Disclaimer: CSI is not mine.

Chapter 1: Falling

Gil Grissom had barely started to doze off when he suddenly snapped awake to the sound of phone ringing. Groaning, he dragged himself out of bed and answered it.
"Hey Gil," Jim Brass greeted him, apologizing for having to drag him out of bed. "Got a DB in an abandoned house out by the desert."
"Bugs?" Grissom asked tiredly, and then sighed. "Never mind, don't answer that. Obviously there's bugs, or you wouldn't dare phone me at this time of the day." Brass chuckled at the scientist's words. "Give me forty minutes," Grissom told him before hanging up.
He rubbed a hand over his face, and then headed for his bathroom. If he wanted a shower, he would have to make it quick.

Forty minutes later, Grissom pulled up by the crime scene, sighing when he saw that Sara was already there. He hadn't wanted to call her – things had been awkward between them lately – but the others all had ongoing cases. So here he was, working his first case with Sara in weeks. From the start he could tell things weren't magically going to get better between them. When he greeted her, she only nodded in return, and continued on towards Brass without saying a thing.
He felt a sharp stab of pain in his chest as he looked at her. She had changed a lot, in such a short while. Her eyes were sad. She was thinner, and she didn't have that eager bounce to her step that she used to whenever she came to a crime scene with him. She rarely ever smiled anymore – and even when she did it was never at him. Whenever he saw her, she always looked a little more exhausted, a little more lost. Before, when she entered a room, she would always automatically look for him, and smile. Now she always looked away.
You have no one to blame but yourself, he thought angrily. But wasn't that always the way it was these days? It was always him who ruined things – pushing her away and ignoring her, trying to pretend he didn't feel anything for her. He had thought it would be better that way. If she got the idea he had no feelings for her, maybe she would back off, move on, and find someone else. Find someone who deserved her. Someone who could give her everything she wanted and needed.
Looking at her now, he told himself letting her go was the best thing to do, but deep down he knew it wasn't. It was just easier for him than holding on and taking the risk. She was falling, and the only thing that could save her now was something he was terrified to give. Always the wimp, he thought to himself bitterly, taking the coward's way out; causing others pain because you're too afraid to chance it yourself.

Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he followed her over to Brass.
"What have we got?" he asked, his face giving away none of his previous thoughts.
Brass motioned for them to follow him, and explained as they entered the old house. "Some teenagers came up here for a party, found the vic in the basement. Looks like a white male, late-forties early-fifties. It appears that he was stabbed around fifteen times, and then shot in the head."
"Stabbed and shot?" Sara asked, glancing at Brass.
He nodded. "Yeah, close range. From the state of his hands, I'd say he fought back."
The stairs to the basement were as old as the house, and they were tall, steep, and made of old, rotting timber. There was no railing on them. The nails used to build the structure had been driven in at bad angles, and the rusty points of them could be seen sticking out of the stairs at different intervals all the way to the bottom. In the dim light, Sara could just make out the cold hard stone floor at the bottom, and she wondered briefly how much it would hurt if you fell from the top. As they started down, they could feel the steps groaning and shaking under their weight.
"Cripes," Grissom muttered, uneasy as he felt the stairs shifting. "Are you sure these aren't going to collapse on us?"
Brass chuckled, noticing the look on Grissom's face. "It's been cleared, they're safe, so don't worry."
"Sure they are," Grissom grumbled. Despite Brass's reassurance, he was still very relieved when they finally stepped down onto the solid stone floor of the basement.

An hour later, Grissom finally closed his kit and stood, wincing as his knees protested violently. "We better get this evidence to the lab," he muttered, more to himself than Sara, who was already set to go. David had already taken the body; as it had been lifted up the stairs, Grissom could have sworn that they were going to finally give out. Glancing over his shoulder to find Sara right behind him, he started up the steps. "Is it just me," he muttered quietly as the stairs once again shifted under them, "or are these stairs a hell of a lot more shaky than they were last time?"
Sara's tone of voice was tired as she answered. "It's not just you. Keep walking, I want to get the hell off of these things."

Suddenly, as Grissom reached the top, the stairs suddenly gave a huge jolt, and Sara screamed his name wildly.
"Grissom!" She lunged forward as the stairs collapsed under her, grabbing tightly onto his waist as he also lunged forward, dropping his kit and grabbing onto the doorframe. There was a loud crashing sound as the structure plummeted to the stone floor below them. For a moment Grissom thought he would be able to drag them up - his chest rested on the main floor, and he had a good grip on the doorframe - but then he started to slip. He swore, and then suddenly he nearly lost his grip completely at the pain as one of the nails on the only remaining step slammed into his side, piercing the skin and ripping viciously up his chest as he continued to slide.

"Hold on, Grissom!" Sara yelled frantically, and at the sound of her voice he gripped the splintered wood with renewed strength. Black lines raced across his vision as white-hot fire seared through his body, but he forced himself to hold on. You can't let Sara fall. He repeated the words to himself, over and over again, pushing away the pain and concentrating on that one thought. You can't let Sara fall.

They hung there silently for a moment, and then Sara swore angrily. "Jim!" she shouted, hoping the homicide captain had stayed close enough to the house to hear her calls. "Jim Brass, you get your ass back here or I swear to god I'll make you pay!"

"He can't hear you Sara," Grissom hissed through gritted teeth as he tried to ignore the pain and keep his grip.

Realizing he was probably right, Sara sighed. "Hold on, I'm going to try and climb up," she informed him.

"Sara, don't," he began, but she didn't hear him. He bit his tongue until it bled to stop from screaming as her movements pushing his chest harder against the nail. She didn't know. "Sara, don't!" He screamed, turning his pain into anger.

Almost at once Sara stopped, responding to the rage she heard with her own anger. "Well sorry for trying to get us out of this mess," she snapped, "since it's obvious you aren't going to be able to with me hanging off you."

"Sara," he panted as he tried to get the words out through the haze that was quickly enveloping his brain. "If you... want to help... get out your cell phone and... call Brass. Tell him to get his... damn ass... back here, with help. Don't... make any... sudden moves. Just hold on... keep still."

Fear suddenly raced through Sara at the strained quality of his voice. She still hadn't realized he was injured, but she didn't know how long he could hold them there. "Gris?" she asked, her voice betraying her worry. "Are you going to be all right? Can you hold on?"

"I'm fine, Sara," he lied, "only I think... my arm is... going to pop out... of its socket." His attempt to lighten the situation failed miserably. "Grissom..." Sara began, but he cut her off.

"Phone Brass." You can't let her fall, he told himself again forcefully as he felt his hand start to slip again, and the sharp splinters pierced his skin. You can't let her fall.

Sara tightened her hold with her right arm around his waist, and awkwardly pulled her cell out of her pocket as she tried to ignore the fact that this was Grissom she had her arms wrapped tightly around. Brass picked up on the second ring. "Jim, get your ass back here!" Sara snapped into the phone, venting her own fear and worry at the police captain. "The damn stairs collapsed, and I'm hanging onto Grissom with one arm, dangling in mid air. We can't get back up, and if you don't get here soon we're just going to be two damn pancakes on the floor down there. I hope to God that you're still here at the scene somewhere."

"Oh my God, oh shit," Brass said, and Sara had the urge to laugh at the panic that tinged his voice. If you don't laugh, she thought to herself, you're bound to cry. "I'm coming," Brass said, "Oh crap. Hold on."

"Just hurry up," she warned, before snapping the phone shut and shoving it back in her pocket. She felt much safer now that she could wrap both her arms tightly around Grissom's waist, and she let out her breath with a shaky sigh. She hadn't realized she'd been holding it. "Grissom, you all right up there?" she called, realizing that if it was this hard for her to hold on to him, it must be a lot harder for him considering he was holding on for two people.

Grissom barely heard her words through the fog that surrounded his brain, but he slowly managed to work out what she had said. He didn't trust his voice to stay steady if he tried to speak, and he grunted quietly in reply, hoping she'd take it as a yes and leave it at that. "Just hold on a little longer," Sara called up to him, trying to sound confident. She was having a harder time keeping her grip now as his body trembled violently from the strain of holding on and dealing with the pain. You can't let Sara fall, he told himself once again. Don't you dare let Sara fall.

Brass had only just left the crime scene when Sara's call came in, and a few seconds later his car squealed to a halt in front of the old house once again. The police officer that was guarding the scene and the paramedics who were still dealing with body stared up at him in surprise as he practically fell out of his car in his hurry. "The damn stairs collapsed," he snapped urgently. Realizing immediately what that meant, the group sprinted after him as he raced into the house. Brass knew the two CSIs were going to give him hell for this one, and he just hoped they weren't badly hurt. Reaching the stairs only a few strides ahead of the paramedics, he saw immediately that Grissom was barely hanging in there. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his arms were trembling as he held on with all his strength. His eyes were tightly closed. "Grissom, Sara!" Brass cried, running forwards.

"Jesus, Jim, it took you long enough," Sara snapped from somewhere down below. Grissom didn't open his eyes as he answered. "Hurry up, Jim," he whispered, and Brass swore as he heard the pain in his friend's voice. He must have been injured somehow when the stairs collapsed, he thought guiltily. Apparently the paramedics realized it too, because they moved quickly.

You can't let Sara fall. The words strengthened him, but as Grissom felt her weight lifted from his waist, the pain intensified and his body shuddered violently. Sara was safe. You can let go now... He let the blackness engulf him, and then he was falling as his aching hands released the doorframe.

"So much for 'they're safe, so don't worry,'" Sara glared at Brass irritably as she was pulled onto solid ground. Suddenly, one of the paramedics cried out in surprise. "Damn it..." Turning to see what was happening, Sara felt the colour drain from her face as she watched the firefighters lunge forward to grab the unconscious Grissom as he released his hold and began to fall. "Grissom!" she cried, feeling as though she was going to be sick. She tried to get to him, but Brass pulled her back and held her tightly. "You have to let them help him," Brass tried to soothe her, but he thought he just might throw-up himself.

As Grissom fell, the point of the nail had come through the muscle at the top of his shoulder, making a sickening sort of ripping noise as it did so. The front of his shirt was soaked in blood, and his right hand, which had been clutching the doorframe, was also bloody.

The next few minutes were all a blur to Sara, who was in shock. Grissom had been pressed against that nail, bleeding for at least fifteen minutes, and she hadn't even noticed. She had been angry when he snapped at her, but she must have been causing him even more pain. And despite that pain, he had somehow managed to hold on. "Oh my God," she whispered, pulling away from Brass and stumbling after the stretcher Grissom was being carried on. He was quickly loaded into the ambulance, and the paramedics didn't try to stop Sara when she jumped in behind them and took a seat beside Grissom, clutching his uninjured left hand. As the ambulance drove away, the paramedics were already cutting away his shirt as they tried to stop the bleeding. Sara stared, in horrified fascination, at the gash that ran from his lower right side all the way up and through the top of his right shoulder. She covered her mouth with her free hand, feeling the tears burning her eyes. One of the paramedics gave her a reassuring smile as they began to ready him for arrival at the hospital.

"Sara!" Fifteen minutes later Catherine, Nick, Warrick, and Greg raced into the waiting room of the hospital to find Sara pacing miserably as she waited for news of Grissom. She didn't hear as Warrick called her name again, and only realized they were there when Nick stopped her and turned her towards him. They immediately saw the worry and fear in her eyes.

"Sara, what happened? Are you all right? Is Grissom all right?" The questions came one after another, rapid-fire, and for a moment Sara felt it was a toss-up between whether she would laugh hysterically, or cry hysterically. "The stairs at the crime scene collapsed, no, and I don't know. In that order." For a moment there was a surprised silence at her answer, and then they realized how hard Sara was trying to hold herself together. It took a few minutes before she finally managed get herself under control and properly explain without bursting out into tears.

When she told them about seeing the nail ripping through his shoulder, they all winced. "That can't be good," Catherine muttered, shivering again at the thought. For a moment there was silence, and then Sara looked at them, her eyes sad and lost. "He held on right till the end. He held on until I was safe." She shuddered, and leaned into Nick's hug. "There was so much blood," she whispered. "He lost so much blood, and it must have hurt so much, but he never said anything, and he held on."

Thirty minutes later, a short, chubby looking doctor approached the silent group. "Are you here for Mr. Grissom?" he asked gently. The group rose to their feet quickly, eager for some news. "Yes," Sara said immediately, a desperate look in her eyes. "Is he going to be all right? Can we see him?"

"I'm afraid," the doctor said slowly, his eyes hinting, "that I can only allow family to visit with him at the moment." Catherine met the doctor's eye. "We are family," she said firmly. The doctor smiled at them, obviously aware of the fact that they weren't related to Grissom in any way. "I thought so," he replied knowingly, winking. "Follow me, please." The team exchanged glances. They liked this doctor.

As they followed him down the hall the doctor explained Grissom's condition. "He's lucky the nail wasn't any longer – as it is it just barely missed quite a few of his internal organs, and ripped through his shoulder muscle pretty nicely. We stitched him up and bandaged the wound to keep it clean. He'll need to see a physiotherapist about that shoulder later though – the muscle was badly damaged, and it could be a while before he'll regain full use of that arm." As they continued on down the hall, he glanced at the group. "He lost a lot of blood, so he'll be very weak for a while, and we don't want him moving around a lot. We've also got him on some pretty heavy pain medication. He might be a bit out of it for a while." He smiled as he pushed open Grissom's door for them and motioned for them to enter. "I'll give you five minutes with him."

Sara was the first to enter the room, hesitantly at first, and then more purposefully as she caught sight of Grissom. He lay on the bed, his eyes closed, his face pale. The blankets were pulled up to his chest, and his arms rested on top of the sheets. His right hand was wrapped in a clean white bandage. As Sara pulled up a chair next to the bed, the rest of the team moved immediately to stand protectively around her and Grissom. For a moment an awkward silence blanketed the room, and then Sara broke it softly.

"Grissom," she whispered. Tentatively, she reached out and took his hand, careful not to disturb the bandage. At her touch, Grissom's eyes opened slightly, and he squinted at the group tiredly, as though he didn't recognize them at first. "Sara? Guys?" he said, voice quiet and slightly slurred from the medication.

Sara was suddenly unsure of what to say and Catherine, sensing that, patted her reassuringly on the shoulder and gently touched Grissom's face so he turned to look at her. "How you feeling?" she asked her friend softly. For a moment he only stared at her blankly. "Tired..." he murmured suddenly as his eyes closed again, and he turned his face away from them. "Tired."

As if on cue, the doctor suddenly returned to usher them out. "You'll be able to come visit again tomorrow. He needs to rest now," he informed the group as he began checking Grissom's bandages quickly and efficiently. When he was finished he glanced up, and smiled slightly when he realized that they hadn't left, and were hovering around the doorway watching him. "I'll take special care of him," he said seriously. He knew by just watching them that they cared about their friend very much, and he would do all he could to make this easier on them. For a moment they looked at him doubtfully, but he gave them a reassuring smile, and they finally relented and turned to leave.

The doctor was right behind them, and as he spoke they weren't sure if he was speaking to them or just speaking to himself. "I can't think of many people who would have been able to hold on as long as he did while dealing with that amount of pain. Most people would have fallen almost instantly."

"I had to hold on," Grissom's voice suddenly came from the room, the words so quiet and weak the team thought for a moment they had imagined it. He sounded sad and lost, like a small child without a hand to hold onto. "I couldn't let Sara fall."