This is a little idea I suddenly came up with. It's quite short, and rather on the sad side.

Disclaimer: I don't own Cause of Death. If I did, Maltara would be together, and I'd have the black Mustang convertible I want.

Sight.

If it was at all possible, Mal Fallon could easily say he saw too much, yet too little at the same time. Bright headlights nearly blinded him as they approached his car at a speed he could only estimate, giving him absolutely no time to respond, let alone be able to veer out of the way before the inevitable happened.

Sound.

A piercing wail penetrated the air as the drunken driver of the pickup truck barrelled towards them. After what felt like a time too short to possibly count, the shattering of headlights colliding against headlights echoed through the night.

And then there was the horrifying sound of metal crunching as Mal's car scrunched like a giant accordion, echoed by the scraping and the final thud as the car flipped several times, landing upside down.

The last sound was one of the worst, his partner's scream. But in Mal's opinion, the most terrifying sound was the silence that soon brought all noise to an end.

Smell.

The stench of smoke permeated his senses, signaling that in the crash, something had burned. The smell only made him realize just how much they needed to get out of this.

Taste.

Of all the things he felt, taste was the least, despite the coppery taste of blood in the back of his throat.

Touch.

Once he was more aware of his surroundings, the world faded to a blur as he cradled Natara against his chest. She was unconscious, blood caked on the soft skin of her temple. Her breaths came out in rough gasps, and she let out a barely audible groan as her eyelids fluttered oh so slightly.

Mal could feel her fingers tightening on his shoulder, and he tried not to wince in pain. Neither of them felt the need or had the energy to speak. But sometimes a simple touch could say more than one hundred words ever could.

Natara pressed herself deeper against him, closing her eyes tightly in a useless effort to block out the pain. He gently stroked her hair, holding her as tightly as he possibly dared.

The last thing he could remember was the heartbreaking feel of Natara's body going limp in his arms, her hold on him loosening.

By the time the ambulance arrived, they both lay very still, eyes closed and skin pale.

Death.

Whether it could be considered a sixth sense or not, Natara had known from the moment the truck struck them that it was all over, before she had even slipped into unconsciousness. And as her eyes had grown harder to keep open, she knew that once she closed them, there would be no opening them again. She wouldn't wake up in a hospital.

Because there was no waking up from death.

That was somewhat of a downer. Anyway, it's time to review! LET'S GO! YOU CAN DO IT! CLICK THAT BUTTON! TYPE THOSE WORDS! YOU'RE ALMOST DONE! HIT THAT SEND BUTTON!

Oh, and if any of you watch Law and Order SVU, I may do one of these for it as well. Not sure yet.