A/N: Well, here's the next chapter. I know I keep saying it, but I really mean it: thank you SO much for all the wonderful reviews! I'm glad you guys didn't forget about this fic completely. Thanks, as always, to Grissom and DaVinci13 for their friendship and support. You're the best, ladies! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!

A/N P.S.: Your idea about Brass overhearing…something…on Sara's cell phone was inspired, Ghibli! Unfortunately, I hadn't gone in that direction. But someone should definitely use that idea in a future fic! I hope you like the way this progresses anyway. Enjoy!

Chapter 6: Slipping Away

Sara shifted Grissom against her. She could still feel him shivering uncontrollably, and she felt his chest working to force out each breath. That's it—hang on, Grissom, keep fighting. Moving him carefully so she could see his face, she gently called, "Grissom?" She ran a hand through his hair and over his pale, sweaty face. "Hey, Grissom?" Touching his face again, she was rewarded with a weak moan. Despite a few more attempts, she couldn't get any other reaction out of him.

Sara wasn't satisfied with that. She needed to find out how far gone he was, to see if he was still lucid. "Grissom, talk to me," she persisted, getting louder. "You're not going to do this to me! Not now! Not like this! Come on, say something!" Her anger and frustration were bubbling to the surface, and she had to restrain herself from literally grabbing him and shaking him. She took a breath, regaining some control over her wild emotions, and pleaded gently, "Please, Grissom, say something. Come on, talk to me." Her hope was waning, but she tried one more time, forcing all her concern and caring into the words, "Please, baby, talk to me. Please…"

"Sara?" came Grissom's hoarse, barely audible reply.

"Yeah," she said, relieved to hear his voice. "I'm right here."

He slowly opened his eyes and blinked until her face came into focus. "What…?"

"We're still here and that idiot is still shooting at us," she replied by way of an impatient explanation. But then she thought of what he must be going through and her tone softened, "Do you remember what happened?"

His blank look and the shake of his head caused a sharp spike of fear in her stomach. She thought it best to skip the graphic details of what had happened to him. The seconds ticked by in her head, and she couldn't believe the help that Jim had promised wasn't there yet. How long has it been? She wondered, on the verge of complete panic. "How do you feel?" she asked, blindly hoping for anything positive.

He closed his eyes briefly to consider his condition, but Sara misinterpreted it. "Hey, stay with me, Gris," she insisted.

Opening his eyes, he answered her question. "Numb," he mumbled, "and…cold." He shivered more severely against her.

"I know, Grissom, but you've got to hang on." An involuntary grin tugged at her lips as she recalled the words of the police captain. "Brass said if you give up he'd come over here and kick your ass."

Grissom couldn't even manage a semblance of a smile, but he got out, "Not…afraid…of Jim."

"Good," Sara replied, "because I think he was serious."

"Are you…okay?" he asked weakly.

She nodded. "I'll be better when the paramedics finally get here, but yeah, I'm fine. I didn't get…hurt."

"Glad to hear it," he slurred, and Sara was afraid he was slipping away again.

"Grissom?"

"Hm?" he moaned back.

"Hang on, Grissom, hang on."

He tried to fight the pull of the blackness threatening to engulf him, but he couldn't; his eyes closed again.

She jostled him a little as she pleaded, "Grissom! Come on, you've gotta stay with me! Please stay with me. You've gotta hang on." Her voice trailed off, but then she added with hushed distress, "Please hang on, baby."

His eyes fluttered and slowly opened. "Sara…"

She didn't know if it was the term of endearment that had brought him around; she realized she had let the word slip twice, but she didn't care. She was just relieved that he was talking to her.

"I'm right here, Gris," she reassured, meeting his glazed blue eyes. "I'm glad you're still with me. Just keep hanging on." She stroked a hand through his hair again as she held him close. "It'll be all right. It'll be all right."

That phrase kept repeating itself in her head, and she realized she was moving her lips, silently mouthing the words. She decided to say them out loud again, and they became a mantra; she was sure they would be safe if she just kept saying the words over and over. "It'll be all right. It'll be all right…"

Grissom looked at her and nodded. He reached out his hand and she took it and held as tightly as she could. She held onto him as if she was the tether keeping him in this world. She was truly petrified that at any moment he might lose his tenuous hold on consciousness, and never make it back to her.

Where were those damn paramedics! her mind demanded desperately. She couldn't believe help still hadn't arrived yet. She was expecting someone, anyone, to crash through the nearest door at any second. So she kept hoping and reciting her—their—mantra.

But, suddenly, everything changed. Sara felt Grissom's hand go limp in hers, his whole body slumped, and his eyes slipped shut once again. Panic erupted inside her and she began screaming, "Grissom! Grissom!" She shook him rather roughly and continued shouting, "Grissom! Oh, my God! Grissom!" She tried to check his pulse, but her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn't find it

In that same anxious moment, she realized that she could no longer feel him breathing against her. "Oh, God! Grissom!" She lowered him to the ground and continued desperately trying to rouse him; she even put her ear over his mouth, hoping to sense the faintest sign of air moving.

Brass had heard Sara's screams through the open cell phone connection. He was about to run out to the two CSIs in spite of the danger from the sniper, when he heard something else—a cacophony of new sounds—on the other end…

To be continued…