A/N: Because apparently the death scenes of my favorite characters are what inspire me to write… This was done while I was helplessly *sobbing* and out-of-the-head sick, so don't expect it to make much sense. The breaks may be disorientating, but dying is disorientating so...
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.
memory comes when memory's old / there's no room for innocence
Fever Ray.
a smile. so i guess i'll be dead pretty soon then, huh?
glass breaks; shatters all around. screams of we're alright, we're alright.
he's not alright.
please, don't make me leave. i want to stay.
his first word was hummingbird.
his first fact was hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backwards.
he's always been fascinated by them; their ability to never be caught and always express themselves so colorfully, saying that he is jealous of their freedom is an understatement.
did you know, when you sneeze, all your bodily functions stop, even your heart.
his first kiss happened when he was fourteen. out behind an old barn that sat on the border of a farmhouse his family stayed at every summer. the girl's name was marie and she really wasn't all that nice to him.
he remembers that her hair tickled his cheek and she tasted the way the air does before it rains and when it was all said and done, he told her around one in three murder cases are never solved.
his first memory of his father ever telling him that he was proud was the day he graduated high school. you did good, son, and a simple pat on the back and it was done. he left for america the week after, and when he got that call about the funeral, he cried for four days straight.
did you know that every time you recall a memory or have a new thought, you are creating a new connection in your brain.
he's never had a broken bone; never had a scar; never had a lover. never had a life, though he so desperately wishes he did…
in everything he has ever read or known, it's supposed to hurt. if it hurts, you live.
it doesn't hurt.
please. i love it here. i don't want to leave. don't make me leave.
pressure on his chest where it's red and cold and no pain. breath in ragged pants and he doesn't know what to think when he's dying. there are no facts for this.
you can stay. no one's making you leave. you're my favorite; everyone knows that. tell him booth. tell him!
it's really bright. maybe it's from where the window shattered or from the circuits in his brain refusing to work or the no pain or the regrets he has or the please don't make me leave but it's so really, very bright and he can't shield his eyes against it and maybe that's a good thing.
you have to apply pressure!
no, i don't.
please, i love being here.
when he blinks, the bright is gone; sun is setting. he's at the fountain, just outside of the jeffersonian. there's a girl; she looks a lot like marie with all the auburn hair and guarded blue eyes.
hi, Vincent.
i don't want to go.
his first word was hummingbird and she wears the colors he's envied so much and she takes his hand and she guides him to the broken glass and shine and smiles like rain.
his first love was a girl named hope and he never told her.
Vincent, we really have to go.
from a distance, he can hear them. his friends and mentors and he realizes that they were listening.
they were always listening…
it's been so lovely being here.
i know, Vincent. i know.
did you know that when you die, you aren't so afraid anymore?