Just a really quick drabble in honor of the season 5 premiere...by the way, it was absolutely fantastic... :D
XXX
There was a horrible moment that hovered suspended like a sword hanging by a hair before the thread snapped and she realized just how vulnerable she'd left her arm. The doctor, fear and rage and terror reflected in his demented eyes, lunged at her with the knife.
She cried out. Then a bang - the door flew open, a shot, and the doctor fell, like the sword whose thread has broken.
She vaguely remembered stumbling back to the wall, letting it support her only to find that she couldn't even use it as a prop. She slid down, shock slackening her muscles, but not slowing her heart rate or calming her erratic breathing.
Suddenly Booth's face was right next to her, bracing her. She took in this information, still staring at the doctor, who was unmoving, most likely dead. She felt her partner kneeling next to her, his presence a warmth and a security while she was mildly interested to note in the back of her mind a nagging wetness beginning to spread from her arm. Still, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the sprawled figure who had just tried to kill her.
"Bones - all right?"
"Yeah," she heard herself reply, but she couldn't feel her lips moving. "I'm fine, I'm okay..." He said something she didn't register, and then sensed a sudden change in demeanor, like a drop in temperature or a rise in pressure.
"Bones. Your arm." His voice sounded strange, quiet and observant, with only the tiniest hint of growing worry. She looked down, and felt her breath coming even quicker. A knife was sticking out of her arm. And there was - oh, oh God - blood. He said something else, something she didn't hear, for she had already wrapped her fingers clumsily around the slick knife and pulled it out just as Booth exclaimed, "No, don't pull it out, don't touch that, Bones- !"
The knife slipped out of her hand and clattered to the floor with an almost musical clatter. She became aware that she was hyperventilating, and this fact didn't affect her at all, strangely. Then pain flared in her arm, and with it came the too-little-too-late realization that she shouldn't have pulled the knife out, that now the blood would really start coming. Pressure. She needed to put pressure on the wound. She twisted, trying to sit up.
"Easy! I've got you," Booth said quickly, tightening his grip, and putting his hand on the wound, squeezing it. She felt unwelcome panic rear its ugly head, along with a burning and stinging in her eyes and throat.
"He tried to kill me," she whisper-croaked, still trying to sit up, to regain control over herself. She took a suddering gasp of air that did nothing to diminish her growing terror.
"All right, all right - all right..." Booth said, perhaps to her, perhaps to himself, under his breath. He seemed to be sizing up the damage and was holding her tighter and tighter.
"Thank you," she thought she said, hoped she said. He didn't respond, but tucked his chin on top of her head.
"The ambulance is on the way - "
"Put pressure on the wound," she interrupted, in so much pain - when did her arm start throbbing, start burning? - that she didn't care about the tremor laced finely in her voice. She did, however, care about being left alone, for the terror of abandonment had irrationally been triggered by the familiarity of the situation. Only this time it was she who was on the floor bleeding, fighting the black fraying at the edge of her vision, and Booth who hovered above her, little hints of fear becoming more and more sharp in his eyes.
"C'mon - C'MON BOOTH, stay with me - "
She realized her hand had found his arm and now gripped it like a lifeline.
"I got it," Booth said calmly, sounding almost confident, "I got it. Just relax."
At this, she almost laughed, despite her terror, or perhaps to spite it. Relaxing had never been her strength. Instead of this small rebellion fortifying her, however, the stinging in her eyes doubled, and she felt her face crumple. Oh, oh God.
"Just trust me, all right?," he whispered, and then, fiercely, "I'll take care of you, shh, I've got you, breathe, I'll take care of you, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere " - she burrowed her head into his chest, willing it to be true - "I've got you." He kissed her on the top of her head firmly, protectively, almost possessively. "I've got you, baby."