AN : This was completely spawned on a Bones fic written by Tradermare—one of my co authors from NorCrisp76—(See my profile for more info about my side project with LanYap and Tradermare) Mare said she had an idea for a Cat POV of when Cat got her tattoo. Having her hands full with Bones at the moment however, she put the pen in my hand, so to speak. She also came up with the title, CrossBones.
Of course, Jeaniene Frost owns Night Huntress, I'm just in love with Cat & Bones.
(From the end of NH 1)We had to play the hand we were dealt, all of us. Fighting the battles we could win. And yet when I finally drifted off, in that barely conscious state where logic was absent and dreams encroached, I could almost hear Bones's voice. He was whispering that same promise he'd made to me months ago when our relationship started, and I wondered if it was a sign-and if he'd really meant it.
If you run from me, I'll chase you. And I'll find you....
The next day…
It was the promise I used to keep going as I committed to not turning back. It was the only thing I would have left of him. It was the only thing that would keep me from imploding with sadness… Regret…as my heart broke with a pain I wasn't sure I could survive.
If you run from me, I'll chase you. And I'll find you....
I knew that leaving Bones was going to prove to be the most difficult thing I would ever have to do—and I kill vampires for a living. But maybe harder than walking away, was the niggling feeling that I suspected would always linger. The thought that I hadn't made the right decision, that he hadn't needed my protection enough for me to end it the way I did. That I'd ruined our one chance at happiness.
Of course, it wasn't as if I would have a lot of time to think about anything other than my new job. According to Don, my new boss at the FBI, my days would be taken up by training. Where Bones had once trained me, I would now be the trainer. I would have my own team.
When I made the decision to leave, I'd felt I was out of options. I deeply believed there simply was no other way for the two of us to go on living, unless it was to do so separately. I couldn't see anyone else I loved die as a result of my actions. I just wouldn't.
But it was already too late for regrets. My life was going to be different now. I had to move on…because I had no other choice. I was already a different person, I could feel it. Even if that person would really be nothing but an empty shell of what I was when I was with him.
I stood in the middle of the room, which resembled a medical office more than a tattoo shop, really. The smell of antiseptic lingering just enough to make me believe I wouldn't leave with any diseases—not that I cared anymore.
"Where you want it?" The tattoo artist was tall and thin, dressed in a button down short sleeved black polo shirt and beige khaki's, the only thing that made him look like he belonged there, was the full sleeves of colorful tattoos that decorated both his arms.
"I was thinking here?" I pulled down the side of my jeans, exposing my right hip.
"Okay. Go ahead and lie back in the chair, and unbutton your pants enough to expose your hip and a few inches further."
I sat in the big, puffy beige chair in the center of the room, and tried to relax, as he applied the stencil that would become a permanent part of my body. I'd never gotten a tattoo, it just wasn't something I ever wanted or needed.
But I needed it now.
There is no Catherine Crawfield. Catherine Crawfield is dead.
It was the last thought I had as the needles began to dig into my skin. The biting pain of the tattoo that would forever mar my skin was the best pain I'd felt since I left my heart with him. As the needles droned on, and the outline of the crossbones came into view, I became the pain. It was the only thing that made me feel right about what I'd done. It was the only way I would always have a part of him.
Thanks again to Tradermare for inspiring me this morning, and for being my Beta on this one!