Leaving Las Vegas
The radio in the car is on, so faint he can barely hear it. The song sounds vaguely familiar, and it bothers him that he can't remember the name.
His shirt is wet and sticky, uncomfortable against his skin. The glow from the few overhead lights where he's parked cast strange shadows inside and outside the vehicle. Everything seems oddly distorted and he thinks it's because of the way he's slouching, but he can't seem to find the strength to sit up properly.
His chest is aching. Feels like it's been crushed by something heavy. He can hear himself wheezing, gasping for air in the heat.
What is that song? He knows he knows it – can visualize the singer – attractive, slender, nice arms, long reddish hair. Nick loves her, although she'd never really been one of his favourites.
It's weird the little things you obsess over when you're dying. He wonders what Nick will do, what Grissom will do – what Cath will do. Tears sting his eyes, make his vision even blurrier. He doesn't want to leave them, but he can't hold on.
He's so tired; can't fight. The radio…and the light. Isn't there supposed to be light?
It shouldn't end this way. He should've gone for that beer with Nick. He hopes Nick isn't the one that finds him.
This isn't the way it was supposed end.
He closes his eyes.
Maybe, if he listens hard enough, he'll remember the song.