Dislaimer: Still don't own them

Chapter 6 – The Wah-mbulance

(Sara's POV)

Well, this is completely and totally uncomfortable. And I don't just mean the bullet hole in my shoulder. No, this is far more uncomfortable than this wound could ever be. Here I am, nearly topless in the back of an ambulance with Hank, the last man I ever vowed to date, poking and prodding me.

I'm not even sure if I'm shaking because my shoulder hurts or if it's because he-who-broke-my-heart is within two inches of my face, and I can smell his pretty-boy cologne. Or it could also be because Catherine is still holding my hand, rubbing small circles onto the top of my knuckles with her thumb, and I can also smell her lovely perfume wafting over me. Even after being shot at she still smells like a Goddess.

"Everything alright Sara?" she asks quietly from her position beside me.

I grit my teeth against the pain, as Hank digs a needle into my shoulder, shooting it up with antibiotics. "Just fine and dandy," I respond, trying not to let the pain reach my voice. God only knows I don't want to look weak in front of Cath and Hank.

Hank clears his throat and finally speaks up. "How have you been?" he asks, sounding like he regretted asking the question almost immediately.

"Oh you know, just off fighting crime and catching baddies. The usual," is my less than casual response. "And how about yourself?" I really don't want to hear the answer, but it's only polite right?

Hank scribbles some notes about my blood pressure into a little notepad. "Same ol', same ol'" he less than enthusiastically responds. So I guess it's not just me who desperately wants out of this situation.

"So, you're still hooking up with girls and cheating on your current girlfriend then? Good to see that some things never change." I whip my head to the left of me, immediately regretting my decision to move so fast as the ambulance swirls in my head. When the world rights itself again, I'm still staring, open-mouthed, at Catherine, who just surprised the living hell out of me.

Catherine shrugs her shoulders, clearly mistaking my surprise for admonishment. "What? Once a slimy bastard, always a slimy bastard."

I snort. "Cath! I don't think it's such a good idea to be saying things like that about a person who has a needle shoved into my arm right now."

Hank shuffles a little beside me. "It's ok Sara, I do deserve it.."

Cath straightens next to me. "Damn straight you deserve it! You really think you can just get away with treating people like that? Is your personal need to get laid and lead people on constantly overwhelming your desire to be a moral human? I mean honestly…what the fu –"

"OW!" I yelp a little as Hank's hand begins to shake and he rubs unmercifully against the raw edges of the bullet wound.

"Sorry…I, I'm…I'm sorry," he manages to stutter out. Cath continues to glare daggers at him, as I silently pray that the earth will just open up and swallow me whole.

Thankfully right when this ride is reaching its climax of tension, we pull up to the ambulance bay at Desert Palms hospital. About time. The door to the back of the ambulance opens up and Hank steps out, passing his notepad over to the ER assistant that's waiting for us. Cath comes out next, stepping down gently and reaching her hand up for me to help me down.

At this point I just want to get this bullet out of me, get stitched up and go home, but something tells me that won't be happening anytime soon. As I walk into the hospital, it seems that everyone and their mother is in here already. I know that Las Vegas has a lot of crime, but this just seems ridiculous. Luckily, I'm pretty sure that a gun shot wound trumps broken finger, so hopefully it won't be too long

Cath and I take a seat near the receptionist desk – it really is amazing we were able to find two next to each other. Hank is talking to the assistant, probably filling her in on the extent of Cath's and my wounds. And maybe telling her to get a mild sedative for my vivacious strawberry blonde partner who looks ready to chew the head off of anyone that crosses us.

Oh Catherine…

(Catherine's POV)

I'm still fuming from the ambulance ride. I mean, I know that Hank didn't even really say anything to Sara to get me agitated, but I was really just upset that Sara, who had just saved my life, had to sit in the back of a bumpy ambulance with a hole in her shoulder and a crappy ex-boyfriend. That's almost as uncomfortable as sitting on a bed of hot coals listening to Cher for five hours.

I know that Sara isn't the type of girl that wants to be saved or stood up for, but what I have also seen over the years is that Sara has a weak point when it comes to matters of the heart. When Hank screwed her over, she was unsettlingly grave during our shifts together. She was somber in a way I had never seen her before, and she also wouldn't speak her mind. It got to the point that our catfights came to a standstill even. Seems that the inner bitch in the both of us really did know when to stop, contrary to popular belief.

So when I saw her there, grinding her teeth on top of the gurney, slight tremors rocking her well-toned frame, and stoically trying to socialize with the last person to break her heart, something in me snapped.

But I'm not regretful, I'm not mad at myself. I only wish I had a chance to show Hank the backside of my hand without getting in trouble.

"Sidle? Sara Sidle?" an ER nurse calls out. Seems we didn't have to wait long at all to be seen. I stand up and help Sara to her feet and the two of us walk slowly to the first curtained off room the nurse shows us to.

The small blonde nurse peeked at our charts before opening her mouth. "Ok, Ms. Sidle? How about you hop up here on the bed. Ms. Willows, would you mind sitting in this chair?" she asks as she pulls over an uncomfortable looking plastic seat.

"No problem," I respond and watch as Sara hastily climbs atop the small bed.

The nurse looks at the two of us apologetically. "Sorry for the congestion, but since you two came in together, and the ER is so crowded, would it be ok if you shared a room? If either one of you has a confidentiality issue, I can go look for another available room."

"No, it's fine," Sara replies quickly. "It's always fun to get stitched up together." She sends a grin my way, and I smile back at her.

The nurse chuckles slightly. "Well, the doctors will be in any minute now. Just hold tight and try to stay relaxed." She places the clipboard on the foot of the bed, and closes the curtain on her way out.

I look over at Sara who is visibly pale. A thin sheen of sweat has made itself noticeable on her forehead, and her breathing seems short and pained. "You alright over there?" I ask her, voice full of concern.

(Sara's POV)

It takes me a second to realize that Cath is talking to me. Ever since we made our way into this room, the world has started spinning again. My skin is really clammy and it feels like little needles are pricking themselves all over my skin. In fact, it feels like a have a whole porcupine shoved into the precipice of my shoulder.

"Oh yeah, doin' great over here Cath," I respond, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

Catherine huffs a little. "Sara, you don't have to be tough for me. I know it hurts."

I really don't want to show any signs of weakness to Cath. I want to be strong for her.

"C'mon," she urges. "Look at me."

I raise my head slowly and meet her gaze, trying to reassure her through my eyes that I'm ok. Her steely glare meets my stare, and I'm taken aback at the fire in her eyes. It seems she isn't kidding. I'm way too exhausted to keep up this charade anyway.

I sigh. "It hurts, ok? I just want to get this damn thing out of me already."

Cath smiles a little bit, glad that she won this battle. "See, now was that so hard?"

"Yes. In fact, it was. Very hard." I bite back, the pain and agitation creeping into my voice.

Cath contemplates my edgy response. "Why is it so hard for you to admit you need help?" she asks calmly, catching me off guard. I would have never guessed that she would prey on my weakness and try to get me to open up now of all times. Although, thinking about it, it is perfectly logical.

I sit and try to think of how to carefully dodge the question. Finally, my mind runs out of options. I don't know if it's the blood loss or if I really do just want to open up, but something causes me to respond a bit more truthfully than I intended.

"Because I want to be your wall. I want to be the person that you can count on not to break, not to run screaming in the other direction. I want to be that woman that will always pick you up, but never bring you down. I want to protect you." Cath is staring at me, her eyes a little misty. And before I can stop myself, I open my mouth again, caught up in the moment of all this truth telling.

"Cath…I want to love you."

AN: I know, I know I'm a HORRIBLE person. I truly do apologize for the long wait. If it's any consolation, I have the next chapter mostly written...so it will be up in your next lifetime (if you still care of course). Sorry again!