Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Spoilers: Nothing specific, set mid third season.
A/N: Each chapter is told from a different point of view. I owe enormous thanks to M and J who are two wonderful beta readers.
NORMALLY I WOULD have been bubbling with excitement at the chance to work out in the field again, but my joy was considerably reduced by the news of the shooting. Really that didn't happen, I thought. That's why an officer clears the scene, to prevent exactly that from happening. But it still had happened, happened to people I knew. I had already been working at the lab when Holly Gribbs had been shot on her first night, but I hadn't known her. I was still sort of recovering from my phone call to Grissom earlier. I always made me feel like I suck at the job and don't have what it takes to be a CSI one day. Not that his opinion of me matter anymore. The call telling me of the shooting came as I was just about to take a short break. After all, it was already past the official end of my shift.
Grissom was as cryptic as ever on the phone.
"Greg, Grissom. There has been a shooting at the "Heavenly Path" compound. The suspect Daryl Marks is at Desert Palms hospital. Can you meet Sara and me there, in thirty minutes?"
"Sure," Only after I said it, the implications of his statement dawned on me. "What about Nick and Catherine?"
"At the hospital, they'll make it," With that he hung up and I was left with the question whether he was just plain not human, a theory which I entertained especially in the beginning of my time at the lab, or whether he himself was at a loss to deal with the events. I think I subscribe to the second theory. Another question still left unanswered is why he took me along to the hospital. Pity, giving me another chance? Guess I'll never find out, because what happens at the hospital would be the low-point of my week. Hell, it'd be the low-point of anyone's day. It's not just me bitching here.
When I met them in the hospital lobby, Grissom was looking grim and Sara was looking pissed. I decided to just keep quiet to avoid my head being chopped off. Well, my head stayed on, but I ended up with a hole in the chest. The tale of how I came by it is a little sketchy; my memory isn't playing nice with me there.
We had an appointment with Marks's doctor. We rode the elevator up to the eighth floor, the duty nurse send us into a small separate waiting room, adjoining to the doctor's office. We had just been asked inside when there loud yelling outside, followed the sound of gunfire. Before I could even start to be scared the door glass was shattering, the shards flying all over the room. I think I got hit by a couple of them too, but it really went all so fast that I cannot quite piece it together. There were more shots, I think three of them. Then it all happened at one, everyone expect Grissom panicked, there was yelling, Sara probably, the doctor fell over on his desk, blood rushing from his chest, dripping over his files. I couldn't move or think. I heard that Grissom was yelling at me to get down, but I couldn't move. This is the one thing that I believe could have changed it all. I really wish I had ducked, more than I have wished for anything before. But I couldn't. There was another explosion of gunfire and suddenly I hurt more than I thought it was possible. It felt like something was burning me alive. I couldn't breathe. I don't really remember hitting the ground, but I guess I must have. There is a bit missing then, I figure. There sure is some medical reason for that and normally that would have fascinated me, but I really couldn't care less about that right now. Anyways, the pain scaled down to just the upper edge of bearable and I noticed Sara sitting on the floor next to me. She was even holding my hand. I can't say that I didn't like that, it was just ill-timed. I never thought I'd even get her to go on a date with me, let alone hand-holding.
I was just about to start enjoying the situation a little bit, in spite of the burning pain, when the realization hit me like a second bullet. I was going to die. I cannot really put it into words how it feels when you realize that you are going expire now. It was a bit like back when I was a child and first realized that people had to die and that I would have to eventually as well. Back then it seemed so unjust, so unfair. But then as we get older we push back the thought, knowing that it'll be someday, but not today and not tomorrow. Suddenly that privilege of denial was taken away from me. That sucked. I was scared, more than ever before and more than I ever will be, I guess.
Panic must have shown on my face, because Sara started trying to calm me down.
"Just relax Greg, you're going to be fine…You're going to be fine," Her voice tells me that she is lying and that she is scared. "Grissom, do something," Her voice is panicky, little-girl like.
I don't know how or if Grissom reacted in anyway to me bleeding to death on the floor. I was having increasing trouble keeping focused on anything in the room. Sara said some more things, but I only captured bits of it, something with "worry", "no" and "going to be fine". That was definitely not happening. If it were I wouldn't be in this position right now.
Right now Sara's voice is fading into a whooshing sound, a bit like a washing machine. There is lots of undone laundry on my couch. Gosh, what am I thinking! I'm all cold. That's bad.
Where's Grissom? I can't see him. It's getting darker in the room. At least, it isn't hurting that badly any more, and I'm not that scared anymore. But I'm still afraid. I never believed that there was anything after the mortal life. The Christian idea of Heaven and Hell never quite fit in with my scientific mind-set. Besides, I was too busy living to ponder that question in much detail. I guess that I'm about to find out the answer to the one question science will never be able to answer.
But suddenly I know I can't change it, I can't fight it. It would have happened sooner or later, but I was still hoping for another fifty years.
I don't want it to end like that, lying on linoleum floor, blood all over me, dying. Hell, I don't want it to end at all. I don't want to die. But this is the end for me. This is the end of my story, the end of my life.
tbc