AN: [Insert standard boilerplate of how I don't own Bones] And let the suspense play out; since today was declared a snow day I suddenly find myself with a lot of time on my hands to write. Enjoy!
A deafening roar fills the lab as the flash from the .44 magnum extends like an arm from the muzzle; the air of the entire room is buffeted by the explosion.
To describe the sight, the act, you are forced back into your training in philosophy; God how you hated philosophy when you took it.
Often it is simple enough for a man to act under pressure but the question of why comes down to whether or not he acted instinctively or out of deliberation; was it an involuntary or voluntary reaction to outside stimuli which caused him to do what he did?
You've forgotten how many times people have asked you why you do the things you did, why you do the things you do? Why do you fight? Why do you put yourself in danger? Why? Why? Why?
You've given many answers in the past, all of them ringing hollow in your lips even as you breathed them out to assuage the endless curiosity of the blessed ignorance demonstrated by those asking the inquiry.
"Because it's my job."
That one always rang hollow on you, your job only meant that you were put into potentially dangerous situations. Even when you were a dogface infantry soldier you never had to do nearly as many dangerous things as you did. The vast majority of soldiers never have to fire off a shot in anger and far fewer ever take a life with their shot. You've fired many shots. You've taken many lives.
"I had to act."
That one comes closer to the truth but it doesn't really answer anything either. It only restates that you had to do something not why you did it.
"It was my duty."
That one is even closer to the truth that you didn't want to acknowledge. But what is duty? Did duty demand the things of you that you gave up? Maybe it did but more often it didn't.
The only true answer that you can give is simply complex and ineffably tangible.
"Love."
Greater love hath no man, than to lay down his life for his brother. John 15:13 you know your Bible.
You know deep down that you did the things that you did and do the things that you do out of a deep feeling of love for your fellows. What is a greater act of love than to put your own mortal body between your family, your friends and the hollow and cold depredations of war? It is a simple act of love to take upon yourself, the pain and anguish meant for someone else. For too many this simple feeling of love is mistaken for other such words: honor, duty, patriotism, brotherhood. But only love can truly describe the act. How else can you describe the sheer sacredness of the Sacrifice and of its limitless mini-reenactments? When men say "Women and children first" it is not an act of bravado but an act of love for all men deep down know that they must protect women and children at any and all cost. Chauvinist many say, but true. It is through the clarity of love that any man will sacrifice himself for even a sliver of a chance to hope that his beloved will survive and be better for his gift of love. You briefly think that Bones would classify this behavior as a biological and social imperative imprinted on men from cultural socialization but you know deep down that it is love that causes such sacrifice. You know that simply being male does not make you a man; only a man can love enough to pay the ultimate cost. For all the bitter protestations and words to the contrary it is in that final act of voluntary love that even unrequited love or love rent asunder is united in a brief and unbreakable bond which makes itself whole and manifest. It is deeply programmed in men to love women, not necessarily romantically but to love them nonetheless. It is with that love that he proves himself a man.
Love.
That is what you saw as you vaulted over the side of the platform. Too late to save your friend.
You saw Dr. Jack Hodgins throw his mortal body between the woman that he loved and the cold, hollow, and terrible specter of violence, terror, and war.
His eyes were fixed.
His eyes were purposeful.
His eyes showed fear.
His eyes showed peace.
You see the blood and bone and gore.
You see the bullet travel through Hodgins' body, but the path has been twisted away from Angela.
For one brief second you know that Hodgins' staring up at his love; alive and without physical injury.
You know that even as his blood is bubbling and his life is draining from him onto the sterile lab floor that he is smiling.
You briefly wonder what is going through the mind of the shooter as his thick heavy-set features turn towards you.
You still hear the filthy Slavic-undertoned curses which came from his mouth only a few days ago.
You don't even bother drawing your weapon; too close for bullets I'm switching to beating the ever-loving life out of this goddamnmotherfuckingpieceofdogshitpansyassedsonofawhoreunclefucker.
Your left fist connects with his stomach; hitting people in the face is for fucking amateurs. You hear a satisfying wheeze as the bastard drops his pistol. A flash of stabbing pain shoots up from your hand. You barely notice that as the pistol goes off as it hits the floor but you have no idea where the bullet hit. No time to worry about that now.
Your right hook catches him right under the jaw exposing his neck.
Your left hand roughly grabs him by the throat and you toss him to the floor, barely believing your strength. Dude looks like he's 200lbs.
A swift kick to the dangly bits elicits a scream which is only music to your ears. Oh what the hell give him another one. No time for Marquis of Queensbury rules.
You keep up a fullisade of sharp kicks up and down the bastard's body until flipping him onto his stomach and roughly securing his hands behind his body.
Suddenly when you look up you realize that you weren't even angry at this guy before. Now you are.
Even more you are furious.
You see Angela sobbing desperately trying to staunch a slowing flow of blood from a still body on the lab floor. Tears mix with blood. Unintelligible words punctuated with gasps and sobs.
You see Cam screaming for help her hands also vainly trying to hold back the river of blood and bile flowing forth from Wendell. When the pistol hit the floor and discharged you realize that it must have hit him. You hear the haunting and tell-tale bubbly wheezing coming from his blood drenched lips; only to hear it stop.
And then you see Athena Goddess of Wisdom and War.
She tosses you off of the shooter with barely a grunt of effort; testament to her strength fueled by unimaginable fury.
You briefly wonder he'll immolate under her vengeful gaze.
Your thoughts quickly turn to if she'll dismember him like the Furies of Greek Myth. You wonder this mainly because that is one loud snap that she managed to get from his shoulder. That and Bones doesn't look like she wants to leave it at that what with her sudden snap kick to the other shoulder dislocating it with a pop.
You quickly push Bones off of the man before she kills him; a far more difficult task than you realized as she is showing no intention to showing him any mercy, and yank him painfully up to his feet. At least she's not actively trying to dismember him by hand; only measuring him carefully for a coffin. Her eyes as sharp as diamonds.
You look around at the carnage.
This must end.
You see the pain that was inflicted by this excrement you're holding. You see the pain evident in the eyes of Bones, Cam, and Angela. Hodgins' eyes don't betray pain, only peace. Wendell shows astonishment and shock.
To what end are you willing to go to make sure that no more pain shows?
You make one last glance at Bones.
"Don't follow me. I will do what needs to be done. I don't want you to see what I'm about to do. Get help for Hodgins and Wendell."
You grab a set of surgical instruments and start off the platform half dragging half frog-marching a breathing piece of dead meat to a small side room without security cameras and a stout lockable door.
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"So how does it feel for a Zeke to give you a bath rather than you give him one huh?"
You splash the contents of a bottle of chemicals that you found in the room onto the various panoply of cuts and bruises exposed on his neck and face. You don't remember much about high school chemistry but you do know that rubbing alcohol hurts like holy hell on cuts.
You can't hear anything more than a muffled grunt of pain. At least you put the gag in properly this time, too tight and he can still emit surprisingly loud cries of pain.
"You and I both know that we don't have a lot of time here; pretty soon somebody is going to come in here and break up this party. And we both also know that that means that I'm just going to have to break you sooner than I would otherwise. So once again; where is your boss?"
Stone cold glare in response.
You feel your humanity drain away from you as you pick up the first tool. A cold metal scoop. A slightly larger than normal spoon for all intents and purposes.
"You and yours hurt someone special to me, and I'm not talking about the men you shot today. And see, I don't like it when this person hurts. Therefore I'm going to introduce you to some of the pain that she's had to experience until you tell me what I need to know."
You slowly press the edge of the scoop to the edge of his left eye. All you see is fear and terror and all he sees is… nothingness, and the edge of a metal object ready to remove his eyeball.
Suddenly a garbled string of words tries to break out from the gag.
"Finally, I knew that we could discuss this without resorting to something totally irreversible."
*************************************************************************************************
You walk out of the small room. Face set on the task ahead.
Bones is simply staring at you, jaw clenched.
Paramedics are wheeling out two gurneys; you can't discern the extent of the injuries that the wounded have sustained.
Wordlessly you stalk towards the door; no surprise that she falls lockstep beside you as you ignore the police line and get into your car. The door slams shut as Bones takes the seat next to you.
Seconds pass as you and her sit there staring at each other, seeing and not seeing.
Tension builds.
"I know where they are."
That was all you said.
She just nods.
You start the car and head towards your apartment. For what is to come you have to be ready.
AN: Sorry if I haven't actually admitted if any characters are actually going to die yet, but I need some way to get you all to keep reading my work. The earliest I'll be able to update this is going to be about two weeks from now as I have jury duty and drill this week; plus Empire: Total War comes out in two days, yes I am a gaming nerd. Hope you enjoyed that and please review.