoping the thought would fall out of his ears and onto the ground. He wasn't going to lose her. He couldn't lose her. Not like this. He wouldn't. He kept telling himself that, as if repeating the words could make it come true. As if by saying it, he could fix it all. Make it all better, like a mother kissing a child's skinned knee. He turned away briefly and looked around. There was a smear of blood on the floor. Her blood. They must have missed a spot.

That bothered him.

It bothered him that his last thought, before breaking down entirely, was that he was going to sue the hospital. Sara almost died, and he was going to sue the hospital for not cleaning up after her.

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Their footsteps echoed in the hallway. A blue fluorescent tube flicked lightly above them. The hospital janitor stared at them suspiciously, while mopping the floor. Pink water splashing in the bucket…

Surreal. Queer.

Catherine and Sofia walked into the ward, a kit and camera in their hands, ready to do what needed to be done. The door behind them sighed and wheezed like a dying patient. The light from the outside rushed in and escaped within the same moment, plunging the room back into despair. The room was almost empty. The only indication of life—the sound of the heart monitor and the weeping of a grieving man. They stopped and stood next to a bunch of medical equipment, next to the doors, watching Nick with Sara. He hadn't noticed them. Catherine figured it was a good thing. He could use a little more time.

From where she was, Catherine surveyed the injuries on Sara's thin broken body, picturing how annoyed she'd be once she woke up, and not being able to go to work. She'll probably start bossing Greg around in the lab. Ordering him to do this and that. That would be a thing to see. That would be an excellent thing to see indeed.

Fond illusions crept into her brain. She kept pretending that once Sara opened her eyes, everything would go back to normal.

"Ready, Cath?"

She flinched as Sofia spoke. For a moment she thought Sara had asked her that; that Sara had sat up from her gurney to ask if she was ready to process her. That saddened her greatly. She turned to the voice and nodded, knowing that in reality, she'll never be ready for something like this.

Nick sat at the back of the ward heavily. Hands on his knees, his back hunched over like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Within the last few hours, he had managed to look twice his age. There were dark circles around his eyes and he had gotten blood all over his shirt. The red smears were fading to brown now. The kind of brown that might come out in the wash, or forever be stained like imperfection. He was running out of shirts that didn't have bloodstains on them, whether it was his or somebody else's.

But this was the first time the blood was Sara's.

"Sara's clothes… There's definitely DNA. We'll know who's responsible. We can find whoever did this..." Nick said, almost rambling. He lifted the bag without looking at the two women, his eyes fixated on the gurney. He knew what was required of him at that moment: his exit. Catherine could see that he didn't want to leave; he wanted to stay in the room with Sara. It was written on every line of his body. She could sympathise, but he had to go. Those were the rules.

"Nick, we're going to need your clothes. You'll have to come with me." Sofia's fingers held his elbows, prompting him to stand. He was too tired to put up a fight. He stood up and sadly sighed in utter defeat, glancing back at them as he followed the detective through the doors.

Catherine was now alone with Sara. They'd gone. They were not too happy about it, but they'd gone.

She took out her camera and took several pictures of Sara's emaciated body. The bruises and lacerations, even the egg-sized lump on the left side of her face. Every click of the camera was like bullet entering the chamber of a gun; a gun that was pointed straight to her heart. The more she took, the more ashamed she felt; guilty for taking pictures without her friend's consent, profane for violating her friend's privacy. She had to move her bloody gown in order to report her findings—Full length and close-ups. It felt wrong. Everything inside her felt tight, like a toy whose spring had been wound too far, too much. She was about to break, or fall to pieces; and she wasn't even sure which would come first.

She looked into the camera and for a moment, Sara's body blurred, reduced to nothing but colours and shapes. She sighed, annoyed by the setback, fanning her face to get rid her tears, apologising to Sara for being so sensitive at a time like this. The fanning didnt work. A tear rolled down her cheek, and another and another. More tears flowed and she had to placed her camera down, drawing in deep and shuddering breaths. She continued apologising, dispeling the silence and the lone sound of Sara's laboured breathing.

In her blurred peripheral vision, she thought she saw a shadow peering through the door's tiny window; a vague impression of a tall, dark-haired person. Catherine blinked, her world coming back into focus.

The shadow was gone, leaving Catherine to wonder if it was her imagination.

She wiped her cheeks with the heel of her hand, and kept going.

She catalogued everything. Every cut. Every bruise. Every bleed. The list grew longer and longer, enough for two victims to share. That made her sick. Her stomach rolled, threatening to defile the hospital floor at the sight of each abuse. The bruises on Sara's wrist were already purple. Her shoulders, back and thighs had colour that shouldn't be on a healthy human being. Her skin had been broken and torn so many times, that even though she was great at math, Catherine couldn't get the exact number. She continued anyways, carefully swabbing her mouth, wiping the blood from where Sara had bitten her lip, the inside of cheek, her tongue. She then combed the debris out of her hair, sneaking the opportunity to brush her hair back from her forehead tenderly. Like Sara was someone worth cherishing.

She was definitely someone worth cherishing.

She taken all the samples she needed and stored them. That was what she did… during cases like these. She had seen it all before, it was her job to see things like these. She knew what to do.

She always knew what to do.

Through it all, Sara's eyes had remained closed, her chest rising and falling steadily. Her breathing was shallow and rasping. A sign that she was still with them; she hasn't given up.

"You did good, Sara." Catherine said as she reached out and ran the tips of her fingers down Sara's cheek. She walked to the doors and gestured for the doctors and nurses, the signal that she was done and they were in no risk jeopardizing the prosecutions, their reputation or careers. Without talking to her or acknowledging her, they proceed to clean her up and redress her wounds. To make her more presentable for the entire world that was red, raw and bleeding.

To mend a broken toy that may or may not be beyond repair.

In the midst of flushing urinals and gushing water, he stood in front of the mirror, tall and proud. He watched as his reflective image mimic his every move, combing his hair like it meant something. The light in the men's room shone on his pale skin; the outer layer of his demented existence, covering the only thought in his head:

Sara Sidle made it through the night.

Yes…She made it. She's alive. Her friends had save her.

The same friends he talked to days before. While they cried outwardly, he smiled inwardly; listening with glee about how they felt about her, how they missed her, their progress in her abduction, the things they wanted to do to the one responsible, not knowing it's him.

Who were her friends again? Hang on… he wrote it down in his worn-out note pad.

NSGGGSSSSCCWWBJB

Nick Stokes, Gil Grissom, Greg Sanders, Sara Sidle, Sofia Curtis, Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, Jim Brass.

He wondered what would Sara think of them? Talking to her tormentor about her? Giving him something to use against her…

Well… in their defence, they did not know who he was. They did not know that he watched them rescue her through his computer screen. They did not know that he drove to Desert Palm in his black car and watched as the doctors patched her up, the rush of adrenaline surging within him as they tried to repair his handiwork…

He exited the men's room and entered the hallway, passing by Nick and Sofia as they walked out of the medical ward. He watched them, wondering where they were going before peering into the door's tiny window. Catherine was taking photos of Sara, talking to her. He smiled, thinking of what sorts of dreams he'll have about all of these.

Time to go…

He'll lay low for a while; no one will notice he's missing, they'll be too concern about one of their own to worry about him. He'll show up again when she wakes up. It's only a matter of time. In a couple of days, she'll be his again.

Because this one's a keeper. And he plans to keep it that way.

TBC

I thought the killer should make another appearance. Actually, I have left clues of his identity in the previous chapters. Sadly, no one noticed.

Remember the string of letters in Chapter 2? Now you know what it means.

Does the last line sound familiar? It was taken from Chapter 11.

There's a good chance that Sara will wake up in the next chapter.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review. It would really make my day.