Disclaimer: You all know they aren´t mine. Sigh.
A/N: Yes, I´m still working on "Life´s Fleeting Glances" but this idea popped into my mind when I listened to "i stopped to fill my car up" from the Stereophonics.
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Gas. What he needed was gas. Spotting a Texaco at 2 o´clock, he swerved right and pulled up next to a pump. After listening to the end of "Jinx", he got out and started filling his car up. Tapping his fingers nervously on the roof, he looked at his watch again.
Damn. He was going to be late. Just his luck. Grissom had been unbearable all week. The whole nightshift in fact. Nothing new here since they had several really trying cases on their hands and everyone had developed a very short fuse. And, naturally, he was the one who got the beatings if he hadn´t finished something on time. But, he had only two hands after all. Just like the rest of them, he did what he could in the amount of time available. Didn´t change the fact, though, that Grissom was still going to give him hell once he got to the lab.
Hurrying to pay after he had finished, he hopped into his car and drove away. He was tapping his fingers in tune to the music on the steering wheel which calmed his nerves somewhat. There was nothing like a good piece of music to help you relax, even if said piece was "You know you´re right" from Nirvana. He had to chuckle at that thought.
Something cold at the back of his neck put a sudden stop to his drumming and replaced the smile, which had started to develop, with a frown. He raised his eyes to the rearview mirror and looked behind him. A man around forty in the back seat calmly met his surprised gaze. Then he heard a soft "click" and felt the weight against his neck shift slightly. A ball of lead was beginning to settle in his already nervous stomach. Trying not to avert his gaze, he swallowed a couple of times. He had to approach this subject nonchalantly. Yes, even if or better because there was a gun pressed against his neck. No use in freaking out now if he didn´t want this whole thing to blow up in his face - no pun intended.
Oh come on, Greg, think of something, you´re the master of conversation after all.
Just strike up an easy small talk. That´s what you´re good at. Sure, but not if someone is holding a gun to your head!
His inner monologue came to an abrupt stop when a gravelly voice said "I´d suggest you keep your eyes on the road."
Fixing his eyes back on the road in front of him, he tried to think of a way out of his dilemma.
Okay. Think, Greg, think. What did you notice about him? Well, he is obviously pointing a gun at you which could be triggered anytime and you wouldn´t be able to do anything about it. Thank you. That´s not really helping! Good reminder, though.
Visions swam before his eyes. He actually had a good idea what would happen if he were to make a wrong move. He could see it unfolding in slow motion: a wrong word, the gun moving to touch the back of his head, no warning when the trigger was pulled, the sound of the gunshot reverberating in the car leaving an eerie silence with the hot smell of gunpowder in the air. Clouds of smoke dancing around his motionless form. And him, slumped over the steering wheel with a hole the size of Texas in the back of his head. His blood decorating the interior of his car with curtains of red.
He wondered if Grissom and the others would process the crime scene. What would they think if they saw him lying there. He tried to picture the scene in his mind.
Grissom all hard-faced and professional. Would he shed a tear?
Or Catherine trying to overcome that gag reflex you get when something is disturbing in a way that you just can´t control yourself.
Or Nick, staring unbelievingly at his broken body and after a short time raging on about getting that piece of shit who did this.
Or Sara. He actually had no idea as to how she would react in that situation. Well, in his dream world, she would fall to her knees and weep as if there was no tomorrow. Admit her feelings towards him and regret that she never told him before. But in the real world? She would probably show no emotions at first. Stone-faced, a bit like Grissom. But in the safety of her home, she would break down and her mind wouldn´t be able to grasp what had occured. Maybe painting plausible scenarios. On the next day, though, she would behave as if nothing had happened.
Talking about life sans the living!
But seriously, would they say goodbye? Would they even miss him? Would they remember him every time they passed his lab or smell coffee? With no trace of him whatsoever, erased out of their lives.
Would they still function?
Greg, stop it! Think of the now and not of the possible, hopefully not to happen like this, future! You´re gonna make yourself mad, man.
Shaking himself out of his stupor, he came to a decision.
Better keep your mouth shut. He nodded his head slightly as if to agree with himself.
He risked another glance at the man, briefly meeting his gaze. He couldn´t shake the feeling that something was going to happen and that, whatever it was, he wasn´t going to like it one bit.
*******
Well, now it´s up to you. Is this worth continuing or should I just burn it in the backyard? Your choice.
