Lying on his back, Grissom tried his best not to shiver as another cold gust blasted up over the landscape. It fluttered at the edges of the space blanket, and he fought the urge to let on how cold he was, but instead drew Sara closer, trying to close any remaining gaps between them. If he was cold, then she was no doubt in trouble. That much made sense.

"It's getting colder," Sara said, softly against him.

"We'll be okay," he reiterated.

He really didn't know what else to say. He had to believe it, and he did, though the night was certainly going to be uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, he liked to believe that he had the mental resilience to tough it out, but Sara's physical state was still a concern. For the past half hour, she had been resolutely quiet, and had burrowed in so close to him that there was barely room for a molecule between them. It was pleasant, but the fact that she needed to do it was also troubling. He still suspected that she was sicker than she let on, but she was right in that there was unfortunately little he could do to help.

"I'm going to close my eyes a while," Sara said, with a reassuring rub of her finger against his stomach, her hand buried far under his T-shirt. "But I'm okay. All right?"

"All right," he said.

He leaned his head back against his backpack, where it was perched in the dirt, and found a more comfortable position, sighing. He wished this was easier, but there was no escaping that it was going to be the longest night of his life.

He had just let his mind wander, trying to find a distraction, when he heard a holler cut through the wind, rolling over the landscape.

"… GRISSOM!"

Instantly, Sara's head popped up. He couldn't see her well in the low light, but he could just make out her eyes widen, alert.

"That's –"

"It's them," he finished.

Immediately he shuffled out from under the space blanket, but then paused, instinctively wanting to tuck her back in, to keep her warm.

"Go," she ordered, taking the blanket from him. "Just go –"

"I'll be right back," he assured.

"Hurry."

He abandoned her, and scrambling to his feet, hollered back across the landscape, hoping his two-second delay hadn't cost him.

"CATHERINE!" he bellowed.

Suddenly he hated that he was so unfit. In the low light he dashed back up the riverside, heading back toward the trail, but his feet slipped and slid on the damp ground, and he could hardly see where he was going. He already heard himself panting.

"GRISSOM!" came Catherine's voice, searching, seemingly for a direction.

"CATHERINE!" he bellowed.

"GRISS?" came another shout, this time from Warrick.

"I'M DOWN HERE!" he yelled.

He hollered and answered their calls as he ascended the landscape back up toward the trail, and by the time he neared it, was thoroughly and completely out of breath. But at last the trees cleared and he saw three torch beams darting about in the darkness, searching for him, and he bolted with his remaining strength back up to meet them, by the riverside where Sara had first fallen in.

"NICK!" he shouted.

It was Nick's beam that found him first, and he saw his colleague, faintly lit by the glow. He scrambled toward them, and then saw Catherine's face – frozen in fear, in puzzlement, and possibly a little shock.

"Where's Sara?" she demanded.

"What's wrong?" Warrick asked.

"She fell in, she hit her head … I had to resuscitate her …"

His words were punctuated by his gasps for breath, and he leaned half over, already exhausted.

"… The radio …"

"I've got it," Nick said, level-headed, and already he was digging into the bottom of his pack. "Where is she?"

"Down river."

"Take us," Catherine ordered.

He led them back downstream, stumbling along beside the river, trying his best to hurry. His three colleagues followed, with far more energy, and they shone their lights ahead so he could see. He ran for a while, trying to talk and explain things as they went, and at last Sara came into view, still lying there, head turned to the side as she waited for them.

"She hit her head … her knee and ankle … she can't walk … she has a concussion …"

"Okay, man, it's okay," Warrick said.

He clutched a hand briefly to Grissom's shoulder, and he realised faintly, in the back of his mind somewhere, that he had been babbling.

He didn't care.

Warrick, Nick and Catherine all knelt beside Sara, and Nick wasted no time in glancing her up and down.

"You okay?" he asked, simply.

"I'm freezing," Sara said.

In the beam of his torchlight, Grissom now saw that Sara was wincing with immense discomfort, her body rigid, the energy in her eyes depleted. He knew then – she had been in even more pain than she had let on. It was both frustrating and unsurprising.

"She's hypothermic," Grissom explained, dropping to his knees beside them. "The water was freezing, the wind –"

"It's okay, man," Warrick repeated. "We're here now, it's okay."

He knew they thought he was panicking, but withstood the remark. He sat there, breathing hard, his adrenaline pulsating through every corner of his body as his three friends assessed the situation, and then Nick immediately switched on his radio.

"I'll call for help," he announced.

He retreated a few steps, making the call only slightly out of earshot, a discrete distance away.

Warrick scanned the sky.

"It's getting dark," he reported. "We should light a fire, make ourselves visible from the air, get her warm."

"Good idea," Catherine agreed.

"I'll go find some wood, I've got a lighter in my bag."

He left, quickly darting off to the trees, and Grissom turned his attention back to Sara, to Catherine beside him. Catherine's blue eyes were now focused down on Sara, and she got straight down to business.

"How bad's the concussion?" she asked.

Sara peered up at her, her eyes clouded with pain and frustration.

"It's manageable," she said.

"You know who I am?" Catherine queried.

"Catherine."

"You remember what happened?"

Sara hesitated. Grissom watched carefully. He was tempted to answer for her, but knew full well that Catherine was now assessing her cognition, as they were all trained to do in emergencies.

Sara looked between them for a moment, then with a brief flick of her head, admitted defeat.

"It's a bit hazy."

"You fell in the river," Grissom provided. "You slipped."

"Yeah."

Her response was non-committal, and Grissom's anxiety went up another notch, having only briefly dipped when his friends and colleagues had arrived.

He shuffled back to her side, and tucked the space blanket back in.

"Just lie still," he advised.

"You have a headache?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah," she replied.

"How bad? Out of ten?"

"About a five."

"Is it getting worse or better?"

"Mildly worse."

Suddenly Grissom felt like he had been stabbed in the chest. He knew what that meant. He also felt frustrated at her answer.

"You didn't tell me that," he admonished.

"There was nothing you could do," she said, dismissive.

He watched, controlling his frustrations, as Catherine did a quick examination – checking over her pupils, ears, and for signs of blood in her hair, before she at last sat back.

"All right, just stay still. We'll get an evac."

Catherine then moved on to Sara's leg, asking her permission to examine it, and as she did, Grissom watched as Sara shivered; another gust of wind rippling at the edge of the flimsy space blanket, and apparently shooting straight through her torso. She visibly shook, and winced. Apparently it was taking all of her resolve to stay calm.

"Hold my hand," he guided.

He did not know what made him offer it, apart from the fact that her suffering was agonising to watch, but as he heard the offer leave his mouth he never expected her to actually take it. Especially not with Catherine present, and with Nick already on his way back to them. But her slender hand slipped out from the edge of foil blanket, and he gripped it warm in his.

"I'm so cold," she blurted.

She shivered again.

"Don't worry," he said. "We'll get you warm, you'll be fine."

And at least this time, he could feel as though he meant it.

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