Bones Fic: What the Eyes See
Title: What the Eyes See
Author: Pearly-Eyes
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Bones belongs to its respective owners.
Author’s Note & Synopsis: Gapfiller for the Episode "Wannabe in the Weeds" so MAJOR SPOILERS for those who haven't seen it yet.
When his peripheral vision was suddenly filled with a purposeful turbulent blue, his hand instinctually reached out and held on.
What the Eyes See
He blinked once and drew in a much needed breath and saw an endless span of cobalt. He had always been partial to the colour, blue. White was too pure, seemingly out of place in amongst the vividness of blood red and the grimness of gravel dirt. Greens and browns were earth colours, but they weren’t dark enough to hide the stain or to cover the impurities that the even untrained eye was able to detect. Blue was unpretentious; it was the colour of the sky. Even with the specks of grey on a cloudy day or the ominous black before a thunderstorm, he could always count on the desaturated periwinkle that he had come to associate with clear skies.
“A penny for your thoughts,” a voice interrupted.
“Memories are more precious than gold nowadays, especially around these parts.” His companion let out a chuckle at his response. The statement wasn’t particular funny but in tranquillity of this moment, it was a natural response. It was better to laugh at something to maintain some semblance of normalcy.
“You know I always like the colour blue, nothing as classic or forgiving.”
“You’re a dreamer, Seel. A damn good shot and a poet.”
“Yeah, who knew?” Booth allowed the good natural ribbing between comrades-in-arms. In their line of work, there was something tangible about human contact. With each mission, each shot that he pulled, each life that fell by his gun, another part of him crumbled. There would be a point when he was pushed fall enough over a receding edge and lose all sanity and consciousness. If dreams of wondrous blue was what he needed to hang onto life, then he would take it.
oOoOo
“No! No, come on Booth! Come on!”
He felt like a piece of driftwood being pushed along aimlessly in the vast ocean. But he was a man of action, his life was defined by a sense of purpose and meaning. When his peripheral vision was suddenly filled with a purposeful turbulent blue, his hand instinctually reached out and held on.
oOoOo
“Come on, man. Don’t make me keep my promise!”
There was no doubt the urgency in the plea. This was followed by the sounds of something ripping, along by reinforced pressure on his left side.
“Dammit Seel, when I said you are a good shot ... I didn’t mean a good shooting target,” the voice chided.
The heightened pitch in tone brought to the forefront the elevated intensity of pain. The pressure was still there and the sensation was familiar and comforting - it meant that he was still alive, enough to feel.
Lying supine, he frowned at the hazy shadows and overlapping mirages. “What happened to the sky?” he managed to gasp out.
There was the feeling of unnatural warmth, followed by a chill. He didn’t see his comrade’s intense gaze or acknowledge the firm grip on the wound that was just centimeters away from his left axilla. He could still hear though ... the resonating echoes of a gunshot and a desperate voice calling to him, “If you look hard enough, Seel, it’s still there.”
oOoOo
Her lab coat was a shade of steel blue, giving off an aura of stoicism and seriousness. As they were constantly surrounded by skeletons and decrepit corpses, the colour was seemingly appropriate. Sometimes, it reminded him of the ice, rigid in structure like her mind which was logical to a fault. Yet, like ice which was crystalline in structure, there were intricacies about her that astounded him time and time again. It was more than just the way she could garner the entire life history from studying bones, but the way she connected with the person there once was.
“Come on! Booth! You’re going to make it! It’s gonna be fine.”
oOoOo
“It’s gonna be fine, man ... I’ve got you ... it’s gonna be fine. Just hang on, Seel.”
“Hold on! Booth ... Come on ...”
He learned that origin of the word “blue” stemmed from Old High German blao, which meant “shining.” An insignificant fact, but an fitting one, because it was through her eyes that he come to appreciate her as more than just his partner.
It was true about the saying that the eyes were the window to one’s soul. Each colour corresponded with a specific emotion about her: vivacious indigo, gentle cerulean, passionate ultramarine, and hardened sapphire. She was Temperance Brennan - forensic anthropologist, best selling author, a friend, a daughter, a sister, a colleague, a mentor ... she was a woman in constant state of entropy.
He remembered waking up, facing the window. He realized that time had passed. The clear skies had brought with it renewed life and energy, able to thrive against the malignant darkness that he knew existed. For a fleeting moment, he was able to reminisce and indulge in ignorance.
“Still the dreamer, I see.”
He recognized the voice and allowed himself to be sheltered by it. “Rest for now man, just remember to come back.”
He may have nodded but he wasn’t sure, but the last thing that he saw before surrendering to the darkness was a glimpse of the purest blue. It was lustrous and resplendent and it brought him hope. “I’ve got you, Booth. Just hold on ... ”
The End
Author: Pearly-Eyes
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Bones belongs to its respective owners.
Author’s Note & Synopsis: Gapfiller for the Episode "Wannabe in the Weeds" so MAJOR SPOILERS for those who haven't seen it yet.
When his peripheral vision was suddenly filled with a purposeful turbulent blue, his hand instinctually reached out and held on.
What the Eyes See
He blinked once and drew in a much needed breath and saw an endless span of cobalt. He had always been partial to the colour, blue. White was too pure, seemingly out of place in amongst the vividness of blood red and the grimness of gravel dirt. Greens and browns were earth colours, but they weren’t dark enough to hide the stain or to cover the impurities that the even untrained eye was able to detect. Blue was unpretentious; it was the colour of the sky. Even with the specks of grey on a cloudy day or the ominous black before a thunderstorm, he could always count on the desaturated periwinkle that he had come to associate with clear skies.
“A penny for your thoughts,” a voice interrupted.
“Memories are more precious than gold nowadays, especially around these parts.” His companion let out a chuckle at his response. The statement wasn’t particular funny but in tranquillity of this moment, it was a natural response. It was better to laugh at something to maintain some semblance of normalcy.
“You know I always like the colour blue, nothing as classic or forgiving.”
“You’re a dreamer, Seel. A damn good shot and a poet.”
“Yeah, who knew?” Booth allowed the good natural ribbing between comrades-in-arms. In their line of work, there was something tangible about human contact. With each mission, each shot that he pulled, each life that fell by his gun, another part of him crumbled. There would be a point when he was pushed fall enough over a receding edge and lose all sanity and consciousness. If dreams of wondrous blue was what he needed to hang onto life, then he would take it.
oOoOo
“No! No, come on Booth! Come on!”
He felt like a piece of driftwood being pushed along aimlessly in the vast ocean. But he was a man of action, his life was defined by a sense of purpose and meaning. When his peripheral vision was suddenly filled with a purposeful turbulent blue, his hand instinctually reached out and held on.
oOoOo
“Come on, man. Don’t make me keep my promise!”
There was no doubt the urgency in the plea. This was followed by the sounds of something ripping, along by reinforced pressure on his left side.
“Dammit Seel, when I said you are a good shot ... I didn’t mean a good shooting target,” the voice chided.
The heightened pitch in tone brought to the forefront the elevated intensity of pain. The pressure was still there and the sensation was familiar and comforting - it meant that he was still alive, enough to feel.
Lying supine, he frowned at the hazy shadows and overlapping mirages. “What happened to the sky?” he managed to gasp out.
There was the feeling of unnatural warmth, followed by a chill. He didn’t see his comrade’s intense gaze or acknowledge the firm grip on the wound that was just centimeters away from his left axilla. He could still hear though ... the resonating echoes of a gunshot and a desperate voice calling to him, “If you look hard enough, Seel, it’s still there.”
oOoOo
Her lab coat was a shade of steel blue, giving off an aura of stoicism and seriousness. As they were constantly surrounded by skeletons and decrepit corpses, the colour was seemingly appropriate. Sometimes, it reminded him of the ice, rigid in structure like her mind which was logical to a fault. Yet, like ice which was crystalline in structure, there were intricacies about her that astounded him time and time again. It was more than just the way she could garner the entire life history from studying bones, but the way she connected with the person there once was.
“Come on! Booth! You’re going to make it! It’s gonna be fine.”
oOoOo
“It’s gonna be fine, man ... I’ve got you ... it’s gonna be fine. Just hang on, Seel.”
“Hold on! Booth ... Come on ...”
He learned that origin of the word “blue” stemmed from Old High German blao, which meant “shining.” An insignificant fact, but an fitting one, because it was through her eyes that he come to appreciate her as more than just his partner.
It was true about the saying that the eyes were the window to one’s soul. Each colour corresponded with a specific emotion about her: vivacious indigo, gentle cerulean, passionate ultramarine, and hardened sapphire. She was Temperance Brennan - forensic anthropologist, best selling author, a friend, a daughter, a sister, a colleague, a mentor ... she was a woman in constant state of entropy.
He remembered waking up, facing the window. He realized that time had passed. The clear skies had brought with it renewed life and energy, able to thrive against the malignant darkness that he knew existed. For a fleeting moment, he was able to reminisce and indulge in ignorance.
“Still the dreamer, I see.”
He recognized the voice and allowed himself to be sheltered by it. “Rest for now man, just remember to come back.”
He may have nodded but he wasn’t sure, but the last thing that he saw before surrendering to the darkness was a glimpse of the purest blue. It was lustrous and resplendent and it brought him hope. “I’ve got you, Booth. Just hold on ... ”
The End