Hope
She bit her lip and anxiously tapped her foot on the linoleum, her fingers held so tightly together they were growing numb. It had been an excruciatingly long two hours of knowing nothing. Of loneliness and fear and regret for all the things left unsaid, undone… She wanted to know, one way or the other, what was going on.
No… no, that was a lie. She wanted only to know that he was alright. She wanted confirmation that her wildest hope, that he was alive and would recover, not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well, was still plausible. She merely wanted to know that he was going to be alright. No one would tell her anything. No one would even look at her. She sighed and shifted in the uncomfortable chair. Someone had to know something. Someone had to say something sooner or later.
She only hoped, when they did, they would confirm that her hopes had not been wasted. She did not hope often… but she knew Booth was worth the effort. She had hopes that went much, much farther than him merely making out of surgery successfully. Hopes that involved a future without lines that couldn't be crossed, in which they could lay together every night, content and able to express their love. So unlike that night. She had tried to tell him… and then the car… she shook the memory from her head, and tried to focus on one thing: hope. Perhaps if she could hope hard enough, wish hard enough, dream deeply enough… perhaps he would stay with her. She closed her eyes tightly, Please, she thought, a tear slipping down her cheek, just give us a chance…She opened her eyes to see the doctor coming towards her.
