I have serious issues. I'm starting ANOTHER story. Wow. As if I had enough time for the other three as it was. Okay, well I hope you enjoy this and I really really hope I update often enough to keep everyone happy.
I do not own Bones.
Don't think.
Don't let any fears form.
Just pace.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Steady. A steady rhythm... just stay steady...
He felt their gazes on him, although they looked away whenever he raised his eyes or even made a movement of his head that might faintly suggest he was going to glance in their direction... catch them staring. But why shouldn't they stare? They had every right.
A quick flicker of the eyes towards the opening... no movement. He turned back and made his way across once more. An unsteady hand ran through his unkempt hair... fingers shaking so much that they barely capture any strands between them as they went. It didn't matter though.
He slowed his pace, let his feet fall at a simple rate... attempting to lower his pulse even slightly. He didn't want to think, didn't want to feel... but somehow it was happening anyways. He was trying to process, to understand.
Where was she?
Another penetrating stare at that god damned door. A glare towards the small group that was all watching him apprehensively... just for good measure. He hated taking anger out on them, but who else was he going to release it upon? Unless another nurse came along. And another nurse had better come along pretty soon. Or a freaking doctor, for once. Someone, anyone, had better update them really soon.
Or he might just go insane.
Not that he wasn't already there anyways.
"She's strong," a soft whisper broke through his shell. His head snapped up and he stopped moving completely, eyes locked with the suddenly fearful dark depths of he woman in the chair on the end of the row. She shrank away slightly, and he could almost see his smoldering look reflecting back at him in her gaze. He looked away quickly, not feeling bad for scaring her, but more realizing that he, the normal him, would have felt in such a way. At the moment he didn't really care about much, though, and he hated how much that was showing. After all, what was he supposed to do if...
No.
He started pacing again, grinding his teeth together. Everyone pretended the woman had not spoken, although he noticed that the man beside her gently squeezed her hand. She shot him a slightly grateful look, although it was barely distinguishable due to the fact that tears had sprung up in her eyes.
He looked away, choosing to pretend, once more, that they were not there.
Footsteps. Other than his own. Eyes raised slowly, and then hardened once more as the nurse strode past and another group of anxious people leapt to their feet. He didn't listen to what they were told... but he could almost feel the relief in the air, feel the way it contrasted his own mood as though someone had just laughed at a funeral. The others all averted their eyes, from both him and the other people.
A man on the other side of the room, a small child with wide eyes next to him, stared forlornly at the people, who were now relaxing and hugging each other, with an almost accusing stare. The wrinkles on his forehead deepened, and then he simply burst into tears. The child just watched, far too confused and young to form a response of any kind.
He didn't want to know their story. He only wanted to be able to continue his own from where it now sat, the paper lying dangerously close to the bonfire of fear and the pen nearly consumed by it already. Would he ever be able to continue it?
"Maybe you should sit down," a voice suggested hesitantly.
He ignored it.
"I don't think this is the time for psychological suggestions, Sweets," a voice cautioned the first one.
He ignored that one too.
"I'm just as worried as any of you," Sweets went on, though. "I'm trying to help... as a friend. Not as a therapist."
He shot the young man a glare that shut him up.
"Dude, you are not as worried as him. Keep your trap shut." It was whispered, but he picked up on it anyways. He ground his teeth together tighter.
"I'll go... for another coffee run," said the only person who had yet to speak.
"Good idea. I could use some; how about you, Angie?"
"Yeah... thanks, Cam," she mumbled, brushing at her eyes.
Cam nodded assertively, shot him a concerned look, and then briskly made her way up the hall. It looked like she was nearly running, and he couldn't blame her. A part of him was desperate to just escape as well, and if most of him hadn't been so helplessly concerned he would have given in to the urge to follow his body's instincts and taken off for some fresh air ages ago. But he could not leave. There was no option like that for him. Not when this was his fault. Not even if it hadn't been.
He had to know.
She had to be alright.
They had to get through this.
He ran both hands over his face again, attempting to... he didn't even know what anymore. Comfort himself? Relax? Find some sort of solace? Yeah right.
The pacing started up again.
The ticking of the clock on the wall fell into an un-jointed rhythm with his footsteps, and he latched on to it, clinging desperately to the task of stepping on every off-beat.
Step.
Tick.
Step.
Tick.
Step.
Tick.
He wasn't sure how long he managed to cling to his sanity while just keeping it up, but eventually the steady clicking of heels interrupted his pattern, and Cam reappeared with a tray of coffee cups. The others each took one, and she hesitantly sat down, raising an eyebrow at him as she tilted the tray slightly in his direction.
He almost took the extra cup. Almost. But then he turned to continue pacing in the opposite direction. When he came back the tray had been moved to the table, sitting on top of the messy pile of health magazines with the lone coffee cup remaining. The row of people sipped from their steaming drinks.
He went back to ignoring them, but the clock had lost its appeal.
Normal pacing.
Unhealthy pacing.
The fear was chasing at his heels, and he knew that he was walking quicker with every turn-about he made, but he didn't care.
"Brennan?" a calm voice spoke. They all were immediately at attention, eyes fixed on her. "You're the family and friends of Temperance Brennan?"
"Doctor," he corrected, the first word he'd said in well over an hour. "Doctor Temperance Brennan."
The woman eyed him nervously before she turned her immediate attention to Angela and the others, who were probably much less intimidating to approach.
"I'm very sorry," she started out, but she didn't have a chance to get any further.
"I want to see her," he said. The words were hard and cold. Not a trace of pleading or desperation within them. Just a firm statement. One that offered no opposition.
"I'm... I'm sorry, sir. Miss- Dr. Brennan... did not make it through surgery. We did absolutely everything we could."
"No."
He received another wary look, and a few sad ones from the people who actually knew him and were not preoccupied with their own suffering at the moment.
"Sir, perhaps you should... sit down."
"I want. To see her," he ground out through tightly clenched teeth. He pulled aside his jacket and exposed the FBI badge. "That's my partner. I need to see her."
The flustered nurse's eyes flitted from face to face, looking for help anywhere she might find it.
"Just let him see her," Angela suggested softly, somehow managing to get the words out through the barrage of tears that were sliding down her face.
The nurse hesitated and then bobbed her head in one quick nod. "Very... very well. Just... follow me, sir..."
He noticed that a security guard followed behind them after a motion from the nurse, but he didn't care. Nothing could upset him anymore.
A door was opened. He couldn't even really remember how they'd gotten there, only that they had. His feet barely registered movement anymore, they'd been stepping one after the other so much that day.
The room was mostly empty, except for an assistant who was cleaning and a sheet covering a still form on the operating table. The assistant glanced up in alarm, but upon seeing the nurse in the doorway he went back to his task, staying clear of his path.
He tried to ignore the fact that it was blood which the man was cleaning up. Her blood.
He wasn't so foolish as to wish mass suffering upon himself. He pulled back the sheet just enough to see her face and the beginning slope of her shoulders. He did not want to see the rest. He didn't want to see her like this, remember her like this.
But he just needed to see her face.
He let a hand reach out hesitantly. His fingers shook, not quite touching her skin for a long moment before he managed to lower them down to stroke the side of her cheek. He drew in a sharp intake of breath as he made the contact... her face was cold. Already icy. His eyes shut, and he took a moment to master himself and work up the courage to open them again, to look once more at her still features.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
Hands rested on the edge of the table as he slumped his head forward, breathing in rapidly as he tried to get enough air.
"This was my fault," he choked out.
It did not matter that there were other people close enough to hear him.
"It was all because of me."
The tears, the ones that he'd been keeping so carefully in check for so long... they spilled over, and a sob caught itself in his throat. Another deep breath to steady himself.
"You deserved so much better than me." He shook his head. "And I never deserved you."
The other people in the room didn't speak a word. He could tell they were trying not to listen... but he didn't feel remotely grateful. They still didn't matter.
Gently, he lifted the sheet and carefully pulled it over her head again, covering her completely.
Then he turned and made his way towards the door. "Thank you," he murmured to the nurse, not meeting her slightly startled eyes as he went past and back up the hall. Somehow he knew his feet would lead him back to the waiting room. Not that he was looking forward to what he'd find there.
Not that he'd be looking forward to much anymore.
After all, his world had just ended, died along with her.
And if she'd never known him at all... she'd still be safe and alive. And probably a lot happier than he could ever have made her.
Yes, I'm terribly mean. Guess you'll have to wait for more to see what I have planned for this one.
I would absolutely love some feedback on what you think so far :)