If Every Moment Could Have You In It
What she couldn't grasp is why she felt like her whole world had suddenly narrowed so drastically until there was only just enough space left for one person to fit.
Chapter: 1/1 (one-shot, may add more to it later)
Pairings: Brennan/Booth; Squints make an appearance too
Word Count: 689
A/N: Major Major MAJOR spoilers for 4x26, The End in the Beginning. This is my first Bones contribution to the site. I'd love some feedback *coughreviewscough* Anyway, happy reading and enjoy!
Stole a look away from your eyes
Stole a look and finally paid your price
Tethered fresh, trampled thoughts, look for me
Look at this face, everywhere there's new mistakes
And underneath it all, takes its toll, grudgingly
But with you in here, everything seems OK
- Neverending White Lights, "I Hope Your Heart Runs Empty"
Brennan leaves the OR feeling very detached, numbly ripping off the gloves and hair cap the surgeons had given her. She tangles her hands in her hair, unsure if she is attempting to pull out her hair or run her fingers through her locks comfortingly, soothingly. She scoffs. It wouldn't be the first time she's been confused.
She'd thought she could beat it.
She'd already fought the emotion and kept it at bay with rational thinking time and time again (although she'd never admit it to another living soul, she'd almost tasted defeat recently when they'd learned that the Gravedigger had taken him and oh God, she'd never felt so helpless, so––). Yes, she had won multiple battles, but now she realizes that she lost the war.
The surgery had been the last stand.
As the machines whined and screeched, alerting to danger, Brennan found that she couldn't understand why. Obviously she acknowledged and understood that the harsh and shrill beeping alerted to the fact Booth was experiencing some adverse reaction to something, causing something else to happen, leading to the increase in heart rate (even though she'd listened to the surgeon, she couldn't remember what he'd said, couldn't focus). But what she couldn't grasp is why she felt like her whole world had suddenly narrowed until there was only just enough space left for one person to fit.
The very person whose life was in jeopardy.
Doctors move quickly, with precision and in synchronization, to unknowingly save what's left of her world.
"It's not about me."
If there's one thing Brennan hates more than not being able to understand, it's being wrong. And she's never been more wrong about anything in her life.
Angela is the first one on her feet when Brennan walks into the waiting room. Brennan pauses for a moment and takes in her companions' appearances. Sweets looks every bit as young as Booth (her heart gives an unexpectedly painful twinge at this) teases him for looking; his eyes are wide with fear and tinged with red. Hodgins looks like he will not dare to believe that there is any good news. Cam tries but fails to hide the worry in her eyes and the dried tears on her cheeks.
However, it's Angela's expression that Brennan finds the most heartbreaking. Her eyes are filled with the understanding that Brennan herself still cannot deal with. Perhaps the reason why Brennan finds Angela's appearance the most pathetic is because she probably has the same expression on her own face.
"Well?" Angela prompts after a moment. "How is he?"
"The surgery itself was a success," she hears herself say. "The tumor was successfully removed."
"…Sweetie, how is Booth?" Angela asks again, more gently this time.
Brennan's throat constricts uncontrollably and she cannot completely muffle the small sob that escapes her lips. "He…he experienced an adverse reaction to the anesthesia administered during the operation. The doctors aren't sure of the full extent of the damage yet. We won't know how…we won't know how bad things may be until he wakes up."
Angela lets out a noise that is caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob. Cam screws her eyes shut as though the words dealt her a physical blow. Hodgins rubs a hand tiredly across his face. Sweets mutters something about needing coffee and stalks off to find somewhere private to gather his thoughts.
"The doctors are confident that he will make a full recovery, despite the uncertainty of the damage…" She manages to continue on in a steady, empirical voice to explain the prognosis of Booth's recovery, but she doesn't know how she does it. Right now, she needs to keep talking, even though all she feels like doing is disappearing, vanishing into thin air. While she knows that this is both irrational and impossible, for reasons beyond her comprehension, she cannot help but wish for it to come true.
Funny, how useless her most powerful weapon – rationality – is during the time she needs it most. It has left her vulnerable and alone with the truth she'd been avoiding for so long.
Emotion has won the war, and it is not taking any prisoners.