Warrick felt Nick's hand tighten suddenly in his. Noticed his face growing red as he began to thrash against the straps holding him to the stretcher. At first he thought it was just an increase in the trembling Nick had been experiencing, but then he noticed that Nick's eyes had grown big as dinner plates and it was obvious he was fighting for air.

"What the fu…Nick! Nick! Damn! What the hell's happening?"

The paramedic shoved Warrick over on the bench and assessed Nick's condition. The oxygen was flowing- it just wasn't making it into the CSI's lungs. He yelled to his partner behind the wheel, "Step on it, Tony!" Tony shot back, "We're about ten minutes out still." The medic got on his radio and called ahead to the ER at Desert Palms. "Palms- this is Bus 4. We've got a male in his thirties, significant coverage of fire ant bites due to confinement at the site. No known previous allergies but it looks like anaphylaxis setting in. Patient is tachy at 150, and diaphoretic. 100 O2 but nothing's moving. IV d5W administered at scene."

"Roger that, Bus 4. Hang on."

Warrick felt Catherine's hand take the place that Nick's had had mere moments before. No. No. Nuh-uh. Not after all this. He's out. He's with us. This isn't happening… he looked up at Cath and read the same fear and disbelief in her eyes.

"Bus 4. Doc says previous allergy not necessary with extreme cases of envenomation. Start with Eppy and bring him in. Stat."

"Roger that, Palms." He pulled a pre-filled syringe out of his kit and, popping the cap off, and quickly swabbing off an area on Nick's shoulder, pushed the medication into his system. "Eppy on board. Time out is…Tony?" "Five minutes!" "Five minutes, Palms."

"Roger that 4. We'll be ready. Bring him on in."

Warrick looked for some sign that the epinephrine was helping, but Nick was still obviously struggling and the haunted look in his eyes was that of a trapped animal. Warrick had to avert his gaze and wrested his eyes from his friend's. There was no recognition in Nick's eyes. He was obviously consumed with his battle to breathe.

Catherine had begun to weep, broken down with desperate sobs, for the first time since the whole thing started. Warrick wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her head into his chest, whispering reassurances to her. "We're almost there, Cath. My boy's a fighter. He got this far…we'll get him the rest of the way there." She looked up into his eyes, wanting to believe him. "I promise, Cath. Hey. Look who's talking here - I don't make promises I can't keep, okay?"

As the bus pulled into the hospital bay Warrick grabbed Catherine's hand and caught her as she jumped from the back of the ambulance out of the medic's way. A nurse and a doctor ran out of the ER bay doors and grabbed the stretcher, the medic continuing his litany of vitals and meds. "First Eppy IM five minutes ago. No noticeable response. Still tachy at 150."

The stretcher was pulled into the ER and behind a set of steel swinging doors and Nick was gone from view again.

Warrick lead Catherine to a set of hard plastic chairs and took the one next to her. They sat, dazed, not speaking, not sharing their fears - instead letting them have free rein in their heads. A few minutes later the rest of the team arrived. Warrick was the one that had to break the bad news to them- Catherine was still too shattered, barely even noticing the team's arrival.

Grissom only nodded. While he hadn't expected this exactly, he knew enough about Hymenopterans that he wasn't surprised. In fact, he realized that it was probably inevitable with the sheer volume of venom Nick would have received. He could have spoken to the group at length about all he knew of Solenopsis invicta envenomation, but he was too tired and too depressed and he knew that the group would get no comfort from his lecture.

The group slouched in various places in the ER waiting room, paying no heed to the rest of the waiting patients and family staring at them. Uniformed cops had begun streaming in, asking for updates, then hanging around when nothing concrete was forthcoming. The waiting area was soon teeming with cops from LVPD and Clark County. The squawking of their radios was a constant din of garbled conversations from those not at the hospital calling in for their own news.

Warrick got up and began to pace the length of the waiting area. On his ninth or tenth circuit he didn't wheel around to pace back the other way - he kept right on going- picking up speed -and walked back out through the ER doors. The warmth of summerin Vegas brought him up short andwrapped around him, oppressive after the coolness of the ER. Sweat immediately broke out on his forehead and he reached into his pocket for a tissue, instead feeling the ridged edge of the coin in his pocket. He took it out and stared at Kennedy's head glinting in the security lights.

You know, I'd do two out of three, but you got a gambling problem…Hey, you know what? You keep this. It's bad luck.

Warrick didn't really know what bad luck was. Sure he'd had stretches where his luck was off- pretty sizable losses on big game wagers- crappy nights at the blackjack table. But all in all, he'd always come out ahead. He'd always had some green in his pocket and not many worries. No debts. No threats. And his gambling problem? Hadn't turned out to be that much of a problem. Cleaning up his act was pretty easy… easier than it was supposed to be.

His professional life had cruised along pretty well. Hell, everyone knew he was Grissom's Number One Son. His favorite. Grissom had come right out and told him he was being groomed to take over the lab when the day came that the boss was ready to throw it all in. He found the job pretty easy, actually. Took to it naturally. Not bragging. Just how it was.

Hell, he even had a great girl. Tina was smart and sexy and easy on the eyes. She was a social worker he'd met at the Boys and Girls Club back in his old 'hood, hence her inherent distrust of the police. She'd seen enough bad stuff go down. He'd been hanging around the club playing hoops with some of the kids and had caught her eye. They'd talked over coffee and he remembered the look on her face when he told her what he did for a living. It took weeks for him to break down her barriers. But he'd done it. As he knew he would.

He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and pulled it out. Recognized the number on the ID and saw the text message "five missed calls". Damn!

"Brown."

"Ricky?"

"Yeah, hey, Grams. I'm sorry. It's been a rough night."

"It's been all over the news that a CSI was in trouble. I was so scared, Ricky. I'm so relieved it wasn't you. But…was it one of your friends?"

"Yeah, Grams. It's Nicky. But we got him back. I'm outside Desert Palms now."

"Oh, that poor boy. Always so nice when you bring him by. Is he going to be okay?"

"Not sure yet, Grams. The doctors are working on him now."

He debated telling his grandmother about the coin toss. That it could have …should have been him in the box. But she wasn't as strong as she once was and didn't want to burden her with that fear.

"Oh, baby… why don't you come on by? You know I don't sleep much nowadays. I could make you milk and Pepsi and you could tell me about it."

Milk and Pepsi. Haven't had that in years… saw it on a TV show as a little kid and had begged his Grams to make it for him. It was their routine for a while. First as a kid coming home from playing ball outside all afternoon. Then when he'd come home from college and they'd sit and jaw 'til all hours of the night, drinking milk and Pepsi and scarfing down plates of her oatmeal cookies.

He was sorely tempted. He'd always found solace in her company. She'd been a bastion of strength in his childhood, a refuge to escape the mean streets and the meaner school hallways. And later, as an adult, he had always turned to her for advice. But solace wasn't what he wanted. No…he didn't deserve solace. Not while his best friend was fighting for his life. He owed Nick that much…and more.

"Thanks, Gram. Think I'll stick around here for a while. But I appreciate the offer, you know."

"I understand, Ricky. You be there for your friend. Tell him my thoughts and prayers are with him and his family. And with you, love. He's a good boy. He's been there for you, I know."

"Yeah, Grams. He has. And he will be."

"I'm sure he will, baby. You know I love you."

"Love you too, Grams. I'll call as soon as I can, 'kay?"

"All right, dear. G'night"

"'Night."

He shut the phone and put it back into his pocket. Returned to staring at the coin.

An irrational thought raced its way through his mind, gaining speed and insistence.

He made a silent wager in his head…Heads, Nick lives…

And he spun the coin into the air…