Hey, everyone! Here's another chapter! Thanx 2 all these ppl 4 reviewing!

gens

linsy

YoBling215

Ducky'sgirl4ever

Enjoy!

The paramedic glanced back at his partner, who was wheeling a clattering stretcher on the run. With the second paramedic's help, they heaved his dead weight onto the gurney. Then ran it back toward the ambulance. The CSIs followed and watched helplessly from the sidelines.

Blue and white strobes from the emergency lights flashed on their faces. The rear of the ambulance was spread wide, and a large black case rested on the floor, already open. An automated electronic defibrillator, or portable juicer, as some liked to call it.

"His wounds look pretty bad, Jimmy," the second paramedic said, wrapping bandages around Warrick's bleeding neck. "Lost a lot of blood. The bullet didn't penetrate his skull, though. With any luck we have pulseless V-fib caused by shock."

They slid to a stop and together the paramedics released the scissoring gurney legs and lifted it into the ambulance. The first paramedic, Jimmy, dropped to his knees, grabbed Warrick's T-shirt, and ripped it open with a grunt. "Hook him up, Chase. Get an IV into him, now."

The second paramedic did as he was told and was now working the bag valve mask on Warrick's face. Jimmy was fixing three self-adhesive electrodes to his torso to measure cardiac activity. He flipped a switch. The small screen on the AED came to life. The two paramedics had done this enough to develop seamless efficiency, but the CSIs couldn't find any comfort in the fact. Warrick was way beyond the benefits of efficiency. With drugs, electricity, and raw luck, maybe—just maybe—they could beat his body back to life.

Dark gray lines ran across the lighter gray background of the heart monitor. It wasn't V-fib like the paramedics had initially thought. The CSIs realized that too, and their hearts sank. Asystole, a flatline.

Except for in movies, defibrillation was rarely used on patients with a flatline. Recovery was virtually impossible. But surprisingly enough, the older paramedic seemed to have dismissed that fact and pressed on. He was determined to save his patient.

He took the paddles, gelled them, and shoved them into the anterior-apex positions—the anterior electrode on the right, below the clavicle, and the apex electrode on the left, just below and to the left of the pectoral muscle.

"Clear!" he shouted.

"Clear." Chase moved the oxygen mask away.

He thumbed a switch, and 200 joules of electrical current coursed through Warrick's chest. His muscles quivered as expected. No arching of the back or violent jump. But plenty of juice for the heart to respond to if it could.

The monitor showed one small blip of increased activity, then returned to the scribbled line.

"Again, clear."

"Clear."

Jimmy waited another three seconds as the AED recharged, then hit the switch again.

Warrick's muscles reacted again. This time no reaction from the heart monitor.

"Give him some epinephrine!"

Chase already had the syringe hooked up to the IV line. He shoved the plunger to its hilt, flooding Warrick's vein with the clear drug. "Hit him again."

The cardiac monitor blipped once, twice, then returned to a straight gray line.

"Check the contacts," Jimmy breathed. "Check them!"

The young paramedic did. The lines remained flat.

"Clear!"

"Clear."

Another surge of electricity. Another small jerk as the muscles responded.

This time there was no reaction from the monitor. Only a high-pitched tone that signaled no activity. Continued asystole.

Chase was still diligently working the respirator, pumping oxygen into Warrick's lungs. Jimmy was still leaning over the dead body, knuckles white on the paddle handles, readying the AED for another surge of current.

As Nick watched the unpleasant scene unfolding in front of him and his friends, something changed in his mind then. The forces of inevitability pulled the plug, draining the last bits of hope from him.

He whispered, begging, "Come on, Warrick. Please. Don't do this to me."

"Clear."

The body jerked a little. Then lay still.

The line on the monitor ran thread-thin.

Silence settled around the ambulance. Jimmy looked to one side and saw the CSIs watching him, crest-fallen. He looked to his colleague and saw him shake his head slightly. But he wasn't ready to give up. Not yet. He looked back at his hands.

"Clear!"

This time Jimmy didn't bother looking at the monitor. He just listened for a change in the tone. Only when there was none after five seconds did he glance over.

No change.

"Clear." Quieter this time.

Nick's mind was spinning with vague thoughts. It was all a mistake. Warrick wasn't supposed to die tonight. He'd been so sure, so intoxicated by the prospect of what lay ahead. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this.

"Clear."

When the body jerked this time, they all knew it was over.

Warrick lay on the white mattress, dead. Murdered in cold blood by an as yet unknown assailant.

Jimmy set the paddles down solemnly, his eyes downcast. There was nothing more he or anyone else could do. "I'm sorry…"

Those words hit Nick like a spear through the heart. No…

He heard Grissom gasp, faintly but clearly, which wasn't something the CSI supervisor did at the drop of a hat.

Catherine was wailing and crying beside him, and Grissom just held on to her to keep her from losing it altogether.

Mind numb, Greg lifted his hands to his head, covered his face, and tried to think.

Nick stared at the lifeless form that had been his best friend, fists clenched. Then he shut his eyes, trying to block out the image, angry hot tears sliding down his cheeks.

What happened next, no one could have seen coming. Just as the paramedics were about to power down the AED, a faint beep sounded from the machine then the line twitched once. Twice. Three times. In an instant, the CSIs' entire universe had compressed to the size of a blip on a heart monitor.

The paramedics stared in disbelief. The monitor beside Jimmy was beeping. Fast. Ventricular tachycardia. Warrick's heart was thumping like a freight train. He sucked deep and his eyes flew open momentarily. He was breathing. His face flung sweat, his lungs hoarded the oxygen. No longer deprived of pulse and breath, he was suddenly animated and convulsive, an all-inclusive resurrection of life and energy.

Warrick was alive.

But it's not over…Keep the reviews coming to find out what happens next!

Oh, and whoever can figure out how I came up with the names for my paramedics will get a little goody from me!