Disclaimer: They're not mine. If they were I might be more careful with them.
Note: I was hard at work on a better story when this popped into my head and wouldn't be shaken. Enjoy. I hope.
Identifying the Elephant
"Sometimes I think they must be going at it every time we turn our backs."
Booth and Brennan are on on the ground floor. They're arguing over something. Again. Punctuating their points with hands that don't really need to touch but do anyway. By now, even their arguments are just excuses.
Above, the artist and the analyst watch, unnoticed because, as always, the agent and the doctor are too busy watching each other.
"You really think...?" Sweets responds, excited even if it means he's missed it all along.
"No," Angela says with finality. "They don't see it. It's too big. It's like that proverb about a bunch of blind people trying to identify an elephant when each one can only touch a square foot of the thing."
He's confused and a little disturbed. He's young yet. "But they know each other so well," he argues. "They should be able to figure it out." He knows the proverb.
But Angela's never lived her life on someone else's wisdom. "We're the blind people," she says, clarifying nothing. "Me and you, Cam, Hodgins …. You've gotta have blind spots to do what we do, to be the best at one thing. Dirt or flesh or faces." You can have that superhuman sense of touch if you're willing to accept the blind spots.
She's smiling and it takes him, the brain, the prodigy, a while to catch on. "So you're saying, we're the blind people and even we know it's an elephant." Even we know it's love. "So what's wrong with them?" He's not supposed to say wrong but even he is feeling the weight of the elephant in the room.
"Nothing," Angela says, shaking her head and he knows she's not really blind, she just pretends at it sometimes so they'll trust her. "We put the pieces together from out here, without seeing the whole picture, sure. But think how much harder that would be to do from inside the elephant."
Unlike the rest of the squints, Sweets can do metaphor. It took him the time and space of a book, an elephant, to put love together for them. How much bigger must it seem from the inside? "I hope they figure it out anyway." It's true, he's hoped that for a long time now. They all have. "Soon."
But Angela's never been blind. She sees faces on skulls. She sees the best in the worst. She sees to the other side of things. And on the back of hope, there is always fear, one defining the other. She shrugs. She's been there and back. "Well, inside an elephant it's scary and dark and it doesn't mean a damn thing because even when you know what it is, you're still inside an elephant."
"That sucks." Sweets says, suddenly exposed before the one person who can see.
"Yeah. It does," she agrees with an unfaltering smile. "Until you decide it's right where you want to be."