Between Sleep and Awake
Part XI: Torment
An acousma of voices, muddled and befuddled. Smeared and twisted. Mixed and dabbed.
A curio of mirages that danced and mocked me. Taunting and laughing. Shrilling and thrilling.
Then all was silent. My mind was vacuous, empty, barren.
A steady beeping.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
More voices.
Softly they spoke. One responded in turn. Gentle laughter. Sigh.
"Sweetie?"
My eyelid felt as if it weighed ten pounds. The shutter raised.
"Brennan?"
Cam and Angela stood over me.
"Jeez, you scared the hell out of me."
"Where am I?" I knew the answer before the question had passed my lips. White sheets. I'd been here before. "Where's Boo--"
Angela pressed her cheek against me and gave me a careful hug. A kiss on the forehead. "Sweetie. How do you feel?"
I tried to sit up to no avail. "Sore."
Cam smiled with relief. "It's good to have you back, Brennan."
"Did I see you...?"
A dimple dipped into her cheek, "Yes, you did."
"How?" It had felt good to sleep, but despite my best efforts, my voices still weak and frustratingly soft.
"I connected the dots."
"What dots?" Angela asked the question that was about to slip past my lips.
"Well, Dr. Brennan left the hospital in such a hurry that I did a little snooping around for myself. I looked a little into the bank heist in Canada. They had only one still of the guy."
"Which I clarified through nearest neighbor interpolation and bilinear filtering." Angela stated, then smiled. "You're getting that 'I don't know what that means' look again. Basically means I used Photoshop to interpret the spaces between pixels to make the picture clearer."
"Once we had a face, I took it to Cullen who sent me to the new head of the case."
"Prideaux," I said.
"Nail on the head. And he gave me the run-around time after time, saying that they'd already investigated that angle."
"I don't remember why I went there."
"I don't know, either. I was hoping you could fill in those holes."
"Why'd you suspect Prideaux?"
"Public records. Clarence Voigt is Prideaux's third cousin by marriage."
I processed the information as well as I could. Only a few seconds passed before the sedatives began to take effect once again.
Before the fog had a chance to roll in, I asked, "Booth?"
"Sweetie, they took him off--"
The hospital room vanished, the faces of my friends diffused into a million effervescent particles then dissipated into nothingness.
What was Angela trying to say?
"Sweetie, they took him off life support."
"Sweetie, they took him off oxygen."
"Sweetie, they took him off from the intensive care floor?"
My feet lowered to a tiled floor.
I walked out of the hospital and into the night, pulling a light wrap around my shoulders.
"Excuse me," I muttered.
A blond woman scooted in her chair. Her datelooked oddly familiar. Blond hair, green eyes.
"Bones!"
I pulled my eyes from the man and his date, walking past the dining couples to where my partner sat. He rose to his feet and pulled out my chair. I hesitated. I don't like to be catered to. But I sat anyway. No complaints. It wasn't the first time Seeley Booth had played the gentleman card and to say that I secretly loved it was an understatement.
"Sorry, the line for the lady's room was ridiculous."
"No worries," he smiled.
I leaned forward slightly, knowing full well how it made my breasts press together enticingly.
His eyes lingered.
"Here's to our partnership," he said, lifting a wine glass in the air. The cool night air made my skin prick with goosebumps. I wondered if my nipples were visible beneath the dress.
Partnership. His eyes drifted southward. There was no line tonight. No lines. Just two friends eating dinner. Two friends who might become something more.
"To our partnership." I raised my glass. They clinked together.
His breath hitched in his throat. "You look... great, Bones."
"And you, too. You look... very handsome." And when did he ever not?
"I'm glad you're back in D.C., Bones."
"Me, too." I was becoming less and less rational as the night wore on.
"We should, um, go."
"Yeah," I tucked in my chair almost too eagerly.
A car that refused to run.
A jacket around chilled shoulders.
We stood outside of his apartment. Keys dropped to the ground. Foreheads collided.
And that is where memories and hallucinations diverged.
"Bones. I'm sorry. You OK?"
I pressed my fingers to the aching spot. "Ow."
He chuckled and touched my forehead tenderly.
Then his eyes lowered and met mine. His fingers traced my face slowly, stopping at my chin.
Then I felt this indescribable ache. And I only wanted his lips to touch mine. For us to race into the apartment, start ripping at each other's clothes. For the white buttons on that shirt he was wearing to be torn from their threads and fall to the ground like ten tiny hail stones. For him to press me against the wall and make love to me. To wake up in the morning, still sweaty from a night of passion and just share things we've never dreamed to share about one another.
Rationality. Where had it gone?
His finger dropped. The gaze broke.
He pushed the key into the lock and we entered the apartment. My heart was still pounded in my ears as I sat at a dining room chair.
He looked in the freezer for ice. I could feel a blush rising on my cheeks. Should I feel so... hurt? Ashamed? Jilted? Annoyed? After all, we were platonic.
Just partners.
I shook my head almost imperceptibly as he came into the dining room and sat on a chair near me, pressing an ice pack to the swollen pink spot on my head. I lifted my hand and covered his.
"Bones, I--"
"What about you?"
"Huh?"
"You need ice, too."
He smiled and lowered his hand. "There was just the one."
"We can share."
Dubiousness traced his features as he thought it through. What happened to tonight? Was he starting to distrust his advances? Rethink the date?
I tugged on his tie and pulled him close until his head rested against the ice pack, his lips so close to mine that it was killing me. And I was hoping that it was killing him, too.
Kiss me.
Kiss me.
Irrational thoughts. Thank G-d nobody can hear them.
I sighed, my eyes slipping to his top button. A few stray chest hairs curled from beneath the opening and I longed to thread my fingers through--
J-sus, Brennan. Get a hold of yourself!
Eyes traveled northward. Past soft lips and settling on chestnut brown eyes.
Eyes that slowly closed.
His lips closed a painful distance at an unbearably slow speed.
Dizzying passion, his tongue softly running along my own. His hands ran northward along my thighs. He grasped my butt and pulled my legs over him, the chair screeched across the floor. His fingers searched beneath my panties and brushed my clitoris.
He quickly pulled back, breathing heavily.
"What?"
"I'm sorry, Bones. This isn't right."
I didn't reply, but perhaps that was prompt enough for him.
"We shouldn't--"
"If you're worried about Cullen--"
"It's not Cullen. Bones this isn't just... It's not just sex with me."
Of course it wasn't. I knew that, but I would have never admitted to it. I kept my mouth shut.
"I need to know that if we do this, you can return my feelings."
Tense seconds passed.
Too many seconds.
He stood. I stood.
Minutes later, I was letting a cool shower freeze away whatever torment was unfurling in my head.
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Sorry for the delay. I haven't had much time to write this week. My mom was hospitalized. She's out now, but I'll be looking after her this week. Hopefully there won't be a big delay between now and the next chapter.