Author's Note: Deals with a major character death. This is my first Brennan/Bones fanfiction, and furthermore, my first Bones fanfiction in general, so know that I'm not a seasoned writer with this show (although if you have constructive criticism, please do share it). One-shot. Time is approximately thirty five years in the future from where the show is currently. Also, just so you know, every time you don't write a review, even a "great job!" or even a "you suck!", a kitten dies. So try to make that not happen.
It was a foggy day as a woman was walking across a cemetery.
She was slightly elderly, although it was hard to tell because of her only mildly wrinkled face and her lean body. The dead giveaway to her age, really, was her slightly hunched posture and her shiny gray hair, although even that was cut in an layered, hip style.
She wasn't wandering about; she had a definite path, heading for a certain grave.
She slowed as she came upon the grave she was looking for. It was newly dug, and the dirt was still on top, fresh and soft.
The woman stopped right before the dirt part, and stood still. She stood for several minutes, first eyes wandering about, at the sky, and the ground, glancing at the tombstone every several seconds, and then finally setting her eyes on the plot, not looking anywhere else for several minutes.
The wind flew through the air as the fog gave way to masses of clouds that spread apart through the wind, letting parts of sky in every now and then.
She stood, and stood, and stood, thinking everything in the world, but letting it all mush together in her mind into nothingness.
"Damn it, Booth."
Brennan's eyes moved up from the plot to the tombstone, where his name and birth and death dates were engraved.
"You told me to come talk to you. Years ago, you made me promise that I would come talk at your grave, and I made a promise... so I'm keeping it. Even though I feel like a fool, even though I- I know you can't hear me."
She looked away, turing her head down to her right.
"I also- I also remember saying how it might make me feel better, to pretend that you were still here. And, guess what?"
Tears of anger were shooting from her eyes. "It doesn't, not at all. Because, guess what?"
She threw her hands up and laughed a sort of helpless, let-it-all-go laugh, pausing in between each of her next three words. "You aren't here. You... you're gone. You left me."
She let her eyes drift forward for a second, then continued, "I... that's not fair. I know it's not fair. You can't help that you died. Everybody dies. I'm going to, to die."
"I've dealt with death all my life. It almost became nothing to me. But, now..." The tears stopped for a second, as she stood silent for a few seconds.
"You know what really gets me? You know what you said back when... when I was trying determine whether... loving another person was worth it? Whether it was worth it to..."
She broke off, her tears, not of anger, flowing too quickly to allow for elongated speech. "... to invest that much in something that could possibly end in such terrible... terrible... extruciating emotional pain?"
Falling to her knees, her hands grazed the dirt that lay above his body as the tears continued to come in a silent, steady flow.
Shaking her head, she said, "Damn it, Booth..." and fell forward, lying on her stomach, her head turned toward the right, above the ground that his body was under. Her hands clutched the dirt, and she pressed her cheek against the ground.
The silent tears turned to heavy, gaping sobs, and her tears fell off her face and soaked into the ground, one tear after another after another after another.
.
.
.
"... you were right."