Title: Holes
Fandom: Bones
Summary: Ironically, it seemed that the hole in his heart had left one in hers as well.
Warnings: character death
Rating: PG - PG-13 (for the angst)
Pairings/Characters: Brennan, Booth, hinting at B/B ship if you squint
Length: 220 words
Genres: angst
A/N: So, recently, I had the severe misfortune of stumbling across some serious bashing on my just-for-fun, spur of the moment insanity fic "Bye-Bye Sully", and unfortunately I read through the whole thing. I've never claimed to be a humor writer. I personally think I'm horribly humorless most of the time. I rarely even take a stab at humor, and it's even rarer that I do something OOC, because pegging characters is my knack. But I let myself have a little guilty fun, and apparently I'm not allowed to have that without somebody bashing me. And I find it sad that people want to judge me for one fic (out of nearly 100) that I wrote and they chose to read.
Because the bashing threw me into a spiral of depression and tears (I was feeling rather suckish today anyways), I felt the need to channel my feelings into something. Of course, it went into something I know I'm actually good at: angst. And oddly, I feel like I'm having to prove myself with it. But, you know, to hell with everybody else. I like it.
Holes
Ironically, it seemed that the hole in his heart had left one in hers as well.
She had sat by his side as the blood rapidly leaked from the bullet hole in his chest and through her fingers. As the paramedics looked at the wound and announced that it had gone through his heart and he was fading fast.
She didn't hear them.
In that moment, all she noticed was him, laboring to breathe, and the irrational notion in her mind that she had to save him somehow. She did all she could—which was very little—and the paramedics did what they could too—which was only slightly more—but none of them could do anything to help him.
His heart stopped.
And so did hers.
The days that followed, she wandered numbly around, feeling nothing. She'd been accused of having no heart before, but now she felt like it was true. Felt like hers had been ripped out of her chest.
At his funeral, one of her hands kept absently coming up to feel the skin over her heart. It was soft and smooth, as usual, but it wasn't what she expected. She expected to feel the hole, or at least a scar.
Physically, it wasn't there.
Emotionally, she felt it as clearly as if it was.
End
A/N 2: Yes, I do realize I attempted to make up for killing Sully by killing Booth. Gonna bash me for that too?