"It's time to put this ship into the shore, And throw away the oar, Forever."

***

Eric Delko was the first to move. While everyone else was stunned into immobility, he raced down to the edge of the canal, slightly below the still settling wreckage, and dived in, hitting the water like a pocketknife unfolding for action. Horatio had been running along the higher side of the slumping bridge, and Eric had seen him make a desperate lunge with his last fraction of footing, leaping to the right as the bridge fell to the left away from him, trying to jump clear. He could not, of course. No one could have. But hopefully he was only on the edge of the wreckage, not crushed under it. Eric swam furiously toward the collapsed bridge. The first rule of swimming was to never dive into water that was unknown or unsafe. Eric broke the rule now without a second's hesitation. His boss, his mentor, his friend was in that pile of rubble somewhere. And there was no sign of him.

Eric reached approximately the area Horatio had been above and gulped in a deep breath. Then he dived, fighting to see anything through the murky canal water and the dust of the collapse. His hands ran along the edges of twisted steel girders, concrete blocks, and finally an arm. Eric grabbed Horatio under the shoulder and jerked up as hard as he could, but there was no give. He was trapped somehow, hung up on something. He was also deathly still. Either he recognized Eric's efforts and was trying not to interfere, or he was already unconscious. His own lungs beginning to ache, Eric tracked Horatio's body downwards, finally coming to where the left leg was wedged between two large chunks of concrete. Desperately, Eric fought to shift the rubble, but it took agonizing seconds. Finally, he had his friend's leg free, then rocketed back toward the surface himself, dragging Horatio along with him.

Eric broke the surface of the water, sucked in one lungful of blessed air, and quickly hauled Horatio up next to him, noting with relief that Horatio still had the baby wrapped tightly in his arms. Both of them were unconscious, though. Something had hit Horatio on the side of the head, and he had an ugly looking gash along his temple. Eric rolled him onto his back, keeping both his head and the baby's head above water, and started swimming for the shore as fast as his trembling muscles would propel him, dragging Horatio along behind.

The police had come to life at this point and were trying to bring order to the scene. Eric could already hear an ambulance wailing in the distance, getting closer. Speed was at the edge of the canal, reaching out to grab Horatio as Eric heaved himself out of the water. He quickly turned back and helped Speed drag the two victims back from the edge of the canal. Speed rolled his friend sideways and pried his mouth open, trying to let any water he had breathed in drain out. He tried to pull the baby out of Horatio's arms without any success. Eric joined him in the task, as did two policemen who scrambled down from the edge of the road. Horatio's arms were absolutely locked. He had gone down protecting the child with his body, and all four of them combined were having a hard time prying him loose. "Horatio, it's okay," said Speed over and over. "You can let go now." Eric wondered if anything short of breaking his boss's fingers would get his grip to loosen, but finally, with all four of them working on it, they managed, one finger at a time, to work his hands free. By that time, the ambulance had arrived, and Speed and Eric stood back, gratefully turning the case over to more knowledgeable hands.

The baby looked far better than Horatio did. The child was unconscious, but his color wasn't bad, his breathing was even, and he only had a few scrapes here and there. Horatio, on the other hand, had no color in his face at all, and he seemed to be barely breathing. His hands and arms were covered in scratches, and that ugly 4-inch gash on his temple was gaping open, separated slightly from the water, yet surprisingly not bleeding much. Horatio's left ankle, the one that had been caught, flopped at an impossible angle, and one of the ambulance crew gently straightened it into more natural alignment and applied a splint. Horatio did not stir. The paramedics already had an IV started, and one of them pried Horatio's eyelids open, shining a small flashlight into them. He let the eyes fall shut again and grabbed his radio receiver from his belt. "Unit 1 at the bridge collapse," he said urgently. "We're going to need the Lifeflight over here, stat. Three victims, but one's already going by ambulance, and one's a baby, so we can fit two. And you'd better call in Dr. Johnson. This guy is going to need him." He snapped the radio back into place and turned to Eric. "You're the one who pulled them out?"

"Yeah." Eric ducked away from the recognition. "Are they going to be alright?"

"I don't think the baby is badly hurt."

"What about Horatio?"

The paramedic started to spout some meaningless answer, then stopped as Speed and Delko both met his eyes. "He's alive but unstable, and I think he's bleeding internally. If you're a praying man, I'd start praying."

The two CSIs stood there forlornly on the fringes, powerless to help, as the paramedics worked over their patients. By the time the helicopter dropped out of the sky, the baby was starting to show signs of consciousness. Horatio still hadn't moved or responded to anything. Not even to his leg being shifted, thought Eric worriedly. It was 95 degrees, as usual in Miami, but as he watched the helicopter take off again, heading for the hospital with his friend, Eric started shivering. It was Speed who drove the Hummer to the hospital, while Eric got hold of Alexx.

***

Calleigh was getting more and more annoyed by the minute. She was supposed to be released from the hospital at 3:00 this afternoon, and just this morning, Alexx had promised that one of them would come to take her home. "Horatio if I can get him to, but don't hold your breath," she told Calleigh sadly. Now it was 4:15, and Calleigh was dressed in street clothes, sitting in the armchair in her hospital room, and still waiting for the promised ride. If there was one thing that Calleigh did not do well, it was wait. She could understand Horatio not coming, things standing as they were, but for the whole team to forget about her was inexcusable.

Familiar footsteps finally came along the hall. It was Speed. "High time somebody showed up," Calleigh retorted, standing up. "Are you all having that much trouble keeping CSI going without me?" She broke off instantly as she took her first good look at his face. "What's wrong?"

Speed shuffled his feet, looking at the floor. "Calleigh, Horatio's been hurt."

"What?" Her knees suddenly felt weak, and she collapsed back into the armchair, barely feeling the protest from her shoulder and ribs. "How could he get hurt? I just saw him this morning." Her eyes begged him to take it back, to say it wasn't true, even while she knew he would never make a joke like that.

How on earth could he sum up the last few hours, Speed wondered. "We caught the perp on the Andrews case this afternoon. He's dead. But in the middle of taking him down, the 18th canal bridge got hit by a boat that knocked the middle support out. Horatio was on the bridge when it collapsed."

"My God," said Calleigh, and it wasn't a swear but a prayer. "Why was he on the bridge if he knew it was damaged?"

"He was rescuing a child that was trapped in one of the cars. Everyone else was already off."

Rescuing a child. How absolutely like him. "Did he get the child?"

"Yeah," said Speed. "The kid wasn't hurt badly. Horatio shielded him when the bridge fell. He took the worst of it."

"How bad is it?" Calleigh was almost afraid to ask. She knew that Speed was holding something back on her. His eyes met hers, and she saw that they were brimming with tears. Speed, the tough guy, was almost crying.

"He got hit on the head with a piece of the bridge, and he's bleeding inside the brain. There's a torn artery somewhere. He's in surgery now. They think he might not make it." Calleigh's own eyes welled up, and Speed sat down on the arm of the chair on her uninjured side and pulled her over against him. And now, they were both crying.

***

The waiting room for the OR was tensely silent. Three different groups of people, brought together by the bridge collapse, huddled together in one corner. And by this point, they were all worrying about just one of the three victims. The baby had suffered only a mild concussion and a few scratches. Mr. Davis, who had collapsed with a heart attack at the wheel of his boat, had had angioplasty concluded about an hour ago and was stable. Horatio was still in surgery.

Someone else switched the channel on the waiting room TV, and Calleigh looked up at it as the 10:00 news came on. "And in our lead story tonight, the 18th canal bridge was struck by a boat early this afternoon after the pilot suffered a heart attack. Lieutenant Horatio Caine of the Miami PD is credited with keeping a dangerous situation from becoming far worse by quickly clearing the bridge area before it collapsed. Lieutenant Caine, unfortunately, was one of three injured at the scene. He was trying to rescue a child when the bridge collapsed, and he was taken to the hospital in critical condition. The child suffered only minor injuries." A traffic helicopter had been in the vicinity and had aerial footage of the entire bridge collapse. The whole group in the corner fell silent, most of them actually seeing it for the first time, Speed and Delko reluctantly watching it again. Calleigh fought back tears as she watched Horatio at his unselfish best, trying to put everyone else's interests before his own. Damn it, she wasn't going to cry here in the waiting room with a bunch of strangers around. Alexx, sitting next to her on the couch, gave her good arm a squeeze. "You okay, honey?"

"I'm fine. I was released today, remember?"

Horatio's surgeon came into the room, looking absolutely drained, and the whole group scrambled up to meet him, Alexx giving Calleigh a little unobtrusive assistance getting up from the deep couch. The surgeon took them into a side room. The baby's mother and the boat driver's wife were still with them, but somehow that seemed alright. They were part of this situation, too, and were truly concerned about Horatio.

"Well," the surgeon began. "Mr. Caine was hit on the side of the head with a piece of bridgework, and the impact tore three arteries in the brain. Intracranial hemorrhage built up significant pressure. I drained the hemorrhage and repaired the arteries. So far, the repairs are holding, and the pressure isn't building up in his head again. It's up to him, now. He also suffered multiple lacerations and bruises, as well as a fractured left ankle. We put a temporary splint on that."

"Why a temporary splint?" Calleigh asked. "Why didn't you go ahead and fix it?"

"He isn't stable enough at the moment. We were trying to minimize the time under anesthetic. Later, if he makes it, we can . . ."

"What do you mean, if he makes it?" said Calleigh indignantly. "Listen, Horatio is a born survivor. He's going to come through this alright." Alexx looped her arm around Calleigh's, touching her gently.

"I hope so," the surgeon said. "But he isn't doing that well right now. We're having a lot of trouble keeping his vitals up. He is in a deep coma. There's also the question of brain damage from the pressure of the hematoma, but we won't know that unless. . . until he regains consciousness."

"Brain damage?" said Calleigh in disbelief.

"Possibly, possibly not. We'll know when he wakes up. His electrolytes and chemistries are all out of whack, too, and that on top of the insult of the trauma isn't helping. He was already run down before that bridge collapse, wasn't he?"

The CSIs looked at each other guiltily. "He's been working really hard this week," said Delko. Calleigh said nothing, but Alexx squeezed her arm a little tighter.

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Alexx.

"One thing," said the surgeon. "There's something I've noticed works with a surprising number of coma patients. It's not exact medical science, but I've seen it make a difference in many cases." The whole group was riveted, waiting for the next sentence. "Have someone he knows stay with him. Do it in shifts, but talk to him just like he can hear you. If you can keep somebody he knows well with him, I'll bend the ICU rules that far. A lot of times, when medicine has done all it can, things like that swing the balance. Just one person at a time, though."

"I'll talk to him," said Calleigh instantly. "Take me to him now."

"Honey," said Alexx, "you just got out of the hospital yourself."

"Right," said Calleigh. "You were just telling me this morning that I was pushing it and shouldn't leave the hospital yet. Fine, you win. I'm not leaving." The neurosurgeon smiled for the first time that afternoon, and Alexx rolled her eyes as Calleigh marched after the doctor toward the ICU.

***

Calleigh sat in a chair at Horatio's bedside, the curtain pulled halfway, although ICU really had no privacy. She stared at his face. The gash down his temple had been stitched and bandaged. In addition, a patch of hair over his right ear had been shaved off for the incision site, and that side was heavily bandaged. His face had no color at all, and his cheeks seemed sunken in. She stroked his face gently, carefully not disturbing either the bandages on the right side or the oxygen mask. "You saved that baby, did you know that? He wasn't hurt badly, just a few bruises. Just like you've saved others. You've touched so many people, Horatio. You aren't a jinx at all. You're a walking angel." She stared up at the monitors, which didn't look any better than the last time she had looked, five minutes ago. Blood pressure was 80/40, pulse 42, respirations 12. And this was with all sorts of drugs pumped into him, trying to keep the numbers up. What frightened her more than the numbers, though, was the feeling of distance. It was like his spirit wasn't even in his body anymore. Somehow, she sensed that whatever anchor held him to life had broken, and he was drifting aimlessly. She looked at his still face again, the closed eyes. Would she ever see them alive and alight again? Even if he survived, the doctor said, there might be brain damage. Calleigh shook herself, gripped his hand tightly with her good one, and continued talking, trying to reach him. There was absolutely no response. Please, God, she prayed, her tears threatening to spill over again. He's not here, and I can't find him. Please show him the way back to us.

***

Horatio was wandering in a sort of gray swirling fog. He did not know where he was and did not really care. His whole spirit was gripped by an uncharacteristic lassitude. He was not sure what had happened to bring him here, but the place was quiet and peaceful. So many days since any place had been quiet and peaceful. Not since the night Calleigh got shot.

"Horatio!" The voice was stern yet kind, absolutely demanding his attention. Slowly he turned, then stopped, stunned. It was his mother. "Horatio, there's something I need to show you."

"Mom?" He still stood stunned, and she closed the gap, hugging him. "Is this heaven, then? Somehow I'd pictured it . . .differently."

"No," she laughed. "This isn't heaven. You need to see something, though. Come with me." They wandered through the fog together, her hand in his. Something real, something to feel in this swirling mist, to hold onto. Finally, they reached what seemed to be a large screen TV standing in the middle of nowhere.

"There's TV in heaven?"

"I told you, this isn't heaven." She stationed him in front of it. "And this isn't TV. Look closely, now." The screen swirled to life in gray mist of its own, then centered on a small car, crunched against a tree. Horatio instantly turned away, and his mother, who wasn't anywhere near his size, spun him back around and forced him to face it. "This is the accident where your father was killed."

"I know that," he said testily.

"No, you don't. What I'm going to show you is a version of your life, only without you in it. So you really think that you have brought pain and death to people you care about? Look at it, Horatio. You aren't there, but the accident still is."

He did look then. "The accident happened anyway? I thought I distracted him. Maybe he wouldn't have been run off the road without me." He stared at the crunched car. "Or maybe he would." The scene shifted again, this time to the tableau of his nightmares. The kitchen where his mother had been murdered, only it wasn't himself finding her body, but Ray. "You still died?"

"I still died." The scenes followed her narrative. "Al Humphries was killed three months later in the raid to take down the drug gang, because you weren't there to save him. It took them three months to catch the gang because you weren't there to help. And in that three months, five other people were killed by Toro Jackson." Horatio was riveted to the screen now. He couldn't have turned away if he tried. "Ray was mentally unhinged by finding my body and by being left all alone. You held the world together for him, Horatio. Without you, he snapped. He committed suicide two years after my death." The scenes continued to flash through. "Al Humphries saved 1389 people's lives on the bomb squad. Only he never made the bomb squad; he was killed in the drug raid. Because you weren't there, those people died." More pictures of bombs exploding. "You yourself saved 1189 people's lives on the bomb squad, on top of all the ones in homicide, the future victims you saved by catching the criminals sooner. And on CSI, you've saved many more lives the same way, by getting the criminals off the streets."

The screen shifted again, and Horatio couldn't help crying out. A tombstone filled the picture, but he saw only the name. Calleigh Duquesne. "Calleigh never came to Miami. She was killed in Louisiana on the PD in the line of duty, one month after you did not come to offer her a new job." The screen continued showing pictures of people, ending with the bridge collapse that day. "You think it was your fault for causing that bridge collapse by triggering that man's heart attack? He had it anyway, Horatio, only he died of it, because help wasn't immediately there. Meanwhile, your rapist still led that chase up the canal, because you weren't there to stop him. He managed to clear the bridge just before Mr. Davis crashed into it. He went on to molest 10 other children and kill 3 before he was finally captured. When Davis crashed into the bridge, you weren't there to clear it. 21 people died." The screen finished with the shot of the bridge collapse, only this time, there were people falling off as well as cars. People screaming in terror. The screen finally went blank, to come up one final time with a flashing blue number. 4182.

"That's your life's score so far, Horatio," said Rosalind. "4182 people whose lives you have saved. And all of us who are dead would have died anyway. But without you, 4182 more would have joined us. You see, you really have had a wonderful life, Horatio. You've reached more people than most others dream of." He wrapped both arms around her suddenly, and she held him tightly, letting him cry into her hair, feeling the log of self- imposed guilt finally roll off him. She hung on, rocking him gently on his feet, as she used to rock him as a baby. "One more thing," she said. "Heaven is absolutely beautiful. It's full of God, and joy, and light. When you do think of us, don't think of us as dead. Think of us as happy." She pushed him back a bit, now, and dried his tears with her hand. "Remember me, Horatio. Remember me like I was. Remember me like I am." Rosalind's entire body suddenly started glowing, radiating a bright light that somehow did not hurt the eyes. She slowly faded away in a blaze of golden light.

Horatio turned back slowly and stared at the screen. It still blinked 4182. "I never imagined," he said softly. Suddenly, it bothered him that he did not know where he was. He wanted to know the way back. And he knew who could guide him. "Calleigh!"

***

Calleigh straightened up suddenly from her weary vigil. Had she not been staring at his face, she would have sworn he had just spoken her name. His lips had not moved, and nothing had changed on the monitors. Yet somehow, she had heard it. "Horatio," she said, locking his hand tightly in hers. "Horatio, I'm here. Come back to me." The monitors overhead suddenly picked up, all values rising. "Come on," pleaded Calleigh. "Come back to me. I'm waiting for you, Horatio." His eyelids flickered and then slowly opened. It took them a minute to focus, but when he managed it, he locked them on her face.

"Calleigh." He squeezed her hand slightly. Tears of pure joy rolled unheeded down her cheeks. His eyes were tired, weak, but certainly HIS eyes. Looking at him, she had no doubt that Horatio was present. All of him.

"Boy, you gave us a scare," she said.

"Sorry," he said weakly.

"Hey, never mind. You had to go after that kid, we all understood that."

"No," he said, wanting her to see. "Sorry for this week. Shutting you out. I did come every day to check on you, though."

"I know," she said. "Don't worry about it, okay? Everything's alright. I'm fine. And it wasn't your fault."

"I know," he said, surprising her with the conviction in his tone. "Everyone who died would have died anyway. It wasn't because of me."

Calleigh sat up slightly, looking at him. "When did you come to that conclusion?"

His eyes were drifting shut again, his battered body exceeding his energy. "Tell you later," he said, and she instantly agreed.

"Right, just sleep now. You've been through a lot."

"You sleep, too?" His eyes were totally shut now.

"I promise," she said. "I am tired." She was, absolutely exhausted. "I'll stay right here, and we'll both sleep, okay?"

His breathing was even, regular. She looked again at the monitors. All values normal. "4182," he said softly as he drifted off.

"4182 what?" she asked, but too softly to wake him. What on earth did 4182 mean? If it weren't for the earlier conversation, she would wonder about brain damage. Oh well, she told herself, I have a lifetime to ask him. A wonderful lifetime. She fell asleep at his bedside thinking of the future.

***

Alexx entered the ICU half afraid of what she would find the next morning, worried for Horatio and also wondering how on earth to drag Calleigh away for a rest. She slipped over to Horatio's cubicle, then stopped. Both of them were asleep, but Horatio's right arm was over the railing and his fingers intertwined in her hair. They looked absolutely peaceful and happy. She studied the monitors with satisfaction. "I think you are an angel," she said softly to Calleigh, too softly to wake them up. Both of them needed their rest. "No," she corrected, remembering the child from yesterday, one body she would not have to dissect. "I think you both are." She stood there for a moment watching them, then turned away, and her step was light and happy as she left the hospital, heading for CSI with the good news. Everything was going to be fine. Better than fine. Everything was going to be wonderful.