I hate seeing what it's doing to everybody.
Not like I could help it though, that guy shot me. A couple times.
Chest and head.
-
It was just a regular crime scene. A little dusting and collection.
Everyone hates when suspects come back. Grissom and Nick were there too. All of us working hard, not paying attention. Nobody noticed when the guy slipped in through the back door. But suddenly Grissom was tapping me on the shoulder and there's a guy with a gun right there. Grissom kept a gloved hand on my shoulder most of the time. The three of us were lined up, with that guy calmly aiming a gun at us.
"Call for help and I'll kill you." he was awfully creative too. I mean, I say that now, but at the time, I was scared shitless. I couldn't move. There was this horrible tugging at my chest. I wanted to puke.
I wanted this to be over.
Bad stuff happens... happened to me all the time. But it always came out okay.
"Are you okay?" Grissom whispered in my ear. I shook my head.
"What're you saying?" our attacker glared. "Stop talking. No planning." he looked at Grissom and me. "You two split up." he motioned for Grissom to move. I didn't want him to leave me.
"Hey man..." I put my hands up, just in case. I wanted this to be over.
"Stop!"
"Greg!" Nick snapped at me. He was just scared too. He was scared for me. They were both scared for me, because I'd made the mistake of talking first.
"Shut up!" our attacker swung the aim of his gun from me to Nick.
"No! Hey!" he swung it back around and, maybe accidentally, pulled the trigger.
A bullet ripped the shit out of my chest.
I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. I couldn't breathe, and it hurt so much. I looked down and there was a puddle of blood spreading from my chest. Now I really wanted to puke.
I heard Grissom and Nick gasp and lurch forward. They wanted to help me, but they couldn't because that guy had a gun on them. I struggled to roll over onto my side, so I wouldn't choke on my own blood.
God, it hurt.
God's not that bad, actually. He doesn't hate me as much as I thought.
But his sense of humor sucks.
"Let us help him..." Grissom never hated me either. "Please."
Since when was my life one big joke?
"He's gonna die..." nick's from Texas.
As I laid there dieing, random facts came into my head. I guess I knew I wasn't gonna make it.
How is it funny that everything goes wrong... went wrong for me?
Maybe, in god's eyes, humor is hate. They both suck.
The suspect-attacker kicked me in the shoulder to roll me back over. He stood over me and looked down into my eyes. I pleaded with him silently.
Don't do this. Please.
I could see straight up the gun barrel.
"You're torturing him!"
The blood is pooling on me now. That shirt'll never be the same.
"Well, I can fix that." this guy is sick. He cocked the gun and aimed. I threw a look at Nick and Grissom. This wasn't fair.
He pulled the trigger.
And I died. Just like that.
Snap.
-
The moment I wake up in Heaven, I think, "Didn't another new CSI die like this? On this same team?"
God says to me, "its okay. I'm sorry. You're okay." what a bitch.
Here in heaven, I wear the stuff I died in. it sucks, because I wasn't in my most comfortable jeans.
My shirt is blood stained but my head just has this little circular scar on it.
I say to God, "tell ya what," over his nice oak desk, I say, "I'm not okay."
So now, I spend most of my time watching them. The people god took me away from.
And everyone's such a mess.
-
"nick." he's sitting in the break room, tossing a bag of my coffee from hand to hand.
Heaven has bad coffee. It kinda sucks up here.
"Hey Griss..." Sara disappeared from work. She's been at home crying for a couple days.
"How are you today?" Catharine took her collective vacation days and took Lindsey and they flew off to where-ever Catherine's from. She's crying while her parents take care of their granddaughter.
"Not great." Warrick's been seeing movies non-stop. One right after the other, almost 24/7 since I died. I never really took him as the movie type. He's seen most of the films twice by now.
"It wasn't your fault." Nick took a day off, before he just came to work and sat and thought.
"I don't think that." Grissom sits down next to him. Both of their eyes are red and puffy. Grissom sighs.
"No. I know you don't." he says to me, in his head,
'Greg, I wish you were back.' funny thing about being dead is, when people think directly to you, you can hear it.
'Me too.' I think back at him, wishing he'd hear me. He won't though.
Grissom took a trip out to the middle of the desert and screamed and screamed and screamed.
Sometimes, I like to tell myself he cried.
-
When people dream, down on Earth, I like to poke my head in. I used to do it a lot, but I hate seeing people feel awful when they wake up. They just start to pack up those memories and put them away into a little crate in the back of their memory, and then I pop into their dreams and all those memories and thoughts come back full frontal.
It's mean and selfish of me.
But tonight, I have to.
God grants lots of little wishes for dead people. It's easy. I even have my own little apartment up here.
Tonight, I ask for a suit, and I get one, and I delve into Grissoms dream. He doesn't dream a lot, and I usually hate to disrupt his nice dreams but...
He's been thinking to me a lot lately. A little too often really. I think he blames himself a little.
I fiddle with his dream so we're in my DNA lab. I'm leaning against a counter, and he's standing in the doorway.
"Greg?" dreamGrissom stares at me.
"It's not your fault." thing is, I have to be all cryptic and vague and not really me, so that he can't think it's actually me. He has to wake up thinking I was just a dream, and everything I say came from his mind somewhere.
"Greg!" dreamGrissom runs over to me and grabs my shoulders.
"I'm okay."
"Greg! Don't leave again! We need you!" he shakes me, and I try to keep my face straight. I can't seem real.
"Get back to your life."
"We don't have a life without you! It hurts too much Greg! Please..." he whimpers sadly. This is a side of Grissom I've never ever seen. I feel like there are tears welling in my eyes.
"It's gonna be okay." I break character. "Everything's gonna be okay. Things'll go back to normal eventually. You'll put me in the back of your mind, and only think of me late at night when you're all alone. And I'll always be there for you. I'll watch over you guys. And besides, we all die eventually. We'll all be together again at some point." I smile to him. I want him to cheer up. My stupid dream character dissolved a while ago. So dreamGrissom cries and I hug him, and I want to be alive again so bad.
I say to him, "thing's will be okay."
I say, "Keep living."
I say, "Trust me."