10 Fics in 10 Days: Day 4
He was acting…
The way he was acting…
He wasn’t quite acting like himself.
That was the best…way to put it. Not like himself. Yes.
It’s perfectly understandable, after what he’s been through.
He’d been strange at the crime scene, odd when talking to the FBI forensics team, and now he was driving the car, and he was-
He was-
Well, she thought it was dancing. A fast song came on the radio, and it wasn’t something he’d usually listen to. If he were acting like he usually acted, he’d cut it off, and start complaining about crappy music, and lack of guitars, and something else, but no.
He was dancing.
She had to face the truth of it.
And he was bad. REALLY bad.
And singing, God, he was singing. She hadn’t been able to notice the singing, she was so shocked by the dancing.
“Booth?” she asks. He keeps on dancing - well, flailing his arms, and rocking his head from side to side, if you can call that dancing - and singing.
The singing, at the very least, had to stop.
“Booth!” she shouts it, a little louder than she probably should have, and he almost gets rear-ended, because he hits the breaks so hard.
“What have I said about shouting while I’m driving?”
“I was trying to talk to you-“
“We could have really gotten hurt, Bones-“
“Booth, you were singing so loud that-“
“I was just enjoying-“
“BOOTH!”
And they both just stop.
They’re looking at each other, breathing hard, both angry, both feeling incredibly out of sorts. A horn honks, and Booth looks back at the road, moving the SUV forward.
It’s the first moment when she sees it, the first moment since he woke up that she knows.
He’s scared. He’s scared to death.
He knows he’s acting strange, that he’s not himself, and there are these things, things he can’t remember, things he doesn’t know. He’s wearing a black tie, and black socks, and that’s not him, and people keep telling him that, but he doesn’t remember. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. He’s Booth in essentials - he is still kind, he is still just, he is still overly protective, and he is still infuriating, but he isn’t him. He’s like a picture in a coloring book, all lines, no colors filling in the blank space.
She doesn’t like this, seeing him scared. How many times has he been brave when she wasn’t? How many times has he made her feel like there was something that she could live through that she didn’t think she could (not just survive, but live through, she could survive anything, but before him, lived through almost nothing)? He’s the bravest person she knows.
She feels paralyzed by this, and everything is backwards. He’s always the one trying to fill in her blank spots, not the other way around.
But she has to try.
She owes it to him to try.
She owes it to herself.
She reaches over to turn the radio down, but his hand beats her to it, and she lays her hand on his, for just a second, until they both move their hands away.
“Booth, I-“
“Bones, don’t.”
“I just want you to know-“
“You don’t have to say it, okay? I know that I’m not-“
“That’s not what I was going to say.” It comes out in a rush. It feels important that he knows that she wasn’t going to say what he thought she would.
That he’s not himself. That he’s strange and different.
She almost feels like she might cry, for some reason, at the idea of Booth believing that she thought any less of him than she does. She knows he has good reason for it; if you evaluated her past with him, you would see that she’d made that mistake a few times too many.
He never thinks of her as less. He never makes her feel like less.
She waits for him to look at her, for just a second, to let her know it would be okay to keep talking. He does.
Doesn’t he always?
“I just want you to know that I’m here to help. And that I know that you’ll get through this.”
“I know all the tests say-“
“I know what the tests say, too, Booth. And this isn’t about the tests. It’s about you. I know you, and I know you’ll be fine.”
He’s smirking. He seems more like himself than he has all day. She smiles, too. She knows, that despite her past failures, he believes her.
How he does that, she doesn’t think that she’ll ever understand. But she hopes that she does.
“That sounds a lot like faith, Bones.”
“Booth, I know you. I know you’ll get better. You’ve proven before that your body can handle extreme trauma, and you have unusually strong survival instincts. Based on your age and your physical health, statistically, you should make a full recovery.”
“Pffftt. Admit that you have faith in me.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with-“
“Come on, Bones. I have all the faith in the world in you. I trust you more than anyone. Do you or do you not trust me?”
It’s not something he’d usually say, especially so flippantly, and she wonders, is this the Booth she knows, or the Booth who was dancing and singing in the car?
She’s told him that she believes he’ll be well, but she has no way of knowing, really knowing, and she wonders how long she’s going to ask herself which Booth she’s talking to….
She looks at him.
She’s seen him like this so many times before, driving the Sequoia, arguing with her, asking her questions, challenging her about everything. But this is his first day back, and she’s starting to see the lines form on his face, he’s getting older, she’s getting older, and for a second, it feels like all they’re doing is getting older, and-
“Yes.”
It pops out of her mouth awkwardly. There had been a long pause between his question and her answer, and he looks at her, surprised, smiling.
“Yeah?” he asks, in that way he does, when he seems inexplicably pleased by something she’s said.
“Yeah,” she echoes back. And it feels like, for a moment, just a moment, that everything will be all right.
That maybe there are things she has the capacity to believe in.
That maybe he’s the most important one.
.
I'll try to get through another one tonight, but we'll see. This self-imposed challenge is...challenging.
The way he was acting…
He wasn’t quite acting like himself.
That was the best…way to put it. Not like himself. Yes.
It’s perfectly understandable, after what he’s been through.
He’d been strange at the crime scene, odd when talking to the FBI forensics team, and now he was driving the car, and he was-
He was-
Well, she thought it was dancing. A fast song came on the radio, and it wasn’t something he’d usually listen to. If he were acting like he usually acted, he’d cut it off, and start complaining about crappy music, and lack of guitars, and something else, but no.
He was dancing.
She had to face the truth of it.
And he was bad. REALLY bad.
And singing, God, he was singing. She hadn’t been able to notice the singing, she was so shocked by the dancing.
“Booth?” she asks. He keeps on dancing - well, flailing his arms, and rocking his head from side to side, if you can call that dancing - and singing.
The singing, at the very least, had to stop.
“Booth!” she shouts it, a little louder than she probably should have, and he almost gets rear-ended, because he hits the breaks so hard.
“What have I said about shouting while I’m driving?”
“I was trying to talk to you-“
“We could have really gotten hurt, Bones-“
“Booth, you were singing so loud that-“
“I was just enjoying-“
“BOOTH!”
And they both just stop.
They’re looking at each other, breathing hard, both angry, both feeling incredibly out of sorts. A horn honks, and Booth looks back at the road, moving the SUV forward.
It’s the first moment when she sees it, the first moment since he woke up that she knows.
He’s scared. He’s scared to death.
He knows he’s acting strange, that he’s not himself, and there are these things, things he can’t remember, things he doesn’t know. He’s wearing a black tie, and black socks, and that’s not him, and people keep telling him that, but he doesn’t remember. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. He’s Booth in essentials - he is still kind, he is still just, he is still overly protective, and he is still infuriating, but he isn’t him. He’s like a picture in a coloring book, all lines, no colors filling in the blank space.
She doesn’t like this, seeing him scared. How many times has he been brave when she wasn’t? How many times has he made her feel like there was something that she could live through that she didn’t think she could (not just survive, but live through, she could survive anything, but before him, lived through almost nothing)? He’s the bravest person she knows.
She feels paralyzed by this, and everything is backwards. He’s always the one trying to fill in her blank spots, not the other way around.
But she has to try.
She owes it to him to try.
She owes it to herself.
She reaches over to turn the radio down, but his hand beats her to it, and she lays her hand on his, for just a second, until they both move their hands away.
“Booth, I-“
“Bones, don’t.”
“I just want you to know-“
“You don’t have to say it, okay? I know that I’m not-“
“That’s not what I was going to say.” It comes out in a rush. It feels important that he knows that she wasn’t going to say what he thought she would.
That he’s not himself. That he’s strange and different.
She almost feels like she might cry, for some reason, at the idea of Booth believing that she thought any less of him than she does. She knows he has good reason for it; if you evaluated her past with him, you would see that she’d made that mistake a few times too many.
He never thinks of her as less. He never makes her feel like less.
She waits for him to look at her, for just a second, to let her know it would be okay to keep talking. He does.
Doesn’t he always?
“I just want you to know that I’m here to help. And that I know that you’ll get through this.”
“I know all the tests say-“
“I know what the tests say, too, Booth. And this isn’t about the tests. It’s about you. I know you, and I know you’ll be fine.”
He’s smirking. He seems more like himself than he has all day. She smiles, too. She knows, that despite her past failures, he believes her.
How he does that, she doesn’t think that she’ll ever understand. But she hopes that she does.
“That sounds a lot like faith, Bones.”
“Booth, I know you. I know you’ll get better. You’ve proven before that your body can handle extreme trauma, and you have unusually strong survival instincts. Based on your age and your physical health, statistically, you should make a full recovery.”
“Pffftt. Admit that you have faith in me.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with-“
“Come on, Bones. I have all the faith in the world in you. I trust you more than anyone. Do you or do you not trust me?”
It’s not something he’d usually say, especially so flippantly, and she wonders, is this the Booth she knows, or the Booth who was dancing and singing in the car?
She’s told him that she believes he’ll be well, but she has no way of knowing, really knowing, and she wonders how long she’s going to ask herself which Booth she’s talking to….
She looks at him.
She’s seen him like this so many times before, driving the Sequoia, arguing with her, asking her questions, challenging her about everything. But this is his first day back, and she’s starting to see the lines form on his face, he’s getting older, she’s getting older, and for a second, it feels like all they’re doing is getting older, and-
“Yes.”
It pops out of her mouth awkwardly. There had been a long pause between his question and her answer, and he looks at her, surprised, smiling.
“Yeah?” he asks, in that way he does, when he seems inexplicably pleased by something she’s said.
“Yeah,” she echoes back. And it feels like, for a moment, just a moment, that everything will be all right.
That maybe there are things she has the capacity to believe in.
That maybe he’s the most important one.
.
I'll try to get through another one tonight, but we'll see. This self-imposed challenge is...challenging.