Work Text:
In The End
by gij
"Warrick and Nick are together on a 419 behind a Dumpster. Catherine and Sara - where's Sara?"
I blinked, still trying to recover from a mostly sleepless night and the enthusiastic hugs I had gotten from Lindsay in the few moments I'd seen her earlier. "She's not here yet?" I asked redundantly.
"She wasn't in the break room before." Nick offered.
"She hasn't been doing so much overtime, hasn't needed to fall asleep there." Warrick smirked. "But this is amazing – Super Sara running late?"
"It happens to the best of us." Grissom shrugged it off. "You two can go. Cath, call her."
"Where are you going?" I asked, half-grateful, half-surprised he wasn't taking the time to check up on his protege.
"Another case on the strip, sounds like a simple homicide. If you can't find Sara, give me a call and I'll give you a hand with your case." He offered.
"Okay." I allowed, and he handed me the case details before shrugging on his jacket to leave the office. I followed him out, already dialling Sara's home phone on my cell.
Five minutes, maybe 70 phone rings and no answer later, I grabbed my own jacket and headed for Sara's apartment.
* * * * * * * * * * *
She woke up before me, like always. This time, though, she seemed determined to get my attention before she left. I heard my name and a muffled sentence, muttered an "okay" before turning to bury my face in the pillow once more.
That apparently wasn't the answer she was looking for. I was half way to falling back asleep when I felt her hand on my hip and her tongue around the edge of my ear.
*That* got a better reaction. I rolled over onto my side so I could actually see her and prised my eyelids partway open.
"Sa-ra." She sing-songed under her breath. "I know you're awake."
"I am now. Whadisit?"
"I'm gonna go by home and let Lindsay know her mother is still alive. I'll see you at work, `kay?"
"Mmm, `kay." I hummed sleepily. She smiled at that and tucked my hair behind my ear for me, kissing me briefly before climbing from the bed to find the clothes we'd scattered on the floor hours earlier.
I actually managed to stay awake long enough to hear her dress and leave, the door making a soft clicking noise as it re-locked behind her. I smiled sleepily at the sound of her footsteps before rolling over and falling back asleep.
The next time I woke up, I wasn't quite so happy about it. I was still in my bed, but somehow in the less than an hour I'd been asleep, it had turned into some sort of torture chamber. I felt like I was roasting alive, in severe pain from swallowing, and someone had shoved a six-inch knife somewhere in my stomach.
Ouch.
Moving heavy limbs, I somehow managed to drag the suddenly immensely weighty quilt off me and lie there, feeling some relief as cool air hit my sweaty skin. My entire body felt pummelled and miserable, like I'd been beat up with a four by four piece of wood.
I somehow managed to struggle to the bathroom, fighting nausea and dizziness every step. Standing in the doorway, I actually had to stop and lean against the door for several moments or pass out.
When the worst of the dizziness passed, I fumbled my way into the bathroom, eyes shut – it induced less nausea – and rustled around in the cabinet long enough to pull out a double dose of pain killers and swallow them dry.
Feeling my stomach revolt at even this slight intrusion, I knelt on the bathroom floor with my head against the sink for a few moments longer, desperately fighting off more illness.
Somehow, I managed to get to my feet and return to sprawl, face down on my bed. Dragging the covers over me, I wondered blearily how I could possibly have been hot. The whole room felt like some idiot had set the thermostat at negative fifty and then deliberately broken it to make everyone else miserable.
Part 2
Arriving outside Sara's apartment, I fumbled for my keys. I was glad she was on the bottom floor – it meant I didn't have to negotiate any steps while rooting around in my bag, always a positive. I had finally located them when a sudden thought stopped me.
Dropping to a knee, I looked closely at the lock on her front door. No scratches, no marks, no signs of forced entry. I released a breath I hadn't realised I was holding in a long sigh of relief. Whatever trouble she was in, it was at least self-imposed.
I let myself in and headed straight for the bedroom. I'd left her in bed there, it made sense to start from there again.
As it turned out, I didn't need to look any further.
She lay sprawled out, face down on the mattress. Moving closer to the bed, I noticed absently that she had replaced her shirt from the night before at some stage. Despite the warm weather, she had the covers drawn up to over her shoulder blades.
I climbed onto the bed next to her, more worried than I cared to admit. She was here, and she was alive, but that in itself was something to worry about. When did Sara ever sleep to the point of missing work?
Forget that, when did Sara ever sleep?
Using instincts developed as a mother, I put a hand gently on the back of her neck. She was warm – almost too warm, but that could be an effect of all the blankets over her. My hand had to be cold compared to her skin, but she didn't move away.
"Sara?"
My voice lingered in the air in a way that struck me as decidedly creepy. The only movement in the room came from the gently bobbing head of the orchid Sara kept in her bedroom window. With an emotion born of irrationality, I scowled at it.
I leaned over her once more, the silence starting to bother me now. Sara hadn't moved since I entered the room, and that too was starting to scare me.
Moving to one side as best I could, I tugged her shoulder lightly. She rolled easily but heavily onto her right side, resistance nonexistent. Her breathing hitched for a moment, then restarted in the slow pattern I'd heard since I entered.
With one hand, I nervously checked her pulse. "Sara, sweetie, you're starting to scare your girlfriend." I murmured self mockingly. She didn't answer.
Her pulse was around fifty-five, which while low, wasn't entirely unusual. She was asleep, and how much more relaxed could you get than that? Still, the result bothered me.
Feeling stupid, I knelt over her again to peel back her eyelid and check for a response.
When her pupil barely contracted, that was a fair reason for me to freak out, and I did so. Grabbing my cell phone where it was clipped to my belt, I dialled 911.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I was vaguely aware of it when I was lifted out of my warm bed and placed on another, harder surface. I moaned softly as cold air hit my skin and was temporarily comforted by a gentle hand on my cheek.
I lost some time after that, wasn't aware of anything for quite a while. I remember realising I was in some sort of vehicle by the noise it made and the movement around me, but I honestly had no comprehension of what was going on or where I was.
One clear memory I have is off Catherine's hand in mine. She was knocked aside by paramedics when she touched my cheek at the start, but she followed after them, and the first chance she had she was holding my hand all the way. I was pretty out of it, I doubt she even knew I was aware of her presence, but she never let go.
I lost more time after that. I wasn't aware of anything until I woke up staring at a white ceiling with an IV in my arm and an oxygen mask on.
Oh, and my stomach still hurt. That sucked.
Part 3
I'm standing inside the waiting room for the emergency department of Southside Hospital. Sara got taken in for examination over an hour ago, and I got directed here.
Sighing, I take a few steps from my position slouching against the wall and sit down again. I've repeated this at least four times in the last hour, and I know it will be a matter of minutes before I'm alternating between pacing and slouching on the wall again.
Something beeps, and it takes me a few seconds it's my beeper, not that of one of the fifty or so that have gone off in the last hour. I'm about to scramble for it in my pocket when my cell phone starts ringing on my belt.
Ten bucks who that is.
I grab the phone and flick it open at the same time as I finally find my beeping pager and flick it off with one finger.
"Catherine Willows."
"Catherine? Where are you?" Ah. Grissom.
Collection, please.
"I sent you to that crime scene two hours ago! Where are you?"
I take a deep breath. "Griss, I'm at Southside hospital."
"You - what?"
"I went by Sara's place on my way to the crime scene. She's sick, she's in emergency." I explain quickly so the words don't choke me.
"She's - what's going on? She's sick?"
"I don't know, they're doing her exam now." I answer miserably. "Her parents are in another state, I figured I should stay."
He is silent for a long moment. "Yes. Look, you stay with her, I'll send Nicky to your scene. How long do you think you'll be there?"
"No idea. As long as it takes."
"Look, if you're still there in the morning, I can get Lindsay for you, okay? We'll stop by. Call me if anything changes." He hangs up without saying goodbye and I'm unspeakably grateful for his sudden, unexpected sympathy. Lindsay - I'd hardly thought of her since I got here. I wonder if that makes me a bad mother, then try not to think about it.
Suddenly I would kill for a cigarette. Instead I take deep breaths and fish in my bag for Nicorette, hoping Sara hasn't found my newest hiding spot.
She hasn't. I take a piece from the pack and press it into my mouth, chewing silently.
It's another hour before I hear anything real. A doctor, stethoscope still hanging over his shoulders, finally comes through the double doors from Emergency and wanders over towards me. He looks exhausted, but I'm too wound up, pressured by too much short-term anxiety to cut him any slack because of this.
"Catherine Willows?" he asks, consulting a clipboard through thick glasses. I nod and he sighs, sits down in the seat beside me.
"You're a relative of Sara's?" he asks uncertainly. I nod, willing to confirm a lie if it means I get to hear about Sara.
"Well, Sara's okay. There's a few things I'd just like to ask you - does she take any medication, do you know? Antihistamines? Long term pain- killers?"
I think carefully, glad for the chance to do something, anything. "Not prescription pain killers, no Vicodin or anything. But knowing Sara, I'd be willing to guess she woke up not feeling great and took a double shot of something."
He makes a disapproving noise. "Tylenol? The type with codeine?"
I think back. "There was a packet in her bathroom, yeah."
"Right. Well, Sara's got a bad case of food poisoning. Considering there's no signs of her vomiting prior to reaching the hospital, I'd guess salmonella. We'll do tests shortly, but - Has she had meat, fish in the last few hours?" he looks over his glasses at me.
"Sara's vegetarian, but we had fish last night." I answer him. First time in a new restaurant and she gets food poisoning. Strike that one off the list.
"Ah. That would likely be the cause then. She has food poisoning, then took a large dose of something with codeine in it, and the combination completely knocked her system out. She's still asleep, and I'm guessing it's likely she'll sleep another several hours."
I'm anxious. "She's okay though, right?"
"Well, it's likely she'll be fine. Her being asleep complicates a lot of things, though. Most of the time she'd just throw up, get rid of the majority of the bacteria, but she's asleep. That gives them a chance to grow, multiply until such time as she wakes up." He explains. "If that gets really bad, it's likely she'll vomit it up anyway, but it's not likely to get that bad. In any case, we've put her on antibiotics through an IV. That will clear up the worst of it."
I'm reassured. "Can I see her now?"
He gets up from the seat. "She's being moved into another room now. As soon as she's there, you can see her." He wanders back to the double doors. I, on the other hand, head for the main desk to find out where Sara's at.
I wasn't awake long before Catherine put in an appearance. The door clicked, and I barely noticed it over the noise of the oxygen machine, but the movement caught my eye and I glanced over as she walked in.
I don't think she knew at first I was awake. At any rate, she made no effort to control her response as her hand went immediately over her mouth in a combination of shock and horror.
I wanted desperately to touch her, remove that look from her face. She shouldn't ever have to look like that. I made an effort through the haze and managed to quirk a few fingers.
"Sara?" she said softly. Unbelievingly. She took quick steps to the side of the bed and took my hand again.
I looked at her as best I could with the stupid mask on, trying to convey love, appreciation, gratitude. She was so amazing. Even with me doped up and completely stupid, she knew what I wanted. needed.
"You okay?" she asked. Perhaps an intentionally rhetorical question, because I couldn't answer verbally if I tried.
With my free hand, I tried to reach up and get rid of the mask. She immediately stopped me gently, instead using gentle fingers to loosen the elastic around my head and drop it the mask to the side.
I smiled up at her. "Hey."
She gave me a wavering smile back. "Hey." She said softly, unnoticed tears welling up in her eyes.
"I'm sorry." I murmur. Her eyebrows immediately raise.
"What for? I'm the one who took you out and gave you food poisoning."
"Food poisoning? Oh, that explains a lot." I mutter. "But I'm sorry to do. this. to you. I never wanted to." I break off awkwardly.
"Sar, the only thing that would worry me would be if you didn't want me here." She assures me. I grip her fingers a little tighter, trying to ignore the unhappy signals coming from my stomach and focus on her, now.
"I was scared for you." She admits. "You wouldn't wake up, and you had fever. you just scared me."
"I'm sorry." I murmur again, and she leans closer, her blonde hair forming a golden halo in the hospital lights.
"Don't be. I'd rather be here with you than at a scene with Grissom." She admonishes me. "But don't do this again any time soon, okay?"
"'kay." I murmur, sleepy again. I tug her hand closer to me, holding her fingers prisoner against my stomach.
She smiles at my sleepy possessiveness, strokes my hair with one hand. I reach up and touch her face, trailing my thumb over her soft lips. I want to kiss her, but I couldn't draw her to me if my life depended on it. It's an effort to hold my arm in the air.
"Sar." she whispers. I smile softly again as she drops down and grazes my lips with hers, the briefest touch. A butterfly's sweet kiss.
I manage to wrap her hair around my fingers and draw her nearer for another kiss. Truly, it's not me doing it so much as just the weight of my hand, but I'm not about to complain.
Her lips touch mine again, and I run my tongue over them gently, tracing an outline of her mouth. She smiles and kisses me deeper, sliding her tongue into my mouth and tracing my teeth.
All too soon, she's pulling back, and I moan softly, wanting her so badly. Wanting to be out of here so badly.
"Shhh, baby." She hushes me softly. "We can go home soon. I'll take better care of you there." She promises me.
I moan again at that. She just smiles again, and I draw her captive hand closer, cradling it against my chest.
She's here, she came here for me and she's staying, and in the end, that's all that matters.
END
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