A/N: Sorry for the late update, RL sucks sometimes. But here's the next chapter, thanks to my great beta TangledPencils and all the cool reviews. Well, read and enjoy.

Fire and Water

by Nicol Leoraine

Chapter 12

The silence was becoming suffocating and so intense he was afraid the other man would hear the rapid thumping of his heart. The pain was getting worse too, partially because of the hand that was pushing at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. His breath started to come out a little more harshly and Nick bit into his lower lip to stop the hiss that threatened to leave his throat.

"Okay, that's enough!" Grissom said suddenly and turned to the surprised Nick.

"Huh?" the CSI managed with a dumb look that changed into a grimace as he moved too.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Nicky? I can hear you're hurt and it's not like there's a chance on getting you to a hospital anytime soon."

"So what does it matter?" Nick bit back, irritated by his weakness as well as Grissom's authoritative tone. It looked like the Boss was back and Nick wasn't sure if he preferred it or not.

Grissom let out an uncharacteristic sigh of frustration and shook his head.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you or the team that I have hearing problems. I know I jeopardized our lives, going into the field like that, but if you remember correctly, I didn't know we'd end up here, and you didn't either. I'll be glad to discuss the matter with you when we're somewhere else, preferably safe and alive. But you have to let me help you, or we won't get out of this."

This was the longest speech Nick had heard from Grissom in a long time, and it left him dumfounded. Slowly, he nodded his head.

"Later then," he said, his eyes not leaving the other man's face.

"Later," Grissom promised. Changing the focus of his attention, he pointedly looked at Nick's side, where the hand pressed against the dark fabric of his shirt was a clear give away that Nick was in pain.

" 's just a scratch," Nick finally acknowledged and let out a groan when Grissom leaned over and pried away his fingers.

"Let me see."

The older CSI rolled up the hem of the shirt and grimaced at what he saw. Beneath the blood he could see a long, deep wound along Nick's side, from the front to the back. It looked like the bullet had sliced out a piece of flesh where the wound was bleeding the most heavily, but Grissom doubted it had hit anything vital.

"You were lucky, Nick. An inch to the left and the bullet could've been still inside you."

"See? Told ya it's just a graze," Nick hissed through gritted teeth, not seeing the scowl on Grissom's face.

"It might be, but it's still bleeding and by what I saw, quite dirty. We'll need to clean it and stop the bleeding."

"Well, no offence Nurse Nightingale, but we're kind of in trouble here," Nick snorted and pulled away from Grissom, who was still leaning over him. This time he saw the glare directed at him.

"Cut it out Nick," Grissom said, his voice as stern as ever. "This is no joke. You could pass out from blood loss or get an infection. Like you said, we're in trouble. No need to make our chances even smaller."

When Nick didn't come back with a retort and only nodded in acknowledgment, Grissom felt relief. He really didn't need Nick to start getting rebellious right now. Whatever happened later, Grissom would deal with it, but he needed to make sure there would be a later.

"Okay, scoot over, we're changing positions."

"What?" Nick asked with a frown and Grissom let out a sigh.

"We need the first aid kit, which is in the back of the car. I'll need to open the door, but I can't do that if you're leaning against it."

"I don't think it's a good idea, Griss," Nick mumbled, but had already pushed himself off the car, wavering when he lost the support. With a curse, Nick changed places with Grissom, biting his lip as he fought off the feeling of nausea that came with the move.

"He's – hiding behind the rocks to your left side. Try to keep the passenger seat between you," Nick advised, trying to hide his fear. Grissom nodded and as silently as he could, opened the car door. He waited for a second before pulling it open, then with determination he moved.

xxx

He saw the movement before he heard the creak of the car door opening and a grin appeared on his face. It took even less time than he thought and with the adrenaline rush starting to pump through his body in a higher dose, he adjusted the rifle's position so that the front sight copied the movement of the shadow.

He was about to squeeze the trigger when something else caught his eye and he quickly adjusted his aim, firing two shots in quick succession. The dark object he hit remained unmoving on the ground, half hidden by the hood of the car and the Master had to squint to recognize it. With a silent curse he returned his attention to the inside of the car and fired, but he knew the only thing he hit was the seat.

Gritting his teeth and looking at the sky, the Master realised that his prey would be unlikely to make a move anytime soon. No, sunset wasn't far away…his prey would wait until darkness fell before moving. He didn't have night vision and the men already knew his position – had to, to know how to hide behind the seat.

If he wanted to get rid of them, he would need to move, and perhaps surprise them…and it would be best to do so before darkness engulfed them. Without a second thought, he took his gun and as silently as a cat, changed his position.

xxx

The first thing he saw as he opened the car door was Nick's jacket, recklessly thrown so now it was lying half on the seat, half on the car floor. Thinking quickly, Grissom grabbed the jacket and gave it to Nick with a quiet instruction. The younger CSI quickly obeyed, throwing the jacket away from the car. It hadn't even touched the groundwhen the two shots ushered Grissom into faster action. He grabbed the first aid kit, almost losing his hold on it when the third shot shattered the back window of the car, sending small pieces of glass all over him. He hastily ducked back out of the car and flattened himself on the ground with wide eyes and harsh breathing. Two more shots were fired, out of anger Grissom thought as he swallowed and looked at Nick.

The CSI was paler than before and Grissom secretly hoped it was more from the scare than from the actual blood loss.

"Mission – accomplished," he said with a nervous half-grin he was sure he saw on Nick's face too.

"Yeah, but at what price? My jacket is blown, man," Nick let out in a chuckle and Grissom shook his head, surprised when small pieces of glass fell from his hair. He also felt a small sting where one of them scratched his face, but he had done worse to himself while shaving.

"I am sure the insurance will cover your jacket Nicky," Grissom said after a moment and was glad to see the man relax somewhat.

"How many bullets you think he has?" Nick suddenly asked, once again serious.

"I don't know," Grissom shook his head and opened the first aid kit checking the contents.

"He seems to be awfully prepared. Looks like he knew Travis was gonna follow him and lured him out there to kill-" Nick's voice hitched as Grissom pulled up his shirt and began cleaning the wound.

"Damn," he cursed through gritted teeth and bumped his head against the metal door of the car.

"Sorry," Grissom muttered, cleaning off the blood and looking guilty as hell. Even if the whole shooting wasn't his fault, the fact that Nick had to push him out of harm's way just because he didn't hear his warning, was his fault. And now Nick had been shot and even though the wound wasn't life threatening, it was still painful and debilitating.

"So-" Nick hissed when Grissom started bandaging his side a little more tightly to try and stop the bleeding, "do you think he will... wait for his chance and kill us, or rather try and get off the radar?"

Grissom looked up from the work and gave a shrug.

"I don't know, Nick. But I know the guy that is shooting at us isn't Jonah. So that makes me wonder, who is he and where is Jonah?"

"I'm wondering if Travis is still alive," Nick said in a quiet voice and Grissom couldn't look into his eyes anymore. He knew there was only a slight chance of Travis surviving the fall, and even that chance was becoming smaller with every passing minute.

xxx

It was exactly thirty-five minutes from the moment the Master pushed him toward the car and ordered him to leave. Jonah's fingers nervously thumped at the wheel as he looked into the rear view mirror then back at his watch. Yep, he should've been already gone and still, there was no sign of his Master.

Jonah started wondering if the man hadn't got himself caught. What would happen in that case? Was it really a good idea to go into the warehouse and wait? What if the only one coming would be the cops?

But then Jonah quickly remembered how the Master looked when he realised that Jonah left the apartment and what's more, let himself be followed. He then realised that he didn't want to cross that man, not ever. If there was the slightest chance the Master managed to return to the warehouse, Jonah wasn't willing to let him find it empty: because then he was as good as dead. There was no place to hide from the Master.

Throwing another look at his watch, Jonah turned the key in the ignition and started the engine. He had to turn on the lights and he made a quick circle on the empty lot scowling into the shadows, before he stepped on the gas and headed back to Vegas.

xxx

His world was upside down. He didn't remember what'dhappened, didn't know where he was or why. All he was aware of was the constant ache in his head and shoulder, and the pungent smell of gas.

Travis blinked, his eyes opening into semi-darkness, yet still needing time to adjust. He let out a groan and tried to move, only to yelp in surprise at the weird feeling. Something was wrong and Travis had to think hard to realise what it was. The gravitation.

His arms were touching the roof of the car, but it felt more like they were hanging. A rather fuzzy look outside the wreck made it clear and he grimaced, the urge to vomit even greater.

"What the hell happened?" he thought, trying to clear his head.

"Jamie... dead..." he whispered when the images of the last few days hit him in a rather scrambled pattern. They were followed by the memory of the car, of the young guy before the apartment building, with another man getting into the car. The road to the canyon, some phone call he couldn't make head and tail of, then nothing.

Travis shook his head, or at least tried to before he realised it wasn't a good idea. He gasped as the wave of pain hit him and for several seconds lost track of the world around him, but it quickly returned when he was hit by the smell of the gas. His eyes popped open in panic and Travis started struggling with his own body, trying to get it under control.

If he wanted to survive, he needed to get out of that car.

xxx

The rocks slid beneath his feet, causing a small landslide. He paused, cursing the setting sun and the oncoming darkness. He knew his chances were worse if he couldn't see. The last thing he needed was to warn his victims of his movements. When the last of the pebbles fell and the canyon fell back into silence, he started moving again, this time more careful of his steps.

He slowly, but silently, made it down the hill without any more incidents and now he stopped, listening. There was no sound, except the noise of the night critters coming to life and the light breeze that was quite refreshing. He knew that in the canyon, the temperature woulddrop more than in the city, and he welcomed it. He wasn't very fond of the heat. Resuming his steps, he moved in cat like fashion, the gun held in front of him, ready. It was a risky thing to do, but he always liked the risk.

The man that Jonah called Master reached the Criminalists car. He crouched, then in a quick move came around the car, only to step back in surprise. The CSI's were gone.

TBC