The wait was excruciating. Grissom barely knew what to do with himself, sitting there in the dark, twiddling his thumbs. He could hear Sara breathe, evenly but with a tinge of pain, and knew from the sound that she was wide awake. She was not keen to talk though, and he certainly did not want to force her – the time was past for polite conversation. She was too ill.

He had no camping lantern, and so sat in the dark for a while before he chanced to turn his flashlight on. He had not wanted to drain the batteries, knowing they would not last the entire night, but after a while he had to check on her.

He switched it on, and a soft glow bathed Sara's resting form.

She squinted, and blinked a few times.

"I'm still alive," she joked.

He did not find it funny. She lay on her side, still pale, her hair falling out of the tight ponytail she had previously had it in on the trail. A few of the strands were loose, and her expression was completely fatigued and fed up.

"How's the pain?" he asked.

"That's the least of my problems right now," she said.

"It is?"

"I have to pee."

"Oh."

He had not even prepared for that eventuality, but now that he thought about it – briefly – he realised that she had not gone since they had left the start of the trail that morning. It had been at least twelve hours, if not more.

He paused, considering the problem. If she had been a man, he would have procured a bottle or something for her to pee in – but she wasn't. Clearly, that wasn't going to work. She would have to get up.

"All right," he said, recovering, "well we'll have to –"

"- go outside," she finished.

She sighed, irritable. He then reached to support her as she started to sit up, and helped her out of the tight sleeping bag, swiftly throwing down the zip with an abrupt whir.

"I suppose this means a trip behind a tree," she pondered, aloud.

"That seems likely," he said.

"This trip just gets better and better, doesn't it?"

"I'd loan you my penis if I could," he joked.

She gave a brief, whimsical smile. "I always thought that if you did that, it would be for other purposes."

The innuendo was not lost on him, and he stared for a moment, transfixed. She gave a lopsided, flirtatious smile in the torchlight, and after a moment of being stunned his rational brain eventually clawed its way back.

"Catherine!" he yelled.

He had to shout for her above the wind, which was still gusting violently up the hillside, whistling around the clearing and flapping at side of the tent, and after a moment she appeared, looking cold and alert in the doorway.

Someone had loaned her a jacket – navy blue and evidently PD issue – and after explaining the problem she quickly agreed to help. Luckily, one of the things that Grissom loved and respected about Catherine was her ability to handle just about anything that was thrown at her, and she barely hesitated. After a moment they were soon helping Sara to the doorway of the tent, each of them supporting her weight and sore body as she fought to stand, and Catherine glanced at him, a dismissive look in her eyes.

"I'll walk her," she said.

The look told him to stay where he was, and he nodded. Sara hobbled very slowly away, leaning heavily on Catherine, and nearby at the other tent – which had been hastily put up by Nick, Warrick and the detectives – Sofia Curtis looked up, her eyebrows swiftly contracting with concern. She soon peeled off and went to tentatively offer help, and it said a lot about how Sara was feeling that she accepted the offer without thinking, and slipped her free arm around Sofia's shoulders.

Grissom had had the impression that the two had never particularly gotten along – or at least it had seemed that way, at times – but at the moment it seemed that Sara was in too much pain to care about details. Grissom watched as they hobbled off, slipping in between the dense trees, and he averted his eyes, offering privacy.

It was quite a few minutes before they returned, and he caught the first glimpse of movement off in the distance. But before they even reached the clearing he saw a rapid shift of shadows, and then heard a panicked shout.

"Grissom!"

It was Catherine. Immediately he bolted, and darted with Nick a short way in to find Sara lying on the ground, in the mud and slush of damp leaves, her face groggy and non-comprehending.

"She says she's dizzy," Catherine provided.

"I'm okay," Sara muttered.

"We can see that," Sofia said, looking agog down at Sara's motionless form.

But she had a point. Sara's eyes were only half open, and she seemed dazed. Not wanting to tempt Sara to argue, Grissom crouched down, and immediately took control, gently but firmly urging her onto her side.

"Lay on your side," he guided. "Just rest a minute."

He put her on her side largely as a precaution, but she went without an argument. She lay there, eyes closed now, shivering as the wind gusts pelted against them. It howled and whistled, and the entire length of her body shook, almost ceaselessly.

"We need to get her out of the wind," Sofia said.

"In a minute," he ruled. "Let her get her bearings."

But there were things they needed to do, and after a moment of watching her shiver, he turned to Nick.

"Nick, run and get a blanket. And check the first aid kit, see if there's a thermometer."

Nick dashed off.

"Are you going to lose consciousness?" Catherine asked, directing the question to Sara.

Catherine had a coat on, but even she shivered; the wind was more like an Arctic gale.

"No, I just need a minute," Sara advised.

"Let us know when you're ready, we'll help you back."

"My head's spinning right now."

Grissom caught the inference; that she doubted she could stand.

"Take a minute and then we'll carry you," Grissom said.

"Another humiliating fireman's carry?" Sara asked, shivering to her core. "Over your shoulder?"

"We can leave you out here in the mud if you want," Catherine offered, blunt.

Sara said nothing.

Nick returned with the blanket, and Grissom bought her a moment as he spread it over her, sheltering her from the wind, even though he doubted it would help a lot. She shivered under it, the blanket practically vibrating with her shaking body, and her eyes were squinted closed. After a few minutes he could take it no longer, and realised they could not hang about forever.

"Can you sit up?" he pressured.

She seemed to wince at the thought.

"Sit up," he said, reaching down to guide her. "I'll carry you."

She was not happy, he knew that, but she eventually assented, helped along by the firm, unyielding hands of Catherine and even Sofia. Sofia grabbed the blanket, and Grissom carefully scooped her up into his arms, wary of doing more damage to her battered frame. She was too ill to even slip an arm around his shoulders, and he very carefully lifted her up.

It was a slow walk back to the tent, and there was no denying that she was heavy, but he made it, and once he was near the doorway, he lowered her carefully back onto her feet, where she practically immediately slumped down into a crouching position.

"Get inside," Catherine ordered. "Out of the wind."

Catherine's hair was flapping and whipping about in the wind, striking her every so often in the face, and it continued to howl its way around the clearing. But Sara hovered for a moment, almost as if she no longer registered it, until Grissom gave her a nudge and urged her inside.

"Come on," he said.

He crouched down next to her, and guided her in, and she only shuffled about a foot inside before she slumped down on her back again, needing a minute. Grissom snatched the blanket off of Sofia, who was hovering in the doorway, and immediately spread it back over her.

"Give me the thermometer," he said, addressing Nick.

Nick passed it over. It was an ear thermometer, and without waiting for an invite, Grissom took it out of its plastic sleeve and inserted it into Sara's outer ear. She didn't even protest, or comment.

She lay still, eyes closed.

"What does it say?" Catherine asked.

Grissom squinted and shone his torchlight onto it.

"89," he said.

Catherine's eyes widened a little, and Grissom looked around at his team. Her temperature was too low, and they were still far too far from sunrise. He held Catherine's gaze, his mind going back to their previous conversation an hour or so earlier – but he hesitated. He had never expected that they would actually need to contemplate it, at least for real.

She gave the slightest nod, but oddly enough, it was Nick who voiced it aloud, in an honest and practical tone, ever the Texas gentleman.

"Well, maybe one of us should get in with her," he suggested, with an airy, indifferent shrug. "You know the first aid treatment for hypothermia."

"Are you volunteering?" Catherine asked, part teasing.

"Well … if it needs to be done, it needs to be done," he said, firm but professional, and in a tone which slightly irritated Grissom. "Let's not make it awkward, okay? It's just a simple thing, helping a friend. Let's keep it professional."

"I can't believe we're discussing this," Sara complained.

But she still shook. Her entire body was shaking now, but alarmingly, she did not even seem to register it. Her face was elsewhere, contorted with pain, eyes closed, and apparently the danger of the cold had not even registered with her, lost as she was in other priorities.

But Grissom watched the blanket shake, watched her lying there in misery, and his heart broke.

He was the team leader. It was up to him.

"I'll do it," he said.

Apologies for the delay. Real life got very stressful for a while and it called me back. But hope people are still reading and enjoying! I wasn't sure if I was going to have them get to this point, but here we are. :)