AN: I feel really guilty for leaving this. I still get reviews so I'm updating even though its been so long. I was fourteen when I started this so quality and motivation of the writing has really changed. I'm sorry if this isn't what you all wanted from this story.
The cold brisk air clawed at my face, tearing at my lips and seeping into my bones. My eyes watered fought against the whipping winds that pushed against Angela and I as we journeyed to her car. I felt each step drained out every ounce of energy I had left. When we arrived at the car, Angela handed me the keys and crawled into the passenger seat, which was pushed as far back as possible, simply so she could fit. I closed the door for her. I couldn't help but notice the empty reflection that looked back at me. For some reason, I saw no face staring back at me. I saw blue eyes that we're sunk into skin that made me wonder whether or not it the blue-gray was the cause of its discoloration. Shaking myself from the gaze, I shuffled around to the other side and hopped in, clicking the belt and waking the sleeping engine.
I drove to Angela's in a minute, or so it felt like.
Angela pulled herself out of the vehicle without a word, the silence long and desperately seeking attention.
The garage door opened and in we went, the only sounds being her pregnancy flats and my heels clicking in the huge, echoic garage.
We reached the kitchen and Angela asked, "Are you hungry?" But before she had finished the question, there was already a couple slices of cold vegetarian pizza thrust in my face, with a dark glare that employed me to swallow down the food.
"When you first got me this job, I was an artist. Ya know?" This was a rant I had heard many times, but not in a very long while. Confused by her motives, I nodded carefully. She continued, "I hated it. And, I know I'm still here and it's hard to say that I hate it nowadays but honestly I've kind of grown to accept and appreciate the job that we do… But that's beside my point. I hated it because… Because I never wanted to see the faces of the disappeared. I never wanted to see the faces of people who were lost and gone forever. I thought that was the worst thing in the entire world. But I was so unbelievably wrong."
Puzzled, I asked, "What do you mean?"
"I thought that was so tragic. I thought there couldn't be anything worse than that. That was until I discovered what it felt like to watch somebody that you love, slowly and painfully, fade into dust. Bren, I can see you disappearing right in front of me. And that terrifies me. And it angers me."
"I am still me, Ang. I always stay late and focus my energies on work."
"No, you don't. The old 'Dr. Temperance Brennan' did. But, even this is worse than how you were before. You aren't grieving properly."
"Grieving? Nobody has died, what do I have to grieve over?" I retorted.
"You're grieving, hon. You're grieving Booth and losing him. Honestly I don't know what the hell is going on, but I can say that he broke your heart and you've stopped taking care of yourself. You don't sleep. You eat only when told. You look like you've been trapped in a cell for months. I have a spare room down the hall. Go in there, shower, and sleep. I'm calling you out of work."
"I can't sleep."
"Why not?"
"Because I have sleep paralysis, and terrors. It's easier just rest occasionally and briefly so that I don't reach Rapid Eye Movement phase and dreaming is less likely."
"Don't you rest more when you sleep longer?"
"Yes, but…"
"Are you really going to fight science?" Angela fought back. Truthfully, I had no counter-argument that could fight back. "I promise that if you need me, I will come."
"Alright," I folded.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
When my eyes finally closed, I pushed myself into a fitful sleep, feeling my body tense up and freeze, and the world around me begin to taunt me. Paralyzed by my own mind, I begged for air and comfort. My mind was incapable of my usual logical thinking. Instead, the sleep paralysis was all that was left. I screamed for air.