Things are not okay.

God makes us go to his office and talk to him for an hour at least once a week. It's like a pshyciatrists visit. We're supposed to say that things are good up here, and that we're happy.

I'm not happy.

And I don't understand how he has time for everyone. I never realized how many people were dead.

Every week, I sit across from him and I say,

"No, I'm not happy." and I always ask him for things. God seems to think that giving us what we want, so we can build our perfect life, will make us happy. It doesn't work for me.

Every week, I ask for my life back. God frowns at me, and says I'm resisting treatment. Help.

He can call it what he wants.

I've been dead for a month now.

XXX

"Hey Griss." I've been breaking the rules.

I miss him, and he needs me.

"Greg!" and he's so glad to see me.

"Grissom, you know I don't have too long." he nods. I scuff my feet on the floor.

"Things are hard. Without you."

"That's sweet, Griss." it was hard watching them all go back to work without me.

XXX

When I died, Nick fell to his knees. Grissom just stood there.

I was going through god's historical tapes.

When you die, he gives you a copy of your entire life and a little after it, on VHS. A lot of people want to know what happened right after they died. Mostly in cases like mine.

In violent, unexpected deaths.

Anyway, my killer ran, and Grissom calmly called 911. Like he didn't even care.

I've never seen anyone as bloodied as I looked. Maybe being a CSI wasn't really for me. With that little hole on my forehead and all that blood over me. I didn't know I had that much blood in me.

XXX

DreamGrissom and I talk almost every night now. After that first time, when he begged me not to go. I told him I'd see him again.

This is breaking the rules.

"Grissom." I always put us in my lab. God's punishing me tonight. I can see my reflection in the glass partition.

Usually, God doesn't care what you do. He doesn't pay close attention, but when you break the rules he starts to. He realizes that I'm actually communicating with Grissom and this is what he does.

Tonight, when I go into Grissoms dream, I tweak it, and then God tweaks it.

He gores me up. I'm in the clothes I died in. my shirt, madras, is covered in brown-red blood stains that trickle down onto drips and streaks on my pants. That on its own is scary looking.

But my face has blood all over it. It radiates out from the scar on my head. The blood runs down my neck and over my collar bone and seeps through my shirt.

"What happened?" dreamGrissom stares at me, looking half disgusted. I smile.

"God's being mean." he takes two steps over to me and stares. It's that look. The pursed lips, concentration look. "What?" he puts his hands on my face and waits.

"Grissom..." it's like a slap to the face. He starts wiping the blood off, and it hurts me. "Grissom!" it hurts everywhere he touches.

Where there's not blood, it hurts.

His hands move down on my neck.

"Grissom! Stop!" he doesn't though. His finger traces along my collar bone, through a little pool of blood, and it burns. I'm taking breaths in short painful gulps. "Grissom!" I grab his wrist and wrench it away from me. Tears well in my eyes. DreamGrissom looks hurt and confused. "You're hurting me. Stop."

"Greg... I..." I release his wrist and turn to the counter, my back to him. Placing my hands on the cool plastic, I feel like I'm drowning.

"I have to go."

"No! I didn't mean to hurt you! Greg, god... please don't go..." he takes hold of my arms, spinning me around to face him. This hurts too.

I thought it was him wiping the blood away. I was wrong.

It's him touching me.

"Grissom..." I clench my teeth to hide my pain. "I... I..." my head snaps to the side, and I'm out.

XXX

"Gregory." I think every boy named 'Gregory' goes by 'Greg'.

Stupid God.

"You know there's nothing I can really do to punish you." he says nice nice things to me. "But you have to stop this."

"No."

"It's against the rules."

Stupid rules.

"I don't care. I never wanted to be dead anyway. I hate it here." pow. I know that hurt him.

"When you're dead, you're dead. There's no communication." He puts his hands together on his desk and looks at me sadly. I was a disappointment. "You had such potential."

"Hey, I'm not the one who killed me. All that credit goes to you." I can almost see his thoughts ticking by behind his eyes.

"The man who killed you wasn't supposed to. Things just worked out that way." I shift loudly in my chair. The universal sign for 'I want to get out of here.'

"Fuck that." and I leave.

XXX

The thing about heaven is, god doesn't know what people want.

He's never been human; he's never known what its like to have lost everything.

But he pretends to know.

XXX

I wake up in my apartment. Not my heaven one, my Las Vegas one.

It's completely empty. I'm in a white suit on the floor.

I stand up, completely dizzy, and step out the door. It's so bright.

I steal someone's bike and head over to the crime lab. I don't know what kind of sick joke god is trying to pull, but I know anything that happens will happen there.

Whatever God is trying to pull, it isn't funny. This is just cruel.

Everything's perfect. Even the air smells just right. So Las Vegas.

I hear the bike clatter on the sidewalk as I drop it and go into the lab.

Gasp gasp gasp and air conditioned darkness.

XXX XXX

AN: I didn't plan on doing a second chapter, but hey. I worked so hard on this, I think i tweaked it about eight times until it was just perfect. i hope you liked it. more probably.