I can't believe this. He couldn't... he wouldn't...

"you." now I wish I hadn't let the morphine get the better of me. "What is this?" I glance down at my nails. They look okay now...

God won't look me straight in the eye.

"Why would you do this to me?" why? "Why bring me back to life... only half way?"

"Let me explain this..." I tap my dying nails on his desk. "Bringing a person back to life is easy, reviving and rejuvenating the body is easy..."

"So why am I... decomposing?"

"Because it's not permanent. I can't have a dead man walking around for too long."

Shit.

"You mean I'm gonna die again?" no way. No way. It would have been better he he'd never brought me back at all.

Las Vegas was the only place I was ever happy. How. Dare. He.

"I told you you still had more to do, didn't I?"

XXX

"Greg?" wait.

Doesn't it suck when you wake up right at the best part of the dream?

"hey Catherine..." my head hurts." Warrick... wow. hey." but the morphine takes care of most of it.

"Hey Greggo."

I want to ask them all about that stuff the doctor told Grissom. But then... I wonder if they know.

Of course they must. Why else would Warrick come visit me in the hospital? We were never really friends.

Out of everyone in the lab, Nick and I were buddies. Kinda.

"How do you feel?" Catherine pulls up a chair and takes my hand. Faux-caring sympathy and comfort. But I can't see she's sneaking glances.

To see if my nails really are black.

Warrick's staring intently at my heart monitor, which, now that I look at it, is beeping after long intervals.

Shit. This is so messed up.

"I'm hopped up on drugs. You know, good times." they laugh nervously. "Can I go home?"

"Not yet. Soon though. Okay?"

"Yes Catherine. sure." not like I have a home to go to, but I hate hospitals. Honestly I do.

I sigh. Sigh sigh sigh. This sucks.

Catherine and Warrick leave and I'm all alone.

I still can't believe God would do this to a person. It's inhumane.

It's hard to think, "When will my body kick out? When will all this borrowed time be used up?"

Speaking of, I feel fine. I shouldn't be wasting my mini-life sitting around in a hospital.

Getting up isn't fun though. Seeing as I ripped out my IV and removed all the monitor things attached to me, I'm more than a little sore.

Plus, without the morphine constantly being pumped through my veins my head is killing me.

If my heart is barely beating, how was the morphine getting around anyway? I guess I'll never know.

The pain is so bad I'm dizzy.

Next thing I know I'm on the floor.

My breathing sounds... normal paced. Not to slow not to fast. Labored though.

I get dressed slowly, keeping my body braced against the bed.

There's way less blood on the collar of Nicks shirt than I thought.

So little, in fact, I can brush most of the dry, caked, flakes off with my thumb.

And I do.

The nurses don't even notice when I leave.

I don't sign myself out or anything, I just leave.

Walk out the door.

How convenient. There's a bike waiting right there for me. It's white too. Ugh.

So God's for saving the environment. But not me. There's no helmet. Even if he did provide one I wouldn't have used it, I'm a horrible person like that. It would've been nice to at least think he was concerned about my safety.

And off to the lab I go.

The air feels fantastic, much better than the recycled air from 1986 in the hospital. I feel so alive with the wind ruffling through my hair.

Zip zip zip through traffic, ditch the bike, and walk in.

Direct line to Grissoms office. Try to ignore the gawkers.

What? Like they've never seen a dead buy before. Fuck it.

"Grissom, I-" whoa. I tip over. I' m suddenly so dizzy I literally fall over. I land hard on my hands and knees.

"g-Greg?" who's voice is that?

"...M-Mia?" she grins. She was supposed to be my replacement when I became a full-fledged CSI. I guess she replaced me anyway.

"Oh my god, I thought you were dead!" I laugh, she helps me up. Under my breath I say,

"Yea, welcome to the club." then louder, "yea, something like that."

She laughs.

"Where is everybody?" I have this weird feeling. A bad one.

"Oh... I don't know... on assignment I guess. Do you want some tea? Or coffee or something? I'm on break." "Uh... no thanks."

"Were you in the hospital or something? Catherine said she was..." I guess she's still talking but I can't hear her.

'Greg?' I can see that panicked look in Cath's eyes.

"Oh gees, are you okay?" I look up through my fingers. I was holding my head. Oh god. I wasn't imagining Catherine, I was seeing her. In my fucking head.

Fuck.

"Where're Grissom and Nick?" that bad feeling is getting worse by the second.

"Uhm..."

"Mia! Tell me!" now I'm the one panicking.

"Here!" she snatches a slip of paper off Grissoms desk and shoves it at me. Running out, I crumple it into my pocket. "What are you gonna do?"

XXX

Bicycles do not go fast enough. Of course, the fact that I'm not in the best shape doesn't help either.

By the time I get to the address on that little orange slip of paper I feel like I'm dying all over again. No amount of adrenaline could stop this pain.

My lungs are burning. It's so hard to breathe.

I'm at a big deserted house; these are never anything but bad news. But I trek up the driveway anyway, panting the whole way.

"Nick!" damn. I can't even yell yet. Coughing, I plop down in front of the door.

A car pulls up. I don't recognize it. A man gets out.

Oh... you have got to be fucking kidding me.

Seriously. This is just annoying

Guess who? It's him again.

That son of a bitch who tried to kill me twice and succeeded once.

God's such a bitch. I swear.

"Grissom!" my voice is only at half capacity. And I'm yelling through an oak door. Stupid stupid Greg.

And now he knows I'm here.

Could this day honestly get any worse?

How many days have I been back? Two or three I'm guessing.

My nails are completely black now. Shit.

This guy is a whole head taller than me.

"You just don't die, do you?"

"Greg?" Grissoms leaning out a window on the second floor.

"GRISSOM!" I didn't realize how much having a brass door handle slam into one's spine hurts.

I do now. He shoved me back into the door.

I even see his fist before it clips my cheek.

In high school, I got in fights a lot. Okay, not fights, I got beat up. But I'm fast because of it. Not too tough though.

I take a swing at him. A big sissy white boy swing, wide and slow. Miraculously, I hit him.

In return, I get tossed like a rag doll onto the sidewalk.

My face is bleeding.

All those instincts come back.

I'll tell ya; this was not a pretty scuffle.

I get a couple good hits in, but he ends up beating down on my lower arms. With every hit my arms, up defending my head, get knocked closer and closer in.

Eep.

What the hell is taking Grissom and Nick so long?

My body notices a break in the barrage before my mind does.

Arms go up, arms go down. Right on his head.

I force all my weight into the momentum. It carries me down along with my arms and his head.

I see the knife in his boot.

Pressure right under my jaw bone and... Squish.

It's a wet kind of unrelenting pain that, even though the blade didn't hit anything else in my head, my entire me hurts.

I am so lucky though.

Too bad I can't move.

He tugs the knife out, grinning. The blood seeps out from between my fingers clutching the wound.

I taste metal.

I'm soaking in my own blood. I'm spitting it out.

It's funny; this guy honestly looks a little scared now. Loser.

The bleeding slows way down. I guess I didn't have all that much blood in me after all.

"Greg!" crack, boom. Whoosh. Down.

Nick. With the smoking gun.

"Are you okay?" he's got me by the shoulders now. Still clutching my neck, I can't believe him.

"Have you seen me?" I croak. "Sorry I ruined your shirt."

"I don't care. I'm just glad you're okay..." he hugs me. I spit a blood clot over his shoulder. Gross.

"Lemme go, Nick." Grissom steps out the front door. I smile weakly. He smiles.

My socks feel wet. Huh.

Then I remember the dead guy behind me. I completely forgot about my now-dead murderer. Go nick.

I feel kinda funny. In a good way.

And then I fall down. I collapse over backwards. I shouldn't feel this good.

XXX

I wake up face down. I feel along a rough little scar on my neck.

Oh.

I wish I could honestly believe that all this white means a hospital. But I know it doesn't.

It means I'm dead again. Sigh.

"Hey Greg." I'm just gonna ignore him. "You did well. I'm proud of you."

"I...I don't..."

"That man, Jacob Melito, he would have killed Grissom and Nick. You saved them. At risk of your own life." does that mean anything? "Do you want a third chance?"

"What? I thought-"

"Three strikes, Greg. Three is the number for everything. Read some Shakespeare. So? What do you say?"

"Yes."

"I am proud of you Greg, really I am."

XXX

Heart-heart-heartbeat.

No way. Shit, no way.

"Mr. Sanders?" click click click. This is very... nice. Very very nice.

"Greg!" A chorus of people swarms in. I can barely even hear what they're all saying. But everyone's smiling. Me too I guess.

"I can't believe it... Greg, look." Catherine shows me my nails. They're not only better trimmed than I ever had them, but they're pink. A nice fleshy pink. Peach, one might say.

I laugh.

"This is... fantastic." it's even fantastic to hear my voice. I thought I was a goner for sure. Again.

"Tell us about it, Greg." Grissom smiles awkwardly.

"About what?"

"Heaven." I don't know if it's a secret or not. Can I tell them... or what? I mean, will I get in trouble? I'd bet that more trouble would be bad for me.

"Please, Greg." Sara smiles. It seems like such a funny question. What is there, really, to say about it?

"White." I end up saying, quietly. "It's all white. And quiet. And a little boring." they laugh.

"A nice place to visit," I say, "but I wouldn't want to live there."

XXXXXXXXXX

Fini

I know the ending sucks, but I couldn't bring myself to kill him off... again. That was in my original plan, but I kinda like this. Well, please comment, I'd love to have all you guys' input. Thanks for reading, and GOOD NIGHT!

-much love, Kagii