Prologue –Knocking on Heavens Door

The marble under Gil Grissom's back was cold, hard, and unforgiving. He was not sure if the pain in his back was from the marble or the hole in his body. Blood is important, he thought, better move a hand to try to keep it in. Of course his brain decided it needed a vacation and refused to send the signal down his spine to his hands, so that they could move to cover the holes and keep the important stuff inside.

At least his brain was functioning enough to think and feel the pain. Maybe shock would take over and the pain would fade, that would be nice. Well not nice because it probably meant he would be dead soon after, but nice because the damn pain would be gone.

Is this what it felt like? It being the end. This is the end beautiful friend, this is the end my only friend, the end of our elaborate plans, the end. Of everything that stands, the end. No safety or surprise the end. I'll never look into you eyes again. The doors, really? That is what he brain decided to do right now. Maybe he needs to revise his original idea of his brain functioning properly to think because it seemed to be malfunctioning with random bits.

Something warm was pooling under him. The smoke was clearing, maybe that meant help was on the way. Help would be nice because his brain still refused to be of much use, which was odd. His brain always seemed to work before, some might say too much. Normally he could not turn of the analytical side, but now it seemed to be on a vacation.

For some reason he always expected this to be different. What he expected, not this, not this violent death that left him alone as he faded out of the world. On the positive, he would finally get an answer to the ultimate questions, 42, no that was not the answer. What was the question, is there a heaven or is death simply like flipping a switch?

Isn't his life supposed to be flashing before his eyes? Or at the very least a light calling to him, maybe a long dead love one watching over him? Instead it was pain, cold, and a brain that seemed to run the show completely with bouts of randomness thrown into the mix.

Shit that hurt. That really hurt. Did his hands finally move? Nope, they were still at his side. What idiot was pushing on his stomach. Brass, what the hell was Brass doing. Seems his brain and hands decided to cooperate, he tried to push Brass away from him because Brass pushing down on the bullet wound was the source of pain.

"Grissom, it's ok the medics are right outside. As soon as SWAT clears the building they can come in and help you. Stay with me buddy." Brass said feeling Grissom push against his arm, Brass had interpreted it as Grissom trying to grasp something, instead of Grissom trying to push him away because the pain he caused applying pressure to the bullet wound on Grissom's abdomen.

Brass was talking to him, but his brain was already engaged. Season's don't fear the reaper, nor do the wind sun or rain. Come on baby don't fear the reaper. Baby take my hand, don't fear the reaper… Blue Oyster Cult now, why it choose the Blue Oyster Cult now, that song, was ironic? Was it ironic? Or some other word, ironic couldn't possibly be the correct word. He felt a shiver run through him, or at least he thought it was a shiver running through him. Tired, yes he was tired, he should close his eyes for a second and rest.

"Grissom buddy you got to keep your eyes open for me." Brass said pushing down harder on the wound, he could feel the blood leaking through his fingers. His friends blood, he had to keep him alive. It worried Brass that Grissom was not responding to him. He seemed to be away, awake, but not aware of his surroundings.

Grissom grunted in pain when Brass pushed down harder. Finally he spoke to Brass, "Stop."

"I can't Grissom. I need to apply pressure." Brass said looking around, where were the paramedics? Grissom needed to get out of here now.

"Is.." Each words was difficult to say, his throat was dry, he felt his brain trying to move onto a different subject, maybe sleep, it just did not want to work, "Woman ok?"

"Yes." Brass answered, technically a lie because he had no idea what woman Grissom spoke of, but now as not the time to ask.

"Sara."

"What about her Gris?" Brass asked shifting on his knees, they were starting to ache from the cold floor.

Just before Grissom lost consciousness he had one last random thought what turned out to be possibly the best version of the song ever to be dreamt of it was as if Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, and Eric Clapton teamed up to play the song together.

Ma take this badge off of me

I can't use it anymore

It's getting dark, too dark to see

Feel like I'm knocking on heavens door