A/N: My first CSI character death, don't like doing them but hey when you're in the mood, you're in the mood. Our Last Night by Better Than Ezra, was the inspiration, I'm not sure if this was supposed to be a happy song or what not, but I always felt that it dealt with something tragic. Anyways enjoy, happier things to come. But I don't own anything.

Was it more or did Jorja look a little preggie In Pirates of the Third Reich?

He was there again, someplace where his mind never allowed him to forget. He could feel the fear, and the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, this wasn't supposed to happen. The area was clear, the house was clear, no one that shouldn't was here, but somehow one made it passed. The three of them were alone in the house, fear evident in all three, one of them was going to die, all hoping it wasn't going to be them. On miscalculated move and she was in his grasp, the cold metallic shined in the dim lighting that the bodies had been found in. His heart stopped, he would trade places in a heartbeat as long as she was out of harms way. The gun focused on the madman's head did nothing to still the moments of the jerking suddenly to make Greg's heart stop.

Her eyes begged him to do something, but if he took a shot, there was a fifty percent chance he was going to hit her. And that wasn't something he could get over.

He tried to tell her with his eyes he was sorry and to stand still it wouldn't be long before someone found them. He just prayed that nothing happened so the blade didn't prick her skin. Greg's eyes followed the blade as the madman waved it to and fro, and caught Sara's eyes more than once, she was waiting for that same moment he was, where they could over power him and take him out, leaving them safe.

We were standing in an empty room.
The moonlight was falling.

The moment never did come, another miscalculated move had the knife stuck in her skin, blood oozing out slowly. He was torn what to do, go get the guy or stay here and help her. He could give the police a full description, so he stayed calling for help.

You were holding my hand when the car
Pulled up for you.
And I could have spent a life with you,
But those days were over.
You were calling my name when
Your face faded from view.

He watched the ambulance pull away, he couldn't leave the scene, not until someone came to relieve him. Which could be hours. The small weight of something in his pocket made its presence known as he pulled it out. The black velvet box. Tonight was going to be the night, or rather morning. After breakfast, he would casually drop a hint or two and fall asleep, waiting until she was down for the count before he would slip into her kitchen and place it on the table in plain sight, with a little note asking her to marry him. Staring at the plain cut diamond that she had picked out on a recent shopping trip, she had pulled him in there and remarked that she liked it, simple but elegant, just like her. Something told him, that the ring would forever remain in the box. Never making its way to its intended target. That caused a tear to run down his face.

And wasn't it you who told me
The sun would always chase the day?
Wasn't it you who told me?

One look was all it took, it told him what he needed to know, she hadn't made it. He could see the pity in their eyes when he had been finally able to show up, hours later.

He jerked awake, gasping for breath, this a usual occurrence to him now, had happened everyday for the last three months, ever since, well ever since she had died.

Angels fly in the air tonight.
Saying, Wasn't it just like swimming
Out on the lake?
Stars collide, and the air's alive.
Or was it just like those promises that you made
On our last night?

"No I don't I feel like staying in" she gave him that look and he knew he would be staying in curled up on the couch with her, wrapped in a blanket, maybe depending on the movie one thing would lead to another. He was glad that they had that night, one final time together even if neither knew that it would be the last.

I remember waking up with you.
The days doing nothing,

He liked it most of all when they spent the day in bed, doing nothing but exploring one another's bodies, and talking sometimes serious, some times comical, he always made her laugh.

You meant more to me then
Than I think you ever knew.
But you were going to be a doctor,
A movie star, a poet at a Nobel seminar,
I hope the world never tore that out of you.

She always laughed when he tried to tell her how much he loved her, he would always tell her he loved her more than shrimp salad, and that meant a lot coming from him. She said she loved him more than work. For that he was glad, finally winning something that no one else could, her heart.

And wasn't it you who told me
The sun would always chase the day?
Wasn't it you who told me?

But that was over, her side of his bed, empty and cold. Her feminine touches to his place remained where they were, he was afraid to touch them, breaking his connection with her, even if was only imaginary.

Angels fly in the air tonight.
Saying, Wasn't it just like swimming
Out on the lake?
Stars collide, and the air's alive.
Or was it just like those promises that you made?

His daily ritual was to shower and dress, after finally deciding that he could no longer sleep, he never did after the nigh mares. Even sleeping pills didn't work, they made him more agitated. He would drive the half an hour to the cemetery, where on most days he would be the only one there, the time usually where the sun was setting her favourite time of day.

And what ever happened to the things you loved, the songs we played,
On the Indian days?
What ever happened to the things you gave away,
Like 'Harold and Maude' and singing?

He wasn't sure how to explain it but when he came here he felt closer to her and not in the sense that she was buried six feet below but that he could actually talk to her and she would listen, never answering but she listened.

I was waving as you drove away.
The sunlight was falling.
You were writing backwards
In a dusty windowpane.

He would always wave to her after telling her the news for the day, on recent events, lab gossip and such, the ring remained on a chain around his neck. He hadn't taken it off not since that day. And a promise that he would be back tomorrow, a single daisy in his hand that would find its way to beside her name.

Angels fly in the air tonight.
Saying, Wasn't it just like swimming
Out on the lake?
Stars collide, and the air's alive.
Or was it just like those promises that you made
On our last night?

For once he finally felt at peace, like she was here beside him and hen he looked up, he could see her, smiling with an angelic glow around her, waving back.