Disclaimer: I don't own anything and I haven't made any money from this either.
Again, huge thanks to mingsmommy for doing the beta.
Does contain spoilers for the finale, so if you have yet to see it, turn away! Or don't, whatever... :)
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I'm alive. That much I know; everything else is hazy.
I can feel something crawling on my leg and somehow I know it's a bug. Never in my life have I been so excited for a creepy, multi-legged insect crawling on me. This is good. I still have feeling in my legs, which means they're not horribly crushed even though I can feel the car pressing down on my muscles.
I don't know how long I've been here. I remember hearing my name and then coming to under this wrecked hunk of metal. I feel like I've been hit with a four by four. Well, I'm under some sort of vehicle, I may have been.
My chest hurts and it pains me to breathe. I've tried to breathe slowly, but sometimes I realize this may be it and I panic. I don't like panicking.
It's cold, but I've stopped shivering. Maybe I've grown used to the cold or maybe I'm getting some shelter from the car, but my teeth have stopped chattering. I can hear the raining playing a tuneless melody on the metal and smell the fresh scent of damp earth.
I can't really see much of anything. My eyes feel like they've been run over a sander and I really want to close them. But I'm afraid. Afraid that if I close my eyes, I'll never wake up.
I don't want to die, I want to stay awake. I keep them open.
My hair is plastered to my face from the rain running under the car. I can't move my left arm and I don't want to move my right—it needs to stay in the freezing rain in case anyone drives by; they need to be able to see me.
I want to laugh, but don't. Am I just keeping myself going on the false hope that someone will drive by? While I can barely make out the road, I haven't seen any cars drive by since I've been here. I've been looking, hoping.
I hope they find me before it's too late. There's so much I want to say. I want to be able to tell Warrick, Nick and Greg they're like brothers to me. Despite our differences, I want to tell Catherine she's the older sister I never had. I want to tell Gil he's my everything.
I wish I had taken that time to tell him I loved him before I left the lab. But he was busy working on the case and I didn't want to bother him when he was so focused. I assumed I'd be able to say it when he got home.
Now I'm not so sure I'll ever say it to him again.
I can feel tears starting to fall; they're warm and everything else seems cold. Just the few sobs I let out hurt and I want to stop but I can't. I told Gil before, but I'm not ready to say goodbye.
It doesn't take long before I realize I've been mumbling his name over and over again. Just whispering scratches at my already raw throat and tightens the pain in my chest. But it makes me feel close to him.
A flash of bright light blinds me. This can't be it, it's too cliché. I don't want the bright light. The bright light means you're dying. I swear I can hear screaming. The voices sound vaguely familiar, but I don't have the energy to process them.
Maybe I'm hallucinating. I don't want to die knowing I went crazy.
The light gets brighter and I close my eyes. I feel movement; the ground around me is shifting. I open my eyes and find Gil crawling through the wet sand, absolutely drenched, struggling to get closer.
I feel his hand on mine and I grasp it so hard I'm sure he's in pain. But he doesn't care, he just crawls closer, his head almost next to mine. He's talking but I can't make out his words. I can tell he's crying, which muffles his words even more.
He's stroking my hair and face. I can feel him brushing the dripping wet strands. A cry is ripped from him as he realizes I'm not just alive, but I'm actually awake. I wish I had the strength to tell him everything I want to say.
He's there. He's talking. I don't feel so numb anymore; I can feel his warmth seep into my body. A surge of adrenaline rushes through me; I don't have to worry about closing my eyes anymore. With him here I know he won't let me go and I won't let go.
I don't recognize my own voice when it squeaks out of me, "Love…love you." It's harsh and raw, full of emotion and pain. But I don't care. I have the chance to say it again.
