Disclaimer: Don't own aI promise I'll give all the characters back when I'm done with them.

Author's Note: Okay, the first bit will seem very hypocritical of me, if you know me that is, but I SWEAR things are NOT as they seem. No connections to any of my other stories, just random ideas during a boring tech class when my teacher was away.

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He was only looking to see if he had missed anything. All he wanted was to be thorough. Before he knew it a knife was at his throat, cutting deeply into his flesh and slicing into the arteries there. He slipped to the ground, blood pooling around his body.

He didn't even see the man that was cut him; all he knew was that he was dying. Dying, without getting to say goodbye. When would they find his body? For that matter alone, when would they start looking? It could be days, weeks even if they thought he was a runner.

Shakily he slid his hand upwards to where there was less blood. He dipped his finger in the red liquid before begging to trace letters on the concrete floor. It was his only way to tell her now, to leave her a message that said what he had wanted to for half a decade.

Finishing the last letter of the last word his heart stopped, leaving his cold eyes open, staring into the oblivion, while his hand rested just below the letter 'U' on the last word he had written.

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Sara walked through the halls in the CSI building. Shift was about to start and yet there was hardly anyone around. Nick was on vacation in Miami and Greg was off for the night so that explained their absences.

"Alright people, I've got your assignments!" Grissom called, poking his head out of his office, beckoning for Catherine, Warrick and Sara. The three of them instantly walked over to him to retrieve their papers.

"Warrick, you and Cath have a double homicide at the Tangiers. Sara, you've got DB in an abandoned warehouse in Henderson. Let's go then people," Grissom rambled before exiting his office before the others could even say anything.

"He's in an odd mood tonight isn't he?" Catherine asked, looking around the door to watch Grissom walking out of the building. Warrick and Sara nodded before heading down the hall to get their jackets from the locker room.

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When Sara arrived at her scene she was met by officer Christianson, a new recruit that had never really been on a homicide case before.

"I secured the area Ms. Sidle; the body is on the north east side of the building, behind some crates in what looks to be an old office. Coroner should be here within the next 20 minutes, I called him the minute I secured the building. Detective Brass is also coming down here to make a full report." Christianson explained as he and Sara walked through the building.

"Tell me about the victim," Sara said, trying to get the young officer used to procedures.

"Male, early thirties, seems to have had his throat slashed. There's a lot of blood in there. Also left a note but I couldn't make out what it was. Umm, some woman found him while she was looking for her dog. Said the dog ran in here, she followed and came upon the guy. Pretty sad if you ask me." Sara agreed with him silently, pulling out her flash light.

"Thank you. Could you go wait outside for David Philips and Detective Brass please? I want to start documenting everything," she said. Christianson nodded before leaving Sara alone at the entrance of the office. Sighing she turned on the flashlight and entered the room, leaving her lit at the door. Sara walked around the room, gently making sure that she didn't step in any of the blood.

'God, there's so much blood in here, poor guy,' she thought. Bending down she looked at the message that was scrawled in blood. She shone her beam of light down on it. Squinting slightly to make out the words. It was only when she read them that she gasped.

They said: Sara, I love you.

Shakily she turned the beam to the man's face, a sob catching in her throat when she saw the fear in his dead eyes. They had once held such passion and now…now.

Sara couldn't take it. She felt sick to her stomach and utterly horrified. She ran from the room and out to Christianson.

"Ms. Sidle –" he began. Before he could get another word out Sara bent over, vomiting onto the sidewalk. Tears were falling from her eyes and she couldn't stop them. As if on cue Brass pulled up.

"Sara? What's wrong?" he asked.

"The- the…oh God, Brass, its Greg, he's…he's dead…."

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A/N: Well? What did you think? Sad, I know, promise it gets better in a bit! Lemme know what you think.