Disclaimers and AN: I'm posting this as a one-shot, futurefic. It has not been betaed 'cause I just needed to get it out. I don't own Bones. There will be a longer AN at the end. Warning: this is a dark fic.

Held up so long as the perfect couple, Seeley and Temperance Booth considered their life together as unshakable. Their children were grown and working after studying in universities across the world. Parker was an U.S. Marine, proudly serving overseas, a newlywed, the Booths were impatiently waiting news of a grandchild.

Their life had been stable for so long. Temperance continued her work at the Jeffersonian, eschewing envisions of rank and grandeur, she still managed the Medio-Legal Lab and their work with the FBI. Her passion continued to be processing remains and 'making bastards unsafe.' Taking on new grad students every two years ensured a continued stream of fresh talent and new employees for the museum. Anthropology was now a growing field, thanks in part to Temperance's growing list of celebrated fiction books on the subject.

Seeley continued his career of government service with the FBI. His position ensured him close contact with his colleagues and friends at the Jeffersonian, a task which he relished. Zack Addy was still with the museum staff and the Hodgins worked part-time in D.C., spending the remainder of their time traveling.

But somewhere, sometime, things began to change for the Booths. A word here or a glance there. More often it was something left unsaid, a question unasked or a task left undone.

Seeley Booth now considered Temperance as she lay before him, still and vacant. In his mind's eye she was still the vibrant, sexy scientist he saw the first time they met. Objectively, he observed the lines on her face, evidence of a thousand smiles, and the silver hairs mixed amongst the auburn, evidence of a hundred cases and personal trials. She'd grown older. Hell, he'd grown older. They'd done it together and gracefully. But now… this… this was enough to make Seeley curse man and God. He wanted more time. He wanted her back.

-----

Booth reflected back on the beginning of their journey into the mist. It was a cold winter morning when the phone rang in his office at the Hoover building.

"Booth." He answered tersely, flipping through the most recent field reports.

"It's Zack." Booth had leaned back in his chair, tossing aside the reports.

"Hey, man. What's up?" He'd relaxed, knowing the Jeffersonian wasn't working on any cases at the moment and anticipated a dinner invitation or outing with Zack and his wife.

"It's Dr. Brennan." The worry in the younger man's voice was evident.

"Bones? What's wrong? Is she hurt?" Booth stood up, prepared to run out the door, rush to his wife's side.

"No. Calm down Booth. She's not physically hurt. But… "His voice trailed in uncertainty. "I think there's something wrong."

"What, Zack? Tell me." He asked, sitting again, fearing the worst.

"She's making mistakes on the bones. When she reviews reconstructions by the grad students, she misses things. She doesn't correct their mistakes." Booth frowned, that didn't seem like Bones. She was meticulous in every detail.

"It's probably nothing, Booth. I just thought you should know."

"Thanks, Zack. I appreciate it."

"And please don't tell Dr. Brennan I called."

"I won't." Booth hung up the phone. Running a hand through his short, dark hair, now peppered with flecks of silver he considered Zack's words.

It was the moment he knew, something was really wrong.

The diagnosis hadn't come for another year. A year of hell. Frustration reigned as countless trips to a multitude of doctors kept the pair busy. When the children visited during Christmas, nothing was mentioned. A façade of normalcy was maintained, poorly. When the neurologist sat before the Booths, his eyes sad and words apologetic, they took the diagnosis silently.

At home, that night, they cried. They held each other and cried for everything they'd had and everything they were losing. Temperance feared telling their children. Booth was afraid of being left alone, without her for the first time in twenty years. It was another month of fearful glances, shed tears and careful avoidance before they could move on to addressing the problem before them.

By the end of the year both Temperance and Seeley had elected to take early retirement from their respective jobs. They said their good-byes, without explaining the true reason why, and settled into what should have been their 'golden years.' Temperance started medications, Booth administering the pills twice a day. The hardest part was telling their children. Each one grieved in their own way, each one held onto their mother as if they could stop her from drifting away.

Temperance's journey lasted five years. So many times Seeley would look into her usually vibrant eyes for a hint of the old Temperance, wishing her back. He learned to read her again, better than before. He knew when recognition would flash in her blue orbs and relished those times. Those times became less frequent. In the beginning he'd promised her "forever." He'd be there forever, never giving up their love. He stuck to this promise every day. He hoped, somewhere in her consciousness, she was thankful for that.

The beautiful, brilliant, and once broken anthropologist and author who'd become a wife, mother, friend and lover was gone. Before her time and before he was ready. She slipped away months before her death. The disease ravaged her brain, destroying its memory centers, motor functions and speech long before it took her body. In her final days friends and family gathered, filling their house and comforting Seeley's heart. But, in the final minutes it was just Seeley. He held her hand and stroked her face. He held her in his lap and whispered in her ear. He watched as she took a final labored breath and then he held his own as she passed.

-----

The wake was overwhelming. Hundreds of colleagues, fans, friends and even family gathered. The burial was private. Less than a dozen of those who were the closest watched her interment in the plot adjoining her mother and father. No one spoke eloquent words and a single display of flowers adorned the site. Slowly, reluctantly, they filed away until only Seeley remained. Standing tall in his black suit he stared into space, desperately wanting to hold her again.

A short distance away Jack Hodgins watched his friend. He was soon joined by Parker Booth who stood proud in his uniform, watching his father with tears in his eyes.

"Thank you, Jack." His voice was strained, his face stained with tears.

"What for?" The entomologist's eyes never left Seeley's lone form.

"Angela told me about the donation. I appreciate it. Mom would have loved it. The Alzheimer's Association needed it. Thank you."

Jack simply nodded and continued to watch as Parker went to his father, watching as the two men embraced and began the long journey back to life without Temperance Brennan Booth.

END STORY

AN: Sorry folks, I just needed to write that. Hopefully it should help me deal with this disease in my family right now. Also "Into the mist" is from a book dealing with Alzheimer's disease.