seeley booth (hates_clowns) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2010-08-16 11:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | seeley booth |
Who: Booth and Martha
What: He needs somebody to talk to and SURPRISE divuldges more than he signed up for. Thanks Veritaserum.
When: Today
Where: her infirmary
Warnings: TBA. may be high though for mentions of unsettling nightmares.
The medication Martha had prescribed wasn't working. Booth was still having issues sleeping almost a week later. He spent most of his nights tossing and turning, his thoughts going a million miles an hour. Lucifer was free. People had died. They came back, sure. But that didn't get the image of death out of his mind. Which was funny in the ironic sense of the word. Booth was a soldier. He'd seen death and caused it without so much as a flinch in the past. But it was different then. Those were faces he didn't know and hadn't been in charge of keeping safe. These were. He did what he felt like he had to do and took charge in attempt to give them some kind of direction. But they died under his command and it felt like it was on his hands. He'd been told there wasn't anything else he could do, but it was the job of the commanding officer to take the blame. And so he took that burden and soaked it in without so much as another word about it until Martha noticed.
His faith was shaking. He knew they had to stop sulking and come up with a plan to find Lucifer before the devil found them. But he didn't have anything as far as tracking him went. Booth didn't have powers or abilities, all he could do was think of how to best utilize the powers that they did have. In the same sense he wasn't about to send the powered types into any kind of situation he wasn't willing to go into himself, so every conclusion he drew lead him straight back to square one and Booth sighed in frustration. Rubbing his eyes as he nudged open the door to Martha's infirmary he looked around. "Doc?"
Booth took a seat in one of the waiting chairs and folded his arms lightly into his lap. His eyes closed tiredly and he rested his cheek against his fist. Lack of sleep was affecting work. He'd called in to take a couple days off. His mind was so far off that he couldn't do any straight work without thinking of the complex, and wondering if they were still alive. When he'd tried to go to work after the fight, he found himself calling them every few hours just to see if there were new developments. And he couldn't do that. He couldn't play favorites.