Bit of angsty fluff stuff. More angst than fluff, but it is BB...don't kill me for what I'm about to do. Just to err on the safe side I should probably put in a tissue warning (sad kind, not happy kind) and also say this is character death, but not Booth or Brennan.
It was six o'clock on Thursday and she had already turned off her computer, gathered her things, and told everyone she was leaving for the day and would not be back until Sunday.
Hodgins nodded, as did Cam. Zach stared open-mouthed after her until Angela gently tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the calendar. His eyes widened and he nodded, immediately getting back to work on the skeleton.
Brennan went to the store and bought two or three frozen dinners and things that could be heated for breakfast. She knew he wouldn't want to eat and it would take her most of the today and the next day to convince him to do so, and when she did, she had to make something quick before he changed his mind and she had to start all over.
January 12th. It was a gloomy day. The same ominous, oppressive, wide sort of gloom that dominated every January. But this day was different. Today the gloom seemed appropriate. It would have been wrong for the sun to shine on such a horrid anniversary.
She pulled up in front of his house and grabbed her bag of food and a duffel full of clothes, she wouldn't be back to her house for some time. She left the car, her cell phone inside with the ringer off. For the next three days, she would be unreachable.
She went calmly up to his door, just as she had every January 12th for the past three years. And just like every other time she walked in without knocking, knowing he wouldn't answer even if she did.
On a normal day she would never be so presumptuous as to walk into his house unannounced or uninvited. But today wasn't a normal day. Today, was January 12th. And though she hadn't been officially invited, she knew this was where she not only wanted, but needed to be. Where he needed her to be.
Without a word she walked past him, on the couch in sweatpants and a t-shirt, staring blankly at the muted TV with the hockey game that he was not following. She quickly stocked the freezer and grabbed two beers from the refrigerator, quite sure he'd already emptied the one in his hand.
She settled down on the couch beside him, much closer than proper etiquette allowed, and she didn't fuss when he took her hand and laced their fingers. She was not surprised at the reaction of her skin against his. Because, the same as there had been for at least a year, the spark was gone. The current of hot electricity that used to travel through her veins every time he was in the room, was now nothing but a memory and a warm spot in her hand where his fingers lay. She knew it was her fault and that they had both paid, but she would mourn for what they missed another day, today was not that day.
She dropped her head against his shoulder and waited for him to say his lines. Waited for a short conversation, perhaps the only words they would say all weekend.
"You don't have to do this you know." He said quietly, almost not registering that he was speaking.
She squeezed his hand.
"I know."
After a few seconds came the second line, the words that conveyed such pain she had to mentally hold her heart together every time he said them.
"I miss my boy, Bones."
Brennan blinked hard and nodded.
"I know you do, Booth."
Tonight she would sleep in his bed, her on one side, him on the other, so unlike that first time when he had clung to her all night long. She would hold him when he woke up crying and pretend it never happened tomorrow morning so he could save face. When he wandered the house aimlessly at dawn she would get up and make breakfast and try to convince him to eat.
Then would come the hardest part of the weekend, when she accompanied him to the cemetery. They would drive in silence, the slush and snow squishing beneath the tires and she would hold his hand when they walked inside. She would wait patiently while he gathered the courage to speak to the boy. She would watch him kneel in the shallow, crisp January snow and bow his head in prayer. She would, as usual, remain silent and stand at what she believed was a respectful distance, waiting for him to finish.
The wetness would seep into the knees of his jeans but he would probably not notice. And he would start to talk at first about trivial things, quiet day-to-day things that he thought the stone should be caught up on. And then it would go deeper and his voice would grow tight with tears. And when he reached out to trace the letters of the name she would hold her breath and hold back tears. When he told the stone 'I love you' she would close her eyes, allowing only one tear to be shed for the blonde, curly-haired child because it was not her day to mourn.
And when he stood she would take his trembling hand in hers and remind herself for perhaps the hundredth time, that their moment had passed. That their moment had come and gone and somewhere in between Booth lost a son. And then she would remember that he needed a friend, not a lover, and she would smile because when she smiled, he smiled.
They would spend the weekend together hardly saying a word, because she knew the pain he felt cut too deep for words. She would help him wage this war because he wasn't strong enough to fight it on his own. And they would never speak of it, his weakness that was kept hidden every other day, and she would be there always to help mourn the part of him that died anew every year. And maybe another day he would come to help her mourn one of her own losses, maybe a loss that he too shared because it was something he never got a chance to have.
But not today. January 12th. The saddest anniversary.
Okay, lemme know what you thought plz.