My first Bones fan fic I know i should be writing others, but Bones is my current obsession of the second so, bear with me. lol BOOTH/BRENNAN FTW!!
hope you like it. wif luv XOXOXOXO my reviewers
It had been a week. Brennan sifted through yet another Limbo case disinterested. Her lack of excitement about these cases was bothering her immensely. Ever since Booth had been shot she'd seen bones as exactly what they were, the remains of someone who'd died. Who was dead. Who wasn't coming back. And that reality had sunk in far more slowly then she could have ever imagined it would.
Angela had told her, a tearful confession in her office. Just alerted by the bureau who ran the private hospital they hadn't let Brennan go to. Ridiculous. She'd never heard of it before, and it sounded extremely fishy. But a loud impassioned argument later and a personal armed escort off the FBI premises later, she'd conceded defeat and made do with infrequent updates on his condition. The news had come as a complete shock, since rumor was, Booth was fine, recuperating, an outpatient. When those words had left Angela's lips she'd felt like half of her had been painfully sliced off and trodden on, never to be sewn back on, even as bruised up as it was.
She hadn't cried. Nothing seemed real anymore. The numbness slowly seeping into her body, into her own bones made her feel less then alive. She'd never felt such sadness in her entire time living. Angela's hug…nothing. The ringing in her ears that turned to dizziness…nothing. The sound of Angela's voice coaxing her to sit down, nothing. And the nauseating high one feels just before one faints…
She hadn't, thank goodness but the pressure on her ears and the unshed tears forming in her heart had very much led her to believe she was about to. Fainting over booth. Who'd ever heard of such a thing? It had to be a lie, something was terribly wrong. She wouldn't accept it. She refused to believe any of it until she saw his body, cold and lifeless lying right in front of her. She sat motionless, trying to picture the scene, his warm cheek now cold with rigor mortis. The comforting hands that had once held her own, lifted her chin up when she'd been down, led her with a single finger touch to the small of her back where he wanted her to go, bent into each other around a fancy cross to show his religion. Too bad his God hadn't been around to keep him from getting himself shot, she thought.
Finally, Angela left, her pretty face swollen with tears that she'd cried silently against Brennan's shoulder. Her blouse was wet there, but she didn't really care. She wrapped up the case she'd been working on for the night, shut off her office lights and started towards the parking lot. A nice hot shower was what she needed right now. To wash away the lies…Before she made it past her office doors however, Hodgins came up to her.
"Listen, Dr. Brennan I-"
"You're sorry for my loss and hope I'm all right. I expect I'll be hearing that a lot for a while. Don't know why people bother. He was just my partner."
She brushed past the curly haired squint with not so much as a glance back. Facing the inner turmoil of emotions by herself had led her to shut everything else off. Hodgins knew better then to pursue the matter so he simply went back to hurrying Angela up so they could go to his place for a movie and some fun.
Brennan passed Sweets office with a heavy swish. The young psychologist looked up from his paperwork and noted the evidently blank look on Brenna's face as she passed.
Shock induced by the traumatic news is only commonplace for one of which your affections have found satisfying. It conveys a plain image of great care, deep seated bonds and love in the theoretical definition. Giving a life for a loved one is noble, but is it really? Leaving behind the one saved with nothing to live for. One could debate if this is worse then death to the two lovers. Will extrapolate further in coming days.
He typed furiously into a word document titled "The Lion and the Lamb" His secret case study on the interactions between Brennan and Booth was nearly 40 pages long already with many more to go. He pushed a piece of paper further into his top desk drawer, with it pushing away his guilt. It had a very familiar name printed at the top under the introductory paragraph explaining the meaning of the list, the ones Booth wanted notified of his pseudo-funeral. Dr. Temperence Brennan, forensic anthropologist of the Jeffersonian. (ASAP) Her name and title were underlined twice as long as being the only name on the list in red ink. Booth had made it very clear she was to be told first. But of course that would never do. Sweets smiled to himself and continued working.
The car sat where she'd left it in parking lot A. she clicked it open, threw her bag in the back and turned the ignition.
As she drove out into the dark night, she felt them bubble up inside her like heartburn. Searing the backs of her eyeballs and blurring her vision. She swerved. A car honked loudly, jerking her head up. Everything blurred with them…she couldn't see anything…
She managed to pull over just as a loud, body-racking sob left her body in a great burst of air and sound. Tears gushed like a newly released river from her eyes down her pale cheeks. Her blue/green eyes distorted with water, face quickly swelling from the emotion. An agonized cry. Another one. She left her hands on the steering wheel, not even bothering to wipe away the tears as they slid down her neck into her blouse, towards her heart. Strange sounds, like an animal wounded or dying. Such sounds had never left her body before. Had never been permitted to be released. Always kept locked away. Always.
She banged the window with a closed fist. Frustration, bitterness, guilt, anger and grief overwhelmed her small frame. She felt like she'd lost herself within those emotions, no longer herself but just raw passion and hurt. Something ripped apart inside, never to be replaced.
"Booth…Oh, God Booth no! No, no…" she moaned softly, her head in her hands. They were shaking.
It was an hour before she was able to muster up the strength to put the car in drive and get home. It was all she could do to face this empty house alone. His voice was everywhere. She raced to the shower, took a 2 hour hot bath and came out feeling hydrated, but neither refreshed or renewed.
Unsure of what to do, since she couldn't possibly sleep after that episode, she flopped on the couch with a new case file.
Gunshot victim. Found in a bog out by West Point. Bullet scraped a rib.
Slapping the folder shut she let it fall to the floor, along with her hand.
Why, Temperance, Why in HELL did you cry over that petty, chauvinistic, frustrating and annoyingly smug idiot?
Why, why, why does your heart feel like it was torn into a million little pieces? You can't even technically feel your heart! How can it be torn into microscopic chum?
All because of those two words.
He's dead.
He's gone.
He died.
It's done.
It's over.
Sweets was right. That know-it-all little thing was right. But he couldn't be. Booth was my friend. My best friend. He wasn't always. Angela used to be my best friend. When did that change? When did Seeley Booth come to mean so much to me?
You know why.
I do…which makes all this ten times harder to accept and move on.
You're an adult, Temperance, you can't let the death of one person ruin your life. You're going to go to work tomorrow as if nothing is wrong. They all look up to you. Angela, Jack, Zach, even Cam sometimes. You can't fall apart on them now. You cannot for any reason let them know…
"I loved him."
Saying it aloud to nobody made it feel real at least. Less fairytale and more concrete fact.
"I loved him." this time she said it a bit louder, with feeling, her voice cracking with emotion.
She picked up the phone, dialed his cell by heart. Let it ring into the message she'd heard him record once, not so long ago in the hallway outside her office.
"Hey, it's Agent Booth here. If you've got anything relevant to say I suggest saying it after this beeping noise or just hang up and leave me the hell alone. Have a lovely day."
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
Her heart racing, Brennan hung up. Hearing his voice made a cold shiver run up her spine, like she'd seen a ghost.
She didn't believe in ghosts. What the hell?
Booth's death had obviously caused severe psychological issues. The more she realized this the more she berated herself for letting him become that important to her. So important that she was completely unhinged without him, doubting principles she'd argued steadfastly against while he'd been alive.
Alive…
Booth hadn't saved her life.
He'd ruined it.
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She swung back with her arm. What was she doing?
WHACK
Her fist connected solidly with his nose, sending him reeling backwards.
Everyone gathered gave a collective gasp.
Brennan gave a self-satisfied nod and stalked off as quickly as she was able to.
Pure, unparalleled relief filled her.
"Bastard…" she murmured, oddly affectionately, smiling as she got back into her car.
Was he in for it later, once she'd cooled off some.
"What's her problem?" Booth asked, still rubbing his nose and cheek and jaw, all sore from the force of her blow.
"Do you honestly have to ask?" Angela sighed.