Chapter 16: Blisters & Bones
Legit - this actually happened almost to the tee to someone I know. Review please! My God, has it really come to me begging shamelessly for my self esteem? Sad.
Booth was satisfied; the case was progressing nicely and he had several new leads on his murderer. He walked/trotted back to the beachfront in front of his hotel at a quick clip, greeted and let into the restricted roped section by an attendant who met him at the line of sand with: "Hello Mr. Wiley." Brennan was a long way off yet, he knew roughly where she was located and was the farthest away from his current position as she could get. He walked - not quite leisurely, for the sand was scorching - to where the strung out line of cabana chairs were erected. It had taken longer than anticipated to find more information and had been roughly four hours or more since Brennan had been alone. Booth hoped she had rested; he wondered if she was even still on the beach.
Smiling, he saw her form, sprawled face up, looking like either she was tanning luxuriously or sound asleep. Big sunglasses Angela had provided screened her face that was turned towards him from a hundred feet away. Booth slowed to a walk, admiring the perfect shape of her limbs. Even from here he could see she had already burned to a tinted pink. She was going to be angry when she awoke; he chuckled. In juxtaposition, he had already toasted into a nice tan color.
Booth's grin slowly faded into a worried frown as he approached more closely; Brennan's rose-colored skin was deepening as he got nearer. He took off his sunglasses and squinted in the bright setting sun. The closer he got, the redder she became until he came to realize she was lobster red and his heart was racing. Standing over her, throwing his shadow over her bare, perfect stomach, he was horrified to see her beautiful ivory skin was severely blistered and burned a dark burgundy over her stomach, and the red hue lightened as it traveled down her legs. Similarly he noticed the tops of her breasts were blistering around the edges of her pink, ruffled swimsuit.
"Bones," he whispered to himself, his voice laden with agony. Her eyes fluttered open behind thick lenses and Brennan reached up to groggily pull them away. Her arm screamed in protest as her skin stretched. She frowned as she completed the action, swimming to the surface of consciousness while simultaneously noticing her newfound nausea, clammy skin and parched lips.
"Booth," she rasped, then felt tears come to her eyes as her stomach clenched and unclenched, literally ripping the frayed skin of her severely burned abdomen. Even breathing hurt. Tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes she looked down and whimpered.
"Oh my God," she croaked and then panted shallowly at the effort of straining her neck.
"Bone- Ellen, jeez we need to get you inside. Come on, I'll grab all the stuff." In a frenzy, Booth whirled away, snatching everything he could touch and flinging it back in the bag except her cover-up. While he dashed about, Brennan concentrated on sitting up. Panting and sobbing little gut wrenching sobs, she realized with a horrible sinking sensation she couldn't sit up; she couldn't even breathe. It was even worse than the time she had done 1,200 crunches in intervals over the course of the day; they next day she was sure her ribs were broken. This was a hundred times worse.
"Ellen, Ellie – hey, do you need help sitting up?" With a weak but grateful nod, Brennan looked pleadingly at Booth.
"Careful," she choked. Like a baby, Booth slipped a hand behind her back and tried to force her frozen muscles in a sitting position. With a scream that had everyone in earshot turning in shock and horror to glare at Booth, Brennan thrashed weakly. "Stop," she sobbed in a broken beg, "Please, please, please stop."
"How am I going to get you to the room?" he whispered, his face next to hers and 10 years older with worry creasing over his usual laugh lines. "Can I carry you?"
"I don't," she panted, "have much…of a choice…Greg."
"Stay here," he whispered. Sprinting off, he rushed to an aid's attention and quickly explained his situation so that the attendant would get their bags and effects. Brennan suffered quietly under the sun until something in a tiny glass was forced to her lips.
"Swallow. This will burn." Brennan thirstily swallowed and felt the liquor singe a fiery trail down her throat. She coughed and winced. "Again," whispered Booth. Catching to his game, Brennan swallowed again and a third time. When she felt like she could handle it she held up a hand.
"I'm ready," she whispered. Wincing, concern and love burning in his eyes so forcibly she couldn't stop staring at him completely entranced, Booth pulled her into his arms in one quick jerk. Brennan yelped and couldn't stop the tears from leaking over her cheeks.
People parted for them with winces and cries of empathy as Brennan's blistered stomach passed in their line of sight. Booth at first tried to walk as slowly as he could to make it as painless as possible. However, when Brennan couldn't stop weeping in agony, Booth growled and moved to plan b and ran with her, letting the quick jostling be the price of their haste. Brennan at first cried out, but clenched her teeth and kept her shrieking whimpers behind her teeth when she realized Booth was simply protecting her. People fled the elevator under Booth's ferocious glare and he kicked the top floor button. For the brief moments in the elevator Booth's mind flashed to carrying his comrades over the terrain of Iraq. Brennan felt him flinch and instead of paying attention to her own pain she concentrated on his face.
The scent of his neck invaded her nostrils previously filled with the painful combination of overheated sunscreen and the emetic scent of sweetly burned flesh. He was grimacing but her vision was so disjointed by both his jostling jogging and her brief flashes where the world went completely white, she felt the need to gasp out a question.
"You're upset." It wasn't the question she had been thinking of. Hers was a much more primal lament at the loss of their sex lives and her single handedly ruining their vacation through her own careless stupidity.
"Of course I'm upset," he seethed through gritted teeth; Brennan saw the numbers in the elevator rising with quiet dings and knew she had seconds before she wouldn't be able to force the words out because she'd be too busy trying to force the air in.
"You think this is your fault." As usual, she wasn't arguing with him; she simply voiced her guesses aloud in her most self assured tone and he either blew up at her and told her exactly how she was wrong, or he grew very quiet and nodded a quick, tight nod. Although she couldn't see his face, his entire body tensed with his silent head jerk.
"That's absurd Booth," she bitched. "I knew I was fair. I brought the hat but didn't think about the rest of my body. I just wanted to be a little tanner," she said it defensively but stopped breathing as he jolted out the door, sprinting down the hall so as to get her to a stable place more quickly than having to endure the agony of his arms. He chuckled darkly; the agony of his arms. How rich.
"You're wrong Ellen," he griped through clenched teeth. He was frantically trying to think how he could swipe her into the room without either dropping her or causing her unimaginable anguish. "I left you alone. I knew you forgot sunscreen. I should have been there."
"You can't protect me from the whole world Booth." She gasped as his fingers clenched involuntarily on her back, reminding her of their personas. "Did you at least get our guy?" One quick, tight nod again and they were standing in front of the door. Angrily Booth kicked a foot out.
"Damn," he cursed and repeated it at her instinctive whimper. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to jostle—" he cut off as the door was yanked open from the inside.
"Mr. Wiley," said a Polynesian man dressed in the uniform of the concierge. "We heard about your wife." He looked into Booth's arms as what little of Brennan's already burgundy face flushed scarlet. "We are so very sorry that this happened with our attendants on watch. We try not to wake sunbathers, but this level of burn severity should never have been allowed to occur. Please realize we are debriefing our staff forcibly now for ruining your vacation. Please also accept our condolences and assurance that everything inside is free of charge, as is the rest of your vacation and any services the Westin can offer." Surprised, Booth managed a grunted thank you before the man excused himself with a curt, courtly bow.
"Let me get you to the bed," he whispered under his breath.
"No sir," said a female voice. "We've prepared a bath for your wife." Booth's head snapped up.
"Excuse me?" and Brennan could tell that he had forgotten they were on assignment and was reacting to the assumed relationship between them as partners. Why do people always think we are a couple? She managed to wonder wildly before another wave of heat stroke symptoms washed over her. The petite Japanese woman stuttered.
"Here. In the hot tub, we know how to treat this." Booth gingerly carried his lover into the luxurious grand scale bathroom specifically designed for two honeymooners. The sunken tub against one wall had a series of jets, headrests and even a falling shower inserted into the marble near the ceiling like a waterfall. It came out in a smooth sheet as well, instead of the usual rainfall from a showerhead. But Brennan's eyes were snagged on the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. The entire sunken tub was filled with ice water.
"Please," she whispered, both to Booth and to the young woman who had drawn the bath; the cart full of coolers that had obviously been a very labor-intensive task was parked in the doorway.
"I'll take it from here, thank you," grunted Booth and the woman fled but before she left a kick from Brennan had him wincing out loud. "Really Ms…Li? Thank you." Flushed and acutely embarrassed the young Ms. Li left pushing the rattling cart. Booth didn't let out his held breath until he heard the final door shut behind her.
"Is anyone else here?" he called out in general; Brennan wasn't paying attention. Her mind was currently swimming in her overwhelming need to drink half of the ice water and live in the rest for all time. Receiving silence as his answer Booth looked down at his partner's face.
"Okay Bones, we've gotta have a plan. You like plans, and logic." At that point, Temperance Brennan didn't care. She moaned instead. But Booth was having none of it. Talking it out seemed to be organizing and tamping his fury. "I'm gonna put you down here okay?" He gently laid her out on a cool marble shelf next to the tub and she hissed at the initial contact before sighing heavily.
"I could sleep here," she chuckled dryly before mentally kicking herself for laughing at all.
Booth shrugged out of his shirt but kept his swim trunks on. "Hey," he said softly, "I'm going to help you pull of your swimsuit."
"Just let me keep it on," she begged. She wasn't sure if she was afraid of the pain, or ashamed of her body, but either way she didn't want his hands to touch the scrap of cloth between her and dignity. Her eyes filled with tears as his hands moved to unbuckle her breast band but she was much too weak to fight him off.
"Easy Bones," he said frowning, "easy. Don't you go getting that look on your face. I won't bother you."
"I don't want you to see," she whispered brokenly. He grinned a parody of his little boy's cocky grin.
"I've seen you naked before." When she didn't even crack a smile and simply stared at the ceiling, battling to control her tears, he sighed. "What would make this easier for you?"
"If I'm naked," she insisted stubbornly, "then you should be too."
"Bones," he winced, staring at the cubes of ice floating around and imagining it on his bare…"Is it the only way?" She nodded slowly, seeming genuine.
"I'm sorry." He shrugged it off and rolled his shoulders impressively.
"Whatever, it's no big deal." He tore his shorts off and gingerly moved his hands to her clasp; he was lucky it was in the front of her bathing suit, cleverly disguised as big, overblown yellow buttons in the magenta ruffles.
"Be careful," she whimpered.
"Don't you trust me?" he grinned sweetly, his fingers moving an inch a minute, careful not to startle her. She took the question as seriously as she took everything he said, and she took it to heart which she always refuted (being a brain person herself.)
"With my life," she whispered honestly. The last button came undone in Booth's grasp and she hissed in pain and some rage as he carefully peeled the two halves down her ribs and laid them aside. He gasped, not in revulsion as she feared, but in horror. The perfection of her breasts was now ravished with trenches and furrows of skin parting in blistered trails.
"All this and a black eye," she grimaced in a morbid sort of joke. He laughed hollowly, too loudly. But it made them both feel more normal.
"Strike two for me," laughed Booth, self-deprecating. She wrapped her fingers tightly around his wrist.
"I don't know what that means," she said seriously. "But I don't think you have any strikes against me." With a crooked smile, he hooked two fingers in her bottoms. "Just rip them off in one sweep," she gasped with bated breath. She remembered she had said the same to him not a week ago when they had first been together. How little has changed, she thought grimly in a dark sort of humor.
Instead, Booth eased them off, little by little, while she winced and hissed every step of the way. Even where the swimsuit had been wrapped against her body, that skin was still pink. Not a nails width of her body was left white. Even the top of her skull was flushed dully pink.
"I'm going to pick you up, very slowly," cautioned Booth and proceeded to do so as she tried not to cry out in agony. Although they were both naked and Booth was carrying her into a tub, what Angela had seen in their asexuality was echoed here. Calm and strong, they both grasped each other – Booth physically while Brennan hung onto his mentality for dear life – and sank into the tub. Brennan actually gave a small scream of delight, not far from the ones he had forced from her rational being in bed, at the feel of the ice water against her red, raped skin.
Booth began shivering almost instantly, but he refused to leave her, and they sat for a long while in the tub, talking incautiously about everything and nothing at all. Booth, after hauling himself out, sat on the rim with his feet in the pool, and Brennan propped against his feet having no core strength to remain seated without help. Many years later, they would remember the moment and their rambling hour long talk but not the words.
The words, after all, weren't really what they were talking about.