Warrick risked a glance away from the road to confirm for himself that Tina was buckled in. Reluctantly, he let go of Tina's hand and placed it back on the wheel, his eyes unblinking as he fixed his gaze on the last place he had seen the lights.

Tina's hands tightened on the shoulder strap in fear as she felt her husband step harder on the accelerator. She looked over for reassurance, chilled by the stony expression now fixed on his face.

"Rick-" she started.

Warrick gave a short shake of his head. "Hold on, Babe. We're ending this, once and for all. And we are getting off this fucking mountain." His foot pressed harder on the accelerator, the lights ahead now fully apparent on the road not a hundred yards ahead of them now. He eased the SUV as far to the "safe" side of the road as he could, the tires running off onto the grass and dirt rutted non-existent shoulder.

If he could just catch the car on the driver's side he might be able to push them over the edge of the ravine.

The lights ahead blinked to high beams and Warrick squinted through the blinding halogen light, his eyes tearing as he kept them forced open.

He imagined he could almost see the faces of Sang's reinforcements.

The next thing he saw could not have taken him more by surprise than if Elvis himself had shown up driving a pink Cadillac. The bright red light of a police gumball began to flash from the top of the vehicle.

He gasped in surprise, slamming the brakes down hard, locking them up as the Jeep slued back and forth, fishtailing as the heavy vehicle skidded along the loose gravel.

The Cherokee came to rest across the road, the truck enveloped in a hazy white dust cloud, obscuring all vision through the vehicle's windows.

As soon as he felt the vehicle shudder to a stop he flung open the Jeep's door and stepped out into the night, the blinding high beams and flashing red strobe of the gumball causing him to raise a hand in front of his eyes to defend against the assault.

"Freeze! Las Vegas Police! Put your hands on the vehicle in front of you!"

"Brass!"

The familiar sturdy form of Jim Brass came into view as the dust cloud settled. Someone in what he now saw was a Lab issued Denali shut the high beams off and he lowered his hand in disbelief mixed with sweet relief.

"Jim?" he repeated incredulously.

"Warrick? Jesus, Man are we glad to see you." Brass dropped his service automatic, which had until then been pointed at Warrick's head.

"Who's we?"

Jim thrust a thumb back at the Denali where Gil Grissom was exiting the passenger side door, his expression an exact mirror of the disbelief on Warrick's face. His supervisor approached warily, as if afraid to dispel the mirage in front of him.

Jim, on the other hand, had no doubts as to whom he had in front of him. He took several strides forward, drawing up short as Tina opened her door and slowly stepped out. He looked at her trembling form and tear-streaked face, then back at the banged up CSI in front of him.

"Hey, Warrick. You two all right? Is Nick with you?"

Warrick wanted a hand-shaking back -slapping reunion, but knew time was running short. "No. No he's not, Jim. We've gotta get him. I left him at the cabin."

"What cabin, Warrick?" asked Grissom as he joined the two men.

"Down the mountain a bit further. I've got no time to explain. If we don't get there … it may already be too late. Just get in your truck and follow me! And call for a MedEvac!"

Jim and Gil exchanged guarded looks as Warrick ignored them, gesturing to Tina to get back in the car. Once back in himself he revved the Jeep to reverse it back straight across the road. Jim gave a slight shrug, then returned back to the Denali, pulling over to the side to allow the Jeep past them, then pulling in behind them as Warrick took back off down the road.

They hadn't made it but a few hundred yards down the mountain when more lights appeared on the road in front of them. Warrick tightened his hands on the wheel, allowing them to relax only when he noted the light bar on top of the approaching SUV flash blue lights at him. The two trucks pulled to a stop and Brass leaned out his window to yell at Warrick. "They're our guys, Rick! County Sheriffs. We called them to meet us."

Warrick seethed with frustration at being stopped again and shouted angrily at the deputy who was now leaving his truck. "We're wasting time! Move that thing!"

The deputy ignored him and continued to approach the two trucks. Arms folded over his chest as he walked past the Jeep to talk to Brass. The blue lights continued to stab through the darkness as Warrick fumed. He leaned out his window to yell at the deputy again when he heard what was being reported to Brass.

"Rangers station reports a forest fire in the vicinity. Our visit is gonna have to wait, Captain. Gotta get you folks cleared outa here."

Warrick couldn't hear what Jim said to the deputy but he could see the man's face wrinkle in concern. He nodded then strolled back to the waiting Cherokee.

"Captain Brass tells me you got some friends holed up in a cabin nearby? The only place I can think of is the old Sheppard place. Walt didn't make it up here this year on account of his wife having the new baby. It's just a ramshackle place. 'Bout a mile down the road, then in a few miles. That the place?"

Warrick nodded quickly. "Yeah, I got two friends there in some deep trouble. Can we please get moving now?"

The deputy sighed. "See the ranger reported the fire as starting right around there. I can't let--"

Any further statement was drowned out by the growl of the Jeep's engine as Warrick stuck it back in drive and slammed the accelerator down, pulling off the road and around the parked deputy's truck and leaving a gritty cloud in his wake.

Brass flashed the Deputy a "what can you do?" look and put his own truck into gear, waiting to allow the officer to get back to his truck and start it up. They followed the trail of dust the Cherokee kicked up.

The convoy hadn't traveled more than a mile or so down the gravel road when off in the distance the occupants of each could see a light glimmering against the dark night sky as if someone had dropped a casino into the middle of the forest.

Warrick's eyes were fixed on the glow, swearing as he braked, nearly missing the trail. He cut the wheel hard and pulled onto the rutted drive, the tops of trees slapping against the roof of the Cherokee as he gripped the wheel and slammed it through the overgrowth towards the flickering light.

As they entered the small clearing around the cabin his eyes widened at the sight of the tiny building engulfed in flames. The whole area was lit up brightly by the fire, the light from the headlights swallowed up. He took a quick look around the area to see if the guys had gotten out already. No signs of life. But there was the ominous sight of another black Cherokee abandoned in front of the cabin.

He got out and stood staring at the fire, hand in front of his eyes to defend against the glare. There was no way anyone could be alive in there. He took a few steps to the side to get a better look at the back of the cabin. Not yet taken by the beast. He held on to a glimmer of hope that his friends had made it to the temporary safety of the rear, glancing back as the deputy and Brass pulled up to join the parked Cherokee.

Without further hesitation he ran around to the back of the Denali, yelled for Brass to spring the latch on the rear, and opened the door, rifling through the back frantically until his hands finally landed on the object of his desire. The fire extinguisher. Thank God for safety minded Ecklie who had sent out a mandate earlier in the year about the proper equipment each vehicle should carry.

Extinguisher in hand he rushed up to the front door, already ajar from the earlier visit, and entered the inferno.

Kenny Longman didn't know it, but he was holding his breath, ironic as it was, as he waited for any kind of respiratory response from the man sprawled out in front of him. Inhaler tossed aside, its mist barely inhaled by a low, automatic bodily response of lungs barely able to extract oxygen past a constricted trachea. Kenny shook the unconcious CSI more forcefully, knowing that it took precious seconds for the airborne mist to reach bronchial passages.

Kenny eyed the door fearfully as smoke eerily snaked its way in from the crack between the floor and door. Carbon monoxide began to mix in with the nitrogen and O2 in the small spare bedroom. The pack rat was frozen for a moment as images of roaring flames behind the barrier filled his terrorized mind. Kenny felt his own light-headedness as he barely came to grips with the fact that a psychotic woman had almost slashed him to bits, the blood running down the cuts from his arms a sickening, sticky reminder of how close to death he had come. Perhaps having his throat cut would have been a more merciful fate than suffocating in a cramped room; certainly succumbing to oxygen deprivation was a fate less cruel then burning alive. He blamed a very guilty conscious into tricking him to coming back to help out the sick cowboy, and all for nothing, he thought.

Kenny's brooding was interrupted by a choked coughing next him. His heart beating at a lightning pace, the scrawny man renewed his efforts into reviving the body next to him.

"That's it, Dawg! We got to get outa here!" Kenny encouraged as he shook Nick by the shoulders.

A terrible hacking fit gripped the CSI as his red flushed face somehow got darker, his eyes now squeezed shut as he fought for air. Kenny gnawed at his fingers, his attention fitfully going back and forth between the exit and the struggling man next to him. Through a fog of panic, Kenny pulled Nick upright by his shoulders to aid in his breathing. Nick continued to cough, sucking air in between struggles, his hand weakly pulling at his shirt collar. He wrestled with the garment, yanking the fabric down, digging nails into the flesh of his throat.

"Don't try so hard, Dude. Just...just calm down for a sec," Kenny admonished. He knew that this was no asthma attack, but having suffered breathing episodes, he knew to allow the inhaler time to open up air passages. He didn't know how much the mist might help the guy, but there was no sense in wasting energy, despite the CSI's panic.

Nick's chest heaved, mouth gaped open, body trembling terribly. He looked around wildly at the room and struggled to get to his feet, but was too damned weak to get off the fucking floor. Kenny tried to keep him still, frowning distastefully as his hands made contact with the sweat soaked shirt. He heard the distant roar of flames, and he imagined a wall of fire was coming towards them, their fate now sealed in the stupid spare room.

"There's no place to run, Man! We're trapped."

Nick didn't seem to pay him any attention. Kenny didn't know if the dude was outa his mind from all the crazy scorpion shit, or if his brain was now fried from all the lack of oxygen. Nick managed to get to his knees, intent on crawling towards the door; as soon as Kenny had said the word 'trapped' the CSI tried harder to get away.

"What the fuck are ya doin', you stupid dumb cop?" Kenny insulted, scared to death of the other man's actions.

Nick managed a few feet before simply collapsing back down, his damn wheezing only serving to freak Kenny out even more.

"We're gonna die in here," Kenny cried, arms wrapped around his body as a few tears rolled down his face. He rocked back and forth mumbling. "Gonna die cuz I came back here. Gonna burn cuz you used the pen on that bitch instead of on yourself. Stupid, Cowboy. Should have saved yourself." Kenny began to choke up. His own breathing became labored from the toxin-filled room and his own bouts with asthma.

He shook uncontrollably, knowing the end was near. Never in his worst nightmares could he have imagined a worse fate then to croak in a fire, his only company a white guy who couldn't die quietly.

Kenny shut his eyes; if he didn't see the fire consume the room, then maybe he could ignore it the last few moments he had. Just as he prepared for the inevitable, he heard the sweetest thing his ears could have dreamed for... A voice.

"Nick! Where are you?... … Kenny?"

Kenny leapt up, spurred by the thought that a rescue was taking place. He tripped over Nick, and then thought sadly the CSI had the right idea to stay low to the ground, even if it wasn't by choice.

"We're in here!" he yelled, his voice scratchy from invisible poisonous fumes.

"Kenny!"

"In the back room!"

Kenny squatted next to the other man, body shaking as he heard strange bursts of noise and then the door was kicked open. The wooden panel just missed striking both guys huddled next to it.

"Thank God!" Warrick said crouching down.

Kenny latched onto Warrick's shoulder. "Get us outa here, Man!" he beseeched.

A strong hand clamped down on the skinny guy's shoulder and piercing green eyes locked with his. "Calm down. I've got a fire extinguisher. I'll lead the way."

Warrick bent down and with a slightly trembling hand felt Nick's carotid, an audible sigh escaping his lips. "Nick, can you hear me, Man?"

"Ricky! Please!" Kenny was on the verge of hyperventilating with short-circuited nerves. After a beat, he tried to calm. "Dude's alive, Man, he's just actin' all freaky." It had just occurred to him that the annoying wheezing had mixed with disjointed words too garbled to make out.

Warrick placed his ear over Nick's mouth to listen to his respiration. A weak hand shot up and clawed at his arm. Warrick's expression turned into a mixture of fear and slight relief. He shot Kenny an explosive glare.
"Where's that epi-pen, Man! For Christ's sake," Warrick blurted, obviously frightened at Nick's state.

Kenny's eyes widened at the insinuation of the question, anger with guilt leaching into his tone. "Dude used it on that bitch, Man." Kenny's fragile grip on his emotions cracked, moisture escaping his eyes. "He fuckin' stabbed her with it to save me!" he yelled with a mixture of resentment and awe.

Warrick bowed his head in understanding as he ran through a slew of curses over Nick's gallantry, although it sounded exactly like something his friend would do. Knowing time was of the essence he bent down to give his buddy encouragement to hang on just a little longer.

"It's okay, Nicky." Warrick pulled up the CSI by his stretched shirt collar. The awful sounds coming from Nick's throat were like pieces of sandpaper scratching together. If it had been an animal creating those pitiful noises, a decent man would have shot it and put the thing out of its misery.

Warrick turned to Kenny as he struggled to wrap Nick's arm around his shoulder. "A'ight, let's get out of here. You gotta listen to me though. This thing only sprays a small field."

Kenny nodded as Warrick held out the small extinguisher in front of him. "Help me bring Nick out. Drape him between us, and I'll lead the way."

Both men grabbed a side of the nearly unconscious Texan, and braced for the race out of the cabin.

"Try to hold your breath!" Warrick warned as he launched forward, spraying fire suppressant in front of him.

The fire had reached a crescendo, flames surrounding them, but it wasn't an impenetrable wall of death. Flames licked all around them as the trio forged ahead, smoke, fumes, and flame blocking their vision. For the briefest second the thought of trying to find the woman crossed each of their minds, but the inability to navigate kept the trio stumbling ahead. The voices of other frantic people could be heard shouting their names. It was like navigating a sea of acid like fog, the smoke irritating their throats and gagging the natural intake of air.

It seemed like the longest few seconds ever, but soon they were through the door and into the merciful outside. The inferno blazed all over the tiny cabin, its wrath already consuming the nearby trees. If the men had dared a backwards glance, they would have seen mother nature being ravaged by the destruction, the tree limbs above spreading death to dried out woods.

Keep walking. One foot in front of the other. C'mon. Almost there. It was a mantra Warrick kept mumbling as he staggered under Nick's weight while simultaneously emitting short bursts of the extinguisher and trying to stay on his feet despite the choking smoke and fumes. He wasn't sure if the words were for him or his partner who was now unresponsive. Unless you count the slow mewling squeak of air that came from his gaping open mouth with alarming irregularity.

As the cold mountain air struck his lungs he collapsed to his knees in the midst of a coughing fit, Nick's body dropped unceremoniously next to him as Kenny joined him, hugging his chest as he was wracked with his own rib stretching hacking. A rush of commotion surrounded them as feet pounded the ground next to his head and hands grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up and half dragging him further from the fire. The sear of heat faded from his back as they put more distance between the men and the blaze, which had now expanded well into the neighboring woods.

Someone had gotten Nick and Kenny as well and they were now back at the trucks, the heat from the blaze no longer ominous and painful. Now it was a soothing blanket against the cold January night and Warrick wanted nothing more than to curl up in front of this fire and sleep for days.

A smooth hand tapped his cheek lightly and he brought his eyes open to focus on the two glowing chunks of amber in front of him. Tina was looking worriedly into his eyes, and she grabbed a hold of him pulling him up to hold before he could utter a single word, drawing his face to her chest as she knit her fingers into his curls. A moment later she pulled back to join eyes with him again. "You okay?" she asked, concern evident in the tremble in her voice.

"Yeah," he said with a cough and a groan as he straightened. "What about Nick and Kenny? Are they-?"

He looked over to see Kenny was being aided by Brass and the deputy, the small man on the ground propped up against Jim's side as he hacked his guts out. Grissom squatted next to Nick, shaking the fallen man's shoulder lightly, and calling his name repeatedly.

Tina scrambled over, all business now, and began barking orders. "He shouldn't be laying down. Get him into Fowler's - get him sitting partway up and hold him there!" Grissom plunked himself down on the ground and pulled Nick up to lean against his chest.

Warrick crawled over to put a hand on Nick's neck, flashing Grissom with a worried look at the weak and fluttery stuttering pulse beneath his fingers.

"What the hell is wrong with him, Warrick? Is this from the fire?"

"No, Grissom. He got stung by a scorpion. We've been keeping him alive with epipens but …"

Tina pushed him aside, yanking Nick's sweatshirt up and gesturing for Grissom to hold it aloft. She gave a small gasp at the now scabbed over slices from the scalpel that mapped his flesh. She glanced up at her husband who only shook his head softly. She nodded and placed an ear to his chest. The two men held their breath, the only sound Kenny's lingering coughs and the roar and crackle of the fire behind them. A few seconds later she partially sat up, concern rumpling her brow. "He's not moving any air. I hate to do it but, do you have any pens left?"

Warrick shook his head again, the recipient of the final pen most likely a charcoal briquette left behind in the cabin.

"We need something," she said firmly. "What about first aid kits? Check the deputy's truck and the Denali. It's a small hope but …"

Warrick gestured wildly at the deputy who rose and came over to him. "Check your truck and check the Lab's, too! See if you have any epipens. You know what I'm talking about?"

The deputy nodded quickly, about to turn when he felt Warrick's hand on his pant leg. "You call the MedEvac? You got one on the way?"

The deputy gave another short nod. "We got Mercy Flight comin' in. But they can't land anywhere near here. Closest place would probably be the road back there. We'll have to at least get your friend back to the road."

Warrick gave him a grateful look, then returned to find his wife's ear back on Nick's chest, now further up and to the left. She sat up and shook her head with regret. "His heart rate is all over the place. He's probably in ventricular fibrillation. The valves are so worn out they can't keep pace. I'm sorry, Rick… I don't think he'll make it much longer."

He sat back on his haunches, exhaustion attempting to force its will upon his body as he struggled to stay upright and functioning. He shook his head slowly, his jaw left slightly open as he faced the fact that it was all for nothing.

Grissom, ever the supervisor, recognized his man was on the verge of collapse and placed a hand on Warrick's shoulder, shaking it slightly to bring his attention around.

The older man turned to address Tina. "Okay. Heart and lungs. Which is more immediately pressing?"

"His lungs," she said with certainty. "No oxygen, no need for the heart anyway."

"Okay," Grissom said. "He's in anaphylaxis. He needs adrenaline." He looked up at the approaching deputy who waved empty hands in the air and shook his head resignedly. "We have no outside sources of adrenaline. We have to get Nick's body to produce it. There should be a stream around here. Warrick..."

No response as Warrick dazedly stared at the face of his friend, lips blue against alabaster pale skin.

"Warrick!" his supervisor shouted, bringing startled green eyes up. "The stream…where is it? Can we still get to it?"

Warrick nodded slowly. "It runs behind the cabin where the fire hasn't completely spread yet. Why?"

"Just trust me. You and the deputy need to go get water from the stream. Do you have anything to carry it in? Warrick! Stay with me! Nick's life is depending on this! You got him this far-"

"No!" He shook his head angrily. "Nick got himself this far."

Grissom's voice softened. "Ok. Well, now he needs help but I need you with me on this. Bring back as much water from the stream as you can. Empty one of the equipment bags and bring it back full. Go, Warrick! And hurry!"

Given a task he frantically thought might actually aid Nick he scrambled to his feet grabbing up the deputy and running to the back of the Denali. He found a large leather bag and dumped the contents into the back of the truck, rushing around the periphery of the fire with the deputy panting on his heels. By entering the woods and circling around in front of the encroaching blaze they made their way to the burbling stream, their feet splashing as they slipped on the smooth mossy stones.

"Help me fill this thing!"

Each man took one end and they held it under a small crest where the water hit a ridge and cascaded over, forming a deeper more quiet area. The bag filled, Warrick pulled the zipper closed so as to save the precious liquid and they clomped back through the woods, their burden heavy and sloshing between them.

Huffing and puffing, the two men returned to where Grissom and Tina hovered over Nick's still unmoving form.

"What now?" Warrick panted out between gasps for air.

"Open the bag and drop the contents on him."

Warrick's eyes widened but Grissom remained stone-faced serious. "Do it," the supervisor repeated calmly.

The zipper opened the deputy and the CSI turned the bag over dumping several gallons of ice-cold January mountain spring water over Nick's head, face, and chest.

The result was immediate and fueled the hopes of all those around him.

Nick bolted upwards like he'd been hit with a cattle prod, producing a strong, relatively clear, gasped intake of breath as he jackknifed, his knees and chest rising to fold him in half.

He fell back against Grissom's chest hacking and coughing and shivering, but definitely breathing.

He even managed to cough out a weak "Jesus Christ," followed by a few muttered words disparaging the mothers of those who had tried to drown him.

Warrick gave a weak laugh and patted Nick's leg wearily as he sat down on his heels, tears of relief clinging to his lids, threatening to brim over.

He looked at Grissom and shook his head in amazement. "How in Hell did you think to do that?"

Grissom quirked a small smile as he pulled water-beaded glasses off of his face. "During the Napoleonic Wars they used it on soldiers with high fevers to try to jolt the system into kind of re-booting. Figured it might work for this situation. Makes the body produce adrenaline in response to the shock."

Any further lecture was interrupted by six of seven heads immediately lifting upwards to stare at the star filled night sky as the sound of helicopter blades chopped through the silence.

The taillights helped pick out the bird that hovered over the woods, lowering behind the tree line, its position placing it right over the gravel road.

Grissom pulled his head down to catch Warrick's eye. "Looks like his ride is here. Let's get him into the truck and out to the road."

Warrick nodded softly. Shook the leg beneath him again with a bit more force. Red-rimmed brown eyes peeked open, Nick's verbal response quickly cut off by a cough and a grating wheeze.

The tremors were back in full force, though whether from sickness or the fact that he was sopping wet and by now probably hypothermic was one of many questions.

Nick looked around slowly, taking in the fact that Tina was crouched down next to him. His grin was worth a thousand words or more. Tina smiled reassuringly at him. "Yeah, he found me," she said softly.

"Kenny?" he barely managed to croak out.

Warrick spoke up, "Yeah. He's here, too."

"Saved my life…"

"Yeah, well he said the same thing about you. Just relax, Bro. Your ride is coming. Just sit back and let us take the weight now, okay?"

Nick nodded and closed his eyes again, leaning back against his boss. Warrick gave a small smile as he realized Nick probably had no idea Grissom was there and would be shocked as Hell to find himself cradled against the entomologist's chest.

They managed to get Nick to his feet, walking him the few steps to the Denali Jim had revved up and ready to go. They folded Nick into the back, then Warrick walked over and took Kenny's hand, pulling the small man to his feet as he continued to hack and cough. Warrick draped an arm around his shoulders, then for the first time noticed the blood that hadn't shown against the dark brown UPS uniform.

"Kenny? You're bleeding, Bro. What happened?"

"Bitch sliced me up… cowboy took her down when she had the blade to my throat," he managed between coughs.

"Let's get you into the deputy's truck. See if there's room for you on the chopper."

"I never been in a helicopter before," he said with wide eyes that made him look years younger than the man he was.

Warrick shook his head with a small smile. "First time for everything, Bro. C'mon."

Kenny walked back to the truck, the awe-struck grin stuck on his face. Hand on the door he turned suddenly. "Damn! Almost forgot." He stopped as a coughing fit took hold. "There's two of The Voice's thugs in the woods out there. I took 'em on a little bit of a field trip," he finished with a gasp.

"I'll let the deputy know. Somehow, Kenny, I can't work up much worry for them, though," he said with a soft smile.

The deputy back in his truck, the CSI team plus two in the Denali, they pulled off down the drive back to the main road. Warrick cast a look out the back window, staring at the cabin, now little but blackened timbers. It had been their refuge. Like Kenny's hideout so many years ago.

The forest surrounding the tiny building was now fully engaged by the inferno. He shook his head at the thought of the effort it would take the Forestry Service to catch and contain it, the winter having been particularly dry that year. His eyes lingered on the two Cherokees left behind. Thought for a second of going back to rescue at least one of them, since neither he nor Tina had a ride anymore. Then frowned at the thought that he could entertain something so trivial as he felt the weight of Nick's body slumped next to him in the back seat.

tbc...