A/N: I wrote this one quite a long time ago, pretty much in an insomia-driven fugue state—and when I came across it tonight, I had a sudden urge to dust it off. Started tweaking a verb tense here or there and before I knew it…well, here we are.
This one's for a2b—she may not remember, but back in the day, she was one the one who saved this story from the circular file. Happy Birthday!
Hope you enjoy! -Ana
She stepped from the last faded wooden slat onto the sand and stood there for a moment, taking in the sight before her. Overwhelmed by the stark beauty, she paused before taking a deep breath and sliding off her shoes. Leaving them behind, she slowly made her way into the darkness, the sand shifting beneath her feet, until she reached the place where the water gently rose forward to meet the land. She stopped there, curling her bare toes inot the damp sand as if anchoring herself.
She stared across the mirrored surface of the water, its smooth darkness broken only by the reflection of moonlight across the tops of the small swells. Searching the distance, she couldn't find the horizon, the ocean blending into the night sky above it.
Her breath caught as she was transfixed by the sheer vastness. The rational part of her mind knew that there were boundaries, here at this shore and at others that she could not see. Yet, it wasn't rationality that captured her thoughts, but the sense of being adrift. The knowledge that the sand beneath her feet consisted of countless tiny particles worn down over millennia, the understanding that there were miles of water beyond where she could see, even imagine. A much larger world that made her feel very small, very alone.
A familiar feeling, one that she often battled to keep from overwhelming her. A mood that followed her since her family first left her behind, through the moves from foster home to foster home—all the way to her adult life. She shook her head, remembering the bitter phrase used by one of the other fosters. Throw-away kids. The label haunted her over the years, returning any time that insecurity threatened. Even now, when she finally allowed herself to establish connections beyond the security of her work, to think of the possibility of—to think of possibilities—it challenged her. It was a taunt. How, why, would a throw-away kid like her even consider those possibilities? The thought would go away, only to return more powerful, a riptide, drawing her into the certainty that there was something fundamentally wrong with her, something that prevented her from being able to…
A strong wind moved across the dark water and she unconsciously folded her arms tightly across her body, warding off both the sudden chill and the ache in her chest. She didn't want this…this fear…but she had no idea how to save herself from it.
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That was the way he found her. Standing silently at the water's edge, intent on an unseen horizon as if she was certain there were answers out there somewhere, waiting. As he studied her profile, the wind shifted, lifting her hair away from her face, and he found himself unable to breathe when the moonlight cast her beauty in stark relief.
He'd sought her out, but now he remained silent, trying to capture every detail of the moment, knowing with every fiber of his being that this was a memory that he would carry with him until his last day.
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She knew he was there, watching her from just a few feet away.
"How did you know where to find me?" she asked without turning to face him.
"Angela might have mentioned…"
"Angela. Of course."
Both of them unsure of what to say next, they stood facing the water and allowed the sounds of the water and the wind to fill the silence between them.
"Booth?"
"Yeah, Bones?"
"Why?"
"Why, what?"
"Why did you find me?"
An excuse involving the loose ends of their last case leaped into his mind, but as he turned to look at her, those were not the words he found himself saying.
"Because…because I didn't like not knowing where you were."
As his words faded, she finally turned to look at him. His eyes never left hers as he watched the emotions trace across her face like flashes of lightning. Shock, gratitude, fear, amazement, doubt, need—until all that was left was a question.
He'd seen the question before and had even asked it of himself, always knowing the answer that he wanted to give.
He leaned forward and brushed his mouth lightly against hers. For the briefest moment, he felt the movement of her lips against his, allowing him to believe that he'd finally found the right answer.
Until in the very next moment, when she backed away from him.
"Why did you....I can't. I'm sorry—I can't."
"Don't, please. Don't run."
She turned to leave but the sound of his voice, the strength in it layered with need, kept her from moving any further away, even as he stepped closer, close enough that the space between them all but disappeared.
"Please. Just look at me."
Her stance was stoic as she stared back at him, her eyes focused not on his face but on the notch of his collarbone. She couldn't meet his eyes, too afraid of her need for him.
"No, Temperance. Look. At me."
He waited until she tentatively raised her eyes to his.
"Tell me what you see."
He didn't say another word, knowing that in order for this to possible, she had to recognize the answer on her own. He could only pray that she would see that she could trust him, that he would do everything, anything, to protect her from the loneliness that he knows overtakes her. If she gave him her heart, he would spend the rest of his life proving it to her.
But first, he needed her to see it in him.
Reading the emotion in his eyes was like looking out across the night ocean—unable to see boundaries, sensing an infinite depth. But this time, as she searched, she was no longer adrift, no longer lost. Instead she was certain that she was safe, that she had a place in the world. A weight inside of her loosened and broke away.
She reached out to him, to steady herself, her hand coming to rest against his chest.
He felt the slight pressure of her fingertips as she leaned towards him.
And then she spoke, her words a whisper against his lips.
"I see…I see you."