The Parallel (Bones Fan Fiction)

Four: Brennan

There was a pressure in my head. It was excruciating—blindingly excruciating. Though my eyes were closed, light filtered through my lids and it hurt.

I didn't think I could open them and I sure as hell didn't want to try.

I was going to have to rely on my other senses. Touch? The soft feel of sheets caressed my skin and a weight on my hand. Hear? The fast beeping of a machine. Smell? An antiseptic aroma. Taste? Bile. I could taste bile and the tang of acid made me feel sick all over again.

My stomach lurched and I grit my teeth against the immediate wave of nausea. I waited for it to pass, slowly—very slowly—until eventually it was gone and I was back to just the pressure in my head.

Steadily, I chanced opening my eyes, blinking in rapid succession as my vision focused. I was in a hospital room, with bland white walls and a Holter monitor beeping steadily.

Gently turning my head to the right, my gaze fell to Booth, sitting in a chair next to the bed. His head rested beside my abdomen, eyes closed, soft breathing emanating from him and his hand was intertwined with mine. Despite how uncomfortable a position it seemed, he looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake him.

Swallowing down the taste of vomit, I grimaced. Water. I needed water. Turning my head the other way, I spotted a glass. I wanly reached for it, a slight tremor coursing through my body.

I felt weak. Not a feeling I was accustomed to, nor a feeling I particularly liked. The slight movement shifted the blankets and Booth sat up, blinking blearily.

"Bones," he breathed, standing up so fast his chair nearly toppled over. He leaned in close to me. "You're awake."

"What happened?"

"You passed out. I found you on the floor covered in soup and drooling," Booth said jokingly, though his eyes suggested he was not amused. He was worried and scared.

"Booth!" I chastised. "I did not drool!"

"Oh yeah you did. Huge puddle of it, too. The EMT guys had to lay down a towel just so they didn't slip and drop you," he rambled, eyes glassy as he peered down at me.

I swallowed and took his hand in both of mine, squeezing. "It's okay, Booth. I'm okay."

"I know you're okay," Booth said, appearing suddenly uncomfortable as his gaze dropped to our clasped hands. "What's with the reassurance?"

"You're redirecting your fear, turning it into humor. Fear is a basic human emotion, Booth. You don't have to use jokes to mask the fact that you were scared that I would die."

"Whoa!" He pulled his hands away and held them up, palms facing outward. "I do not use humor to mask my fear. And I'd appreciate, Bones, if you didn't dissect me like one of your lab experiments, okay?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not dissecting you. I'm merely stating an observation."

He sat back, crossing his arms. "You are dissecting me. And I don't appreciate it."

I said nothing. We went a couple minutes unspeaking. Booth was the first to break the silence. "You're right."

I gripped the soft blankets as hard as my weak muscles would allow me to.

"I was scared."

He met my gaze and held it, eyes shiny with moisture. I swallowed and blinked back my own tears. I wasn't used to seeing Booth this way. Not often. It wasn't a side he liked to show anyone.