Bone Dust
It had been three months since she had confessed her feelings and regrets, and he'd crushed her heart.
Three weeks since he'd drawn a new line, his own heart freshly crushed.
Three days since they'd made a promise to work together, and when they're ready, to be together.
But she still hadn't adjusted. To any of it. She had hoped she would (it only takes three days for the body to adjust) and wouldn't have to worry anymore. But still (I'm worried all the time, Angela), all she did was worry. Worry that he'd change his mind, that he'd never stop being angry (beneth your affable exterior is a deep reservoir of rage)… That she'd never be strong enough. She was still scared, and that scared her.
She'd been scared before: When he parents didn't come back, when she was left all alone in foster care, when her foster brother taunted her with his pet garter snake (I'm sorry I took it, you can keep it! I'm sorry!), when she'd gone to dangerous exotic countries just to find out that even the martial arts she learned wasn't enough to keep her safe (you're going to die, Gringa. Just wait.)
When she'd almost been killed by Kenton, all the times when Booth had almost died, or she'd though he was dead (I'm sorry, but Agent Booth, despite our best efforts, did not survive surgery… 'Can I see him?' It's best you don't.). When he confessed his own feelings to her, and she couldn't think, and she couldn't make a reasonable decision. She'd hurt him (I can't change… I don't know how…), and he'd reciprocated in kind.
Her fears surrounded her, consumed her, and she didn't know how to be rid of them. They lingered in her own limbo, she couldn't lock them out (an object that's impervious doesn't need to be strong) but they'd destroy her if she kept them too close. Ghosts, the realist kind, haunting her through her life. And nothing, no matter how strong she got, would stop her from saying that Booth deserved more. She was death, haunted, and he had so many traumas in his past, he deserved someone who was untouched by death. Not someone who had seen so much she couldn't look away from it.
She wasn't an optimist, could never be. There was no such thing as a happy ending, as every life ended in death. True beauty was transient, of the moment, but Booth wanted more (He's not that type of guy… He's the marrying kind…) and she'd give him whatever he needed, to try to make up for all she lacked. She wasn't short on self esteem, most would say she was too confident, but she understood her failings –which was probably the worst thing about being objective. She could hide her failings, she saw them and criticized them and hated them, they were so glaringly there.
And Booth needed more. She had thought Hannah could be what he needed, but the girl broke her promise, crushed his heart, all because of one phrase: the marrying kind. What made a marrying kind? Was there a specific personality type that just *got married* regardless of the person? It seemed so irrational, her mom always laughed when she'd asked her why she got married, and said that you needed very good reasons to get married. The mystery of her mother's reasons remained a constant thing, as her mother never told her. As she grew older, she'd decided that marriage was archaic and monogamy is unnatural. Her mother didn't tell her her reasons, because there were no good ones.
And then, the one man she'd ever *consider* monogamy, marriage, and children for, the one person that makes a domestic scene as that… That's the one person she may never had. So, she'll improve, get stronger, in hopes that he won't be angry when she's strong. And then, maybe then, she finally won't be scared. He will decide that the line can be erased. And it will work out. But the pessimist in her knows the odds are stacked against them. He could find someone else, she could get hurt and regress… and it would all be over.
But she doesn't want it to end. She will not give up.