Shrink

24

I spent the next few days in bed, lying on my stomach and popping more meds when the pain returned to greet me like an old friend asking for money.
Occasionally, I'd find myself with a new book or knick-knack of some sort outside my door.
I assumed Booth left me the softball that I tossed in the air and caught for hours on end; Doctor Brennan left me a copy of her most recent manuscript, which I was thankful for, because when I'd moved to DC, I hadn't had time to buy one; the one thing that left me stumped was a handful of arcade tokens. I'd often just lie in bed when my stitches didn't hurt me as much anymore and stare at the two faces of the cheap metal coins. One face was a double pelican, the other side read "Pelican Boardwalk". There were about ten coins in all, and I had yet to decide who had sent them.
Looking it up, I found out that the boardwalk was an outdoor arcade an hour away.
One morning, I decided I'd had enough, and showered, changed into a loose tee-shirt that wouldn't tug on my stitches, and loose jeans. I left the hotel, my tired muscles pulling strangely, but I made it all the way to the hospital, where I got breakfast at the caf.
I passed the ICU, and hesitated before talking to the nurse at the desk. She redirected me to the recovery and physiotherapy ward.
Thanking her, I crumpled up the wrapper I'd gotten my muffin in, and made my way back to the autopsy room I'd been itching to be in for days.
Something didn't sit right with me about the tiny bones lying on the table like eggshells.
I took some notes and measurements before doing a full examination for the third time.
As I was completing my overview, I realized it was nearly noon, and no one had been in and out of the other autopsy room at all.
Curiosity made me peel off my gloves and cross the hall, knocking, and when no one within replied, I entered. On the table, the woman's remains were still ensconced in the flesh, and the smell of putrefaction was predominant.
My hands twitched to get to the notes, to clean the bones, but I simply walked over and did an overview, like I'd done with the baby.
Nothing new really jumped out at me, except one slightly sharper nick to the skin of her sunken stomach. Using fresh gloves, I unfurled the skin of her puckered torso. I was right. A gash I hadn't noticed before appeared across the mangled and browned flesh of her lower belly. I felt at the same place on my own belly, that place that had grown when I'd been pregnant.
"A C-section," I breathed.
I threw out my gloves, scribbled my notes underneath Daisy's in the ledger by the autopsy table and left. I had opened the door to my much fresher room, and paused. Without another thought, I left my lab coat and trekked to my destination across the hospital.
***
When I knocked, I heard nothing in response, and looked around before letting myself in.
Sweets was lying dormant on his bed, his leg raised by a pillow. The bruises on his face had begun to yellow and fade, and the scratches had begun to scab and fall off.
I stood awkwardly before taking a seat opposite of him.
I found it odd that Daisy was nowhere to be found, but shrugged it off.
My mind wandered back to the arcade coins.
"Did you leave me these?" I asked, pressing one cool coin in his open palm.
His eyes shot open.
"Papillon!" Sweets exclaimed.
"Sweets!" I nearly shrieked, immeasurably overjoyed, and also swallowing down my heart attack. "I thought you were asleep!"
"And I thought you were Daisy!"
I frowned, confused and oddly offended.
"She's been here for the past week, taking care of me, feeding me, constantly chattering my ear off. I find it's much more peaceful when she thinks I'm sleeping."
I nodded, understanding, my heart fluttering slightly.
"Where is she? She's not in the autopsy room," I commented, noticing the books stacked on his bedside.
He flushed.
"I may have sent her away when she tried to sleep in my bed when she got tired," he said sheepishly. "I sent her away to go and rest. I couldn't stand how oppressive it was."
"Sweets!" I reprimanded, but deep down I was happy.
"What!" he exclaimed, sitting up and twisting to face me straight on. "she was getting to be too much, especially when all I wanted was to make sure you were okay. I never saw you after you got taken away."
I turned away, not being able to stand his intense stare.
"I'm fine," I murmured, dropping my depleted baggie of drugs in his lap. "they gave me good drugs, and my stitches should heal soon."
"Stitches?!"
Before I could nod, Sweets pulled me onto the bed next to him and demanded for me to show them.
Hesitantly, I pulled up the back of my shirt and showed him the ugly, jagged tear in my back.
He sucked in a breath sharply enough for me to hear him.
"I'm so sorry," breathed Sweets, running a delicate finger around the broken skin. "you saved my life and this is the thanks I give you."
"I saved your life?" I asked, feeling slightly exposed.
"Yeah, or else I'd be a flat disk on the road right now," he chuckled, but as he rolled my shirt back down and I turned to face him, I could see how pale his face had become.
"You've been in danger before, haven't you?"
He nodded, but seemed to hesitate.
"I dunno, this time was scary," he shrugged. "I'm always in the line of fire, but never on my day off. Life is weird like that, I guess."
A bubble seemed to pop in my head, and suddenly I burst into tears.
I cried for the life I nearly lost, the one I'd saved, and the ones I couldn't save, that could have easily been me, lying in an autopsy room alone.