No
understanding
Author: wanderingsmith
April2006
AN: this isn't really a Bones Fic, this is just my way of getting
through getting reamed out without reason. Having said that, I
can kind of imagine Brennan feeling the same.
She stared at her computer screen, jaw clenched, alternately trying to
convince herself that she was fine, that there was no reason to be
annoyed, and deliberately blocking out what had happened earlier.
People, even her friends, thought that she didn't care when
people took something she said in the wrong way. Thought that she
saw herself above everyone, so that no one's reaction to her could be
important.
And they were so far beyond wrong that it hurt. She knew she
wasn't skilled at human interaction, that didn't mean she didn't want
to be. Nor did it mean that she didn't feel her stomach turn when
something she said was completely misunderstood and ended up hurting
someone's feelings. That hollow feeling of having been thrown off
a cliff, alone and belittled. No defence
permitted. Sentenced without hearing and evicted from humanity's
acceptance.
Going from crying-shattered confidence to hating fury. From
wanting to declaim frantically that it was a misunderstanding and they
happened, people had bad days. To wanting to run and hide from
all the pain humanity inflicted, careless as a spoiled child. Or
wanting to jump into the details, yell and scream why they were being
unfair, explain what she'd meant, demand how they could have
misunderstood; but there was no *they*, and fury would not make
them believe that she meant no harm.
Inevitably, hurt pain won out, unable to continue believing she had
done nothing, even though she hadn't.
So here she sat, tears rolling down her cheeks, shoulder shaking as she
breathed in jerks, silently sobbing.
A stray memory of doing this as a teenager, making herself be quiet so
no one in the house would know she was heartbroken and pretend to
comfort her. Habits learned a lifetime ago still made her stay
quiet when she let herself cry, even though she had her own house and
life, could scream and swear if she so chose.
Instead here she sat, waiting out the pain; waiting for enough
confidence to return so that she could stop shaking, could return to
pretending that she was fine, strong, not to be brought low by the
oblivious bystanders she encountered. Waiting for enough fury to
make it through that she could wrap herself in it. Armour enough
that she could bear to venture forth once more into the breach of
living within cultural boundaries.
AN2:
listening to James Blunt, Diana Krall, Loreena McKennit
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