So you'd think between two multi-chap fics and a drabble series my muse would be plum tuckered out...but not the case. You see, Isobella the muse is not stable, and you never underestimate the mentally ill. Love my muse, love this song and hope you love this lil SFOS (SongFic OneShot)!
Time of Dying by 3 Days Grace
In hindsight, running into the dark building with no partner and no backup…not the best idea. Of course, in hindsight, a lot of things aren't great ideas. Hindsight is 20/20 after all, that's what they say. And boy, is that the truth. Looking back now, Booth thought, sneakers with a suit – bad idea. Tricking Bones into eating cherry pie by telling her it was a vegetarian pot pie – really bad idea. Letting Parker play with markers unattended when he was three, telling his father he was old fashioned and out of touch…all bad ideas.
Of course, all these bad ideas paled in comparison to the one he'd made not twenty minutes ago when he decided to run after his fleeing, armed, highly dangerous suspect into an abandoned and dark warehouse, by himself, without backup. Hell, he hadn't even radioed in that he was in pursuit. By pure turn of chance, he hadn't been a complete idiot and had the foresight to keep base informed of his position and his status, but even so, no backup.
So now, here he was, trapped in said dark warehouse surrounded by huge old heavy-duty equipment and boxes and barrels, a certifiable labyrinth of junk that had not seemed so large and ominous when he'd made entry. Because now, as he lay with a head wound that hadn't stopped bleeding, trying to think of the lyrics to a song he was humming so he could distract himself from the blinding pain in his stomach and legs and back, it occurred to him that the boxes and barrels, which were stacked high on top of one another, could quite possibly be filled with hazardous, possibly flammable, material. At least, if he was going by the big, red, cartoony flames and 'hazerdous materials' signs stamped on every one of them. And, considering the 'fleeing, armed, highly dangerous' suspect he'd been chasing had a predilection toward lighting things on fire, it seemed like a pretty good possibility.
Realizing that sinking feeling he had wasn't just internal bleeding, but eminent doom, Booth had tried a few times to get up and move back out toward his truck. But he had only been able to make it a few feet before passing out from pain, blood loss, and exhaustion. Finding himself awake again, he no longer had the energy to move, nor the strength to stop the room from spinning any time he did. Instead he resigned himself to staring up at the towering crates that would undoubtedly be his demise, humming a song he was sure he knew if he could just get a chance to think straighter. His cell phone had made itself useless by not having a signal in the middle of the warehouse where Booth lay, and in frustration he'd cursed the object but resisted the urge to throw it, not just because doing so would have likely aggravated his already arguably serious injuries, but because it was still possible his squints, his genius partner or the FBI could locate him with the GPS in the phone.
What the hell were the words to that song?
On the ground I lay
Motionless in pain
I can see my life flashing before my eyes
Did I fall asleep?
Is this all a dream?
Wake me up, I'm living a nightmare
Brennan slammed down the receiver of her phone, paying no attention to whether or not it actually settled on the cradle correctly. Of course the FBI was being tight-lipt.
Self-servicing bureaucratic nonsense.
She skipped up the steps and met her team on the platform. Though it was well past eleven at night, they had all gathered in the lab when Booth was confirmed missing.
"Any of you have a plan?" she asked urgently. Zach was the only one wearing a lab coat, all the rest dressed in pajamas or street clothes.
The team exchanged helpless glances, knowing time was of the essence, but not having a clue as to what the next step should be.
"Does the FBI say anything?" Cam asked finally.
Brennan rolled her eyes. "Of course not. They say Booth radioed in where he planned on going, but that was the last they heard from him. They found his SUV in the suburbs outside Virginia. Some farming community."
"What was he doing?" Zach asked, frowning thoughtfully.
"Probably running down a few of our leads. He knew I had a date tonight," she gestured vaguely toward her ensemble of a tight black dress and heels, "but he shouldn't have gone alone."
"Alright, I've pulled up a map of the area where the FBI found Booth's truck." Hodgins called from a nearby computer. The team gathered around him.
"How do you even know where that is?" Angela asked, both curious and impressed.
Hodgins didn't look up. "I have a CB radio in my car, I hacked the FBI's frequency."
"I'm sure that's not illegal at all." Cam muttered, drawing Brennan's glare.
"Maybe so but it's our only lead. Where is Booth's SUV Hodgins?"
A red circle illuminated the screen near a lonely farmhouse and a corn field.
"There."
I will not die
I will survive
Fuck the song, he'd just have to hum the damn tune. Thinking he had probably gathered enough strength to try and move again, Booth started to sit up. The action sent a shooting, breathtaking, immobilizing pain from his stomach, up through his chest, touched his spinal column and then radiated in his head. Heat flooded his entire body followed by a wave of chills and he nearly vomited. The shock of his intense reaction sent him falling back to the floor, further aggravating his headwound when it smacked the concrete. He cried out loudly and would have cursed, but he couldn't think clearly enough to do so.
C'mon Ranger. There's a psycho very likely making plans to barbeque you out there, lets MOVE!
Screwing his eyes shut, as if that would somehow make the fact that he was now just pumping blood out onto the floor, Booth made an effort to bend his knees while keeping his feet in place, thusly moving himself a few inches in the right direction. It was slow going and got his heart pumping fast as he was basically trying to drag his own dead weight across the floor. He gritted his teeth and fought off a wave of dizziness and gentle black oblivion that threatened to steal his consciousness from him. He wanted to swallow but his mouth was too dry.
By this time he'd grown accustomed to the smell of iron that was fresh blood in the air. It wasn't until he tasted it that he blacked out again.
I will not die, I'll wait here for you
I feel alive, when you're beside me
I will not die, I'll wait here for you
In my time of dying
"Okay, the FBI is going to be canvassing this area, asking residents if they've seen or heard anything-"
Angela cut off Brennan's analysis, "But look at this. There must be dozens of acres of farm area here. What if he's in there with that guy somewhere. What if…"
"Positing scenarios is Booth's expertise Angela." Brennan cut her off cooley. She didn't mean to be harsh, but she simply couldn't afford to let her mind wander down that dangerous, dark road.
"What is that?" Sweets, who'd been quietly standing to the side up till then, reached across the group to point to a large dark area positioned about a mile from the circle that marked Booth's vehicle.
Hodgins zoomed in. "It's an abandoned warehouse. It was used for packaging and transporting of hazardous waste materials until it was shut down four years ago. A real nasty carbon footprint that's going to be in ten years."
"Hazardous like…flammable?" Brennan asked, straightening and putting her hands on her hips. Everyone's eyes simultaneously turned to the body on a nearby exam table. It was from their most recent case, someone had killed a woman and turned her into a human Roman Candle.
"He was tracking down a suspect..." Cam began.
"A suspect with an affinity for fire," Angela added.
"Chasing him. Not tracking, chasing," Brennan said finally, looking as if a literal light bulb had gone off over her head. "Booth could easily chase a suspect for a mile," she was crossing the platform, bound for the exit before anyone could think twice "that's where he is!"
"Brennan! Wait!" A voice called. Thinking she was in for a 'be careful lecture', Brennan huffed impatiently and turned.
"Ange I-"
"You're gonna need a fast car," Angela reached into Hodgins' pocked and, ignoring his protest, pulled out a key-ring. She tossed it to Brennan, who snatched the jangling keys from the air effortlessly, "it's Italian."
Brennan grinned, "Thanks Ange."
I will not die
I will survive
He was floating in and out of consciousness when they found him and he'd lost an extremely dangerous amount of blood. It was obvious he'd been trying to move toward the door by the smeared blood trail, but he also obviously hadn't gotten far.
Preliminary glances showed at least two gunshot wounds, one to the abdomen and one to the right shoulder, and head trauma that had given him a severe concussion.
"Man down! We found him. Get the paramedics in here now!" Gabriel Joseph screamed. He'd lead the S&R team to find Agent Booth, a man he'd known since he was a junior agent fresh from Quantico. Joseph had helped train Booth all those years ago and he'd be damned if he let him down now.
Soon the large space was flooded with agents and medical personal. He had his hands pressed hard on Booth's stomach, trying to stop the bleeding and trying not to notice the pain his actions were causing his fellow agent. Joseph was no doctor, but he could tell just looking at him that Booth shouldn't have even been alive, let alone conscious. So he was duly shocked when he tried to talk.
"Seeley you stubborn son of a bitch," Joseph smiled and leaned closer, capturing Booth's cloudy eyes with his, "You just shut up let us handle this. You stay with me, you hear?"
Joseph frowned when he perceived a microscopic shake of the man's head and wondered if shock was setting in. Just as he started to call out for the others to move their asses in getting this man to a hospital, he felt a hand on his collar. With herculean effort, Booth clutched Joesph's shirt and pulled him closer, hissing through gritted, bloodstained teeth, "Everybody…out. Could …blow."
Joseph frowned and then the emblem for 'fire hazard' inscribed on a nearby crate caught his attention. His eyes widened to a near painful degree.
"Okay this place is rigged to blow, everybody out!"
Thankfully he looked up and saw, not only his agents making their way out of the building, but the paramedics were mere feet away.
"Go." Booth tried one last time, but Joseph's mouth twisted into a rueful grin.
"And let you get all the glory? Not on your life." Then he pried Booth's bloodstained hand off his collar and stepped back, allowing the young paramedics to hastily load Booth onto a stretcher and then make a run for the door.
On this bed I lay
Losing everything
I can see my life passing me by
Was it all too much
Or just not enough
Wake me up, I'm living a nightmare
Brennan skidded to a stop behind the majority of the emergency vehicles, silently thanking her lucky stars that she knew how to drive a stick. Getting out of the Ferrari, she weaved in and out of the black SUVs and town cars toward the warehouse. Obviously the FBI had come to the same conclusion she and her squints had regarding Booth's whereabouts.
She was a little confused, however, to see the mad rush of men and women heading out of the warehouse instead of in, she halted as a few ran past her.
"Where's Booth?" She called out. Instead of an answer, a well-meaning agent grabbed her arm, attempting to pull her toward the cars.
"What are you doing? Let me go!" She wrenched her arm free and staggered backwards,m nearly tripping in her high heels.
"Please Dr. Brennan, they think there might be a-"
He didn't finish. Her back was turned so she didn't see the warehouse fly apart in every direction in a fiery explosion that knocked everyone off their feet. The shockwave set off several car alarms, broke every window in the warehouse. The back wall of the warehouse which faced a cornfield, collapsed and everyone was coated with dust and soot.
Paying no attention to the ringing in her ears, Brennan rolled off her stomach as quickly as she could and sat up. Shielding her eyes, she squinted past the small fires that had lit up all around and searched the chaos for her partner.
I will not die, I'll wait here for you
I feel alive, when you're beside me
I will not die, I'll wait here for you
In my time of dying
The hair stood up on the back of Joseph's neck as they crossed the threshold of the warehouse doors and on instinct, he dove for the release lever on the paramedic's stretcher, causing it to fold to the ground and then rolled on top of Booth's battered body.
Joseph closed his eyes and waited. At first he didn't think anything had happened. But then he realized it was because his hearing was gone. He raised his head just long enough to see a group of agents rushing toward them and he prayed they would get Booth to safety, before he himself passed out.
Brennan nearly cried in relief when she saw two agents running a stretcher toward them. She was on her feet in moments and running to them.
"Oh my god." She breathed, seeing Booth's shirt was soaked with blood and a couple of medics frantically trying to bandage his head.
A nearby agent looked up at her. "Yeah, he's in bad shape, but he'd be a whole lot worse if Joseph hadn't shielded him from the blast." He motioned toward a portly man walking behind them, leaning heavily on a younger agent and shaking his head repeatedly, obviously suffering from temperary hearing loss.
Overcome, overwhelmed and overworked, she hardly thought twice when she turned and threw her arms around the man, unforeseen tears slipping out of her eyes.
"Thank you." She whispered, in a voice that was taught with fear and relief.
The agent smiled and gave her a quick squeeze. "I think you better go with him, he's likely to try and break himself out of the hospital if someone isn't there to stop him."
Brennan smiled at him one last time and then climbed inside the ambulance, scooting up close to Booth's head.
I will not die, I'll wait here for you
I feel alive, when you're beside me
I will not die, I'll wait here for you
In my time of dying
Her eyes traced his body from head to toe, silently cataloging the injuries she believed him to have sustained and then calculating a probability of survival, all with a level of detachment that sent shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes when they cut open his shirt to reveal the gaping, bleeding hole in his upper abdomen and began a sequence of deep breaths, trying to regain her equilibrium when it seemed the ambulance was doing donuts in a parking lot.
I will not die, I'll wait here for you
She felt a squeeze on her hand and opened her eyes. She looked down and saw her hand was laced tightly with Booths. She wondered when that had happened.
I feel alive, when you're beside me
Her eyes traveled up to his face and, with great effort, Booth opened his and looked at her.
I will not die, I'll wait here for you
"You look good," he whispered because it was all he could do. She self-conciously smoothed her short skirt.
"You don't," she squeezed his hand "but we'll fix that," she whispered because anything louder would have made her tears fall.
The paramedic thought they'd both gone crazy when they grinned at one another, and their smiles didn't slip the whole way to the hospital.
It's not my time of dying
Many many thanks to ALL readers, even the shy ones.(I've got near 40 chapters to read in my inbox so I'm out here (at work) writing an angsty songfic...what's wrong with me??)