Oh my goodness. I heart my reviewers!
So many of you have alerts for this. And favorites. I'm so flattered. I heart you all too!
This chapter has a little angst in it. Ok . . . maybe a lot
Point being, this is not an "angsty" story, or it would be under that heading. So just bear with it.
Fair warning though.
Seeley Booth closed the door with his foot, the limp girl in his arms. He engaged the deadbolt lock with his elbow and breathed a sigh of relief.
Ok, no Sully to worry about. Now I just have to put out this little fire right here and then it's back to cigars and Scotch for me.
He navigated over the piles of dirty clothes and around stacks of textbooks and past the occasional pizza box to his empty bed. It wasn't made, but at least it was clean.
Well, really, it's not as though I thought I would be bringing a girl up to my room tonight.
He shifted her weight in his arms, cradling her head in the spread of his hand as he eased her onto the bed as gently as he could. As he withdrew his arm from under her knees his wristwatch caught on one of the spangles near the hem of the dress. He unhooked his watch and straightened his back, glancing at the girl as he did so.
He hadn't gotten much of a look at her in the dark shadow of the house, and he had been too busy avoiding people on the ground level of the house, not to mention being worried Drunk Sully was going to jump out at any moment with a can of shaving cream, to get much of a look at her. Now, in the bright light of his bare bulb floor lamp, any thoughts he had had about making it back to his cigar and Scotch vanished.
Damn.
Her soft auburn hair was fanned over his pillow, falling away from her face in waves. Her fine delicate features seemed out of place on a passed out party girl. The hard, worn skin and fried hair sported by nearly every girl downstairs were missing.
Maybe she just doesn't usually go to parties. That could explain why she's so drunk so early in the night, no alcohol tolerance.
The spangles on the dress caught the light and glittered in his eyes, drawing his attention to where the dress stopped abruptly with her legs; her ridiculously long legs that ended in red soled shoes.
Those damn shoes.
He could see her in his mind's eye, this nameless unconscious stranger, wearing nothing but those shoes.
I am a bad man.
Booth closed his eyes, hoping that she would disappear, but she was still there, burned into his corneas.
Fuck. I need to get laid.
Another, less pleasant thought occurred to him, what if she wasn't here by accident, chance, or fate. What if this was someone's doing?
Goddamnit Sully if this is another prank or if you set this up . . . . I am seriously going to murder you.
There was really only one safe way out of this, Booth sighed, his head in his hand; this was going to be a long night. He pulled out his phone and without taking his eyes off the girl on his bed, punched the keys and hit send.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Camille, I need a favor."
"Depends on what it is Seeley."
"I need you to come over, and don't call me Seeley."
"I can't, I have to study for an exam, and don't call me Camille."
"Fine. Cam, I really need you to come over."
"Look, Booth, normally I'd be down for a quickie, but I really do have to study."
Booth's cock twitched at her words, Down boy.
"No Cam." Booth paused, not sure how to describe what happened, it was so bizarre, "Sully and Drew found a girl in the bushes, I got her away from them and now she's on my bed."
The phone went briefly silent, "Come again?"
Booth sighed, "Apparently, this girl passed out in the bushes, Sully and Drew found her and were dragging her to their car. I told them to fuck off and brought her in here."
"Where is 'in here' Booth?"
"My room."
"And then what?"
"And then nothing, I called you."
"Why?"
"When I put her on the bed she didn't move, didn't make any noise. At all. She's completely limp." His voice lowered to almost a whisper, "I don't know what to do."
"Okay. Can you get a pulse?"
"Hold on."
With two calloused fingers he felt her soft skin for the the pulse point in her neck and counted her heartbeat.
"How many beats per minute?"
"Twenty maybe twenty-five. Cam, that's really slow."
"Ok, Seeley I need you to be honest with me. How much have you had to drink tonight?"
"A sip of Scotch, not even a finger. Why?" Booth knew the answer as soon as the question was out of his mouth.
He was checking for his wallet and keys when Cam responded, "You need to get her to the Hospital, now."
They both knew that cops and ambulances came in pairs at this time of night, especially on weekends near the college; and cops would be more trouble than they were worth. It wasn't as though everyone downstairs had a valid ID; a great rack was just as good as an ID to the guys at the gate.
Booth looked at the girl on his bed, "I'll have her there in ten."
"Call me when you know how she's doing."
"Thanks Cam."
He hung up and stuck the phone in his pocket. He did one last visual and mental sweep around the room, Testicles, spectacles, wallet and watch, yep . . . good to go.
He unlocked his door and opened it, checking the hall for Sully before returning for the girl. Booth scooped her up once again in his arms he walked out onto the landing and started down the stairs.
It was Walt who saw him first; Booth had his "Don't Fuck With Me" face on.
"Uh oh." Walt turned and grabbed Charlie, "We got trouble man."
They wove through the crowd to Booth, it was Charlie who spoke first, "What, and, the fuck is this shit?"
"Later. I have to get her to the hospital."
Charlie hissed as he sucked in a breath and began walking just in front of Booth, discreetly moving people out of his path. Seconds later they were out of the house and on the walk to the carport, Walt grabbed his elbow, "Dude, anything I can do?"
Booth stopped and looked Walt square in the eye, "I want to know who she came with, what she drank, how much and who she talked to; and I want to know when I get back."
Walt shrugged, "Done."
As Walt walked back into the party; Charlie helped Booth get the girl into his SUV.
"I'm going to help Walt; he's not as good with information as he is with people and things."
Booth nodded, "I'll call you as soon as I know if we should be calling the cops or not."
Charlie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Yeah. Ok."
He turned and walked back into the house, Booth watching him go.
Not twenty minutes ago he was giving me shit about the damn Noodle Incident, now we've got some mystery girl with alcohol poisoning. Fuck my life.
Booth's '05 Chevy Tahoe roared as he revved the engine and gunned it out of the drive and onto the street, hauling ass to Rush University Medical.
The drive only took a few minutes; it was nearly a straight shot from the house to the Ambulance bay at the ER. Booth parked the SUV in a handicapped spot, not giving a shit about a ticket. He carefully got the girl out of the truck and carried her through the sliding glass ER doors. A few people sat in the colored plastic seats, but patients and nurses both turned to look when he came in the door.
I must look like hell. Amazing what a night like this can do to a guy.
A nurse came up to him holding a clipboard, she smiled calmly as though young men came in with girls in party dresses all the time. She pointed with her pen at a gurney along the wall, "Go ahead and put her on the gurney over there and fill out what you know on this form, and then turn it in at the window."
Booth put the girl on the gurney and picked up the clipboard.
Name, don't know that. Birthdate, don't know that. Weight, at least I can guess an answer that one. Damnit.
"Nurse?"
The nurse he had spoken to moments ago walked over to him, "Yes? How can I help you?"
"I, uh, I don't know any of this information."
The nurse looked at Booth, confused.
"We, I, found her at a party, passed out under some bushes. I've never seen her before."
The nurse felt for the girl's pulse, then walked briskly over to the desk and spoke a few whispered words to the attendant.
She returned to Booth's side with a fresh clipboard and pen, "Please tell me everything that happened tonight, starting with when you found the Jane Doe.
Jane Doe, that's what they call dead people without names.
Booth felt the world fall away around him, this nameless girl he had never met had enchanted him, the thought of her dead, before he had even learned her name, dead because of something that had happened at his home at one of his parties, it was as though he had killed her himself.
I don't . . . she can't . . . . please God don't let her die. I can't handle being responsible for her death too. I can't do this again, do you hear me? I've had enough. If you take her, I go too.
In the distance of the real world he could hear the nurse trying to get his attention. But he just stared at the beautiful girl lying motionless on the gurney. Suddenly there were people all around her and she was blocked from view. He heard them speaking, but it all sounded like a strange foreign language. He watched they pushed her through the double doors, the white, spotless, sterile double doors, and he sat, stunned, in a blue plastic chair as the doors slowly swung to a stop.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.