Bones Fanfiction
Title: A Very Red Christmas
and since everyone didn't seem to know I was a n00b at this kind of stuff, HERES THE LITTLE INFORMATION THING!
Bones fanfiction. Bones and Booth.
Rating: --
Graphic.
Booth contracts the virus and something happens. I cant give anything else away.
They were standing together on the east upper walkway in the Jeffersonian, discussing Booth's "Christmas present" to Bones, the remains of a man that had been found in a fallout shelter. Booth looked at his companion, subconsciously marvelling how her hair, not quite auburn, played with the light filtering through the high windows. Then his eyes moved to her face, which twisted into a strange look --
Quickly Dr. Brennan moved her hands up to her mouth, and sneezed.
Booth remembered all too quickly what Zach Addy had stated as the signs of the sometimes fatal Coccidioidomycosis, or Valley Fever -- influenza-like symptoms, including sneezing, coughing, and headache.
He heard Zach's voice again: "Those unfortunate enough not to recover develop chronic pulmonary infection or widespread disseminated infection that can spread to meninges, bones, soft tissue, and joints." Of course Booth had asked what the hell meninges were, and Zach replied matter-of-factly, "It is the system of membranes that envelop the central nervous system, including the dura mater, arachnoid mater, and the pia mater."
"Thanks, Zach, 'cuz that really helped," Booth said sarcastically.
Zach, totally missing the sarcasm, nodded.
Coming back to the present, Booth locked eyes with Dr. Brennan.
"Bones," he said quietly, "Is that Valley Fever?"
He hadn't been feeling a hundred percent himself, either, even when the side effects of the vaccine had worn off. The feeling had increased throughout the day, and until Bones sneezed, he hadn't taken the symptoms of Valley Fever into account for himself.
He squinted at the light coming through the windows; it suddenly seemed overwhelmingly bright. Brennan's voice came to him from somewhere far away.
He shook his head as the feeling of disorientation worsened.
Then, oh joy, he felt something bubbling up from somewhere inside him. A mixture of air and -- something else. He lifted an arm up to his mouth and coughed; it had the feel of a mucus-y cough, the kind one has when their cold medicine is working and dislodging the disease from their lungs.
He coughed for a good ten seconds, face buried in the blue-striped cloth of his shirt, eyes clenched shut. However, he had a different feeling about this kind of cough. True, it was dislodging something, but what?
And did he really want to know?
When he looked up from his sleeve, Bones was looking at him with a mixture of apprehension and fear. He closed his eyes, relieved that his bout of coughing was over, and dropped his arm back to his side.
But it wasn't over.
"Oh my God..." he heard Bones murmur.
"What?" He followed Bones's gaze of horror to his arm, the sleeve of which was soaked in blood.
Booth took a deep breath, felt more coming, and suddenly his body was wracked with them. He turned to the railing just as the first hack exploded from his mouth in a violent spray of salve and blood. He covered his mouth again, coughing harder than he thought humanly possible. His chest felt like it was about to explode with each bark. He could barely get a breath before the next one overpowered him. His insides were churning and mashing against each other like the mosh pit at some hard metal concert. His strength went out of him and he gripped the railing, slick with bright red blood, to keep from falling to the ground.
He was vaguely aware of other people around him, but his brain could think of nothing except pain and choking and blood being expelled at an alarming rate.
He could hold onto the rail no longer; he slipped down into the corner, still choking on his life. His blood was everywhere now; he was coughing up gouts of it and not just a little spray. It covered his hands and trailed down his arms, dripped through holes in the walkway floor, cascaded down his chin. He could hear nothing but his gunshot barks and the splatter of more blood. He felt someone trying to stick something down his throat. It didn't matter.
My Christmas sure is red, he thought dreamily.
The thing in his throat moved farther down; his thoughts grew faint as his lungs painfully tried to draw breath between the frequent, awful coughing.
He just wanted it to end.
Finally his lungs started to give; his heart pumped madly, sending the ever-thinning blood through Booth's veins; but it was too thin for his lungs to use and they slowly began to shut down. Booth's eyes widened and he clawed at his throat, squirming on the floor in an effort to find a position in which his lungs would function properly. Now that the coughing had begun to die down, and the blood just ran from the corners of his mouth, he heard other sounds -- moans of grief and such. His vision swam and began to fill with black dots as his brain began to react to the insufficient blood. His throat felt locked up; he felt that even if his lungs started up again he would not be able to inhale the air he so desperately needed.
As his hands fell away from his neck, lips shading blue, he felt someone grasp one. In the confusion, he heard his name being tearfully spoken, "Booth.... Booth...."
As before, his eyes locked with those of Dr. Temperance Brennan. Somehow, he managed to give her a half-grin in spite of his fading pain.
She smiled back tearfully, beautifully.
Seeley Booth's soul unchained itself from the earth with that image forever imprinted in its mind.
He wished he could tell her not to cry.
It was only a very red Christmas, after all.
and since everyone didn't seem to know I was a n00b at this kind of stuff, HERES THE LITTLE INFORMATION THING!
Bones fanfiction. Bones and Booth.
Rating: --
Graphic.
Booth contracts the virus and something happens. I cant give anything else away.
They were standing together on the east upper walkway in the Jeffersonian, discussing Booth's "Christmas present" to Bones, the remains of a man that had been found in a fallout shelter. Booth looked at his companion, subconsciously marvelling how her hair, not quite auburn, played with the light filtering through the high windows. Then his eyes moved to her face, which twisted into a strange look --
Quickly Dr. Brennan moved her hands up to her mouth, and sneezed.
Booth remembered all too quickly what Zach Addy had stated as the signs of the sometimes fatal Coccidioidomycosis, or Valley Fever -- influenza-like symptoms, including sneezing, coughing, and headache.
He heard Zach's voice again: "Those unfortunate enough not to recover develop chronic pulmonary infection or widespread disseminated infection that can spread to meninges, bones, soft tissue, and joints." Of course Booth had asked what the hell meninges were, and Zach replied matter-of-factly, "It is the system of membranes that envelop the central nervous system, including the dura mater, arachnoid mater, and the pia mater."
"Thanks, Zach, 'cuz that really helped," Booth said sarcastically.
Zach, totally missing the sarcasm, nodded.
Coming back to the present, Booth locked eyes with Dr. Brennan.
"Bones," he said quietly, "Is that Valley Fever?"
He hadn't been feeling a hundred percent himself, either, even when the side effects of the vaccine had worn off. The feeling had increased throughout the day, and until Bones sneezed, he hadn't taken the symptoms of Valley Fever into account for himself.
He squinted at the light coming through the windows; it suddenly seemed overwhelmingly bright. Brennan's voice came to him from somewhere far away.
He shook his head as the feeling of disorientation worsened.
Then, oh joy, he felt something bubbling up from somewhere inside him. A mixture of air and -- something else. He lifted an arm up to his mouth and coughed; it had the feel of a mucus-y cough, the kind one has when their cold medicine is working and dislodging the disease from their lungs.
He coughed for a good ten seconds, face buried in the blue-striped cloth of his shirt, eyes clenched shut. However, he had a different feeling about this kind of cough. True, it was dislodging something, but what?
And did he really want to know?
When he looked up from his sleeve, Bones was looking at him with a mixture of apprehension and fear. He closed his eyes, relieved that his bout of coughing was over, and dropped his arm back to his side.
But it wasn't over.
"Oh my God..." he heard Bones murmur.
"What?" He followed Bones's gaze of horror to his arm, the sleeve of which was soaked in blood.
Booth took a deep breath, felt more coming, and suddenly his body was wracked with them. He turned to the railing just as the first hack exploded from his mouth in a violent spray of salve and blood. He covered his mouth again, coughing harder than he thought humanly possible. His chest felt like it was about to explode with each bark. He could barely get a breath before the next one overpowered him. His insides were churning and mashing against each other like the mosh pit at some hard metal concert. His strength went out of him and he gripped the railing, slick with bright red blood, to keep from falling to the ground.
He was vaguely aware of other people around him, but his brain could think of nothing except pain and choking and blood being expelled at an alarming rate.
He could hold onto the rail no longer; he slipped down into the corner, still choking on his life. His blood was everywhere now; he was coughing up gouts of it and not just a little spray. It covered his hands and trailed down his arms, dripped through holes in the walkway floor, cascaded down his chin. He could hear nothing but his gunshot barks and the splatter of more blood. He felt someone trying to stick something down his throat. It didn't matter.
My Christmas sure is red, he thought dreamily.
The thing in his throat moved farther down; his thoughts grew faint as his lungs painfully tried to draw breath between the frequent, awful coughing.
He just wanted it to end.
Finally his lungs started to give; his heart pumped madly, sending the ever-thinning blood through Booth's veins; but it was too thin for his lungs to use and they slowly began to shut down. Booth's eyes widened and he clawed at his throat, squirming on the floor in an effort to find a position in which his lungs would function properly. Now that the coughing had begun to die down, and the blood just ran from the corners of his mouth, he heard other sounds -- moans of grief and such. His vision swam and began to fill with black dots as his brain began to react to the insufficient blood. His throat felt locked up; he felt that even if his lungs started up again he would not be able to inhale the air he so desperately needed.
As his hands fell away from his neck, lips shading blue, he felt someone grasp one. In the confusion, he heard his name being tearfully spoken, "Booth.... Booth...."
As before, his eyes locked with those of Dr. Temperance Brennan. Somehow, he managed to give her a half-grin in spite of his fading pain.
She smiled back tearfully, beautifully.
Seeley Booth's soul unchained itself from the earth with that image forever imprinted in its mind.
He wished he could tell her not to cry.
It was only a very red Christmas, after all.