Horatio opened his eyes to the glorious sight of Calleigh tucking his sunglasses carefully into the front of her black lace bra. His bewildered brain tried to work out why she was half naked even as he watched her fold her shirt up into a thick pad and press it hard against his abdomen. Her hooded jacket was no where to be seen and it took him a full minute to come to the realization that she must have placed it underneath him to try and stop the bleeding.

"Help's on the way," she reassured him when she saw that his eyes were open. "They're sending a chopper. Won't be long."

He opened his mouth to ask how far he'd managed to walk and heard himself groan instead.

"Don't try and talk, Horatio," she pleaded, so he didn't, he just watched her beautiful blue green eyes as she worked to stop his bleeding. Her face was really the only thing that he could see clearly, anyway, through the fog. Funny weather for the Everglades this time of year. Or maybe it was just him who was foggy. Horatio gave up trying to think.

Calleigh checked the compresses. "Oh God, you're losing way too much blood."

"Hmmm…" Horatio really didn't care. He let his eyes drift pleasantly shut.

Vaguely through the buzzing in his ears he heard Calleigh shouting at him but he was too tired to try and figure out what she wanted. Maybe she would go away and let him sleep. But he felt her grab his shoulders and when she shook them none too gently the sharp stab of pain in his gut snapped him wide awake. His eyes flew open to Calleigh's close, alarmed face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "God, I am so sorry. But you have to stay awake, Horatio. Let's talk."

"Talking's good now?" he mumbled, and she laughed a little before it caught on a sob. "How far'd I get?"

"Far enough," she answered. "Fifty feet or so. Didn't you hear it go?"

"Nope. Too bad. I like explosions … as long as … you know …" Completely exhausted, his voice trailed off. He wished Calleigh would just be quiet and let him go to sleep. But she looked so worried. The tears on her face bothered him and he wondered why she was crying. Maybe she was hurt, too, like he was …

Oh God, maybe she was hurt. Abruptly Horatio tried to sit up. "Calleigh, are you o…"

"No!" she screamed as he managed to get half way up and then froze with a cry of pain. "Horatio, don't move!" Calleigh let go of the compress and guided him gently back down to the ground with one hand on his chest while she cradled the back of his head with the other. "I'm fine," she reassured him quickly, resuming the pressure on his wound. "Not even a bruise."

It took a moment before the pain wore down enough that he could speak. "Well, you wanted me to wake up … didn't you?" he gasped, still breathing hard.

"That's not quite what I had in mind," Calleigh scolded and then mumbled something about trying to perform proper first aid and him not helping much. Horatio's head was swimming and he was suddenly having a lot of trouble hearing her.

"I promise … I'll behave …." he gasped. "But it won't be easy … with you … in that outfit."

She summoned up a sassy grin for his benefit. "Watch it there, big boy. My present state of attire is entirely your fault."

Horatio laughed which turned out to be a really bad idea. He started choking and it escalated to a coughing fit. He just couldn't stop and soon he was engaged in a desperate fight for air.

Calleigh bent close. Her fingers were in his hair. "Easy, Handsome," she crooned. "You're fine, you're okay." But her voice was trembling and he wasn't fine at all. There was no air anywhere, only hot, coppery liquid rising up in his throat. He hung onto the image of Calleigh's face, her eyes, for as long as he could. And then she was gone.