For a few moments, there was nothing but the dark silence. Kneeling next to Sara's shivering form, Grissom tried to catch his breath and pull himself together. He glanced at his watch quickly, barely making out the time in the starlight. From what he could tell, only twenty minutes had gone by since the Tahoe swerved violently off the road. But he had lost all sense of time in that period and it felt more like a week had passed. He shook his head, tightening his grip on Sara's cold hand as he planned out the best course of action.

Keep Sara warm and comfortable. Keep her conscious. That was most important. He knew that he needed to take care of her before even thinking about anything else. Grissom felt a shudder pass through his body as he studied Sara's face. Her beautiful features were twisted in pain and her dull, glassy eyes were just half-open, devoid of all emotion except pure anguish.

"You still with me, Sara?" Grissom called to her loudly, leaning closer to check her pupils. He lifted a droopy eyelid and tried to assess her condition in the dim light. Grissom had only been able to take a quick inventory of her injuries in the Tahoe but now, despite the darkness, he had a clear and shocking view. Sara was awake but she could only tremble under Grissom as he studied her brown orbs and talked to her gently. He talked silently too, keeping all the disturbing details to himself.

Concussion. Deep cuts. Extensive bruising. Shock. Grissom winced. The lab explosion had been a walk in the park. He pressed his hand to the cut on Sara's forehead, applying pressure in an effort to stop the steady crimson flow. But the blood quickly seeped through his fingers and he had to stop himself from gasping out loud. Head wounds bleed a lot, he reminded himself. Suddenly, he became all too aware that it was Sara's life force puddling on the ground and for the first time in his life, Gil Grissom found the sight of blood absolutely revolting. He closed his eyes briefly, knowing that he had to stay calm."Sara? Talk to me, please."

"What shhhh–should I say?" Sara finally mumbled.

Grissom brought his other hand to her cheek, patting it to keep her awake. "Tell me how you're feeling."

"Sick," she moaned. "I still feel–sick."

He nodded into the darkness."You have a concussion," he explained softly. "Nausea is a common symptom."He forced a smile, hoping that she might be able to see it and hoping that if she did, it would mask his increasing concern. "You're going to be fine, honey. But it's important that you stay awake."

She sighed. "I–I'm awake–I think."

"Good."Grissom glanced over at the crumpled Tahoe and then quickly turned back to Sara, just in time to see her draw in a ragged breath. "How's your breathing?"

"It's fine, Griss," Sara whispered in reply. She bit her lip, wincing in pain but she said no more.

Noticing the distress in Sara's voice, Grissom urgently gathered her hand into his and pressed it against her head wound, quickly removing his own hand in the process. Sara moaned but she managed to keep her fingers where they were placed. "I need you to keep pressure on that cut, Sara," Grissom told her as he moved to stand up. "Just for a minute."

"Cut?" Still in a daze, Sara tried to pull herself into a sitting position, only to be met by Grissom's firm hand. He gently pushed her back down to the ground. "Griss–"

"Lie still."

"What? Where you goin'?" she asked, still slurring her words.

"Just to the truck. I won't be long. But I want you to keep talking to me," he said, making it to his feet and standing uneasily. He swayed. Hold it together, he told himself, searching for his balance. He had forgotten about his own injuries and while they didn't seem serious, they weren't, by any means, pleasant. His left arm ached and he was bleeding from a few superficial cuts. He examined one warily. I was the lucky one. The thought sent another shiver down his spine and he took a few quick steps over to the Tahoe, his heart fluttering nervously as he peered into the now infamous passenger side window. "Sara–"

"I'm okay," she called weakly. "Are you okay, Griss?"

Grissom didn't reply to that. Instead, he reached in through the broken window and, being careful to avoid the remaining shards of glass, he reached in to see if he could open the back door. It was badly jammed but he tried anyway, his fingers reaching for the inside handle. Luckily, there was no sign of smoke or flame and Grissom was very thankful that he could focus on getting supplies out of the Tahoe. The sooner he reached them, the better. As he fought with the door, he thought up questions to ask Sara, to keep his mind off the amount of blood in the vehicle and to keep her awake. "So, can you remember anything?" he called out to her, his voice muffled by the seat.

Sara heaved a sigh and Grissom swore he heard a slight chuckle. "Headlights, Grissom,"she replied. "That's it. And the beginning of–our shift."

"That's good," he replied, finally pulling the handle. He moved to the outside of the door with some difficulty and yanked at it, wondering if he should try the other back door. The driver's side hadn't sustained as much damage and Grissom grumbled to himself for not thinking clearly in the first place. Everything was slowly filtering back, things were finally making some sense and Grissom's memory was sharpening."I'm starting to remember a little more," he said, trying to maintain the vital conversation.

There was a frightening pause.

"Great," wheezed Sara. "You–you can fill me in."

Grissom let out an anxious breath and called to her loudly. "How are you doing, Sara?"

"Fine. Cold."

"You won't be in a minute," he replied softly. Just then, the tempermental door popped open and Grissom sighed in relief, grateful that he didn't have to fight with the other door as well. With a grunt, he held the heavy door open and forced his body inside the Tahoe. His eyes scanned the back seat for the items he needed–or rather, the items Sara needed. My kit. The first aid kit. Blanket. Water bottle. Cell phone. No one could say that he wasn't prepared for anything. Grissom always kept his vehicle stocked with basic necessities and now, it would definitely pay off.

Grissom found his cell phone first. He had put it in the console between the two front seats but now it lay on the floor in the back, partially hidden under debris. Grissom grabbed at it, switching it on immediately, praying that it would work. His heart plummeted when he was met with the 'No Signal' message but he couldn't say that he hadn't expected it. "I found my phone," he called out anyway, waiting nervously for her reply. It came quickly this time.

"Mine's in my–my pocket," she muttered. "Def–definitely broken."

"Well, mine isn't broken but we're going to have to play around to get a signal," he told her honestly.

Sara stifled a weak laugh. "Play around?"

Grissom almost smiled. Almost. "You know what I mean." He shoved his phone into his pocket and started pulling the other items from the Tahoe, placing them carefully on the ground. He took anything he saw, anything that would help make Sara comfortable. He even grabbed a Forensics magazine that he had picked up in the mail earlier that day. I can use that to start a fire, he realized, shaking his head. He didn't normally burn his reading material–that wasn't him at all. But this wasn't any normal occurrence, either.

Grissom was pulling his emergency blanket out from under the seat when Sara moaned. Loudly. "I'm–I'm going to be sick again," she said, her voice shaking and her breathing rapid. Grissom turned to see her thrust herself onto her knees and violently double over. He quickly gathered everything up and returned to her side, one hand immediately moving to the back of her neck and the other to her hair, smoothing it away from her face. As Sara threw up the little that was left in her stomach, Grissom's mind wandered back to the beginning of their shift, remembering the last time he saw her smiling and relaxed.

"So, we've got a DB in the boonies, huh?" Sara said, grinning broadly at Grissom as she followed him to his Tahoe.

"Yeah," Grissom replied, raising an eyebrow. "Middle aged male found in a creek bed up North. Hope you're wearing the right shoes."

Sara rolled her eyes."Always."

Grissom handed her the case file and offered a half-smile. "This is all the information we have right now."

Sara took the file and stashed it under her arm. Then she and Grissom both put their kits in the back seat of the Tahoe and climbed in the front. "So, Greg isn't joining us?" she asked curiously, securing her seatbelt.

Grissom shook his head. "No and he's disappointed. I've already got him processing some evidence from the scene. Sent to us compliments of the county sheriff."

"Did they send a map with it?"

Grissom nodded and smiling slightly, he handed Sara the folded paper. "The route is marked down on the bottom."

Sara squinted her eyes. All she saw was a large coffee stain and some scribbles. "Wow–this is wonderfully legible," she muttered. "And they call me chicken scratch!"

"Can you make it out?"

"Yeah. I got it. Do we have this guy's cell phone number?"

Grissom started the engine and pointed to the file, which now lay on Sara's lap."In there," he paused. "I talked to him on the phone and he gave me the directions verbally as well."

"How far are we going?" she wondered out loud, tracing their route on the map.

"Couple hours drive." He paused."This will get you out of the lab for awhile, anyway." He eyed her skeptically.

"Well, you know I love a good road trip," Sara pointed out. Then she lowered her voice."And if you're referring to my extra shifts this week–I, uh, I didn't mean to fall asleep in the break room. It was just a nap."

"Did Greg slip something into your coffee? Or were you just exhausted?"

"Let's just drop it, Grissom." She became very quiet, looking over at her supervisor almost nervously. "I appreciate your concern," she finally whispered.

Grissom felt warm. He bit his lip, nodding slowly. "Feel free to get some rest on the way, Sara," he told her, his voice soft. "I'll wake you if I need you to navigate."

Navigation. Grissom sighed.Yes, that's where they had gone wrong. That's where all the trouble began. It was surprising–he hadn't thought about the case at all since they'd left the lab and he suddenly found that he was very angry. As he held Sara's unsteady body, he even thought about burning the case file instead of his magazine. As far as he could remember, it wasn't entirely his fault that they were out there. But, as he felt Sara's ghostly cold skin, he couldn't help but feel completely responsible–for everything.

Sara sat up a bit, leaning into Grissom for support. "I'm sorry, Griss," she whispered, dropping her head weakly onto his shoulder. He watched as she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself. Why is she apologizing? Grissom wondered as he helped her lay back down. He felt another surge of anger as he covered her in the blanket, tucking the edges around her trembling body.

"There's no reason for you to apologize, Sara."

She looked up at him and Grissom sighed, noticing the tear in the corner of her eye. Grissom noticed that she was a little more aware of her surroundings but he wasn't sure if he was relieved or if it was something else. He had never felt so many conflicting emotions. Grissom maintained eye contact with Sara, rubbing her fingers vigorously to restore circulation. "Thanks,"she said, clearing her throat.

"Warmer?" he asked, reaching into his first aid kit with one hand. Sara nodded. He pulled out a large bandage and he pressed it to her forehead, again helping Sara to push her own fingers against it. She had a little more strength now and she applied enough pressure to the deep wound, allowing Grissom to check the rest of her injuries–this time with the help of his small flashlight.

"Do you think anything is broken?" Grissom asked her, his tone and his eyes serious as he pulled the flashlight from his big, silver kit.

Sara gave him a small smile. "Other than my cell phone?"

"Wry sense of humour is intact," Grissom noted lightly. "That's good."

Sara sighed. "I think it's mostly cuts and bruises, Griss. And–and one hell of a concussion."

"And shock," Grissom added gently, picking up her wrist to time her pulse. Sara blinked a few times, nodding in reluctant agreement. Pulse is still weak and rapid, he noted silently. But not as bad as before. After he set her free hand down, Grissom checked to make sure the blanket was still securely tucked around her form and then moved to check her pupils again with his light. They were equal but still a little sluggish. The most important thing, however, was that Sara was awake and talking to him, her words finally making a little more sense. Grissom felt his own heart slow to a decent pace.

"So," Sara began, shifting to make herself comfortable under the blanket. "What's the plan now?"

Grissom looked up at her, almost in surprise. "Plan?" He moved to apply pressure to the cut on her shin. He grimaced. Oh yeah. The plan. The one that's going to get you both out of here alive. Grissom wasn't sure what to say so he just nodded. "Let's just take everything one minute at a time," he said quietly. "I'm going to get a fire started so we can keep you warm and then we'll see if we can get the cell phone working. That sound okay?"

Sara agreed. "And you'll fill me in on what you remember?"

"I'll do my best."

"And you'll take care of your injuries, too?"

Grissom stopped. He had forgotten again. "Yes, Sara. I will." He bandaged her shin, patted her leg gently and then slid his kit under her, elevating her feet. "And you're going to stay awake. Understand?"

"Yeah." Her voice was small. When she became quiet again, Grissom immediately moved to make eye contact with her, grasping her free hand tightly. He stared into her eyes, reading her fear clearly. His heart picked up, pounding in his chest and he quickly scanned the rest of her body, knowing very well that she hadn't told him everything. Internal injuries. His stomach sank. Probably. He definitely needed a plan. And he needed one fast. In the meantime, he couldn't risk worrying Sara, so he squeezed her hand and spoke softly.

"Hey." He brushed a stray tear from her cheek. "We'll figure this out, alright?"

She nodded, staring up at him in silence.

"Everything's going to be okay."

TBC

Author's Note: I would love to know if you'd like to see more! Comments and suggestions are wonderful! Special thanks to Marlou (for her thoughtful e-mails!), wanda57, svcmc, rokothepas, Sila ningue,the wanna be dwarf, Ming, marymay2012, Kimber McLeod, saskia2, Chicklit, TrishG,gabesaunt, DolphinAnimagus, Pheo, niff74 and brainfear for reviewing! I really appreciate your support!

Jazz