Don't talk, don't say a thing
Cause your eyes they tell me more than your words
Don't go, don't leave me now
Cause they say the best way out is through
"Who are you?" The question had cut her so deeply, she felt like she couldn't breathe. It was a mere hour ago, if that, but time seemed fluid and inconsequential to her- minutes stretching for what seemed like days, then passing so quickly they were flying by her as she watched. It was quiet on this patch of grass- how did she get out here? She remembered stumbling out of the room, away from him, away from his awful, unanswered question. It hung in the air between them as they stared into each other's faces, both searching for the person they knew.
She sat, hunched over, folding herself as tightly as she could. She was cold, and it had nothing to do with the rain falling around her. How appropriate, this rain- beating down on her, an outward sign of the torrential downpour of thoughts flooding her mind.
And I am short on words knowing what's occurred
She begins to leave because of me
Her bag is now much heavier
I wish that I could carry her
But this is our ungodly hour
He was surrounded, being pressed in from all sides. These relieved faces- he knew them, but clearly he didn't. What was going on here? He couldn't decipher what exactly was reality and what belonged in the dream world he had exited a short time ago. He longed to go back there, to be that man. Was he that man? He didn't know, exactly. Something told him he wasn't.
I know you're leaving now
Cause I held on to my way tightly
Stay still until you know
Tomorrow finds the best way out is through
He was hers. She was the one who was supposed to be up there, laughing at his stupid jokes and giving him pudding and filling him in on the four days worth of life he had missed. Those days were important, and she had been sick to her stomach waiting for that kind smile, those soft, crinkly brown eyes. Yet here she was, drenched with rainwater, not knowing which way was up.
When her parents left, she was lost, because the only people in the world who could fix everything were the ones who needed to be fixed. It felt eerily similar now, her world completely upside down and no one to put it right. He fixed things, that's what he did. Who was supposed to fix him? She punched the ground angrily, tears following the now-familiar paths down her cheeks.
And I am short on words knowing what's occurred
She begins to leave because of me
Her bag is now much heavier
I wish that I could carry her
But this is our ungodly hour
He had been alone for some time when he looked up and saw her standing in his doorway. She was soaking wet and obviously freezing. He didn't know her name, but he knew that the look of complete helplessness on her face was uncharacteristic. He knew she didn't cry like this, didn't hesitate like this. He tried so hard to remember, he searched his memory, but he just didn't know…
She approached his bed. He recognized her skin, her eyelashes, her jaw.
"Do you know who I am?"
He stared at her. Her hands, her neck… of course he knew her. He could hear her voice, even when she wasn't speaking. He could imagine her laugh, or how her skin felt on his, but he didn't know her name.
"Yes."
Her look of surprise, though hastily smothered, did not escape his gaze.
"Who am I, Booth? Booth?"
He shook his head slowly, words not coming. He had to know… something about the way she stood, the way her left hand touched her collarbone unconsciously- he did know her. He was certain she was the most important part of his life. He felt somehow as if she were the one lying in the hospital bed, and he were looking over her. He needed to tell her it was alright, but words were escaping him.
Don't talk, don't say a thing
Cause your eyes they tell me more than your words
Don't go, don't leave me now
Cause they say the best way out is through
He patted the bed, and hesitantly she perched on it, next to him. He was staring at her with such intensity that she felt almost uncomfortable. Her eyes burned, and her throat closed. I will not cry. I will not lose it, not right here, right now. Still not speaking, he put his warm hand on top of her icy one. The weight was so reassuring, so perfect, that she did not pull away. Her insides were churning and she tried to breathe deeply. Her eyes met his again and he gave her a tiny smile. In that moment, she knew. I am his. He is mine. She smiled back, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding in.
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Honestly not sure where this came from, but I like it. Let me know what you think? That's always appreciated. (:
