Bones Ficlet: Circular (Reasoning)
It’s been a very long time since I’ve attempted to write Bones fic. But I cannot stop thinking about last night’s episode - which doesn’t happen often, lately. Thus follows an attempt to get inside Brennan’s head and get Bones out of mine.
Title: Circular (Reasoning)
Author: pharmduh
Characters: Brennan (implied B/B)
Rating: T (to be safe)
Spoilers: Up to and including 6x22, The Hole in the Heart
Summary: What’s past is prologue. - William Shakespeare
She is lying there in the dark, Booth’s oversized sweatshirt wrapped around her. In it she feels smaller than she actually is, as if she could disappear within its folds so that come morning Booth would find a lump of cotton and a pillow on his couch instead of her.
But people do not disappear into thin air. They leave, they die, they decay, but there is always something left behind, albeit in a different form (the law of conservation of mass and energy). The thought seems like one Booth would agree with, for different reasons, and for a moment Brennan feels closer to him than the eight steps it would take her to reach his door.
She must be getting better at this, she muses. After Zack she was a mess (they all were). Heartbroken. Betrayed. Above all, guilty. He was her intern (the others laid claim to him as well, but it wasn’t the same, not the same at all - )
It was exactly the same.
Vincent and Zack. Two brilliant students who had placed their trust in her. To teach them to see what she did. To challenge and to guide them. And she had failed. She had let the cruelties of life beyond the lab seep into the Jeffersonian and destroy them. One fell to the seductive allure of a killer’s cold logic; the other to an executioner’s hand-crafted bullet. Semantics, she thinks.
Please, don’t make me leave, he had begged. I love being here…
Dear Mr. Addy: (she had written)
It is my pleasure to offer you the post of my intern in Forensic Anthropology. I chose you from hundreds of applicants because of your knowledge, your desire to learn, and because I feel you will find a home here.
After Zack, Brennan had struck the last segment from her acceptance letters.
It wasn’t supposed to happen again.
Suddenly the darkness she had wanted to hide in is swallowing her, and an irrational fear of vanishing (sweatshirt and all) before daylight leaves her weak. She clutches Booth’s sleeve, his scent permeating the fabric. It is not enough. Not when Booth is on the other side of that door, not when he is as solid and warm as his reassurances.
She knows there are really more than eight steps separating them. There is Hannah and rejection and bad timing and old scars, all pushing them further apart on the continuum.
But maybe neither of them is moving in a straight line, she thinks.
Maybe they’re all traveling in circles.
End
A/N: Brennan's usually sound logic is rather shoddy in blaming herself for VNM's death, I know. In my head, it's not a stretch that she may feel that way - hence the title.
Title: Circular (Reasoning)
Author: pharmduh
Characters: Brennan (implied B/B)
Rating: T (to be safe)
Spoilers: Up to and including 6x22, The Hole in the Heart
Summary: What’s past is prologue. - William Shakespeare
She is lying there in the dark, Booth’s oversized sweatshirt wrapped around her. In it she feels smaller than she actually is, as if she could disappear within its folds so that come morning Booth would find a lump of cotton and a pillow on his couch instead of her.
But people do not disappear into thin air. They leave, they die, they decay, but there is always something left behind, albeit in a different form (the law of conservation of mass and energy). The thought seems like one Booth would agree with, for different reasons, and for a moment Brennan feels closer to him than the eight steps it would take her to reach his door.
She must be getting better at this, she muses. After Zack she was a mess (they all were). Heartbroken. Betrayed. Above all, guilty. He was her intern (the others laid claim to him as well, but it wasn’t the same, not the same at all - )
It was exactly the same.
Vincent and Zack. Two brilliant students who had placed their trust in her. To teach them to see what she did. To challenge and to guide them. And she had failed. She had let the cruelties of life beyond the lab seep into the Jeffersonian and destroy them. One fell to the seductive allure of a killer’s cold logic; the other to an executioner’s hand-crafted bullet. Semantics, she thinks.
Please, don’t make me leave, he had begged. I love being here…
Dear Mr. Addy: (she had written)
It is my pleasure to offer you the post of my intern in Forensic Anthropology. I chose you from hundreds of applicants because of your knowledge, your desire to learn, and because I feel you will find a home here.
After Zack, Brennan had struck the last segment from her acceptance letters.
It wasn’t supposed to happen again.
Suddenly the darkness she had wanted to hide in is swallowing her, and an irrational fear of vanishing (sweatshirt and all) before daylight leaves her weak. She clutches Booth’s sleeve, his scent permeating the fabric. It is not enough. Not when Booth is on the other side of that door, not when he is as solid and warm as his reassurances.
She knows there are really more than eight steps separating them. There is Hannah and rejection and bad timing and old scars, all pushing them further apart on the continuum.
But maybe neither of them is moving in a straight line, she thinks.
Maybe they’re all traveling in circles.
End
A/N: Brennan's usually sound logic is rather shoddy in blaming herself for VNM's death, I know. In my head, it's not a stretch that she may feel that way - hence the title.