Don't look down, Sidle. Frozen on the edge of a mighty cliff, Sara felt her body sway in the cool wind. She stood there in complete silence, with her toes curled around the rocky brink and her arms held out to her sides in a delicate balancing act. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly as she fought to maintain her focus and she took small breaths, inhaling and exhaling in cautious control, praying every millisecond that the movement wouldn't send her plummeting into the depths below. Stay perfectly still. She silently repeated those words, over and over again, wondering why there was darkness when she teetered forward and pain when she held herself back. She would have searched for an explanation but the sudden jolt of a powerful voice removed her from the cliff altogether.

"Sara!"

What? Grissom? Sara forced her eyes open wider and tilting her head slightly, she searched for Grissom, her body shaking in pain. "I'm still awake,"she mumbled, letting out a labored breath of relief when his fuzzy form came into view. At least I think I am. It's getting harder to tell. "Griss?"

"You stopped talking," Grissom replied, his eyes seeking her own. Sara couldn't help but notice the concern in his gentle tone and meeting his soft, shadowy gaze, she pulled the heavy blanket closer to her chin.

"I ran out of things to say," Sara answered plainly, a weak smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Grissom stared at her for a moment and he was about to respond when Sara let out a faint chuckle. "I know–that's pretty rare."

"That's not what I was thinking."

What are you thinking, Griss? Sara sighed and watched as Grissom turned to continue building their bonfire. They had moved further away from the damaged Tahoe and Sara had been trying desperately to stay awake, clinging to Grissom's words and occasionally managing to make use of her own. It was so tempting to just close her eyes and forget the pain but Grissom kept pulling her back from the edge, comforting and encouraging her with his kind voice. He really cares, she realized, feeling a little warmer. But probably not in the way I want him to. Sara winced, suddenly feeling a strong urge to slap herself for even thinking about that. She was lying on the ground, spilling blood and moaning in pain, with barely any recollection of how she got there–yet she could only think about her broken heart? She cringed. You're not making any sense, she told herself. None at all.

"I'm not sure if this is going to light," announced Grissom. "The ground is pretty damp." Sara quickly snapped out of her self-deprecating trance and shifted carefully to get a better look. She saw Grissom pull out the emergency matches from his first aid kit and she silently thanked him for being so prepared. Grissom carefully placed a few more moist twigs in his arranged pile andthen hegrabbed his magazine, moving to set it aflame.

Sara groaned when she saw what Grissom was about to use to start the fire. "Wait. Don't burn that," she said, forcing a feeble grin. "Burn the case file instead. I don't think we'll need it now."

Grissom raised one eyebrow, smiling briefly at her joke. "I thought the same thing," he admitted. "But I think the file is a little more important than my magazine, whether we use it or not. And getting you warm is definitely more important."

Sara nodded faintly in agreement and Grissom reached over to squeeze her hand, sending a spark of the desired warmth through Sara's trembling fingers. "At least save one article," she whispered. "We might need some reading material when it's light out."

"You're going to be in a hospital by the time the sun comes up," Grissom said determinedly, putting a little more pressure on her fingers. "They have tons of magazines."

"Yeah but they're probably not forensics magazines."

Grissom handed the monthly issue to Sara, placing it in her hand before grabbing his flashlight. "Here," he said softly, clicking the switch to produce the steady beam of light. "You pick something and we'll keep that."

"It's okay," she replied. "You pick it for me. My head hurts." She paused, taking a small breath. "But thanks."

Grissom nodded sympathetically and then he quickly flipped through the magazine, selecting an article and tearing it out expertly. "I'm surprised you don't have a subscription to this one," he said, folding the pages and then tucking them into Sara's coat pocket. "Remind me to get you one when we get home."

Home? Oh yeah–Vegas. Sara smiled weakly again. Grissom was trying to make her feel better and she was grateful but she hadn't really thought about their return home. She was already in so much pain that she found herself wondering how long she would actually be able to hold on. A couple hours maybe, she estimated. As Grissom successfully started a fire, Sara tried again to piece together the few memories she had of the accident. Then she took another uncomfortable breath, fighting off a wave of nausea. "Grissom?"

"I'm right here, honey."

Honey. He said it again. Sara bit her lip. Don't think about it. You're sick enough. She ignored her emotions and remained quiet as Grissom carefully added another twig to the fire. After the flames devoured the small branches and the magazine, he returned to her side, immediately helping her to move closer to the heat. His hands were gentle but even the slight movement was excruciating and Sara gasped, shutting her eyes tightly as an intense pain ripped through her stomach and her chest. The pain was unbelievably explosive and Sara panicked, unable to breathe. "Oh God," she gasped out, her voice hoarse. "Stop, Griss–"

Grissom instantly froze. He softened his hold on her shoulder and he helped her lay back again, his hands flying to her neck to keep her still. When Sara opened her eyes, he stared deeply into them, just as her pool of tears spilled over. She had only moved a few slow inches and the consequences were devastating. "Try to relax, Sara," Grissom told her, a hint of fear in his voice. "Shallow breaths, okay?"

Sara blinked through her tears. "I'm–I'm fine," she cried, sucking in a little bit of air. "Just–just moved the wrong way." Sara gritted her teeth, carefully turning her head to look away from Grissom, hoping to hide her tears–even though she knew he had already seen them. Why even bother lying to him? she groaned to herself. We've already done enough of that.

"Sara–" His hand was on her head, his fingers stroking her hair in an effort to comfort her. Sara was still gasping and she was in too much pain to sort out the meaning of his gesture. She just wanted to feel safe so she managed to let all meaning slip away, taking the comfort at face value–whatever it meant.

"Just–give me a–minute," Sara requested softly, trying to calm herself. She reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks, wincing again when she realized that even that hurt. I must be really bad, she concluded, wondering if Grissom had already figured that out. Of course he has, genius. He knows everything.

Grissom was silent. Sara could still feel his hand in her hair and she could hear the soft, even pattern of his breathing–and her own loud, uneven pattern. Her heart pounded in her chest and Sara was starting to believe that it would never slow down, that she would always be running this strange, bloody marathon. I'm in shock, she reminded herself. She knew enough about shock to know exactly how serious it was and she knew Grissom was doing everything he could to bring her out of it. She also knew that shock was a direct result of internal injuries and she shuddered, now coming to terms with the fact that not all her cuts and bruises were visible.

Grissom was evidently on the same page, sharing Sara's nervous thoughts. When she finally turned back to face him, she could see it in his firm features. His mouth was drawn in a tight line and his chin twitched to one side, as if he were evaluating an impossible equation. His fingers were no longer stroking her hair. Instead, they now searched the bumps on Sara's head, finding the cuts hidden by her brown hair. Grissom had properly bandaged her forehead but the blood had already seeped through and he quickly applied another layer to the bandage, holding it down momentarily. "How–how much blood have I lost?" Sara asked weakly, meeting Grissom's gaze even though she knew he wouldn't be interested in telling her.

"Enough," he replied. For a second, Sara thought he might elaborate but instead, he pulled back the blanket and his hands moved to her light coat, quickly unzipping it.

"Hey–" Sara moaned. "Cold. Remember?"

"I know, Sara," said Grissom. "But this will only take a minute." With that, he switched on his flashlight and lifted her shirt before she had time to object. Sara could see the haunted look on his face when his eyes fell upon her bruises. She hadn't seen them herself, of course, but the extreme pain told her that they were extensive. Sara moaned as he checked her ribs, feeling for any breaks that could cause internal bleeding. We have to find out some time, she thought in dismay, trying not to pass out from the new wave of pain. To keep her mind off of it, Grissom began to talk–telling her what he remembered from before the accident. Sara listened intently, focusing on his voice and fitting her memories into his to form a clear picture.

"Sara?"

She opened her eyes slowly.

"Sara?"

She yawned. "Yeah–sorry, Griss."

Grissom sighed softly from the driver's seat. "I didn't want to wake you but I need help with directions."

She smiled. "No problem." She stretched her arms and shifted in her seat. "How long was I asleep?"

"Only an hour and a half," Grissom replied, sounding almost disappointed. "But I'm glad you managed to get that much."

"Me too," admitted Sara, feeling light all of a sudden. She was touched by his concern. "Thanks," she whispered.

Grissom continued to stare at the road ahead.

Sara took a deep breath. "So where are we?" she asked, opening the file on her lap and pulling out the map. She unfolded it carefully before switching on the interior lights. Grissom informed her of their location while she studied their route.

"I think I made a right turn when I should have gone left," admitted Grissom.

Unable to resist, Sara flashed him a slight grin. "Ah," she replied. "So you're not perfect."

Grissom caught her smile in the corner of his eye and he smirked. "Not everyday."

Sara laughed lightly. "Well, you had me fooled," she joked, turning back to the map. She studied it again while they drove in silence."Yeah–I don't think this is right. We need to go back a couple miles," she finally declared.

Grissom nodded. "And turn left?"

"I think that's the only other option, Griss." She paused. "Should I call the sheriff?"

Grissom shook his head. "No, I don't think we need to. We won't be able to get a signal anyway. Not until we get back to the main road."

Sara nodded, looking out the window. "Yeah, probably not. We're in the middle of nowhere," she agreed, turning off the light. Sara let her body sink back into the seat and she stared out the window, noting the miles of darkness ahead of them. The dirt road was narrow and rocky and every few feet, she felt a little jolt from the Tahoe as it hit a pothole. But she was relaxed, enjoying the peace and quiet and the fact that she was alone with Grissom. She gazed up at the stars in the sky, finally allowing herself some time to enjoy the wonders of nature.

"You warm enough?" came Grissom's voice. His fingers reached for the heat dial, adjusting the temperature slightly.

"I'm fine." Sara continued to stare into the sky. "It's a beautiful night," she whispered softly."I don't think I've ever seen so many stars."

"Too many lights in Vegas," Grissom quickly replied. Then a smile grew on his face and he glowed."The middle of nowhere has its perks."

Sara sighed. "It does."

"Stargazing is very therapeutic," continued Grissom. "Clears your mind. Makes you examine your place and your purpose in the world."

"Are you speaking from experience or can you cite your source?" Sara asked, knowing very well that it was just plain common sense.

"Experience."

"And where do you go to look at the stars?" Sara asked, turning to look at Grissom, amazed by their relaxed conversation. It had been quite awhile since they had been that comfortable around each other and their discussion was beyond refreshing.

Grissom shrugged. "The desert. The planetarium."

"The planetarium?" Sara raised an eyebrow. "That's not the real thing."

"We can't always have the real thing," Grissom quietly pointed out.

Sara pondered that thought, wondering if Grissom was trying to tell her something. She sighed. "Well, it doesn't hold a candle to the middle of nowhere, that's for sure."

Sara found herself staring up at the stars again. She was practically weeping in pain by the time Grissom zipped up her coat and replaced the blanket. He tucked the edges around her, making sure that her entire body was covered and that her feet were still elevated properly. He took her hand into his for what seemed like the millionth time in only forty minutes and he held on tight, as if he would never let go. Sara searched his eyes uneasily. "What's the–the verdict?"

"Sara–" Grissom hesitated for half a second. "I'm going to be honest with you but you need to be honest with me too. Deal?"

Sara grimaced. "Deal."

"There's a lot of bruising," he began cautiously. "You do have a couple broken ribs. There's also one or two I'm not sure about so I don't have a definite total for you. I don't think you have a punctured lung but the second you have trouble breathing, I need to know about it." Grissom paused for a second. "Sara–you know as well as I do that internal bleeding is tricky. We can't know for sure. You're in shock but there's no reason to assume the worst right now. Okay?"

Sara fought back her tears."It's hard not to–to assume the worst when your stuck–out–out here."

Grissom nodded. "I know but it'll be easier on you if we just stay positive." He reached for his cell phone and turned it on, again meeting the "No Signal" message. Sara groaned when she heard the familiar beep of the phone and sighing, Grissom turned it off, setting it aside. "Greg will be trying to get in touch," he explained. "I'm sure he has some results by now that he'll want to run by us. He'll be trying to phone us and when he can't get through, he'll contact the sheriff. He'll put two and two together, Sara."

Sara sighed. Greg. He knows where we were going. He'll know that something's wrong. Sara had to admit that she felt a little better–mentally. She looked up to give Grissom a forced, faint smile but it faded before it curved her lips. "Grissom," she squinted in the firelight. "You're still bleeding."

Reaching up to his face, Grissom wiped some blood away and shook his head. "Superficial," he replied. "Some glass from the window. It's fine."

Sara stared at the largest cut. "That one looks deep–deep enough," she stuttered. "If it's still bleeding than you–you probably should take care of it."

Grissom reluctantly released her hand and then looked through the first aid kit. He pulled out a small bandage and finding the cut with his fingers, he dabbed at the blood. He then returned to Sara's side, sitting down to stare at the fire. "Fixed," he declared, ready to refocus his attention on her.

Fixed. Sara felt sick again. If only she could just be fixed too. She stared at Grissom, watching as the flickering light from the fire cast shadows over his bearded face. She had never seen him like this before. He seemed so determined and confident yet so sad and maybe even a little afraid. That scared her beyond belief. But at the same time, his care and concern made her feel warm inside. Very warm.

TBC

Author's Note: Wow! Thank-you so much for the reviews for the last chapter! They really motivated me! Your kind words made my day! Special thanks to bythemoon, Teenwitch, Laura, Niebezpiczny Ksiezyc, gabesaunt, jbr12476, DolphinAnimagus, svcmc, rokothepas, CPDCSI, Courtney242, GeekLoveFan, Brelli, csicorrespondent, annieb, brainfear, Tavitha, Chicklit, Kimber McLeod, ScullyAsTrinity, bluesun-cor, CarbyluvYTDAW, xyber116, Leah2, alias101, Ming, guess19, A. Heiden, Jenny, lunar47 and anyone I missed! Thanks for your comments, I really appreciate them!

Thanks,

Jazz