I swore I would never kill off a character but I love torturing my favorite people too much. I'm not even sorry.
Disclaimer: Bones is not mine.
All he could think about as he charged down the hill was what he was going to do if she wasn't okay.
And she was okay, he told himself. Of course she was okay. The universe would not be so cruel as to remove her from his life so easily. Not this time, not like this. The world was a sick place, yes, but it wasn't like that all the time. Not for everyone. He'd seen brutal murders and unfortunate accidents. Hell, he'd been in a few unfortunate accidents himself and he'd always come out okay in the end. He'd been abused by his biological father and left for dead. He'd been through hell enough already, there was no way they could ever take her away from him. Not this way and certainly not now.
She was stubborn. She would make it out of this one, just fine. He was sure of it.
But then again, part of him knew that this wasn't just another little unfortunate accident. This wasn't an accident at all. And it certainly wasn't little in the slightest. It was serious and he knew that he was risking his sanity doing this to himself, not knowing what he would find when he got there, but he just had to be with her. Whether to save her life or to say goodbye or whatever, he had no idea, but he knew he had only one chance and this was it. He ignored the voices calling out to him. He couldn't even hear them. He couldn't hear the frantic footfall of the agent on his trail, nor could he hear the uncontrollable sobs coming from someone back up on the side of the road, whoever they were. He couldn't hear the man attempting to soothe her. All he could hear was his heart beating wildly, irregularly, unsurely because the woman he loved was possibly dead, or severely close.
"Daisy," he muttered ever so cautiously as he reached the car. It was tattered and ugly, disfigured and bruised. The front was so badly damaged it was almost unrecognizable. There was thick smoke seeping out from under the hood but he didn't care. He stared at the pale face of his lover and bent down onto his knees beside her, silently begging that she would answer him when he spoke.
"Daisy," he tried again. "Daisy, can you hear me?"
There was no response. He didn't know what to do. He reached a shaky hand out, carefully cradling one of her own. She was already cold. Everything was cold. The ice and leftover snow under his feet crunched and he knew that it could not be. Things like this did not just happen. Not to undeserving people like her. She did not deserve this. He did not deserve this. They were supposed to live happily ever after like in the stories. Sweet Lancelot and his loving wife. She wasn't supposed to get run off the road delivering evidence on a case.
"Daisy," he said again, wrapping his chilled fingers around her wrist and trying for a pulse. "Daisy, open your eyes. Open your eyes for me, baby. It's me. It's Lance, okay? I'm here. I'm here with you now. Everything's going to be okay. Just open your eyes."
Nothing but the howl of the bitter wind in his ears. No other movement besides the smoke and the sight of his breath against the harsh January air. No answers. His hands ached from the cold and his heart ached from the pain of inevitable loss. He could not give up on her just yet. Surely if the situation were reversed she would not have given up on him.
There were footsteps behind him. They stopped a few feet back. He didn't even bother.
He wrapped his pleading hands around her own, trying in vain to warm them as best as he could. If she could sense that he was there, if he could show her that she wasn't alone, then maybe she would make it. He couldn't just let her die.
The person behind him suddenly moved forward, pressed two hopeful but knowing fingers on the side of her neck and sighed. She was gone. She'd been gone for a while. They had all surely expected this. They were simply too late.
"No," he refused. He would not let someone tell him that the woman that he loved most in this world was dead. He would never allow anyone to do such a thing. "No, she's okay. She's going to be okay." His tone signified that there was no more room for discussion. He focused intently on her face, wishing that she would just show him those beautiful eyes one last time. It was the only thing he wanted in the world. He would sell his soul to the devil if he could just see her look at him one last time. "You're going to be okay, Daisy. Do you hear me? You're gonna be just fine, baby." It was then that the tears started to fall. "Please be okay. I love you. Please be okay, Daisy. Please be okay."
"Sweets," the voice repeated, firmer this time.
"No!" He replied, dangerously. "No, just...shut up! Just shut up. She'll be okay. We just have to help her."
"There's nothing we can do for her now."
"We have to help her," he continued, refusing to hear what the other had to say. He knew there was something to be done. There was always something to be done. They couldn't just do nothing and call it a day. He didn't understand why nobody was helping him. "We have to help her or...we have to help her, okay? Just...help her. Call 9-11."
"There's no time now," the voice responded calmly, comforting.
There were no words to accurately describe just how much anger he felt at those words; how much he despised the hands that wrapped around his shoulder. He swatted them away, not wanting the consolation. If they would only help her, if they had only gotten there in time, he would not need any consolation. He was not going to give up on her like the others apparently had. He still loved her. He was the only one who did.
"Yes, there is time," he snapped in return. "Of course there's time! There's always time! There's always a way. You know that more than anyone. Now, we need to help her! Please, Booth. We need to help her. We need to..." he begged, "I don't want to lose her. I can't...I can't lose her."
If he lost her, he had no idea what he would do.
The agent beside him simply replaced his grip on his shoulder, and this time Sweets did not push him away. He knew what it meant. He just didn't want to admit it himself. They were honestly too late. There was no way they could have reached her in time. She'd been down there by herself and did not stand a chance. There was no way she could have made it without immediate medical attention. There was nothing anyone could do.
He glanced at the trail of blood dripping down the side of her ghostlike, pallid face and shook his head. Out of all people, out of all the times, it had to be her, now. He did not understand. He did not understand why. He did not understand what he'd done to deserve this. He did not understand what she'd done to deserve this horrible, tragic fate at such a ripe age in life and career. They had so many things planned. They were to grow old together. He didn't even get to say goodbye. He'd had everything taken away from him and now he was left with nothing.
It was then that his vision went blurry and before he knew it, he was on the ground, weeping. It was a pathetic scene and he could only wish that he too would go next. Either that or he would wake up and she'd be there next to him in bed, warm and secure in her blankets. He would look at her, watch her chest rise up and down with every calm, drowsy breath she took, and he would smile. He would wrap his arms around her thin body and pull her close to him. She would stir and he would kiss her neck and tell her to go back to sleep, it was only just him. He would tell her to keep dreaming, so she would. He would watch her all night if he could. He would never let her go.
He would never let her go.
He secured his grip on her hands as if he were afraid she would drop him off the nearest 10 storey building. He would not let her go. He would not leave her. He would not let anyone rip them apart if it killed him.
The agent glanced back up the hill behind them. Angela was still in tears. Hodgins was trying his best to console her but it was to no use. She was as inconsolable as Sweets was at this point. Hodgins too seemed to be upset at the scene, not only because he'd grown to know and tolerate the intern over the years but because one of his best friends was down there, grieving over the loss of the woman he loved. Hodgins had been in life-or-death situations before and he could not even bare to imagine what it would feel like to lose his wife, or son. Seeing a friend beg their soul mate's lifeless body to awaken would upset any man. Cam, too, was watching in horror and disbelief. The tears fell, only hers were silent, more reserved. There was a patrol car beside her, an officer waiting for a command. It was obvious she had told him to wait. She would not let him interrupt their final, precious moment together. They needed a moment down there to say their goodbyes.
Booth turned and locked eyes with his girlfriend. She too was trying her best to control her emotions, and to no avail. It was like losing Vincent all over again, only this time, it was a bit more personal. Perhaps not in her case but for Sweets, and for that, she was sorry.
"No, no, no."
The agent turned back to the sobbing young man beside him, cradling his ex-fiancée's hands in his ever so lovingly, as if he were afraid to hurt her. His heart broke at the look of defeat on the young man's face. It seemed like all of a sudden he was no longer their bubbly 12-year old shrink but someone who had just lost the most important thing in their life. Booth could not dare imagine himself being in the psychologist's shoes. He would not dare to think such a thing. Nobody deserved to experience something like this, and especially not this kid.
He was just a kid. And Daisy, she too, was just a kid.
Booth bit back the curse on his tongue and decided to store the guilt away for safe keeping. Things like this weren't supposed to happen on his team. It was his duty to protect everyone and keep everyone in line. Smashing job, he thought bitterly, but there was no point in self-brooding at that moment. He would reflect on it later. Right now, he had a grieving boy to take care of and just for the record, he wasn't entirely sure how.
"She can't be gone," the young man cried. "She can't be. I love her."
What was there to say? The agent was usually uncomfortable with things like this, and this was no exception, but he had to put that aside, as well. He didn't know what to do or say, but it required little thinking. He did what he knew he had to do. He patted the young man's shoulder just to show him that he wasn't alone. That he too would make it out of the enclosing darkness, somehow. He would make sure of it. They would all make sure of it. They would get them their justice and more.
"She just can't be gone..."
"I'm sorry, Sweets."
"Are you sure there's nothing we can do?"
The man hesitated. There was nothing they could do for her, as much as they all wished they could. There was no way they could have reached her in time. She was likely dead on impact. At least that way she wouldn't have had to suffer. It would have been quick. She wouldn't have felt a thing.
Booth tightened his grip on the young man's shoulder. "I'm sorry."
Another minute or two passed before the defeated young man could muster up the energy to produce any more words. The agent did not rush him. He would give him all the time in the world. They could leave when he was ready. They would leave when he had said his goodbye.
"But I love her."
Booth nodded, having to turn the other way for a moment to compose himself. His warm hand never left the boy's shoulder. He hoped it would give him some comfort. "I know you do, Sweets. You loved her very much. She knew that."
"I didn't get to say goodbye."
Booth gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "Take your time, okay? You take as long as you need to."
Another patrol car arrived at the scene above and yet another police officer stepped out of his vehicle. Before he could say a word, he was given a look, and he knew then that all they could do at that point was watch. It was a long way down but they could see the image clear through the early afternoon air. The smoke and fumes escaping from the car were lessening and all they could do was watch in deafening silence as agonizing cries ripped through the air, and the very innocence ripped out of the young man who was practically collapsed beside his departed lover. Some time during the daze, the medics arrived with a body bag. They too could do nothing but wait.
At last, after what seemed like hours but was only minutes, the grieving young man spoke again.
"Did she feel it?"
There was no hesitation from the older gentleman whatsoever. "No, she didn't feel a thing."
"Do you promise me?"
"It was quick, I promise you. She didn't feel a thing. It was peaceful for her. It happened quick."
"And she's in a better place," the young man continued, though it came out more of a question than a statement. He finally verted his eyes away from her for the first time and he didn't even have to finish asking. His eyes told the whole story. Agent Booth knew about this kind of stuff, he was a Catholic. He would know. He would promise him because he knew that it was true. He needed someone to tell him that it was going to be okay for the both of them.
The agent nodded. "She is. Nobody can hurt her now."
It was the answer the young man was looking for. He turned back to her, waited a moment and then struggled to push himself off of the ground. The agent was there for his assistance within seconds, and he was lifted up with minimal effort on his part. He gave his dearly departed one last long look, the tears still rushing down his cold, frost nipped cheeks and gave her delicate hands a soft kiss.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I have to say goodbye now."
He could swear she was going to wake up then and he wouldn't have to walk away from her dead, lifeless body. But of course she did no such thing. He had to leave her. He released his grip on her hand and did his best to not collapse right on top of her. "I love you so much," he told her, sincerely. "I love you so much, Daisy. I'm so sorry that I wasn't there for you at the right moment. I'm so sorry things had to be like this...you didn't deserve to...to get hurt. Please just...please don't forget that I love you..."
"She knows you loved her, Sweets. She knows it and she always will. She loved you too."
There was nothing he could say to respond to that. He simply nodded and let his gaze linger over her face for another second, before he turned and showed that he was ready to get out of there. The agent slung a protective arm over the young man's shoulder and began to guide him back up the hill. The police and paramedics began their descent down. There was silence.
As they neared the road, he could feel the cold increase and engulf him. The temperature had dropped considerably while they were down with the wreckage and snow flurries had once again began to fall. Normally he would have said it was beautiful, but he wasn't sure he could find anything beautiful ever again. Not in this world. A world without Daisy was a world without beauty.
Before he knew what was happening, they were on flat road again and he was encompassed in loving arms. He wasn't sure whose they were, but he didn't need to know. It only took him seconds to return the embrace, and he wasn't certain if he could ever let them go. They were comforting and safe and they only held him tighter when he began to cry again. They cried together.
"I'm so sorry," the woman's voice said. "I'm so sorry, Sweetie. I'm so sorry."