If this has been done before, I apologize. I am simply so bored tonight, I need to write something.
WARNING: corniness galore.
I own nothing even resembling Criminal Intent.
Death happens so quickly. A flash, a crack, a searing bullet tearing through my organs as if they were tissue paper. It doesn't hurt so much anymore, in fact I feel quite numb, as if the bullet were laced with novacaine. There is a pleasant peaceful feeling settled in my stomach, like God himself has placed his hand there and poured love through his fingertips to calm me. I can only think of Alex, of how she will take the news that I am leaving. I love my wife, and I will miss her so, but I know that after I die, I will live on in a beautiful part of her heart.
Oh, here she is, sprinting towards me with fear in her eyes. I want to reach up from this stretcher and touch my skin to hers, any part of her to let her know that this will not break us apart. But she looks so broken already, more than I've ever seen her before. I want to talk to her, but as my life leaks out from the wound in my side, it takes my strength with it. So now I lie here, my blood leaking into my clothes, her clothes, the stretcher, the soil, everywhere. My awareness is fading gently, but I can feel someone's fist balled into the wound in my side, and I know that it is my wife's attempt to keep me alive. She is crying harder now the tears threatening to drown us all, and as the ambulance rushes me to a hospital and the EMTs attempt to keep my soul inside of my body, I see the panic in her face. She takes my head in her slender hands, her wrists pressed tight to my jaw, pleading with me to stay, stay, stay. But Alex, baby, I want to tell her, this is how it's supposed to be. Her dark eyes are clear, bright, hard, and I know that she is seeing only my face as it pales with death. She calms, stops pleading, tears dripping from her face onto mine. There is heartwrenching silence, and I know this is tearing her apart. I want to say something, anything, to let her know I will always be with her, but there is simply no voice left in my body, so instead I turn my head, brush my lips against one of her hands, trying to instill my peace into her. She breaks the silence with one whisper filled with emotion enough for a scream.
"You know that I love you, right?" she says quietly. I smile and nod, and it feels like the right moment to leave. I watch her for a moment after I take my last breath, her hands still wrapped around my face, her fierce eyes on mine and her body trembling subtly. She takes a breath, lays her head on my chest, and slips her hand into mine. This is my life. This is my love. This is my death.