Chapter 45 Sun
Nope, still don't own Bones.
Temperance Brennan turned her face up to the sun as the nurse wheeled her out of Washington General Hospital. She had been shot in Bone Storage while wearing her magnifying headgear. She'd taken refuge from her spat with Booth by immersing herself in the one activity that never failed to calm her; handling the bones, feeling, listening, sensing their silent message. The days she'd spent in the hospital had all been gloomy and overcast with cold dreary rain. While the white hospital room didn't lack for lighting, its sterile atmosphere had seemed oppressively sad.
So being outdoors for the first time in three weeks raised her spirits enormously. She carefully took a slightly deeper breath than she had been recently, wishing to fill her lungs with real air and the scents of the District, but not wanting to relive the painful respiratory exercises she'd been urged to do by the hospital therapists. This hospital stay had been unusual and different from earlier ones.
She'd seen her mother, had found herself in the living room of her childhood, staring at the ugly floral sofa. Well, she guessed her confused mind had concocted a vision of her mother. The experience seemed so real, but… convinced as she was that eternity didn't exist, was a silly myth, she couldn't explain or account for her vision. Her father had taken her experience at face value; he'd wistfully asked what her mom had said, recognized her "throw you for a loop" expression, obviously still missing her sorely after long years apart. Max seemed convinced that she had, in fact, seen and talked to her mother.
Booth had refused to leave her side, wracked with guilt over their argument, pleading for her to recovery. It had been an anxious three weeks. Even the circumstances of her injury were confusing. Hodgins had struggled to identify the bullet that wounded her. His quirky genius brain finally found the riddle's answer. The blood bullet was hideously ingenious. Dr. Batuhan in the Restoration Department was a treacherous wretch with a penchant for inventing devious weapons out of seemingly harmless workplace tools and hideous bullets out of abnormal materials. Blood, normally a life-affirming substance, had nearly snuffed hers out.
In her dream, her parents' living room had been flooded with sunlight and her mom's message had given her hope. "It's time to use your heart, and rediscover some of that little girl you used to be. It's time for you to live life fully, Tempe, not just survive." When she finally managed to wrench the front door open, she'd seen blindingly brilliant light. Was it sunshine, she wondered, or celestial light as Booth would have believed? She was left with more questions than answers. Left with a sense that her belief in only the universe might not be sufficient anymore.
She had resolved to herself since her vision to take her mother's advice to heart. The cramped, dank, stifling darkness of that trunk her foster parents had locked her in years ago still gave her nightmares of claustrophobia. The sunlit day of her hospital release seemed like a good omen, if one actually believed in such things. All Temperance Brennan knew for sure was that she had been granted a second chance for happiness, for living, for relishing each tiny treasure of life, from sunlight to sunset and everything each day offered in between. She almost felt she'd been reborn, with the same sense of immense relief, exhilaration, and profound gratitude she experienced when Booth grasped her hand and pulled her from the buried car. Emerging into sunlight.