She ran as fast as she could. The suspect's laughter still echoed in her head, spurring her on, giving her speed that she didn't know she had. Her left arm ached from where a bullet had hit her, and she could feel the blood running down her skin. Panic rose in her chest, and the pounding of her heart flooded her ears, but she kept going, hoping against hope that she wasn't too late.

As she burst onto the roof, Sara looked around wildly. She tried to calm her breathing, her ears straining to catch some sound – anything that would tell her where he was.

"Nick?" she called.

"Over here!"

She ran forward again, frowning when she couldn't see him.

"Where are you?"

"Over here!" he repeated.

Her heart dropping into her stomach, Sara ran to the edge of the roof and looked down. Nick was a few feet below her, one hand clutching at a small ledge. Hearing her footsteps, he looked up, desperation in his eyes.

"Oh God. Hang on, Nick!"

For a moment, she was at a loss for what to do. Backup was on the way, but she knew that Nick wouldn't make it that long. At the same time, her arm was too injured to be able to keep them both from going over the edge. The panic began to rise again, but she quickly quashed it – it couldn't help either of them.

Finally making a decision, she swung her left leg over the edge. Her right arm snaked around a nearby pipe, hopefully giving her the leverage to keep upright. Then she slowly reached her left arm down, letting her fingers brush against Nick's hand. He looked up at her, relief clear in his eyes. But then his gaze rested on the blood flowing down her arm and he frowned.

"No," he said.

"Nick, it's the only way."

"No," he repeated. "You're injured. I'll pull us both down."

"I've got good leverage up here." He shook his head. "Dammit, Nick! How much longer do you really think you can hold on?"

"It doesn't matter," he asserted. "I'm not bringing you down with me."

Sara knew that he wasn't going to budge, but she couldn't just let him fall. Reaching down a little further, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and gripped him tightly. From that vantage point, she could tell that his hold was quickly slipping, that if she didn't hang on, he had less than a minute or two before his grasp would give way completely.

"Let go, Nick," she called. "You won't pull me down, I promise."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and then he finally nodded, his desire for survival clear in his eyes. She gave him a reassuring smile and tightened her grip – both on him and the pipe – bracing herself against the coming weight.

When he let go, she had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from crying out. Her shoulder screamed in agony, and she thought she could actually feel her skin ripping around the edges of the wound. But she just gritted her teeth and squeezed his hand, refusing to let go.

"You need to swing," she told him. "Then you can grab the ledge up here and we can get you up."

He shook his head. "Your arm will never take that kind of punishment, Sara. I'm too heavy."

She nodded, knowing that he was right. Curving her lips upward, she tried to smile through the pain.

"Then we just have to wait for backup, don't we?"

8888888888888888

The strain was becoming unbearable. Sara tried not to show it, tried to put on a brave face so that Nick wouldn't worry. But he knew. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she would wince and then avoid his gaze. It had only been ten minutes, but backup still hadn't arrived, and Sara wondered how much longer she could hold on.

"You have to let go," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"You have to let go, Sara. It's the only way."

"No."
"Sara, please."

"Just shut up, Nick. Shut up. I am NOT letting you go."

"Then we'll both fall. Just let me go. Then you climb back up and wait for Grissom and Catherine."

"I said no."

"Let me go!" he yelled, emotion choking him.

"NO!"

"Please," he begged. "I don't want you to die for me."

She fought desperately against her tears.

"Well I don't want you to die at all. So I'm not letting go, Nick. Just deal with it."

888888888888888888

She could feel him slipping. Their hands were sweaty from the strain, and blood was making her skin slack. Neither tried to speak, all of their energy going in to keeping their hold.

"Sara!"

She almost cried at the sound of Warrick's voice. Unable to turn and see him, she felt him come up behind her, looking over the edge at Nick.

"They're over here, Gris!" he yelled over his shoulder.

Then there were strong arms around her waist, holding her steady.

"I'm right here, Sara," Grissom whispered in her ear. "I've got you."

Warrick reached his long arms down and grabbed his wrist. Catherine grabbed the same pole Sara was holding and wrapped her other arm around his waist, letting him use her as his anchor.

"Alright, Nick," Warrick called. "I need you to let go of Sara. I've got you."

The hanging CSI nodded and let go of her, sighing in relief when Warrick's grip held and he didn't go hurtling to his death. He felt himself being hoisted up, and he almost cried with joy when he once again felt solid ground beneath his feet.

Catherine knelt beside him, cupping his face in her hands.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

He laughed quietly. "My arm hurts."

She rolled her eyes at him.

"You? What about Sara? That poor girl had to hold your weight."

It had been said with a smile, but Catherine's words struck him hard, and he looked around to find his friend.

"Where is she?" he asked, worry lacing his voice.

"Calm down," Warrick told him. "Gris took her down. She needs to get that arm checked out. Looks like she lost quite a bit of blood."

Nick nodded, his heart heavy.

888888888888888888

He waited at the hospital anxiously, pacing back and forth in front of the curtain that separated them. The doctor was looking her over, making sure that her wound was cleaned and bandaged properly – she had already refused an overnight stay at the hospital. Nick thought he was going to wear a hole in the floor when the curtain was finally swept aside and the doctor came out.

"She's going to be just fine," he said gently. "But she needs to rest."

"Thank you, Doctor."

The older man nodded and walked away, down the hall to his next patient. Nick stepped inside the curtain and closed it behind him, relief flooding through him as he saw for himself that she was really alright.

"Sara…" he said softly.

At the sound of his voice, she turned from what she was doing, regarding him silently. Then her eyes hardened and she walked up to him, slapping him across the face with her right hand. His cheek stinging, he stared at her in shock.

"What…?"

"Don't you EVER ask me to do that ever again," she hissed.

"To do what? Save my life?"

She sighed and went to walk away, but stopped and turned to look at him.

"To let you go."

8888888888888888888

At first he ignored the pounding on his door, not wanting to deal with Catherine or Warrick trying to help him, telling him that Sara would get over it and that she wouldn't stay mad at him forever. He knew they were just trying to make him feel better. But whoever was at the door wouldn't stop knocking, and he finally sighed and pushed himself up off of the couch.

His stared in amazement when he opened the door and saw Sara standing on his front step. She had effectively ignored him for the past week, despite his calls. Grissom had given her some vacation time to let her arm heal, so she hadn't even been forced to speak to him for work reasons. And now she was standing in front of him, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Sara…" he started.

But then she was moving over the threshold and colliding with him, her arms snaking around his waist as she held him close. At first he didn't respond, his brain still trying to catch up with what was happening. But as he felt her start to pull away, he came back to reality and held her close, closing his eyes at the feel of her.

"I'm sorry," Nick whispered. "I just…I couldn't let you die because of me, Sara. I just wanted to know that you would be alright."

She sighed and pulled away so that she could look at his face.

"Don't you get it, Nick?" she asked. "I'd rather have fallen with you than let you go."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, not knowing what else to say.

"You should be."

A smile tugged at his lips, but she caught him off-guard again as she leaned in and brushed her lips against his. When he didn't pull away, she kissed him more firmly, pulling him closer and nudging his lips apart with her tongue. Nick's hands came up to tangle in her hair as he moaned softly.

Then she was pulling back, and turning away. He opened his mouth to protest, but she just shut the door they had left open and turned back to face him.

"I meant what I said," she told him as she walked up to him again.

"Which part?"

"About not asking me to let you go again. It'll only make me yell at you."

Smiling, Nick nodded. "Understood," he said, pulling her against him and burying his face in her hair.