Jim Brass checked her pulse again. Still there, he thought, weaker…He was fighting to remain conscious, struggling with his own injuries. He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, finding comfort in the steady rhythm before passing out again.

Her eyes fluttered and opened, her mind taking a moment to focus. And then she remembered. Forcing her head to move, she looked across at him, taking in his pallor but noticing that he was breathing. She tried to move but something was restricting her. The gash over his left eye worried her; the blood oozing from his left arm alarmed her along with the irregular circle of blood on his side. He was hurt in several places, seriously she thought before her mind surrendered and she slipped back into the darkness.

Dawn was breaking he realized. He'd been lying quietly, struggling to hear her, fear engulfing him until he heard her breathing. After a few minutes of listening to the steady intake and exhale of air, he began to relax. His head was hurting as was his side. His left arm was useless, he realized. Using his right arm, he tried to adjust. He was leaning against the brick wall of a cellar. He didn't remember much of the struggle that had put them there. All he could remember was watching as Catherine finished processing a scene in a young woman's bedroom when something hit him in the head. The rest was a blur but he had the impression that he'd turned the tables on the attackers and at least one was lying on the bedroom floor, dead. How they ended up here was a mystery but he hoped this was at least the cellar of the same house.

He heard her stirring and called her name softly. "Catherine?"

She groaned and then opened her eyes to reality. "Um…yeah…Jim?"

"How you feeling?"

"I …I can't move…"

"What? Are you tied up?"

"I…I don't know. I…maybe….my legs…they're numb…and my arms."

He fought to focus on her, taking in every detail he could see in the dim light. "You don't seem to be tied…maybe they're like…asleep."

"Maybe," she said agreeably. "How about you?"

"Head hurts. Side hurts. My arm is…pretty useless. But I can move a little, I think. I don't think they tied me up…probably thought I was dead.

Catherine looked across at him. "Well, don't." She eyed the blood on his shirt. The stain was larger. The blood on his head was dried, so maybe that wound had closed, she hoped.

"Don't what?"

"Move. You're still bleeding. Don't make it worse. Let me see if I can scoot closer…"

"NO," he yelped. He saw the shock on her face and backed down immediately. "You could…make your injuries worse. Just…stay where you are. There's not anything you can do anyway."

Catherine cringed at the sound of defeat in his voice. They remained quiet until the darkness of unconsciousness claimed them both.

A grunt from Brass woke Catherine. She knew it was afternoon by the intensity of light showing through the small window near the corner of the room. Another grunt brought her attention back to Jim. Sweat covered his face and soaked his shirt. He was moaning as he jerked and twitched, still propped against the wall. "Jim…" she called softly. He jerked but didn't respond. "JIM…"

"Uh? Catherine…" he answered lethargically.

"You awake?"

"Uh…yeah, but…fuzzy."

She looked around frantically. Then she spotted what they both needed, a water bottle sitting on a bench near him. "Jim. There's water…on the bench…"

Groggily he tried to focus in the direction of the bench but his vision was blurred and he couldn't focus on the bottle. "You sure?"

"Yeah…I'm going to try to get it."

"No, no…I…let me." He shifted and began to scoot along the wall using his legs to push his body. His right arm provided balance and guidance. He felt like he was about to pass out again by the time he reached the bench. Then carefully, he reached for the bottle, his fingers barley able to hold the treasure. Then cradling it, he scooted back to her. Holding it between his knees, he used his hand to open it and then offered it to her. "Drink," he croaked.

"You first," she told him, thinking that his was the greater need.

"No…ladies first," he said as he thrust it towards her. "Okay …hold it still. I..I don't think I can grasp it." She leaned forward and he tilted it slightly and poured some into her open mouth. Then he took a gulp himself. Then he scooted closer to her, propping himself against a wooden trunk that was next to her. Her condition worried him. She had some bruising and a small cut tracing her cheekbone, but otherwise didn't seem to have any injuries, yet she hadn't moved much. That wasn't like her. He cast a quick glance over the length of her. It was then that he realized that something was amiss with her clothing. She had been redressed. A chill went through him at he considered the implications. "Catherine?" he asked meekly.

"Mmmm?"

"You um…what happened after…after I got knocked out?"

He didn't think it was possible but she became even more still. "Nothing," she said flatly.

Yeah, right. Okay, so she doesn't want to talk about it…"Are we in the same house?"

"I don't know. I…I passed out too."

He watched her face for clues but she was stoic except for a tear that trailed out of her eye. "I think I shot one?"

"Yeah, he's dead. You gave a second one a pretty good beating too. But the other one…he…well, he's the one that stabbed you. And then…well, I don't remember much."

So it was the third one that…Anger boiled in him; anger mixed with shame. He hadn't been able to protect her. "I'm…sorry."

"For what?" she said with more energy than he'd heard from her in hours.

"I didn't …stop them…I should have been able to…"

"There were three of them Jim. I'd say you did pretty good. I mean, they caught us by surprise. And the first one hit you pretty hard before we even knew they were there."

"Yeah, but…I should have known…"

"Jim…quit. You …took two of them out. I'd say you did pretty good. We're alive, aren't we?"

"Yeah, but…for how long? I mean…we both need a hospital and …with little water, no food; we won't last much longer, I'm afraid."

"Yeah I know. But…you gave us a chance."

"Sure…right," he answered, crushed.

She passed out again a few minutes later. He watched her intently, willing her to keep breathing. He didn't know what was wrong with her, beyond the obvious, and it scared him. His eyes fixed on her face, examining the lines of her face, her cheeks, the porcelain texture of her skin, the slight arch of her eyebrows and her elegant nose. Then there were her lips. Jim had lost track of the times he'd wanted to test those lips with his own. He'd held his feelings close to his vest for years, never wanting an inkling of it to get out. She was married when he first met her and then, reluctantly he'd accepted that she was in love with his friend, Gil Grissom. She'd flirted with other relationships over the years but they never seemed to work out and Jim knew why. He couldn't think of anything that would hurt worse than being one of those that didn't work out, until now. The thought that they…that she might die here was breaking him.

Clinching his jaw he forced his mind to move on. Gil was a fool to give her up. Why he chose Sara over her is…unbelievable. I wish…I just wish she would look at me one time the way she used to look at him. For awhile I thought she and Rick would…but…it was always Gil, really.

He sighed heavily. Glancing up at the window, he realized that the sky was getting dark. Almost twenty four hours…they must be looking for us.

Consciousness began to creep over her. Opening her eyes, she took a moment to adjust. She heard Jim breathing next to her and was comforted by his presence. Looking in the direction of the window, she realized it was dark outside. Late night, she thought as she analyzed the darkness. Surely they're looking for us…

She hadn't liked avoiding Jim's questions but she didn't want to relive the events after the third attacker had finally knocked him out. Jim had fought hard and almost won the battle, but three had been one too many. She knew he'd never get over what happened while he lay unconscious on the floor of that bedroom. If they were going to die here, she didn't want him dying with that knowledge in his mind. And if somehow they made it, well…there's be time for revelations and healing later.

Just then, he began to stir. But it was different; he was thrashing…fighting the attackers again, she thought. "Jim…Jim wake up, you're dreaming…"

It didn't work. He was still thrashing and grumbling. Then he jerked and stilled. Catherine listened for a few minutes and was relieved to hear his breathing return to a steady rhythm.

She laid there for what seemed to be hours, her thoughts darkening as she let her mind wander. Jim began moving again and in his jerking his hand slid onto her arm. The heat of his touch alarmed her. "Jim…wake up…JIM!"

He flinched and then croaked her name. "Jim, you're feverish. Take another drink of water…"

Jim heard her but his thoughts were muddled. His head was pounding and his side felt like it was on fire. But she said something about a drink. He felt around until he located the water bottle and allowed himself a drink and set the bottle next to him on the floor. Then he reached for her, his fingers finding her lips. He picked up the bottle and gave her another drink as well. "Thank you," she said. "Now, you take another swig."

"No, gotta save it…" He replaced the cap on it and set it on the floor.

"Jim, you have to hang in…I know they're looking for us…help will get here."

"Yeah…sure. Catherine…I…"

"No more apologies….you have nothing to apologize for."

"Uh, yeah…" His mind was clouding. He was on the verge of telling her how he felt but she'd stopped him. Maybe it's a good thing… Darkness slowly claimed him again. Catherine succumbed a few minutes later.

Okay, I'm going back to my mantra from a couple of years ago. Reviews equal interest equals more writing, lol. The little button is there. Do I continue or what?