Author's note:
Special thanks to corgipaz for insights that kept this chapter in keeping with what it needed to be as well as for her encouragement and the kind words that reflect who she is.
Also, special thanks to Hart Hanson, whose words from S04E26 are quoted within.
Chapter 7
She sat in a chair next to his bed and simply stared at him, waiting for when he would awake. The surgery was successful, but she was nervous since the last time he had gone under anesthesia he had taken days to emerge from a coma and then, of course, suffered a great deal of disorientation and other related complications. Her heart refused to slow down. Surgeons told her they used alternative methods with pre-anesthetic medications that had proven successful with similar patients, but this still did not alleviate her anxiety; there were no guarantees.
Hannah had stayed for a while, but grew nervous and decided to try to file her story to calm herself. Brennan had assured he that she would stay and notify her as soon as Booth woke up.
Everything had gotten so muddled since coming back from Maluku. She had left in order to gain perspective over her life and her relationship with Booth and instead felt only more chaos. Correction. Her feelings underwent chaos, but this directly resulted from the clarity of a single realization: her life, perhaps even her happiness, was inextricably linked to Booth.
She had been wholly unprepared for the vice grip around her heart upon learning about and then later meeting Hannah. Perhaps she had not realistically considered that Booth would find love in Afghanistan, but logically speaking, it would seem that Booth would be able to find love anywhere. It was in his nature, as solidly as wanting justice and laying down his life for others was in his nature. It was foolish of her to think that things could pick up again just like they had never left. Irrational.
And yet, that was exactly what she had expected, had hoped. She had chastised herself over and over again for thinking that she would be any less worried about Booth when she was away from him. His safety had been a part of her thoughts at an almost alarming frequency. She had asked him to not be a hero, to not be him, but he did not and could not have promised such a thing any more than she could have promised Booth that she would follow her "gut". And so she spent a ridiculous amount of time reassuring herself that Booth was extremely good at what he did; that statistically, she could expect Booth to survive based upon his skill and experiences.
Except that she also had statistics to tell her that Booth would risk his own life whenever necessary. In spite of the odds that she felt were mounting against him, he had returned unharmed, which made this situation all the more wrenching. He was who he was, as was she.
Memories of her last hospital visit seeped into her mind. Her deleted words haunted her.
What life is she leading? Is it the same life the woman was living a half hour ago? A day? A year ago? You love someone; you open yourself up to suffering. The thought of losing so much control over personal happiness is unbearable.
Her nature may be unchanging, but her life did not follow the same pattern. She had come to realize that she was unable to stifle the burgeoning emotions inside her. She loved Booth. She was in love with him and everything had taken a wrong turn.
She was not living the same life she once was.
But neither was he.