Title: In Hell with Love

Rating: T

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

Author's note: I finally managed to write chapter 17. Sorry for the delay. Life got (terribly) in the way. I needed an escape so I sat down and type this chapter out. Hope you'll like it and review it.

To Meg-Breanne, ilovekc, necira, Gear's Girl, xoSnickersxo, wraiths-angel, inhellwithloveluver (I never had someone named themselves after my story, I feel honoured), refinnej and simple lines, thank you for your reviews. I apologise for making you wait.

To the others, where are my reviews? –Grins– just kidding

Chapter 17

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Did I do something wrong? Did I fail her in someway?

Why was this done to her? Who would do such a thing? That bastard played with her like she was a doll with no feelings. Like she could be discarded like yesterday's trash. Like she wasn't real…

Did I fail her as a cop? Did I fail her as a colleague? As a friend? As a father figure?

I saw her. Her eyes would not open. Her breathing came rasping and shallow. Why didn't I help her? I just stood there… I didn't do anything.

There was a blood on the floor, on the walls. There was blood on Nick's hands, Warrick's hands; the paramedics too. Why didn't I have blood on mine? Why were my hands so white and clean?

Why? Why didn't I do more? Why didn't I do anything?

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Brass sat by his desk, flipping through notes that seemed almost cryptic to his eyes. He looked through evidence over evidence, clues over clues, trying to do something, anything… Even if they didn't make any sense he kept his eyes on them, despite his utter weariness that made his body laden.

He was keeping vigil, thinking that if he slept he would be betraying Sara in someway.

He had bought himself some rice and soda earlier, making a sarcastic comment to a lab tech that he was on a diet. That's the way he is. He had to make a remark now and then in order to feel normal. A coping mechanism. He ate slowly, trying to settle his stomach. He didn't remember tasting the food, and the soda sat untouched on his desk. Nobody came by. He was alone in the lab, with the soft glow of light and the tasteless food for company.

If normalcy remained, Sara would walk by those doors and eat with him. She would tell him about her latest case, how she felt, what she would do to the bad guys. She would reassure him that she wasn't drinking anymore and offer him her last mint just to convince him. She would flash him her signature gap-tooth smile before thanking him for doing nothing.

Would Sara still thank him for doing absolutely nothing?

He didn't do anything when he was in that room. Nick warmed and supported her, Warrick got the restraints off and the paramedics help her, while he could only stare. Stare and hear the voices that screamed in his head. Back at that room, it was so crowded. So crowded that he was forgotten. He felt invisible, standing behind them, watching them save her while he did absolutely nothing.

"Busy?" He heard someone said. Brass hadn't noticed Sofia as she came through the doors.

"Not so much."

The understatement of the year, a little voice inside Brass's head mocked him.

"We've got a lead on the case. Some writings on the walls indicated that Sara knew the killer." Sofia said, just hearing the word "killer" made Brass's blood run cold. "Have you gone to see Sara yet?"

"Not yet. I'll see her when I'm done with these." Brass replied, and Sofia's eyes drifted pass him to the useless heap of papers.

"When she wakes up, she'll need you."

"Another detective has been stationed outside her room." He replied, darkening a line on a piece of paper, pretending he was writing something of importance. "He's in charge of taking her statement—"

"When she wakes up," Sofia gently interrupted, "she'll need you. Not because you're a detective."

There was a kindness in her eyes when they met his, and Brass swallowed his intended reply. He sighed, rubbing the creases in his palms against the wrinkles on his face.

"Well…at least its better than doing nothing…" he said as he grabbed his coat and headed towards the doors.

Hey Sara,

I know you're sleeping and the doctors said that you probably wouldn't be able to hear me right now… I mean… considering that they doped you for the pain and all. But just in case—just in case you can hear me, I want you to know that you're not alone. You'll never be alone. Not while I'm here.

There are people here who love and care for you. So no matter what happens… we'll handle it together.

Remember, you'll never be alone.

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The chair moaned as Nick opened his eyes, his vision focusing upon a solitary person. Light softly pearled through the door, making the white walls appear sky blue. The blinds on the windows were slightly drawn and Nick could see the dust motes dancing to welcome the morning. But even with the golden threadlike rays peeking onto the hospital floor, the room looked as dark as ever.

Dozed off again, he thought, cleaning the dirt out of his eyes.

It has been 3 days since they found Sara. And for 3 days, she did not wake. The doctors had placed her in an induced coma to help her breathing and recovery. But even with all their qualifications and know-it-all minds, they could not tell as to when she will regain consciousness.

He was beginning to dislike doctors…

For 3 days, he had sat on the same moaning chair for hours on end. He had fallen asleep and woke up several times in it; each time, noticing the warmth of Sara's body growing, the faces of nurses changing and the repeated replacement of medication. From time to time, a machine would buzz and he would hear hurried footsteps along the corridor and into the room. That scared him. But now, the worst was over. She's breathing on her own and the fever and breathing had stabilised.

Nick noticed a vase on the table that wasn't there before— Pink and white flowers. Grissom must have dropped by while they were asleep. His boss had given him the week off, as a reward for solving the case and a recuperation period. Grissom was relieved when they rescued Sara, but plunged dangerously into work as the days went by, afraid of missing out on a piece evidence if he ever slowed down. Almost like Sara on a normal day… Nick didn't blame him. Grissom's last words to Sara were words of rejection. Words that he didn't mean, words that he wanted to take back if he could…

Its normal, everyone wished they could take back or done something different that day. Sara was like a sister to them—a compassionate, empathic, genius sister. They would do anything to spare her pain, to keep her from harm. Nick knew how the others felt.

While Greg had been complaining about being stood up and the diner, his date had been snatched off in an alleyway by a brutal, sadistic man.

While Grissom had been on sabbatical for weeks, teaching and enriching minds, his love one had been imprisoned and viciously tortured.

While Catherine and Sofia were on a case, thinking trivial thoughts about complex things, their sister had been left alone in a room to die.

As a message? To prove a point? To cow them? Hurt them? Why? Why? Why did he do this?

Wake up Sara… Wake up and say that you'll forgive us.

She laid on her side, the same side as before. Her back was still too raw and hurt to apply any pressure. Tubes travelled from machines to her heart and nose, checking rhythm and providing air . Her right wrist was fastened to the side of the bed with a tourniquet to make sure the IV tubing stayed in place. Her other arm was bandaged from wrist to elbow. The nurses had cleaned her up well, but nothing could be done to hide the multiple bruises and cuts. Lacerations seemed deeper, bruises seemed darker…He hadn't thought she could look any worse than she had when they found her.

He wondered what nightmares she would have. Watching her struggle with these phantoms had made him feel horribly alone. He wanted her to wake up. He was waiting for her to wake up. Waiting for her, so that he could ask her the questions he needed to ask. The things he couldn't tell, by the reports or the listing of her injuries. The things he wished he didn't know.

He wanted to see if her soul had been broken, just like her body.

"It's not your fault, you know." Catherine said quietly, hesitating on her way to the room. Nick knew she was there. He had heard her soft treading, smelled her perfume against the smell of sterile equipments.

"Hell it is!" Nick said softly, so that his voice would not penetrate Sara's drug-induce slumber. Guilt and shame nipped away his sanity as soon as he ended his sentence. He didn't mean to be rude to Catherine. He knew she was hurting just as much as he was. Maybe even more. "I asked her to walk into that alley. I watched as he carried her away. I… every time I close my eyes, all I could see was Sara being taken away."

Catherine's lips parted in surprise at his admission.

"I saw him… I saw him with my own eyes, and yet… I still do not know who he was. I still don't…" Nick said simply. "If what happened wasn't my fault. Then why do I feel like I'm to blame?"

"Because you're a good person. A good person, who almost lost his friend to an evil bastard. He did this, not you."

Nick sighed, his lungs expelling doubt. He repositioned himself on the chair, staring at the hospital floor instead of Catherine's eyes. Her acceptance was worse than if she had blamed him. The way she looked at him, wanting to comfort him, made things a thousand times worse.

"Was she…?" Nick didn't have to finish his sentence. Catherine knew what he was going to ask. She nodded. "There were signs indicating that she had been…sexually assaulted."

A CSI knows what that word actually means. They often used the term in front of parents, who would not believe that such harm could come to a person they care about; as if that somehow made it less…. horrific. Less a brutal act of cowardice and hatred than it was.

Nick's hands were balled into fists, nails cutting crescent-shaped impressions into his palms. He wanted to lash out—and Catherine was the closest available target. "She trusted me, Cath. Trusted me to keep her safe, and I put her in harms way."

"You couldn't have known what was going to happen…"

"Why did it have to be Sara? He said, his voice cracked with strain. "Why couldn't it have been… god, I wish I'd…"

"Don't say it. Don't say it. It's not going to be you, or Sara, or anyone. Not ever again. Not any of us." Catherine placed her hand onto his shoulder as he drew in deep and shuddering breaths. Her brave front had crumbled, her own eyes burning as her tears scalded her cheeks.

"I'm sorry." Nick said, recomposing himself.

"Why? For being human? For being Sara's friend? For hurting?" She let her hand rest on his shoulder for a moment longer. "You have nothing to apologise about."

Nick said nothing, as he fiddled with Sara's tourniquet. He then placed her hand between his, playing with her fingers, watching them straighten and curl back into a relaxed position. Catherine watched those hands. The hands that solved so many cases and yet, will not be able to solve this one. She stared, crestfallen as her shadow gave the illusion of Sara's legs moving.

Only… that wasn't an illusion…

Before she could alert Nick, he had experience a miracle on his own. Sara's fingers did not respond the way they did a moment ago. Instead, her hand had held onto his, almost not letting go. He shot an eager look at Catherine before leaning closer to Sara, staring intently at her face, calling out her name, soft and gentle.

Sara?

Her eyelids twitched, the smallest frowns creasing her brow as she slowly opened her eyes…

TBC

I'll apologise once again for the delay. Hope you have enjoyed this chapter. Sorry for any mistakes in grammar, spelling etc (let me know if there is). Its now 3am in the morning and I'm extremely tired.

To everyone: Did you catch the Finale? It was awesome -smile- I'll update the next chapter as soon as I can, till then leave a review.