Opportunities
They'd had had so few opportunities that he tried desperately not to blink for fear that he would lose a second of time with her. The bullet-proof glass had a tint to it, casting living color into flat, washed out grey. He wished he could see her eyes in the natural light where the pale blue mixed with the golden highlights that still spoke of magic to him. One of the times she was here to see a prisoner, she'd come reluctantly, uncertain she wanted to be in the same room as her father much less the same building. He'd given her a gentle push, even went so far as to ask Caroline to give them some privacy and personal contact in the rooms reserved for detainees and their lawyers. But now there were no friendly prosecutors; an inch thick bullet-proof glass divided them and the phone he used to talk to her smelled of hopelessness and despair.
"I left some photos of Christine with the guard," she said, rushing everything she could into the 15-minute time limit. "And the lawyer is going to bring you some insurance papers to sign. And I left you some citrus. You need to eat more oranges and grapefruit."
She looked tired and thinner, the gray tint of the glass casting a pallor on her features.
"Bones," he said gently, "I'm okay."
"I talked to the prosecutor and the doctor, but they're still planning on moving you at the end of the week."
Being arrested and arraigned for the murder of three FBI agents might have caught him by surprise, but he tried desperately now to anticipate each new step. It was a battle of a different sort, but knowing and anticipating meant the difference between life and death.
"They figure that if I can walk I can be in the general population."
He caught the flicker of doubt and he tried to reassure her. "I've been in worst situations, Bones. It'll be fine."
She had to know he was lying.
He asked about Christine and Max and she answered by rote, the glass divide reminding them both of how little privacy they really had. She asked about his wounds, his diet, his medication.
Every word was measured and weighed against the people around them, even, "I miss you. We miss you."
She leaned her head against the glass, pressed her palm against the surface and he mirrored her actions in reply.
"No touching the glass."
The order was barked like so many of the instructions here, and he could do nothing but obey. He leaned back and watched as she straightened as well.
What was theirs was theirs and he'd be damned to let them lock that away as well.
So in the short time remaining to them, they said nothing, only looked into the gray face of the other, their silence speaking for them in a way that words could not.