(no subject)
Argh, I'm sorry. I've been gone and the only way to finish the story is to have my computer with me at all times. Since this isn't a laptop, that doesn't work. So, here's part nine, and I have part ten, the last part, waiting for you.
Title: If Only- Part Nine
Author: fate216
Rating: PG for the end result of violence
Category: Cath/Sara fluff-turned-drama
Disclaimer: All I need is some chloroform and THEN I'll have them!
Summary: Tough day at the office and well into the night.
I’m dreaming. I know I am, because how many DNA labs operate on pirate ships? But I’m fine with it, I suppose, as a swashbuckling Nick tries to steady a swaying fax machine that’s spitting out print matches from underneath the deck. I walk over to him.
“Need some help?” I ask, wondering what kind of language he’ll use to answer me.
But he merely shakes his head no, and resumes his work. I leave him alone, and decide to go look for Catherine.
I find her in the galley, chopping celery, healthy as can be. She gives me a dazzling smile as I walk toward her. I find myself stepping over what looks to be the shattered remains of glittering hubcaps. I stop in front of her and reach out to touch a lock of her hair, which shimmers like spun gold in a sunlight I can’t touch. “Hi.”
She laughs when I say this, but the lines around her lips are gone, as are the ones around her eyes. I want to kiss her and tell her how happy I am that she’s alive, but we’re interrupted by a drunken fool that stumbles through the doorway. He begins to fall, and I rush over to catch him before he can. Peering into his eyes, I see that it is Greg. I laugh and turn to tell Catherine about the irony of it all, but she’s gone, and so is the sunlight that seemed to be meant for her.
Greg opens his mouth. “Sara,” he whispers, slurring his words. “Sara!”
And then I am awake. The hand that was pressed against my shoulder draws back quickly as I stir. “Sara?” I hear.
I open my eyes. Greg is standing over me, a goofy half- smile on his face. “Hey,” he says to me, and then, turning to the rest of the team, “She’s awake, you guys.”
“Goody,” I hear a female voice say. The owner of the voice walks over to the head of the bed. “Hey, you,” Sofia grins at me. I smile back, wanly, even though it’s good to see some familiar faces.
Warrick pushes his way forward. “You took us for a wild one, girl,” he says, his warm eyes twinkling. “The guys that called us didn’t even know your name. We were pretty worried.”
“That’s what you get for dealing with the state police,” Nick’s voice is a welcome addition to the conversation. “I keep telling you, there’s not enough room in their heads to hold on to a name or two when they’re thinking about all the other shit that’s happening. Locals are the only way to go.”
“Says the guy who kept running around like a chicken with its head cut off because no one could remember where Cath said she was going after work,” Sofia cuts in. “You can’t call locals if you don’t know where anyone is.”
My heart wrenches suddenly at the mention of her name. ‘Where is she?” My voice comes out dry and soft.
“Catherine?” Greg says. “She’s in the I.C.U. No visitors allowed.”
“Eye see you?” I question.
“Intensive care unit,” Greg replies.
“I knew that,” I say quickly. The rest of the team lets out a collective chuckle, but no further discussion ensues.
I hadn’t seen Grissom in the room, probably because he was kneeling at the foot of the bed, studying the pressure sensors underneath it. I see him now, though, as he stands up, groaning a little from the pre- arthritic pain in his knees. He smiles when he sees me. “How are you?” he inquires.
“Okay,” I say truthfully. My mind is miles away from this room and the team, though.
He nods, not really knowing what to say next. I used to think that he and I were a lot alike; not good with social situations, removed, isolated. As I got to know him, though, I realized that he was more removed from his own feelings than anything else.
“So, you coming back to work soon, Sara?” Nick grins as he says this, and everyone else laughs, including me. It’s been a long- running joke that I’ll be working from the grave long after my funeral.
“You know it,” my reply is dry, and laughter is heard once more.
The comments seem to put everyone at ease, and soon enough, the team begins to mingle. Nick, Greg, and Warrick begin talking about football. Grissom stands quietly to the left of that group, looking out the window at a spider that has just begun to spin its web. Sofia, whom I’m sure notices that I’m not all here, entertains me with stories of her latest family get- together, which I find pretty humorous. She’s in the middle of describing her Aunt Ginny’s adventure with a roasted turkey and some pinking shears when the door opens and Brass walks in, looking serious. The conversation stops as we all turn to look at him.
“Hey, guys. Hey, Sara,” he says quietly. Silence follows as we wait. “Look,” he begins, “Cath is down in I.C.U., and it doesn’t look all that great for her right now. She’s signed a Do Not Resuscitate and I think we may have to make a decision. All of us.” He says this last line directly to me.
I swallow, hard. Sofia and I exchange a glance; in her eyes, there’s a mix of disbelief and pain. Brass walks over to the side of the bed and rolls my IV away from the wall. “Let’s go,” he says softly. My eyes well up as we all follow him out into the hall.
* * * * *
Title: If Only- Part Nine
Author: fate216
Rating: PG for the end result of violence
Category: Cath/Sara fluff-turned-drama
Disclaimer: All I need is some chloroform and THEN I'll have them!
Summary: Tough day at the office and well into the night.
I’m dreaming. I know I am, because how many DNA labs operate on pirate ships? But I’m fine with it, I suppose, as a swashbuckling Nick tries to steady a swaying fax machine that’s spitting out print matches from underneath the deck. I walk over to him.
“Need some help?” I ask, wondering what kind of language he’ll use to answer me.
But he merely shakes his head no, and resumes his work. I leave him alone, and decide to go look for Catherine.
I find her in the galley, chopping celery, healthy as can be. She gives me a dazzling smile as I walk toward her. I find myself stepping over what looks to be the shattered remains of glittering hubcaps. I stop in front of her and reach out to touch a lock of her hair, which shimmers like spun gold in a sunlight I can’t touch. “Hi.”
She laughs when I say this, but the lines around her lips are gone, as are the ones around her eyes. I want to kiss her and tell her how happy I am that she’s alive, but we’re interrupted by a drunken fool that stumbles through the doorway. He begins to fall, and I rush over to catch him before he can. Peering into his eyes, I see that it is Greg. I laugh and turn to tell Catherine about the irony of it all, but she’s gone, and so is the sunlight that seemed to be meant for her.
Greg opens his mouth. “Sara,” he whispers, slurring his words. “Sara!”
And then I am awake. The hand that was pressed against my shoulder draws back quickly as I stir. “Sara?” I hear.
I open my eyes. Greg is standing over me, a goofy half- smile on his face. “Hey,” he says to me, and then, turning to the rest of the team, “She’s awake, you guys.”
“Goody,” I hear a female voice say. The owner of the voice walks over to the head of the bed. “Hey, you,” Sofia grins at me. I smile back, wanly, even though it’s good to see some familiar faces.
Warrick pushes his way forward. “You took us for a wild one, girl,” he says, his warm eyes twinkling. “The guys that called us didn’t even know your name. We were pretty worried.”
“That’s what you get for dealing with the state police,” Nick’s voice is a welcome addition to the conversation. “I keep telling you, there’s not enough room in their heads to hold on to a name or two when they’re thinking about all the other shit that’s happening. Locals are the only way to go.”
“Says the guy who kept running around like a chicken with its head cut off because no one could remember where Cath said she was going after work,” Sofia cuts in. “You can’t call locals if you don’t know where anyone is.”
My heart wrenches suddenly at the mention of her name. ‘Where is she?” My voice comes out dry and soft.
“Catherine?” Greg says. “She’s in the I.C.U. No visitors allowed.”
“Eye see you?” I question.
“Intensive care unit,” Greg replies.
“I knew that,” I say quickly. The rest of the team lets out a collective chuckle, but no further discussion ensues.
I hadn’t seen Grissom in the room, probably because he was kneeling at the foot of the bed, studying the pressure sensors underneath it. I see him now, though, as he stands up, groaning a little from the pre- arthritic pain in his knees. He smiles when he sees me. “How are you?” he inquires.
“Okay,” I say truthfully. My mind is miles away from this room and the team, though.
He nods, not really knowing what to say next. I used to think that he and I were a lot alike; not good with social situations, removed, isolated. As I got to know him, though, I realized that he was more removed from his own feelings than anything else.
“So, you coming back to work soon, Sara?” Nick grins as he says this, and everyone else laughs, including me. It’s been a long- running joke that I’ll be working from the grave long after my funeral.
“You know it,” my reply is dry, and laughter is heard once more.
The comments seem to put everyone at ease, and soon enough, the team begins to mingle. Nick, Greg, and Warrick begin talking about football. Grissom stands quietly to the left of that group, looking out the window at a spider that has just begun to spin its web. Sofia, whom I’m sure notices that I’m not all here, entertains me with stories of her latest family get- together, which I find pretty humorous. She’s in the middle of describing her Aunt Ginny’s adventure with a roasted turkey and some pinking shears when the door opens and Brass walks in, looking serious. The conversation stops as we all turn to look at him.
“Hey, guys. Hey, Sara,” he says quietly. Silence follows as we wait. “Look,” he begins, “Cath is down in I.C.U., and it doesn’t look all that great for her right now. She’s signed a Do Not Resuscitate and I think we may have to make a decision. All of us.” He says this last line directly to me.
I swallow, hard. Sofia and I exchange a glance; in her eyes, there’s a mix of disbelief and pain. Brass walks over to the side of the bed and rolls my IV away from the wall. “Let’s go,” he says softly. My eyes well up as we all follow him out into the hall.
* * * * *