For You
A/N: A one-shot inspired by I Wish the Best for You by Emerson Hart, a fantastic song about making the tough, but right, choice.
This one's for Wills...thanks just doesn't say enough, chica. -AnaG
She watched as he bent down, arms open wide to accept the child hurtling towards him. He lifted the little girl high, eliciting shrieks of delight that blended with his own deep laughter.
"Daddy! Daddy!"
There was nothing but pure joy in the child's words and Brennan could see all of it reflected on his face as he settled the girl on his hip.
The child rested her head on his shoulder and reached for his tie, tiny fingers tracing the pattern of circles and lines on the dark silk. Booth leaned down, placing a soft kiss on his daughter's forehead.
Even as her throat constricted against unbidden tears, Brennan felt a smile form on her face.
Seeing them together, she knew she had made the right decision.
The thud of the heavy glass against the table startled her, bringing the food on her plate back into focus. Congealed noodles in sticky, orange-red sauce. Broccoli dotted with sesame seeds. She picked up her fork, but the idea of eating any of it required more effort than she could muster. Resting her fork next to her plate, she stole a glance in his direction and just as quickly looked away.
Her vision blurred, her head bowing as she closed her eyes against the threat of tears. But her mind betrayed her. She could still see him, see the deliberate blankness on his face, the inward curve of his shoulders as he hunched over his plate. It was obvious to her that he were protecting himself, separating from her.
The silence in the room was a heavy, tangible thing. She wanted to take it in her hands, tear it away from them before it suffocated them. But she could only sit there, shouldering the weight broken only by the scrape of his fork against his plate and the echo of easier times. An uninhibited dance to a guilty pleasure. The soft gasp of surprise and pleasure after a first kiss. The rasp of his breath against her neck after they made love.
She grieved the loss, the gradual erosion of the connection that they had shared. It was a shadow now, hidden in the middle of a minefield that they were both to afraid to enter. The potential for a misstep was too great. They both sensed that the shrapnel would rip whatever was left between them to shreds. So they existed in a stalemate, a standoff shored up with unvoiced conversation and furtive glances.
She heard the sound of his chair sliding back and opened her eyes in time to see him walking towards the sink to place his plate and glass in the sink. Without blinking, she followed his path as he passed in front of her on his way to the bedroom, her chest tightening when he shut the door without once looking in her direction.
Resigned, she stood and began to gather the rest of the things on the table. She reached for one of the takeout cartons and stopped, staring at the remains of another ruined evening. Clutching the waxy cardboard container, she back into her chair and this time, she allowed the tears to escape.
Every second that she spent listening for the rattle of the key in the lock served only to ratchet up the tension on her nerves to the point that they threatened to snap. She was surprised then, that when she finally saw the brass knob begin to turn, the pressure released its grip on her. She took a strange comfort in that, allowed it to validate the decision that she had made. This was the right choice. For both of them. Now, she had to find the words to tell him.
He entered the room with a routine she had memorized. Keys tossed onto the table near the door. Shoes discarded along the path to the chair where he would deposit his leather jacket. This time however, he stopped short, the jacket still in his hands, when he noticed her sitting on the sofa, hands folded in her lap. His eyes fell on the small suitcase beside her feet and flew to her face, searching it for an explanation.
"I didn't think your book tour was until next week."
Holding his gaze, she stood, but didn't approach him.
"Seeley, we…we need to talk."
His stance hardened when he heard the wavering authority in her tone, as his eyes retraced the path from her to the suitcase and back again.
"No."
"We both…"
He shook his head once and stepped away from her, dropping the jacket to floor to raise his hands as if to ward off what was coming.
"No."
His voice cracked over the single word, leaving no strength in it. Dropping his arms to his sides, he bowed his head as she began to speak.
"We both know…this isn't working…and the harder we try…We've tried so hard, been through…."
She paused, gathering the strength to voice what needed to be said.
"We've been through so much together, but…"
His head jerked up, the stone expression in his eyes jamming the words in her throat.
"But…what? But you don't love me anymore?"
The hurt hidden in his anger nearly shattered her resolve, but she couldn't turn back now. The first words had been said, the thoughts made real. She moved closer to him, gently curving her hand along his jaw, feeling the muscles tensing beneath her touch before he moved his face away from her. For a moment, her hand rested against the cool air between them before she sighed and let it fall to her side.
"I still love you, more than ever. More than I thought myself capable of…"
"Then…damn it, why? Why are you doing this, Temperance?"
"Because I love you….and because there's more than love at stake. I finally saw that when…
She scanned the items in the shopping cart with an eye honed by years of scientific observation and did a quick comparison to the list she held against the handle of the cart. Orange juice. Milk. Linguine. Green peppers. Fresh parmesan. Laundry detergent. She got an odd sense of satisfaction as she tapped her pen against each item on her list. His favorite beer. The corn chips and extra spicy salsa that he seemed to crave every time a hockey game appeared on the television. It would have raised the hackles of any self-respecting feminist, but she loved every mundane detail. Even the paper towels and toilet paper. It made her feel part of a home, part of a family and gave her the sense of the ordinary that had been missing from her life since she was fifteen years old. And despite the fact that their differences had been brought into stark relief by the added intimacy of their relationship, she was holding firm to the belief that they could overcome their issues. He had taught her that, had been the one to make her believe it was possible after a lifetime of running. So, if she found contentment in filling up a grocery cart, then so be it.
Her pen came to a halt near the end of the list, where two items had been added in an illegible scrawl. She squinted and held the paper away from her, but no amount of manipulation could make sense of the words. Giving up, she turned to ask him to translate. Instead, she found herself talking to an empty space. His unexpected disappearance brought a split second memory of abandonment. She silently cursed herself for the complete irrationality of it. They were in a supermarket, and he had not taken off for parts unknown. Shrugging off her over-reaction, she looked to her right and saw a young woman scanning the nutrition label on a box of granola bars. When she looked towards the other end of the aisle, her eyes found him immediately. And her heart nearly stopped.
He was leaning over another cart, cooing and wiggling his fingers at the baby resting in one of those contraptions that its mother had placed over the small seat near the handle. Brennan watched with dismay as his smile brightened when the infant wrapped its tiny hand around his finger. After he finally disengaged from the baby, he turned and said something to its mother. Brennan couldn't distinguish the words, but her mind was rapidly translating for her, filling in the gaps. With a last look at the infant, he took a step backwards before turning in her direction.
He stopped short when he realized that she had been watching him. A series of emotions flashed over his face, each so intense that even with her limited skill she could read every one.
Guilt. Regret. Longing. And though it was the briefest of all of them, resentment.
He recovered quickly, asking her if she had found the cereal that he wanted. But she could hear the traces that remained in the empty places in his voice. Unable to respond, she could only look away and push the cart in the direction of the cereal aisle.
He looked at her with incredulity and relief on his face.
"So that is what this is about? Kids?"
"In part…"
"Tempe, we've….I thought we'd talked about this. I understand that you need time…"
"Seeley…I…I don't need time to adjust, to think about it or get used to the idea.. I know. Know that I don't want children of my own. I'm not…"
"Okay…so we'll adopt. There're plenty of kids out there that…."
"No. I'm sorry, but no. There's simply…you know how you have instincts about suspects, motives…a firm belief in what is right and wrong? I have that same instinct about being a mother. It is not something that I have in me. It is just…not there, Seeley. The instinct to nurture a child through adulthood…to take on the responsibility of another human being for the rest of my life, knowing what is out there in the world for them to face. It's not something that I crave the way the you do.. And….and a child deserves more than I have to offer."
"But I know you could….you are so good with Parker, I thought…"
"I do love Parker. But……I'm not explaining this well."
She closed her eyes, giving herself the time to gather all of the pieces of her argument, but she abandoned them all when she looked back at him, saw the frustrated hurt and confusion imprinted on the face of the man she loved beyond words.
Reaching out she took his hand in both of hers, hoping to re-establish enough connection with him that she could access the emotions that she needed to explain.
"Seeley, you…are a wonderful father. The love that you have for your son, it pours out of you…and I know that you have so much more to give…that you want and need to give a child. You deserve the chance to do that."
"I don't have to….I would give up that chance for you. For us."
"But that's not fair. To either of us. Do you think I could live with myself knowing that I asked you to sacrifice…that I cost you the opportunity to love another child, selfishly robbed that child of the chance to go through life with a father like you. I can't stand in the way of that. Not any more."
He turned away from her again, but when she felt the hand that she had been holding tighten around hers, she knew that his refusal to face her didn't come from denial. It was the beginning of acceptance. Taking a deep breath, she pushed on, needing him to understand why she was doing this.
"And even if we could find a way to…work past this, there's more that is standing between us…"
"I know."
She studied the man across the table from her, a hunter observing its prey. The smug expression on his face, the dismissive tone in his voice. The desperate, hopeless display of vanity in the horrible comb-over and clothes a generation too young for him. It told her as much as if she were cataloging the habits of an indigenous tribe, and she felt a trill of excitement skitter over her nerves. For the first time, she knew with certainty what she needed to do, she could sense that she had read him well enough to know how to push him to the edge and make him step off.
She leaned in, taunted him with a needle-like stab to his ego. When she saw the annoyance flicker over his face, she nearly came out of chair to rush over to the two-way mirror, wanting to share the moment of validation with the man she knew was on the other side. To somehow see if he had noticed that she was living up to the faith he had shown by letting her do this on her own. But the thrill of the hunt reined her in, and she moved forward in her attack.
It didn't take long. The presence of a strong, mindful, deliberately high-handed woman was anathema to him. He remained silent, but she could see the desire behind his eyes. The compelling need to put in her place, to tell her just how wrong she was and explain how powerful he was. She kept pushing, goading him towards an arrogant confession.
When he broke, it wasn't arrogance but rage he threw at her. She didn't have time to be disappointed that she had correctly interpreted only half of the puzzle. That in her own arrogance she had lost sight of the fact that there was a predator lurking beneath the pathetic exterior. He flew over the table, arms reaching for her, teeth bared in an animalistic grimace. She fell back, and barely had time to process the stunning impact with the floor when a crushing weight covered her. She felt the scratch of his ragged fingernails on her throat and the survival instincts that she had honed to a fine point came rushing back. She managed to wedge a hand under his chin, forcing it back to expose the length of his neck. Raising her other arm, she angled the heel of her palm and prepared to strike, when the weight and heat and stink of him vanished at once, the sudden shift from fighting for survival to abject freedom inducing a momentary vertigo that left her reeling.
The dull thuds of bone against flesh immediately centered her, and she scrambled to her feet. She saw Booth standing over her attacker, his arm drawn back to deliver another blow. Her eye followed its path down to the skull of the man lying prone on the floor.
"Stop it! Booth…"
She covered the short distance between them, her hand falling on his coiled bicep just as a trio of agents stampeded in the room, jostling them apart as they began to secure the room. Cuffs on the now docile suspect. Booth herded into a corner, his chest still heaving with the exertion and terror of the last minute.
One of them stepped into her line of vision. She watched as his lips moved, unable to hear the words. She flinched when she felt his hand brush back the hair from her shoulder to examine the raw scratch on the side of her neck. It didn't hurt much at all, the pain still distant, pushed away by thoughts of what she had done and what she had witnessed. Brushing off his questions, she sidestepped the concerned agent, needing to see Booth.
He was leaning against the textured wall, arms now hanging limply at his sides, his eyes studying the floor. He sensed her gaze on him and looked up at her. She could see the muscles working in his jaw, the residue of rage and fear on his face.
The sight instantly irritated her, clouding her gratitude for his protection with annoyance verging on anger. Shocked at her own reaction, unsure of where it came from or what she would say to him, she turned and walked out.
A choked laugh escaped him as she recounted her version of that day. He interrupted, his words laced with irony.
"So, I protect you. Save you from that scumbag….and I lose you because of it?"
"You beat that man, Booth. Kept hitting him long after he was no longer a threat…"
"He attacked you!"
"Yes, exactly. And you saved me. But at what cost? The guy walked…and the only reason that he didn't file an official complaint was the fact that I didn't press assault charges against him. What happens the next time? Or the one after that…a fractured skull? Or worse?"
"There doesn't have to be a next time."
"But there will be."
She shook her head, a sad, almost nostalgic smile on her face as she continued.
"You're a classic alpha male in a relationship with a woman that can't…won't quit pushing against boundaries. And I'm afraid that one of us is going to get hurt. What would happen to us if your career ended because you…."
"There are other jobs. I could…."
"No, Seeley. It is a part of who you are. And I won't be responsible for causing you to lose that. Or worse, what if….Remember Epps? How long did it take you to shake the guilt over that?"
She leaned forward, forcing him to meet her eyes.
"Have you even been able to?"
He was silent, knowing there was no argument to make. How many times had he drawn the boundaries himself for the very same reason? And while he had stepped across them willingly, he had never truly forgotten that they were there.
"You know I'm right, don't you?"
"I don't want you to be."
"This is…this is one time I would give anything to be wrong."
"Then why don't you…"
"Because we can't keep ignoring it. Every day it is a little clearer. And as painful as this is, if one of us didn't stop it, there will be nothing left to salvage…... Don't you remember…miss…the way it used to be?"
A thousand images seemed to float through his mind, each flashing brightly before fading into the next. A black dress in a Vegas hotel room. Her pride at being an anthropologist with superpowers. A duet over plates of diner food. That crazy kick as she cut loose while dancing around the apartment. The stark beauty of her face in the moonlight as she wrapped her body around him, accepting him with a sigh of unrepentant satisfaction.
And there were a thousand more that could have followed, but they began to mix with more recent memories that were jarring in their contrast. The fear when that maniac had jumped the table in the interrogation room. Evenings in which they barely said a word to the other. Too tired of the horror they faced every day to bring it into their home. Watching her with bent over a book with Parker, listening as their laughter mingled together and made him ache to see her holding their child.
He closed his eyes, the hot tears slipping beneath his lashes. He trembled as her fingertips brushed the tears from his face, replacing them with a chaste kiss. Unable to face her with acceptance, he blindly reached for her, clinging to her as her arms wrapped around him.
"I love you."
The finality in the words nearly strangled him as he whispered his goodbye.
"I love you."
She didn't allow her voice to waver, forced the heartbreak to remain hidden for just a while longer.
"Be happy, Seeley. Promise me. Promise that you'll find someone that can accept everything that you have to give. Find her and be happy."
She backed away, unable to say another word. There was everything and nothing left to be said. She allowed herself a moment more to collect every detail of her best friend, of the person that understood her better than anyone in this world, whom she loved with every piece of her soul.
With a last sad smile, she reached for her suitcase and left.
She continued to watch, unnoticed as he talked to his daughter. Watched him smile and kiss the cheek of the woman that joined them. His wife.
Suppressing the urge to call out, to walk over with the casual greeting of an old friend, she waited until they drove away in a different but too familiar black vehicle. Then she turned, retrieving the case file from the seat beside her. She was late, and her partner was waiting for the results of a last-ditch-effort analysis of trace material found in a skull fracture.
She had made her choice. Letting him go because she loved him and wished for him more than she could give. She had learned to live with the ache in her heart.
Wiping the trace of tears from her cheeks, peering into the rearview mirror for traces of redness in her eyes, she reminded herself that she could survive this. Had survived it.
Because the wish had come true.