In the days that passed Brennan began to learn the details surrounding what had been the ultimate demise for Booth. Though she learned much from his doctors, a good portion of what she heard came from the Metro police. An officer from their Accident Investigations Unit had arrived the following morning while Brennan had been keeping vigil over Booth's unconscious body. The officer had remained mum. He'd eyed Booth before meeting her gaze. "Sleeping or unconscious?"
"Coma." She said. Suddenly her eyes were too heavy to hold to his level. She dropped her stare down onto the floor.
The officer sniffed, unaffected. He reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew a card. "When he wakes, I need to interview him for my report."
"He may not be able to answer your questions." She warned him sadly as she accepted the card. "Can you tell me what happened?"
The officer checked a notebook tucked in the breast pocket of his jacket. "He was the fed in the Suburban, right? The fifth car." Papers riffled through his fingers. "What we've pieced together so far is he was driving far too fast for the elements."
She glanced at Booth's face. He was angry.
"The fog was thick. He was practically in the accident before he swerved on ice and rammed head first into the bridge's guard rail. The next oncoming car had the same problem, but instead of losing complete control the driver t-boned the driver's side door of the Suburban. From what paramedics were able to tell his head had a hard impact with the window. So hard, in fact, that it cracked the glass. The Jaws Of Life were activated to extract him from the vehicle."
Brennan inhaled tightly. The officer's words were almost physically wounding to her. She was relieved once he'd shuffled about on his way. "I never should have let you walk out." She whispered to Booth. For the umpteenth time since she'd been with him she'd squeezed his hand in hopes of a reaction. Again she was let down when he remained motionless.
Not too much time passed that day without word spreading through the Jeffersonian like rabid wildfire. Before she knew it Brennan was engulfed in a mob of their friends. Cam was holding back tears of anguish the moment she stepped into the room. "Booth." She gasped his name. "What happened?"
"Car accident. It happened late last night. There was fog and-" Her voice caught. "And ice on the bridge…"
"Late last night? What was he doing out driving?" Angela asked next.
Shamefully, Brennan turned her head away from them. "We got into a fight. He left."
Sweets interest was piqued. He too, stepped forward. "You argued? What did you fight about?"
Booth was settled back on the couch. His eyes were shut. A beer bottle fresh from the refrigerator was pressed up against his temple, supporting his head. Only moments ago had he arrived home. Brennan had heard him from the bedroom. Her shadow spread over his body now like a blanket. "We need to talk." She began quietly.
One eye cracked back open before the other. He sat up, lowering the bottle. "What is it?"
She took a seat besides him. Before she could speak she had to breathe deeply. His eyes tore into her heart.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"But-"
They all saw Brennan's spine turn rigid. Her grip on Booth tightened. Hodgins put a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Does it really matter?"
Under his breath he mumbled, "I guess not."
All conversation ceased after that. What was there to say? A tragedy was taking place right before their very eyes. The sight of their fallen friend told them all they needed to know; informed them of the seriousness. After a while Brennan could no longer tolerate the silence or the sympathy. "I'm grateful for the support, but I would like to be alone with him. I will keep you informed of his developments."
There was a muffled chorus of "sure" and "of course." One by one they trudged out. Except Angela. She stood tall besides her best friend. "It isn't your fault, sweetie."
"I know." She sniped. But behind her quip was the truth. She wasn't sure she'd ever stop blaming herself. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I'm being rude."
"You're worried." It took a good deal to ruffle Angela's feathers. That was especially true in all matters concerning Brennan. "Call me if you need anything. And sweetie, take care of yourself. Running ragged is only going to hurt all three of you." She gestured to her swollen stomach.
Brennan expressed her gratitude. In all honesty she felt better when she was alone.
One day turned into two before transitioning into three. Hour by hour Booth was hanging on by a thread. His blood pressure was too high, and he was running a fever. He'd developed a heart arrhythmia. His breaths remained steadily weak, though doctors had felt him strong enough to breathe on his own without the respirator. Brennan knew that the longer he remained in a coma, the higher the risk of him suffering from severe cranial trauma. Sometimes she was able to successfully cope with the knowledge. If that was the case than they both would learn to adapt. They'd find a way around his newborn disability. Others she was so distraught she shook with silent grief. She wished with the hope of a child for his eyes to open; for him to return home where he belonged. Why was he staying away so long?
"Booth, please." She pleaded quietly into his ear in the early morning hours of the third day. "I take it back. I'll take it all back. Just please, wake up." She smoothed her fingertips across the warm, damaged skin of his cheek. She left her palm there with the idea of him being able to feel her touch. "I know I can't erase time. But you've always given me faith that I can make things right." I can't make him right physically. The unintended thought brought her to tears. There in private solitude she wept out the emotion she refused to show anyone else. "I'm so sorry."
Whether it was her words or outside forces was unknown. Regardless, Booth emerged from his cocoon that afternoon. Brennan had been near falling asleep. Since the nightmare had begun she'd only been able to receive hours' rest at a time. His sudden firm grasp on her fingers popped her eyes open. "Booth?"
His lips parted. His dry tongue clicked against the top surface of his mouth. To Brennan it appeared as though he were trying to form words. "Booth?" She repeated. Cautiously she ambled up onto her feet. As she crept closer to him his eyes partially opened. Tension in the form of laughter erupted from her belly. "Booth!" Quickly though that joy stopped. History was cruel enough to near repeat itself.
Booth continued to still make strange motions with his mouth, adding nonhuman sounding vocal tones. His stare was without any sort of recognition. Brennan couldn't determine if he understood that he wasn't alone. Didn't he feel her?
The look in his eyes confirmed her suspected fear. Their journey had only begun.
