A familiar smell of copper awoke Grissom.  He at first thought he'd dreamed their travels to the past, but when he opened his eyes, he was chagrined to find it was all too real.  Something had happened to the carriage.  That he could remember.  What he didn't know was what had happened after.  He looked up and saw blue sky within a jagged outline and then he saw the seats of the carriage.  His gaze fell to the bodies next to him and spotted Sara lying in a heap with the other woman.  Neither of them was moving.

            He struggled to sit up and moved toward them. He nudged Sara, hoping she'd wake, but her head only bobbed a little.  When she didn't immediately respond, he grasped her chin with one hand and with the other he cradled the back of her neck.  He felt something sticky and pulled his hand away.  She was bleeding again, but this time from the back.  He fought back the bitter taste of bile rising in his throat.  Now was not the time to panic, but the idea that she'd hurt her head again was a factor he couldn't ignore.  He felt for her pulse and found it to be strong and steady.  Her breathing was a little shallow but that could be attributed to the weight from the other woman.

            When he began to look over the other woman, he could see the blood pooling on what was once the roof of the carriage, now it was the floor.   With a trembling hand, he felt for the carotid artery in her neck; her pulse was faint and her breathing was undetectable.  Quickly gathering his wits, he stood as well as he could in the cramped space and opened the door, which was now upside down.  He jumped out and that's when he saw the maid.  She'd been thrown from the carriage.  Her limp form was now mangled with a log.  When he turned back to the carriage and reached in to pull the woman out, he noticed Sara was starting to wake up.

            She called out hoarsely, "Grissom?"

            "I'm right here, Sara.  Are you alright?  Can you move?"  He held his breath as he awaited a reply from her.  She groaned but nodded when she met his gaze.  He breathed easier when he saw her finally move forward.  "Do you think you can lift her a bit as I pull her out?"

            She carefully lifted the woman by her shoulders and pushed her toward Grissom.  He was then able to get a better hold on her and pulled her through the door and away from the wreckage.  He yelled over his shoulder, "Stay there.  I'll be right back for you."  After placing the woman on the ground, he started to rush back to the carriage but saw that Sara had already found her way out.

            Seeing that Sara's injuries were not an immediate threat, he turned back to the more critically injured.  His gaze was diverted momentarily as he saw the drivers of the carriage in the distance, trying to make their way down the hill.

            He knelt next to the woman, further assessing her injuries.  Her breathing had become more pronounced if not slightly ragged.  Given the amount of blood seeping from a wound in her arm, he suspected an artery was severed.  Removing a piece of the torn clothing covering her wound, he saw the deep gash and the jagged piece of wood stuck in it.   Swiveling on one knee he looked back to the carriage but couldn't see Sara.  Before his heart could feel a grip of fear around it, he heard the tear of fabric behind him.  He turned back around to see Sara tearing a strip of cloth from the woman's petticoat.  She handed it to him.  "Use this to stop the bleeding," she directed, while also taking a closer look at the wound.

            Attempting to staunch the flow of blood and then remove the splinter of wood, his mind raced with the ramifications of his actions.  The woman could've possibly bled to death and here he was trying to repair the damage.  History would possibly be changed.  Yet, he still didn't hesitate in his actions.  He couldn't let a woman die.  Not when he had the power to help her.  Looking into Sara's face, he asked, "Would you please tear a couple more strips?  We'll need to make a tourniquet."

            "Sure."  Her response still sounded a bit dazed but she never faltered in her steps as she went to tear more cloth from the petticoat.   "Grissom.  It looks like she might have a broken leg.  It's twisted at a weird angle, not too bad though."

            "We'll deal with that as soon as we get the bleeding under control.  Hopefully, she won't wake up anytime soon."  He reached for the strips of cloth Sara handed him and then tied them on the arm above the wound.

            It was several minutes before he felt he'd gotten the blood flow under control.  He gazed at the leg now and knew it was broken.  Sara had been right.  It would have to be set.  The drivers arrived at that moment and they helped him set the leg.

            While they worked, Grissom noted Sara's return from the carriage, blanket and other items in her arms.  She handed him the blanket.  As always, she was anticipating his needs.  With the dew moist ground and the loss of blood, the injured woman would be exceptionally cold.  Taking it from her hands, he draped it over the woman.   His concern then moved from one patient to the other.  Sara visibly shook, shivering either from the cold or from the shock.  Not able to provide any further comfort for the woman lying on the ground, he knew he could comfort the woman ever present by his side.  Rising, he gently wrapped her in his arms —his body providing the warmth and strength hers craved.

            The drivers had discussed the situation and one had left to get help.  Before he could reach the road, all heads turned in his direction as they heard an approaching carriage.  It came to an abrupt halt and a man stepped out from it and walked to the driver.  During the conversation that ensued, the driver pointed to the wrecked carriage and to Grissom and Sara.  The man ran toward them, stumbling over rocks.  By the time he reached them, he was out of breath.   When he saw the injured woman, his manner suddenly changed from hurried to sedate.  He knelt next to her and reached out to caress her cheek tenderly.

            Grissom immediately noticed the resemblance between the man and the woman.  He could only guess that they were related in some way, possibly mother and son.  The young man — Grissom had to correct himself.  He guessed him to be in his early to mid thirties, roughly Sara's age, and so was not really a young man.  He watched him stand and then looked toward the maid.  He walked over to her, staring down at the woman with great depth of emotions on his face.  Finally accepting that she had not survived the crash, he took off his jacket and covered her face with it. After a few more moments, he approached them.

            He offered his hand and Grissom grasped it firmly while his other hand remained around Sara's waist.  "Thank you for your assistance in the care of my mother.  I understand you were also involved in this accident.  Are you all right?"  His eyes darted from Grissom to Sara.

            "Thank you for inquiring about our welfare.  We were in the carriage when it careened over the edge of that hill.  My, my wife, Mrs. Grissom, does have an injury to her head but your mother sustained a deep gash to her arm, which had been bleeding profusely and her right leg is broken.  We were able to stop the bleeding from her arm and then set her leg.  We still need to splint it, however."

            "From the work you did on my mother, it would be hard not to assume you're a doctor," the gentleman said coaxingly.

            "I am.  Dr. Gilbert Grissom.  But I dabble more in science than in medicine."

            "My mother was to have returned yesterday.  When she didn't, I feared something had happened.  It seems to be a curse that tragedy always befalls the females of my family.  I grow uneasy when my mother travels.  This time I was proved correct.  Again, I thank you for your intervention.  Were you headed to London?  You are from America, are you not?"

            "As a matter of fact, we were and yes, we are."  Grissom noticed the gentleman looking them over.  Their state of dress did not befit a doctor or his wife.  His mind worked double time and he suddenly found himself creating a story that would be plausible for all ears.  "We decided on a honeymoon in England but during our travels, we were accosted."

            The gentleman now nodded in understanding.  "Please, for your help, I would like to offer my assistance.  You and your wife will stay at my home.  It's the least I can do to repay your graciousness."

            "My carriage can easily accommodate you, your wife and my mother.  I would prefer that you remain with her in any case.  You have taken such good care of her injuries as it is."  He motioned for them to walk toward the carriage while he and the driver of the public carriage, now lying in ruins, moved to carry his mother.

            Grissom forestalled them.  "She still needs to have her leg splinted."

            The son let out a grateful sigh and nodded in agreement.  He ran a hand through his hair and down his neck.  "How do you suppose we do that?"

            Grissom swiveled around, taking in a glance of the area.  Leaving Sara for a moment, he walked to the tree log that had caught the body of the maid and after peering around it for a few moments grabbed a bunch of branches.  Using the remaining strips of cloth that Sara had rent from the woman's petticoat, he placed the branches along her leg and twined the cloth around it, securing the twigs firmly in place.  He now stood and nodded toward the two men, "Shall we?"

            It took a good hour before they were once again traveling along the road to their destination -London.  Grissom sat with Sara cradled against his side.  His hand softly stroked her hair and she'd quickly drifted off to sleep.

            Thoughts from the previous night finally caught up to him... his wife.  Although she wasn't his wife in the legal sense, he couldn't believe that he was allowed to think of her in that way.  For once he wasn't disturbed by it.  He pulled her closer to him, protectively, a smile playing on his lips.