A/N
Right now I am thinking there will be two more chapters after this one; however what is now the final one could end up splitting again. There may also be a short epilogue posted as a separate chapter.
This one is about 5,700 words.
Here we go…
Monday, Jeffersonian Institute Medico-Legal Laboratory
"Wake up!"
Angela was sitting on the edge of the couch and shaking her.
Brennan groaned and rubbed her eyes. She couldn't believe that she'd actually dozed off. Then panic gripped her, and she started fully awake…
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, silly. It's over. They've given the all clear, and we can get you out to the paramedics now. It's time we got you properly taken care of."
Her heart rate slowly settled down. She didn't know if the lingering visceral fear had come simply from being jarred awake or if she'd been starting to dream. If the latter, she was glad she didn't remember the details.
Angela helped her get up and reseated on the improvised wheelchair, then pushed her out of the office. Brennan presumed that 'all clear' meant all of the terrorists had been dealt with. She checked her cell phone and was relieved to see that service was back. She hit the speed dial for Booth…
"You have reached the voicemail of …Seeley Booth, FBI... To leave a message…"
Frustrated, she left a brief and thoroughly unsatisfying message, "This is Brennan. I wanted to make sure you were ok. Call me." There was no way to tell if his phone was off or if it was busy. It might not even be on him.
She checked with Angela just in case, "Has anyone heard from Booth?"
Angela shook her head, "No. But you know he must be incredibly busy right now. Don't worry. I'm sure no news is good news."
Brennan sighed. She would just have to try to be patient. Before heading to the designated staging area for medical care, she asked Angela to steer her to the restroom so she could pee. That neglected task taken care of, upon their exit she realized the population of the lab had declined again. She craned her neck to look around.
"Angela, where are the children? And what about Emily and Janice?"
While she was speaking, Hodgins and Zach came over.
Jack broke in before Angela could respond, "The cops took the kids away. DHR is going to take care of contacting the school and their families. As to the Pollards… they took a rain check on getting the proper tour of the lab that you promised them."
"Oh…" It took Brennan half a second to connect the last name with Emily and her mother.
A city policeman directed them back into the west wing of the museum, to the foyer of the smaller non-public entrance facing 14th Street which served the curatorial and administrative staff. People were being assisted there and also on the steps and sidewalk outside. When Brennan saw the bright sunlight of mid-day she experienced a moment of cognitive dissonance as she realized how little time must have actually passed. She checked her watch and it had barely been an hour ago when she and Angela first left to meet the Pollards. Her subjective clock expected it to be dusk outside for some reason.
Shrugging off her bemusement she paid more attention to her surroundings. Several crews of EMTs were providing assistance, and they had their hands full with injuries, many much worse than hers. Many victims were quietly sitting in shock while others moaned in pain. A couple howled and thrashed in agony. Some looked to have been injured by the bombs whereas others clearly had gunshot wounds. She wondered why the wounded were being brought here instead of simply being treated and taken right out the museum main entrance facing Jefferson and the Mall, but she dismissed the question, figuring they must have their reasons.
Only then did she notice that two prone victims were silent and motionless, shrouded in blankets through which blood had already soaked. It was a classic case of triage in action: the walking wounded had to wait, those severely wounded were helped immediately and given priority in transport, and the most hopeless cases shunted aside.
She knew that those already dead back in the vestibule of the main entrance, the Rotunda, and the Gallery still lay where they had been killed. For the moment they were no longer people but corpses, crime scene evidence to be preserved until properly photographed and catalogued.
After processing the sight of the people being treated, she noted the large number of heavily armed policemen scattered about looking grim, some armed with automatic rifles, others with shotguns. It was the proverbial case of the closing the barn door after the horses had already escaped, but it still made her feel safer. Anyway, follow up attacks had been known to take place in other countries when emergency personnel were responding.
Classified as 'walking wounded', figuratively at least, Brennan was directed outside the glass doors where there was more organized chaos. At least out here there weren't any screamers, she thought. She finally got her turn, and described her injuries to the paramedic, who barely glanced at anything other than her leg. She got down on the concrete awkwardly with Zach's aid and started to lie back, but before her head could touch the hard surface Angela scooted down underneath her and made a lap to cushion her. Brennan looked up into her friend's face and smiled her appreciation… and missed the EMT's warning.
The sudden throbbing in her calf when he cut off the constricting leather belt caught her off guard. She very nearly passed out as the renewed blood flow seemed to strike a raw nerve with every heart beat. Her lower leg must have swelled against the belt more than she'd realized. She panted a bit and regained most of her composure, and was twice grateful for Angela's consideration in making a pillow of herself. She squeezed Angela's hand tight as the freckle-faced young tech superficially cleaned the deep wound and carefully re-bandaged it properly. And gave her a brief lecture…
"A surgeon is going to have to get that shrapnel out of there, I'm afraid. I wouldn't dare go in there even if they'd let me. Without an X-ray there's no telling how close it might be to a major vessel or nerve." He looked her square in the eye and warned her sternly, "Stay off it. You could really hurt yourself if you don't." The effect was somewhat spoiled by the fact he looked almost ten years younger than her, but she got the message.
"Don't worry, we've got her." Angela assumed responsibility for her with a warm smile and batted eyelashes, which somehow both irritated and comforted Brennan simultaneously.
He gave her a colored tag which apparently established her priority in getting transport to the hospital, and directed them down to the sidewalk and a bit further up the street to the queue for loading ambulances. Jack and Zach helped her limp down the steps with Angela hovering protectively and supervising, and then Zach ran back up and retrieved the chair for her. As he did they were all deafened by the roar of a medevac helicopter coming in low from over the building. Another was hovering in the near distance, apparently waiting to set down.
They had to wait along with several others as more seriously injured patients departed first. Fortunately the sun was not too hot, and there was even someone passing out water bottles as they checked transport tags. After asking to be seated on the soft grass instead of remaining in the awkward though invaluable office chair, Brennan used the opportunity to try to call Booth as she lay back, but again with no luck. As she hung up from leaving him another message updating him on her status and asking him to call ASAP, she overhead the conversation of two nearby African-American policemen, one a young patrolman in uniform cradling a pump shotgun, and an older, heavier one in plainclothes. She caught a glimpse of the gun and badge on his belt underneath the windbreaker. Probably a detective.
She couldn't believe what she was hearing, and her eyes met Angela's. Apparently the cops thought no one was listening and were brutally frank between themselves.
"Hey Marcus, you see the front of the museum?" It was the detective talking.
The younger man responded, nodding, "Yeah, man. Lord, it's like a fuckin' war zone in there. ServiceMaster's gonna get some overtime for sure." He paused to spit on the grass. "Don't know about you, but I think the Marines or the Air Force oughtta get us some raghead payback on this one…"
The older one butted in, "I sure as hell hope so. I got a nephew who's a jarhead, one lean mean sonuvabitch. I oughtta call 'im. But did you see out front too? Outside?"
The younger cop nodded again, "Just a quick look. Holy shit." He spit again.
The detective nodded as well. "Damned straight. I just came from there. God damn, fuckin' EOD's shittin' little green apples. If those motherfuckers'd got inside with all that shit it coulda been a real fuckin' bloodbath."
Brennan was utterly appalled. Could have been a real bloodbath? She'd been listening with her mouth agape, eager for any information, but it snapped shut almost audibly. She was sitting up to give them a piece of her mind for their callousness when Angela beat her to it.
The artist practically bounded to her feet from where she'd been seated beside her on the grass. Jack and Zach simply watched the show from where they still sat, the former one on the grass and the latter in the chair which Brennan had vacated. He stopped spinning around to listen.
"Excuse me…" Angela's words came out half strangled and they didn't turn, not realizing she was addressing them.
"EXCUSE ME!" She found her voice. The men looked at her startled.
"Just what in hell do you mean 'coulda been a real bloodbath'?" Angela pointed at Brennan where she sat on the grass. "LOOK! Look at her! That's after washing off. She already took a bath in it!" She was so angry she had tears in her eyes. People all around were looking in their direction.
Brennan thought the two men looked like they had just stepped in shit. From the ashamed looks on their faces they were probably already imagining their captain catching wind of their screwup.
The older one spoke apologetically. He seemed sincere in his chagrin as he looked both of them in the eye. "We're sorry, ladies. We honestly didn't think we were that loud."
That was enough for Brennan – her mind had raced ahead, thinking more about what else he'd said. What she wanted now was information, why he'd said it.
"It's ok, Angela." Her friend backed off with her arms crossed, still clearly riled up. "Detective, I'm Doctor Temperance Brennan with the Medico-Legal Lab and these are my colleagues. Just what was that about 'EOD' out front?"
The men were so relieved she wasn't pursuing their earlier gaffe that they practically fell over themselves being forthcoming.
"Detective Leon Brown, ma'am, and this is Officer Jones. EOD is Explosive Ordnance Disposal, the 'bomb squad'. There was a second wave of about ten terrorists who were bringing in a bunch of bombs and explosives for booby traps. Looks like it was gonna be like one of those places in Russia where they rigged the whole place to blow. Scuttlebutt says it's enough to take down most of the building."
A shiver went down her spine in spite of the warm sunlight. Ten more. It really could have been much worse. But they failed somehow…
"What happened?" She had to know.
"What happened? A fuc… , uh, a miracle. A sniper took most of 'em out right there on the front steps. The Feds have some guy who has business over here all the time, and he was on his way over this morning. Turns out he knew how to shoot too." He turned and pointed back up 14th Street past the Washington Monument, "Nailed'em from the far side of the Mall over there. None of the explosives ever made it in."
The younger cop chimed in, "There's supposed to be some kind of stink about him not waiting for the rest of his team, but I don't give a damn. If I find out who it is I'm gonna buy him a beer. Hell, make that a case."
It had to be… Angela's eyes met hers.
"Booth." They said it simultaneously.
The detective was puzzled by their exchange. She filled him in.
"It sounds like an FBI agent, Seeley Booth. He's my partner…"
The detective interrupted, "Partners. You FBI too?" He looked confused.
Damn. "No. It's a long story." He looked a little skeptical but said nothing.
She continued, "Anyway… as we were escaping we ran into him. I… I think we were the very last ones to see him on his way inside." Put that way out loud the words had an ominous ring to them. "I haven't been able to reach him since then, and I haven't seen anyone from the FBI to ask. Is there any way you can help us?"
"I'll see what I can do. I haven't seen any Feds on this side of the building either. If you'll excuse me." The detective stepped aside and used his radio for a minute before nodding and rejoining them. He motioned Marcus closer.
He addressed the young cop, "Lieutenant Hutchins has a couple FBI guys with him over there." He pointed up toward the corner of 14th and Jefferson at the front of the museum to a knot of uniforms and suits. "I told 'em we had an important witness they need to see. Go fetch a Fed and bring 'im back here."
Detective Brown took Marcus' shotgun while the other man trotted up the sidewalk. Meanwhile another uniformed cop showed up with some sort of message.
"If you'll excuse me, I have to take care of this." Brown and the new cop drifted several yards away.
Brennan ignored the soft conversation between Angela, Jack and Zach as she digested what she'd learned. Oh my… She'd had no idea what hell Booth must have already been through by the time she'd seen him, and she was worried about the toll that more killing might have taken on him.
All of which meant she was already emotional when she looked up to see Marcus returning with Agent Williams in tow.
Williams was perfectly polite. It seemed he'd forgotten their little contretemps, which suited her just fine at the moment.
"Thank God, Dr. Brennan. Ms. Montenegro, guys," he nodded toward Hodgins and Zach. "It's great to see you all in one piece." His eyes flickered to her leg, but he said nothing about her injuries since it was clear they'd already been treated.
"What can I do for you?"
Given the circumstances she could be nice too. "Chad, I haven't been able to reach Booth. We last saw him when he was about to enter the museum from the Lab. Can you help us find him?" She glanced at Angela, "We just want to make sure he's ok."
"Sure, Dr. Brennan, give me a minute." He walked a few yards away and dialed his flip phone. While he was waiting for the answer to his query Brennan saw that he actually had the nerve to give Angela a look that could only be described as flirtatious. He was pathetic – but he was helping them willingly so she bit her tongue.
Williams' grin was cut short by something on the other end, and he went ashen.
Instantly Brennan got a sickly, hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. She tried to brace herself as the FBI agent slowly closed his flip phone and came closer.
He cleared his throat before speaking slowly, "According to my guy Booth went down taking out the last suicide bomber…"
Angela's gasp nearly drowned out Hodgins' muttered "Oh shit" to Zach. As to Brennan, she felt the word tilt crazily even though she was seated, and she thought she nearly passed out. The hollow empty feeling coalesced into a sharply defined black hole inside her. Her ears were ringing with the sound of her pulse, and her face felt numb as she spoke.
"Is he…" She raised a hand to her mouth. She couldn't bring herself to finish the words.
Williams rushed out, "Oh no! They got the bomber before he could blow himself up. Booth was shot. He's already being transported to George Washington."
She nodded her thanks for the clarification as she blinked back the tears that were trying to form.
"I'm going to run and see what else I can find out for you, ok?"
"Thank you," she croaked. The words barely came out.
"No problem." Williams headed back up the sidewalk at a run.
Angela squatted beside her and put an arm around her shoulders and tried to reassure her, "He's going to be all right."
Brennan's rational mind pointed out that Angela had absolutely no basis for saying that given what little information they knew, but for once she didn't question it and instead simply hoped. Hoped that it was just a minor wound…
But Hodgins had to spoil it. "Crap. 'Went down' sure as hell doesn't sound like it was just a 'graze'."
"Jack!" Angela chastised him, but the damage was already done.
"Sorry." At least the entomologist had the grace to blush with some embarrassment before he and Zach sat down on the grass beside them.
None of them hardly breathed until Williams returned.
She couldn't believe she'd been so stupid in the corridor when they'd encountered Booth. She'd been so self-involved and blinded by her emotions… She had been so glad to see him that she'd failed to question what he was doing by himself. Of course she couldn't have asked him not to do his job, but why, oh why didn't she insist that he wait for backup?
Her self-flagellation was interrupted by William's return.
Williams' expression was even grimmer this time. He plunged right in and got it over with.
"Booth was hit multiple times in the abdomen. It's pretty serious."
Angela spoke. "But he was wearing body armor? What happened?"
Williams ran his hand through his blonde hair and shook his head. "I don't know… guess they had 'cop killer' ammo." He let out a sigh then grimaced as he saw Brennan flinch at his choice of words.
"Sorry. I have to get back now, but I'll let you know if I learn any more details. I promise."
Brennan was in a daze. She felt like she was choking. Hodgins of all people had to thank Williams. His bad news delivered, the agent practically fled.
She hurt so badly. Her worry and fear were a physical ache covering her entire body except for the hole in her middle which seemed like it had grown even larger with Williams' latest revelation.
The little nagging voice that was the manifestation of her doubts and fears spoke up:
You opened yourself up for this. You knew love only makes you vulnerable! And even if he's fine this time, what about the next? There's only one way to protect yourself…
She dismissed the insidious voice, but she had no real reply. It was right.
Zach's voice brought her partly out of it. He looked worried too.
"Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth's prognosis can't be good. From what I know about severe penetrating abdominal trauma, shock is as great a contributor to mortality as hemorrhage."
"Zach!" It was both Jack and Angela.
Zach cringed, "Sorry."
Brennan looked at them oddly, numbly, wondering why they were getting on to him when he was simply stating the obvious truth…
Welcome distraction came in the form of an EMT who asked to see the transport tag given to Brennan at triage. She was only slowly coming back to full awareness of her surroundings, and Angela actually had to fish it out of her pocket and hand it to the man.
"Ok… looks like you're up. If you'll come with me, we'll get you on your way to the hospital shortly." He waited as her team helped her back into the office chair, then he led off with them following.
At the ambulance she let herself be assisted up into the back, and she lay down on the indicated gurney, saying nothing as the EMT strapped her in. Angela reminded her to keep her phone handy so they could update each other if either learned anything more about Booth. She could only nod. She was so tired…
She looked up when the EMT hopped back down to help wrestle another gurney up into the cramped rear of the vehicle.
The gurney's occupant was unconscious and his face was barely visible underneath the oxygen mask and a large bandage. The EMT hung an IV bag from a recessed hook in the ceiling of the van then started strapping the man in more securely.
Something looked strange about the outline of the sheet covering him…
The answer to the riddle came in the form of the other EMT returning with a bundle that was loosely wrapped in plastic. It was bloody on one end. He passed it up.
"Here ya go. They found us some ice in a break room. Don't know if it'll do any good torn off that way, but I guess that's what they pay the docs the big bucks for."
"Yeah, thanks." The EMT inside the ambulance took the bundle and tucked it under one of the straps beside the patient.
She put the shape of the bundle and what was missing from under the sheet together.
It was a severed arm.
On closer inspection she could just make out fingers through the translucent plastic sheeting. Pink tinted melt water was dripping on to the floor.
The tech noticed her stare. "Uh… sorry about that. You shouldn't have seen that. We lost our ice chest on the last run." He looked down at the arm under the strap and grimaced. "That's the best way to make sure the limb makes it to the same place as the patient."
She still didn't say anything. Something about what the EMT had said tickled at the edge of her awareness.
The EMT reached back and slammed one side of the rear double doors shut. He called out to the driver, "Locking up back here."
It clicked, and she fully woke up. She was such an idiot...
"WAIT!" She practically shouted it. She'd been acting like she'd lost at least 50 points of IQ.
The EMT was startled and stopped with his hand on the other door just before it fully latched shut. She didn't blame him as he'd barely heard her speak at all.
"What hospital are we going to?" she demanded.
"Howard University Medical Center. Why?" He looked annoyed at the interruption.
"I have to get to George Washington!" she insisted.
It was the most important thing in the whole world to her, and it really was a matter of life or death.
Now he looked at her like she was crazy. "Lady, we can't do that. We gotta go where we're dispatched. The ER at GW and some of the other hospitals aren't accepting any more patients. We gotta go where there's still room."
"I don't care. Let me up." She started snatching at the latches of the belts holding her down but had trouble with the release on the last one.
This time he said it. "Lady, are you crazy?"
"LET ME UP!" She thought of another tack. She indicated the other patient, "You don't want to make him wait any longer than he has to, right?"
"Ok, ok!" He unlatched the last stubborn belt, opened both doors, and helped her down. "I don't know what you think you're doing. You shouldn't be driving, and anyway there're roadblocks all over the place and a curfew even if you did."
She nodded absently at the extra information. Angela and the guys were already walking away. Zach was pushing her chair.
"Hey guys, wait up!" She was reenergized for the moment, knowing what she had to do.
Brennan wasn't sure which one of them was the most surprised to see her emerging from the ambulance, but Zach arrived first by a nose. With the chair.
She settled back into it sideways, grateful she hadn't waited too late.
"What's up?" Jack asked as the ambulance doors slammed just behind her, and the van pulled away with its obnoxious siren blaring.
"I need a favor from each one of you."
"Sure!" "Shoot." "Of course!"
First things first… She looked up 14th to the corner where Williams had disappeared earlier into the tangle of uniforms and suits. She thought she saw a familiar profile.
"Push me that way. I need to get a ride to George Washington University Medical Center. That's where Booth is."
They were about half way there when the balding head began heading off in another direction.
"Zach."
"Yes, Dr. Brennan?"
"Please go catch Director Cullen and let him know my problem and see if he can help us."
Zach ran off without even saying "Yes, ma'am."
She quit clutching her cell phone and instead put it in her pocket. It had been useless as a talisman after all. She needed a better one. She told Jack what she wanted.
"Aww, come on!" he balked.
She pinned him down with a glare. She could be merciless.
"You owe me. You owe him."
He nodded reluctantly and ran off too. He would just have to catch up if he didn't make it back in time.
That left only Angela.
"Ok, sweetie, what do you need me to do for you?"
The two more concrete tasks taken care of, Brennan's weakness returned. She sagged in the chair as her fears for Booth returned full force.
This was the closest she'd come in fifteen years to this topic, ever since she'd finally given up hope of her parents ever returning.
Hypocrite! You know there's no 'man upstairs'! The negative voice was back.
Shut up! she replied to herself
She spoke in a very small voice, "I don't believe, but since Booth does…" Even now she couldn't quite bring herself to say it.
Her best friend in the whole world understood anyway.
"I'll say a little prayer for him," Angela replied gently.
Brennan nodded her thanks, blinking back the tears which were trying to gain another foothold. She felt like once she let them out there'd be no stopping them.
A minute later Zach returned with Cullen himself in tow. The Director's retinue included a handful of men with communications gear and an obvious security team.
"Hello, Dr. Brennan, glad to see you made it out. Don't you worry. We're making sure Booth is taken care of properly." He grimaced, and from old habit he ran his fingers over his scalp combing back hair that no longer existed. "He was our only casualty, and we're not going to lose him. You can count on it. Now Addy here tells me you need a ride?"
She nodded, unable to speak at first. His words which were meant to be reassuring only twisted the knife. She cleared her throat.
"My ambulance wasn't going to Booth's hospital, and I heard something about roadblocks. We have to get to George Washington Medical Center." She looked up at him, directly in his eyes, willing him to understand her need.
But he was skeptical. He looked at her leg. "I understand, believe me, but you need to get that shrapnel out and get patched up. The ERs are filling up."
Brennan gave Zach a dirty look for saying too much. He quailed which made her feel bad, but only a little. She looked back to Cullen, "They've let me wait this long. Waiting just a little longer won't hurt anything."
The Director nodded, "I really can't spare any agents, but I'll see what I can do. You're right about the road blocks – you wouldn't be able to get there in your own car. Give us a minute." He backed off and motioned two of his men into a huddle.
She did her damnedest to eavesdrop but couldn't make out anything over the noise of more ambulances pulling out. One of the men spoke into a phone for a minute then shook his head and passed it to Cullen. The Director spoke calmly for a moment then became clearly aggravated. As the last wailing siren dopplered into the distance she could hear him finally…
"…I'm telling you one more time we just need to borrow one of your uniforms and a black-and-white for about half an a hour… Yes, yes I know you're not an ambulance service… No, she just has a minor injury…" Cullen's brow furrowed even deeper as he fumed while listening.
Finally he turned away and exploded. But she could clearly hear everything.
"…I KNOW you don't report to me, Sergeant, but I swear to God that if I don't get a little inter-agency cooperation here I'm going find a way to put my foot so far up somebody's ass I'm kicking tonsils! Let me speak to your Captain!" He waited impatiently, scowling as he grumbled to his men. Just as he started speaking again a helicopter flying overhead drowned him out.
Her hopes rose as his expression finally mellowed and he nodded toward his aides. The rotor noise faded away in time for her to hear him finish. What she saw and heard almost made her break down…
Cullen looked her way, giving her what could only be described as a paternal smile. "…yes, that's right. She's his partner. I owe you one."
She regained her composure as he strode over to her chair and leaned down toward her. "PD should have a car over here in a few minutes. They know it's a priority." He touched her shoulder, "GWU is a Level One Trauma Center. They know what they're doing."
Still unable to speak, she covered his hand where it lay and patted it in gratitude.
Cullen stood up and removed his hand. "Agent Williams will keep in touch. Now if you'll excuse me, Dr. Brennan, I have to get back to work. This is a fresh crime scene after all."
"Thank you." Her voice finally worked again.
He waved a hand behind him in acknowledgement as he briskly walked away, back to the front. His team was caught off guard and had to trot to catch up.
Williams came back one more time while they waited for their ride.
"Your car will be here in just another minute."
Instead of leaving immediately he fidgeted for a moment before blurting out, "Just so you know… my source said Booth went out by medevac chopper." He paused, grimacing before continuing. "They were bagging him as they loaded him. I'm sorry." He rushed off again, clearly uncomfortable at having delivered the latest bombshell.
Angela gasped and sputtered, "But… I thought he's…" She couldn't continue. Tears started to form in her eyes.
Brennan felt the hole within her expand to a gaping chasm that threatened to swallow her up. She felt herself teetering on the precipice. But then she realized something…
Though the void was empty and lifeless it was at least tranquil, unlike that part of her still on the outside caught in the storm.
She tapped into it. And regained her detachment.
She pulled her hand away from Angela's which had reached out to grasp hers again. She was coolly analytical…
She guessed at Angela's concern and clarified Williams' news before Zach could. She marveled at how calmly she spoke. One might even say matter-of-factly. Her eyes were totally dry as she held forth…
"Agent Williams is not talking about placing Booth in a body bag. Here 'bagging" refers to the use of a flexible bladder, known as the 'bag', and a facemask in conjunction with an oxygen supply in order to manually perform artificial respiration. It is used in order to avoid resorting to mouth-to-mouth, which can't utilize supplemental oxygen anyway. The device also incorporates a valve in order to keep from simply recycling the deoxygenated stale air in the patient's lungs."
Angela looked at her strangely.
Brennan totally understood.
She no longer sounded quite human. Not even to her self.
It was awkward squeezing everyone into the police cruiser what with the need for Brennan's leg to remain elevated, but Jack had just caught up again, and they all insisted on going. For once, Hodgins and Zach didn't argue about who got to ride shotgun.
The cop driving them made a few awkward attempts at small talk after first verifying that George Washington was indeed their destination, but the car's interior soon fell silent except for the occasional chatter on the radio. To Brennan it felt as if the void within her had expanded beyond her own body and drawn them all in.
From within the emptiness she came up with a flash of insight.
Her current predicament had its parallel in quantum physics. She felt like she was trapped as an unwilling participant in some sadistic real world version of one of the classic gedanken experiments...
Like Schrödinger's cat in its box, Booth's state was indeterminate, neither dead nor alive. Rather, technically, he was both simultaneously via superposition. Only when observed by her would his probabilistic wave function collapse into one actual state or the other.
He's leaving you, just like everyone else you've ever loved…
She had no retort, much less a rebuttal.
A short while later the seemingly interminable ride crammed into the back of the car, which still carried the faint whiff of last night's vomit, brought her another intellectual insight, one which she had never, ever expected…
It was utterly unnecessary for one to 'believe' in a God or an afterlife in some Heaven in order to acknowledge the existence of Hell.
She knew. She was already in it.
But she was wrong.
Hell was the hospital.
A/N
Longer chapter, longer reviews please.