Disclaimer: Not mine, all to Fox etc etc, as usual. Spoilers involved for those who did not see "The Verdict in the Story", better not read this.
Brain and Heart
It all happened so fast. Too fast.
I never felt that before. I always considered things to be slower than they should be. I never felt overwhelmed, lesser cornered. This is not rational. Why does it feel as though I cannot breathe? There is enough air in here, isn't there? I have what I wanted. I did what I had to do. Anthropologically, this is a simple manifestation of my instinct of survival. Why should I feel so... so weird. And why am I using such an approximative word? A euphemism. There should be a word defining precisely what I am feeling. Why aren't there words to put on things like that?
She was sitting at a table at Wong Fu's surrounded by what her father had called "her families". They were all there. There were no enemies, no battles lost or won, they were all there to rejoice. And it made no sense to her. How could it make any sense to someone needing such precision in her life? Seeing her father laughing with Caroline, her brother discussing with Sweets, she failed to understand how life could produce such an anomaly. It appeared even Zack was not sharing her anguish, enjoying a conversation with Clark about his very personal tricks. Was she the only one unable to have a good time?
Has the world fallen apart? Is this what Booth likes to call the "Apocalypse" looks like? I don't understand, and I hate it when I don't understand, thus I hate this instant. Inductive logic, thank God this still holds some sense. I need logic.
And he saw it, sitting there, at the other side of the table. Unaware of anyone's presence but hers, he remained silent, nodding now and then when questioned, while observing her. Wondering if he was the only one seeing her perplexity. Her discomfort. When she looked at him he would give her the warmest smile he could, his eyes pleading her to speak her mind to him, to free herself like always. But then she just turned her gaze, avoiding further confrontation. These past few days had been made of much too painful confrontations. She was so tired of it.
I need air. I need, air. Would it be rude for me to leave the table? They all seem to have such a good time, I would ruin the mood. I might say I need to go to the bathroom... But they will see me exit through the front door. I want to leave. I want some time, alone, to think. I need to think.
She got up. It was like an imperative, more than a need, it seemed vital for her to isolate herself. Thinking, her personal addiction. Brain storming, mind working, she had to put names, words on what was happening to her. And she could not do it there, sitting at a table surrounded by people incomprehensibly joyful.
'Excuse me.'
Everything froze. They all stared at her with quizzical looks, to which she answered with a shy smile, making her way through the tables. Then, as though he was the only one holding the keys to this mystery, all eyes turned to Booth.
What? They truly think I am the only one... Hell, of course I am.
He smiled, wiped his mouth with his napkin before excusing himself. He had no idea of what he would say, much less if she would want to hear it. But he had to go to her. It was like an imperative, more than a need, it seemed vital for him to see her, to hold her. And it seemed it was everyone else's opinion as well.
He watched Max before exiting, silently asking for his permission. He could tell from his look that Max considered he had given him permission a long time before that instant.
Everything goes fast, always.
She was standing on the sidewalk, watching people walk, couples holding hands, lights on the other side of the street, laughs, life. Everything moving, coming and going in a never-ending dance. And she was standing still. Almost dizzy at this display of vivacity. Where could she find a place to think? Somewhere with nothing but silence, somewhere where she would feel at home.
Maybe I should go home. I wish I could. The Jeffersonian is...
She laughed. Booth. He had told her that the lab was her house of reason. This phrase could not have been more accurate than tonight. She would have given anything to lock herself in her office, closing her eyes to process the recent events. How could she properly do that here?
I let myself slip. I slipped. I gave up on logic, on rationality. That's the truth of it. I stepped into this crowd, and I can't extract myself from it now. How could I? I can't live like this. I need references. I want my references back.
She felt a hand on her back. Turning around she saw Booth. No word, no thought given to it, she found herself in his arms. It was the second time this day, and for the second time she found herself unable to explain how or why it seemed that all her pain was fading away at his touch. Was it his scent? His soft caresses? His breath in her hair? What were the markers? She did not know but suddenly she could breathe. It was easy, it was clear. She could think.
End...