"Zack...Zack can you still hear me?"
"Doctor Brennan, I'm sorry."
Zack realized that the words leaving his mouth were slurred and most likely unrecognizable, but he had to try. He felt a cool hand rest on his cheek and caught the strong stench of nail polish.
"Angela," he thought.
"What happened," he heard her say. "He's burning up!"
"I'm not sure. He appeared to be fine. I had only turned my back for a moment to call Hodgins when..."
Though his eyes were closed, he could feel his friends staringat him and suddenlyfelt self-conscious.
"Yes, the Jeffersonian," another, deeper voice sounded in Zacks'shead.
"The intern must be calling 911," Zack thought. "What was his name again? Walter? Warren? It doesn't matter," Zack decided as pain made thinking an excruciating process. He must have cried out unententionally, because he felt Angela's hand against his face once more. This time, it brushed his hair out of his eyes and fought against the soaking strandsthat clung to his sticky forehead.
"It's okay, Sweetie, hang on. Help's coming. Cam is outside waiting for the ambulance."
"She did the same thing last time," Zack thought, remembering the explosion almost a decade ago. He remembers lying onthe floor in shock, his hands stripped of their flesh, as Cam handed the burn kit to Dr. Brennan. The next time he saw her was briefly when sheled the paramedics to him.
Zack felt a rush of guilt. He regrets his time with the Gormogon more than anything else. He hurt innocent strangers, his friends, himself, and for what, for logic? Rationality? He'd had timeto think in the Loony Bin. There wasn't much else to do in there. He had thought about each one of his friends, what he had done to them.
His memories were interrupted by searing pain. Someone was applying pressure to his abdomen.
"Zack, it's Agent Booth. Can you hear me? Can you tell me if this hurts, Zack?"
Zack tried to answer, but to no avail. He couldn't move. The only thingstillfunctioning correctlywas hismind andit only enabled his thoughts to continue plaguing him.
"Zack? Come on, buddy. Wakeup, Zack!"
"Hodgins...He wasn't supposed to come in today."
"He's unresponsive, Dr. Hodgins. I believe he's unconscious."
Zack heard Hodgins let out a shaky breath.
"Zack, I need to know what you took!"
"What're you talking about, Hodgins," came Booth's stern voice.
"The set of poisonous elements that Ikeep in my lab at home where tampered with when I woke up this morning. Somebody used them while I was asleep."
Another rush of guilt. He had hoped Hodgins wouldn't notice.
"You think Zack used them," Booth asked.
"We got into an argument last night."
Hodgins voice sounded strained and panicked.
"I told him I wished the explosion had killed him! I didn't realize he would take it to heart!"
"He takes everything to heart," Brennan snapped angrily at the distressed scientist.
Zack could now hear the sirens in the distance.
"They aren't going to make it in time," he noted.
Hodgin's rough, callused hand on his shoulder jerked him back toreality.
"Zack, I didn't mean it, buddy! I didn't mean it! Wake up, please! Tell me what you took!"
Zack's heart began to ache. But whether itwas from the poison or the emotional apology of his best friend,he didn't know.
"I've made a mistake," he realized, trying to remain calm and logical, but it was too late. He could feel his body shutting down. "I have to tell Hodgins I'm sorry," he thought. But he suddenly felt dizzy and nauseous, like right before he passed out.
"Wake up, Zack," he told himself. "Wake up."
His eyes were heavy and he lacked the strength to continue, but he pressed on, concentrating all of his dwindling energy into opening his eyes. Finally, his eyelids fluttered and he found himself blinking into the bright lights of the lab that shone down harshly.
"Zack!"
There was a mix of loud voices as his friends all spoke to him at once, but Zack only concentrated on Hodgins.
"I'm sorry," Zack slurred.
"Hey, hey, don't speak. You're okay. You're going to be fine. Just stay with me, buddy. We're all here foryou."
Zack blinked into the faces of his friends. At Angela and Dr. Brennan, who each held one of his hands. At Booth, who's harsh voice had softened with years. Zack hadn't noticed that before. And Hodgins, his best friend, who leaned over him, a hand on his shoulder, begging him not to die. He wished he could tell them how much he cared, but in the corner of his eye, he saw the bright red uniforms of the paramedics, jogging toward him.
"Zack, stay with me," Hodgins spoke desperately, but his voice sounded distant and his worried features were fading.
Zack's head throbbed and the lab spunaround him. "What have I done," he thought. Then the room faded to black in a swirl of dull color.