AN: This was a challenge from TaZ. I thought about it all summer and then it came to me...after seeing the Season 9 premiere.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. You don't get to sue, so there.
I'm going to die here. He thought helplessly. I'm going to die in a back alley. Alone. He wanted to cry. He really wanted to and he had no idea why he wasn't. Then the sound of the Undersheriff's voice floated to his ears.
"I'm in pursuit of the suspect."
Even in his predicament, Warrick couldn't help but sarcastically think, so you're chasing yourself?
He knew something was wrong in his gut when McKeen knocked on his window. Fear gripped him too late as the gunshot rang in his ear, the bullet penetrating his neck. The shock, the fiery sensation was all too much to even try to process. And then another shot rang out. It was then that Warrick accepted his demise.
Now as life drained out of him, Warrick wondered if he would see a white light soon. He wondered if his life would flash before his eyes. Instead of a white light, Warrick remembered the lighting of the diner he had left not too long ago. His life did not flash before his eyes, but he remembered a joke that Greg had shared over their breakfast. The reminiscent sound of Nick's voice, Catherine's beautiful smile and the way Grissom didn't even try to hold back his laughter all mingled together in a blur.
Sorrow filled him. He would miss them all dearly.
Suddenly the car door swung open. Someone was pulling him out. Under any other conditions, Warrick would have felt threatened but there was something about this person's touch. This person's arms felt familiar, like he was in them before.
"Warrick!"
Grissom. He wanted to say the man's name, he tried to say it but instead more blood flowed from his wounds.
"Oh God." Grissom said weakly. He snatched his jacket off and placed it under Warrick's head. It didn't do much, but Warrick was grateful at the effort…grateful that he wouldn't die alone.
"Stay with me! Warrick! It's Grissom!"
I know who you are Grissom, Warrick thought. He wanted to say thank you, say anything but only ended up choking on more blood.
Footsteps, quick ones, approached and Warrick didn't see who it was until Grissom moved his arm. McKeen stopped just short of them upon seeing Warrick staring directly at him.
"I was first on the scene, heard the shots, I was in pursuit..." McKeen paused, noticing the intensity of Warrick's glare, "…of the suspect."
Liar. Grissom needed to know, had to know, that he was in danger by being here. Warrick had to try to warn him. Do something! ANYTHING! He tried to speak but again he just couldn't. At least Grissom somewhat understood that Warrick was trying to say something.
"What?" Grissom said softly.
McKeen's hand slowly slid to his hip, to his gun. No! Warrick mentally screamed.
"Oh, Warrick. Come on." Grissom coached.
Get out of here Grissom! Just leave! He thought helplessly.
"Come on, Warrick!" Grissom urged and then turned to the Undersheriff. "Where are the paramedics?" Turning back to Warrick he whispered, "Please. Please."
A ton of bricks felt as if they dropped on Warrick's chest. Shit! I can't breathe! He clawed at Grissom, hoping to send some kind of message of the new problem.
"You got to fight, I need you to fight now. Fight for me, okay?" Grissom's voice cracked near the end.
Fight. Ok…ok. Fight. But even as Warrick burned into his mind to fight, the darkness that was calling for him began to be harder to resist. His eyes grew heavy.
"Give me an ETA on the paramedics, we need them here now." McKeen said into his radio.
Warrick's lungs burned from the lack of oxygen. Trying to breathe hurt, so, he simply stopped trying.
"No!" Grissom yelled. "Come on!"
The darkness won out in the end. If Warrick had been paying attention, he would have heard the sirens getting closer.
There was only one car in the parking lot, Warrick noticed. It didn't really matter though; at least that's what he hoped. He checked his gun, loaded the clip and placed it in its holster on his hip before heading towards the entrance to Lou Gedda's strip club.
The place seemed eerily empty, so he pulled his gun, cocked it, and headed further inside with caution. Quickly clearing each room with a glance he finally called down the hall to Gedda's office. "Gedda? You called me."
There was no threat visible but Warrick's fight or flight response kicked in right before a cloth was slapped over his nose and mouth.
You got to fight, I need you to fight now. Fight for me, okay?
And that's what Warrick did. He fought.
She had finally fallen asleep when the alarms went off. The sound of nurses running didn't help either. Her blue eyes flew open as she realized that those alarms were a lot closer than she originally thought. Sitting up in the ridiculously uncomfortable hospital chairs, her heart dropped as she saw what room everyone seemed to be running into. The hospital room right in front of her. Warrick's room.
Inside, the nurses were doing everything in their power to restrain the man in the hospital bed thrashing about. Grissom, who had been sitting in the one and only chair near the bed had been herded to the corner where he was out of the way. The nurses worked hurriedly, at times bumping into each other.
Catherine cut through them all as if they weren't even there. She was at Warrick's side before anyone could tell her otherwise. One nurse reached forward to guide her out, but Grissom's arm halted her.
Catherine caught one of Warrick's flailing arms and gripped his hand. "Warrick!" Her voice was firm yet gentle. Another nurse tried to reach for her but after receiving a look from Grissom she stopped. "Warrick." Catherine repeated, softer this time. She moved her hand to hold onto his forearm, much like she had done in interrogation. "Warrick."
The response was immediate. The flailing turned into Warrick stirring like he was having a bad dream. His eyes slowly opened and looked directly at Catherine. She smiled and rubbed his arm soothingly. "Hey." She said weakly. Her eyes welled up with tears. "You're ok." She said, affirming her words by running her fingers through his hair. "You're ok."
Warrick blinked at her several times, thinking he was hallucinating. But every time he opened his eyes, she was there. He rested his head against the flat pillow and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Closing his eyes he wondered what happened. What happened in the alley? Where was McKeen? Did his friends, his family, find out the truth?
He opened his eyes again and saw Grissom standing next to Catherine. "We got him Warrick." Grissom softly answered the unasked question in the younger man's eyes.
Warrick nodded slightly, squeezed Catherine's arm and closed his eyes. He was met with the welcoming darkness of sleep instead of death.