Hello, all… so, first off, I don't own Bones. If I did, Vincent wouldn't have been killed off the show. xD This is just a short one-shot that I decided to write in memory of our favourite intern, Vincent Nigel-Murray. Reviews and feedback are always greatly appreciated! :D
The shrill ring of a cell phone disturbed the painfully silent air of the lab platform, pulling me back in to focus on the decomposing corpse that lay on the examination table before me. Booth fished for his phone inside his pocket, eventually yanking out the small device to glance at the screen.
"Here, squint, answer this. It's Brodsky, I need to get a trace on the call." Before I could answer, he tossed the still ringing phone into my hands. In bright, digital letters, the screen read 'Jacob Brodsky'. I gulped down the apprehensive knot that had formed in my throat, muttering a short "okay" in response to Booth's order before flipping open the phone to hold it to my ear.
"Hel-Hello?" I stuttered, my breathing jagged while I listened for a response. Not a word came from the other line; during the few nanoseconds of heavy, nearly tangible silence, Dr. Brennan simply stared intensely at my trembling hand while Booth worked furiously in an attempt to trace the call. I glanced at Dr. Brennan for a moment, waiting with ominous dread for some sort of oncoming horror.
It all happened very fast then.
The phone line instantly went dead, the dial tone muffled by the sound of glass shattering into a million razor-sharp pieces. Each one fell to the floor with a crash or a clink, but the concern of broken glass went unnoticed as the rather large form of Booth shoved me onto the floor in defense. The impact of his heavy body forcing mine into the cold, hard floor was not my main concern, my eyes glazing over from the flaming intensity of the pain that flared through my chest. My brain immediately transferred into panic mode as I stared unblinkingly at the brilliant white lights that shone down into the lab.
"Call an ambulance, someone's been shot! Hurry!" Dr. Brennan's voice echoed above my head, the room beginning to swirl in front of me as Booth's hand applied pressure to my chest.
"Vincent, can you hear me?" Booth's voice also managed to penetrate the wall that threatened to crash over my senses. I frantically attempted to nod, my breaths coming in short, jagged gasps as I desperately tried to cling onto consciousness. "I have to keep pressure on the wound, Vincent. I know it hurts, but I have to, okay?" No. No, Booth, the pressure doesn't hurt. Not one bit. My heads hurts, the thoughts are unbearably agonizing.
"Please don't make me leave." Images danced across my vision as I uttered those five words. Images of Hodgins, Angela, Dr. Brennan, Booth, Dr. Saroyan; no, don't make me leave them. "I-It's been lovely, working here… don't make me leave."
The pulsing ache that ran through my chest intensified with the thoughts and memories that I shared with my fellow colleagues. Each one flashed before my eyes, before fading away into another swirling onslaught of sudden pain.
The first image was of Hodgins. Within the short period of time that I'd had the pleasure of working with him, he'd become what one might call a 'best friend' to me. Our daringly silly experiments never failed to bring a smile to both of our faces, whilst many of the others failed to recognize the original insight into our mischievous doings. He'd made it clear to me that no other person could ever replace his previous 'best friend' – the one who joined forces with a serial killer, Zack, I believe – but it seemed to me that part of that void was filled by what I thought of as our 'partnership in crime'. My thoughts then drifted to his wife, Angela, who would soon give birth to their first child. I didn't know her as well as I knew Hodgins, but she nearly always showed me kindness and I was assured that they would both make absolutely wonderful parents.
Then there was Booth, the incredibly brave man that was hunched over my heavily bleeding body. Yes, he often spoke down to me, referring to myself and the other members of the team as 'squints', but truthfully, I'd often admired him. He possessed an undeniably large amount of strength and courage, and that shone through in his work and his uncanny knack for psychologically catching the suspects. I could easily forgive any sort of insult he threw my way, simply because it was nearly impossible to disrespect such an honorable man.
"You can stay here as long as you like, Vincent. You're my favourite, everyone knows that." Dr. Brennan. I'd never forget the day that I received the letter from the Jeffersonian inviting me to become one of her interns. I remember the first time I met her; I was simply blown away by admiration of her incessant amount of intelligence. I'd always gone the extra mile while working on cases with her, attempting to please her with my work and often irrelevant trivia facts, hoping that somehow I'd win her over and become her next assistant. 'You're my favourite, everyone knows that.' Hearing those words coming straight from the mouth of Dr. Temperance Brennan herself had never pleased me more. Even though I lay here, heavily bleeding with a gaping hole shot through my heart, I couldn't possibly have been any more delighted. I'd accomplished much in my quest for achievement here at the Jeffersonian, and I'd finally had the pleasure of hearing Dr. Brennan, my mentor, my idol, finally approve of my endless endeavors to become one of the best.
"Please… please don't make me leave." My voice was nearly inaudible to my own ears as darkness threatened to fall over my vision. The pressure of Booth's hand on my chest slowly started to fade as the pool of scarlet around my torso slowly widened, draining my body of its desperate longing for survival. Dr. Brennan's voice continued to whirl around my head, eventually stopping completely. One last breath escaped my lungs as my battle against the shadows was finally lost and my last hopes for clinging to life were brutally stripped from my fingers.