Chapter 2

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Grissom clamped down on the fear that had momentarily seized his power of speech.

"Nick?" He licked his dry lips; his voice sounded weak and cracked to his own ears. "Nick? Nicky! Can you hear me?" Grissom tried not to let the ominous lack of response exacerbate his already high level of panic. He stood shakily and moved forward as quickly as the cluttered, dark surroundings would allow. Still, only silence greeted him.

Upon reaching the pile, Grissom's worry for his younger colleague only worsened. He began pulling rocks and brushing dirt from the mound, frantically tossing objects to the side of… Wait, he thought, this place could still be unstable! Grissom would have laughed at his own stupidity if the situation weren't so dire. He started tossing pieces backwards, where he had previously been lying, instead of next to the pile. They couldn't afford another cave-in – not before he found if they even survived this one.

Suddenly, the pile shifted slightly, causing Grissom to jerk back in surprise. He froze, and for a moment was only rewarded with the sound of his own harsh panting.

"Nick?"

The pile responded by shifting again, then faintly groaning.

"Mmmm….here."

Grissom closed his eyes and took what felt like his first breath in ten minutes.

"I'm here Nicky. Just stay still. I'm digging you out," Grissom assured the younger CSI, resuming his excavation efforts. "Are you alright?"

Nick wanted to laugh, but for the fog currently enveloping his brain. Now Grissom's California whatever-nosed bats were the least of his problems. "Uh…I'm alive," was the faint, shaky response. Another muffled cough sounded from under the pile. "You ok?"

"I'm fine, but let's finish getting all this off of you," Grissom responded, and Nick relaxed slightly. The last thing he remembered was pushing his seemingly unhearing boss away from the falling debris.

Grissom continued his task with the same focused determination he normally reserved for the lab. Sweat trailed lines down his dust-covered face and dripped into his eyes. The entomologist paused to wipe his shirt sleeve across his forehead – he hoped to be getting closer, as Nick's weak voice sounded a bit clearer now. He shifted a textbook-sized rock and heard Nick let out a sharp hiss.

"Nicky?" Grissom asked tensely, immediately stopping his hands. "What is it?"

"Nah… s'alright," came the weary Texas accent, "I think I can … there we go." The younger CSI shifted the debris covering him, and Grissom saw a hand push out of the pile. Judging by the location of Nick's hand, Grissom realized he'd been digging at Nick's feet. The supervisor quickly moved around to the opposite end where he figured Nick's head would be.

Within minutes he was rewarded for the change in position and finally uncovered his colleague's head. Nick coughed a few more times and used his free hand to pass over his grimy face. "And I was worried about bat attacks," Nick mumbled. Grissom gave him a bleak smile.

"Nice to see you again," Nick said wearily before his coughing resumed. Dust flew from his mouth and the debris still covering him jiggled unsteadily.

"Likewise," Grissom said, resuming his task. "Are you hurt?"

Nick winced, and nodded. He immediately regretted that move as pain lanced through his head.

"I….I uh…think I broke my wrist," Nick said shakily, glancing towards his still-pinned left arm. "And something is wrong with my leg..." the CSI trailed off, looking dazed and putting his free hand to his head.

"And your head, it looks like," Grissom said, noticing when Nick's hand moved from his skull it was wet with blood. The supervisor stopped uncovering Nick's other arm and side to tilt the injured criminalist's head forward. Nick complied, wincing. Grissom looked around for one of their flashlights. He found Nick's lying on the ground, still powered on, and somehow, miraculously undamaged. Shining it on the back of his CSI's head, he could see the dark hair was matted with a decent amount of blood. After moving some hair aside, Grissom could partially see a gash a few inches wide. In the dim light it didn't look exceptionally deep, but then he noticed a bump swelling under the injury; even if Nick's head injury wasn't severe, it was bad enough.

Nick's sudden shiver broke Grissom's train of thought. The older man sighed, and began taking off his jacket.

"Wh…what are you doing?" Nick asked, his teeth chattering.

"You're going into shock," Grissom said gently, covering the other CSI with his jacket. Grissom knew from his first aid training that a person exhibiting symptoms of shock should also have his feet raised, but he was concerned about Nick's complaint of leg pain. Until he knew the extent of that injury, he wouldn't risk moving it and possibly making matters worse. As if they could get worse, he thought ruefully.

"Man….of all the luck," Nick mumbled, giving his boss a ghost of his usual smirk. "I just figured this place would be pretty stable for them to let us in. Guess not."

"Well," Grissom replied, back to removing the rubble covering Nick's legs, "It probably didn't help matters when I leaned against that wooden post." The older CSI was encouraged by Nick's level of consciousness, despite the fact that he still looked slightly dazed in the meager light. Grissom knew to remain guarded, however – he doubted Nick would be in shock this quickly simply as a result of his head wound. The weight in his gut told him he'd probably uncover something more serious along the way.

Nick didn't blame Grissom for the cave-in but didn't have the energy to argue. In fact, Nick had never felt more useless in his life. He wanted to help his boss get the rest of the debris off his legs, but where his body wasn't engulfed in pain, it felt heavy and leaden. With a sigh, he closed his eyes again –

"Hey!"

Nick's eyes peeled back open again and slowly focused on the other man.

"Come on now." Grissom tried to keep his voice calm and even. It was a strange feeling for him to be lacking complete control of a situation. Even at the worst crime scenes, his team counted on his cool professionalism. But this was different – this was personal. "You need to stay awake, Nick."

"Yeah. I know." Nick shivered a little. "Sorry."

Finally, Grissom removed the last rocks from Nick's lower body, taking note of the younger CSI's wince as the left leg was uncovered. Looking more closely, Grissom could see the cause of Nick's discomfort.

"Your ankle is pretty swollen," the supervisor said matter-of-factly.

"Figured as much," Nick mumbled.

"Can you move it?" Grissom asked, wondering if it was broken or just sprained.

Nick bit his lip, and Grissom watched as the left foot wiggled.

"If you can move it, it's probably just a bad sprain," Grissom said, relieved to not find a more severe injury. "Your legs hurt anywhere else?"

"Naw," Nick decided, after thinking for a moment. "Just sore otherwise."

"Ok," Grissom said, "let's get through the rest of you, then we'll worry about getting out of here."

"Well, that's gonna be a whole 'nother problem," Nick sighed from his prone position on the ground. Grissom raised an eyebrow, puzzled; Nick nodded wearily in the direction beyond Grissom's turned back. The mobile CSI twisted around, shining his flashlight towards the way they'd entered the cave. What had previously been an earthen passageway created by the length of the mine was now a larger, yet sickeningly familiar mountain of debris. Grissom briefly wondered if he told Catherine where they were going.

"Well. This complicates matters."

TBC...