A/N: I don't own CSI, CBS, or the characters involved. Though never explicitly stated, I believe there are enough contextual clues for you guys to piece together who's here. Song lyrics at the end belong to "Goodnight, Goodnight" by Maroon 5, not me. This is a tragedy, there is character death (as it becomes very obvious very quickly). So, you've been warned. I hope you enjoy the story, and please review.

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I Didn’t Mean…

I close my eyes, blocking out the visions I don’t want to see. I hear her kneel down next to me, and I struggle to suck in a breath. Pain washes over me like waves on a beach after a storm, and I squeeze my already closed lids. Tears form and force their way out of the slits between my lids.

She takes my hand, and her warmth strikes into me, contrasting sharply with the chill threatening to overtake me. I hear her talking into her radio, telling dispatch that there’s a man down. I know she means me, and I can hear her emotions through the call for help. She clips her phone back on her belt, and pushes closer to me.

“Hang in there,” she tells me, her voice not as loud as usual. I open my eyes to see her beautiful face one more time. She forces a weak smile, as if to assure me that it’s not as bad as it looks.

But it’s worse than she can see, I know that. Knife still sticking out of my chest proves that. I won’t bleed out, just internally. Foam bubbling the blood around the knife means that it’s punctured one of my lungs. As if my current trouble with breathing wasn’t enough evidence, though.

“Don’t know…” I spurt out. I cough before I can finish my sentence, and I pray the knife doesn’t do much more damage. The pain increases, and the distinct metallic tang of blood fills the back of my throat. I swallow it back desperately, not wanting to think of that right now.

“Don’t talk.” I shake my head, determined to disobey her.

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know.”

“I love you.” Another cough, more pain, more blood. I wince, trying just to breathe.

“I love you too. Now, shut up.” I snort at the irony, which causes a small smile to hit her face. “Hang in there, Little Brother.” I smile slightly, closing my eyes. We’re not blood relatives, not even close. We’ve just been working together for so long, that it’s like being related. When she left, I went after her after a few months. Both of us ended up working our former jobs at another lab. And now… here we are.

“Can’t,” I whisper, hearing my voice grow harsher. I hear her sniffle, and a few more tears work their way down my face.

“No,” she tells me, her voice starting to fade a little more. “You can’t die.”

“All… go…” My own voice begins to sound foreign to me, and I swallow back more blood. But it doesn’t do the trick, as the blood begins to pool and bubble at the sides of my lips. She sniffles again, and I feel her dab at the corner with a napkin.

“It’s not your day.” I think about responding that it, in fact, is my day, but I decide against it. I know she already knows that, and doesn’t want to hear it. The pain finally subsides, and I know that’s not a good thing. I can barely feel her still holding my hand as she starts to rub my hair, much like she did years ago. “Hang in there.”

“I’m… sorry…” That’s the last thing I’ll ever say to her, I realize, as I feel most of my strength draining from my body. I know I’m going to die here and now, and there’s nothing either of us can do about it. She leans down, putting her face close enough to mine that I can feel her breath on my cheek and her tears sliding onto me, mixing with mine. The last feelings I’ll ever have.

“Don’t. You have nothing to be sorry for. Hang in there.” She sniffles, and despite that she’s leaning close to me, it sounds as if she’s across the room. My senses dull, my thoughts go out the window. And there’s only one thing left running across my mind as I take my last breath.

I’m sorry
I did not mean
To hurt my little girl
It’s beyond me
I cannot carry
The weight of the heavy world
So goodnight, goodnight