A/N: A one-shot inspired by Allison Moorer's "Day You Said Goodbye". Definitely angst, so tissue warning is in effect. -AnaG
And many thanks to LP, the other LP and CJB for the trip to the WW to help me find the words again. -A
Sunlight crept in, filtering through the sheer weight of the curtains to fall in a broken pattern near the edge of a white pillowcase.
It brought with it the sounds of a day gathering its strength—the lumber of a still empty school bus, the insistent bark of a dog, brief beats of music from the open window of a passing car.
The numbers on the nearby clock changed again and then again, while the lines of light lengthened across the white cotton. Shyly, they touched the hand curled there on the pillow then grew bolder, reaching forward to touch her face.
Pale warmth revealed the shadowed circles below her lashes but balanced that unkindness by unveiling the dream-softened smile that transformed her exhaustion into unrefined grace.
The light wavered, disturbed by the movement of a cloud or perhaps simply reluctant to destroy whatever idyll sleep had bestowed. For an uncertain moment, shadows ushered into the room, making way for the dream to continue.
But even the day itself doesn't control its own destiny and, sympathetic or not, the light had laws that it was bound to follow. And so it forced its way back through the window, brighter and warmer in its return, as if determined that if it couldn't provide her respite from the day, it might at least offer her its strength.
xxxxxx
She groaned aloud and turned her face into the pillow, trying to hide from the light that was urging her to wake up. She was so tired she felt the ache of it in every ounce of tendon and marrow. Blindly pulling the comforter over her head, she mumbled promises to the empty room that it was only for another few minutes. But no sooner had she settled back into her haven than she heard the subtle tick that gave way to the unrelenting electronic whine of the alarm clock. The day wasn't giving in, and so finally, she did.
With a burdened sigh, she propped her weight on one arm and reached for the clock. Tempting silence came again and in its wake, she almost gave in, would have given in if the numbers on the clock's face had finally accomplished what its alarm had not.
Standing, she ran a hand over weary eyes, through hair tangled by a restless night, and tried to remember what she was supposed to do that day. Conference call with her editors. Reviewing materials for a thesis panel. She sorted through the possibilities as she walked across the room towards her closet. Follow up with Zach on the progress on the Limbo inventory. And she needed to call Booth, find out if he was going to meet her at the lab or…
She remembered.
… I've got to meet Cullen on another case…but I'll meet you at the diner for breakfast in the morning?
Yeah, sure.
Great. See you then. 'Bye, Bones.
'Night, Booth.
She heard the echo of the words and in them, everything else that sleep had helped her to forget.
Four nights ago, she opened her door to find the ever stoic Cullen with tears in his eyes.
Yesterday, she insisted upon reading every line of the autopsy report, because even after seeing the flag draped coffin and flinching each time the honor guard fired into the distance, it was the only way that she would ever accept that it was true.
An hour later, she had learned, in the most clinical terms possible, that even a knight in shining, standard-issue, FBI body armor was not invincible.
And now, standing there in the unnoticed trail of sunlight, she could hear those last words once again. The ones that could have been the end of any one of hundreds of conversations—she hadn't known then that it was the end of all of them.
There would never be another breakfast at the diner. No more Jaspers, Brainy Smurfs, guy hugs. No more tension, frustration, reassurance or comfort. There would never be more than lingering looks and a single kiss under the mistletoe. And never again would she ever be so certain of…
Hand covering her mouth, she turned first in one direction and then another, blindly searching the room as reality became concrete once again. Then, spurred on by an anguish and anger that she wasn't willing or able to confront, she began to move.
She shoved the alarm clock under the bed and tossed her phone into a drawer. Went to the window and drew the shades and curtains to shroud the room in darkness. Hurried to her bed, burrowed deep into the linens and closed her eyes.
And as the first tear escaped, she pled for sleep to come quickly so that she could dream of him vibrant and strong and alive. So she could wake up again and have that one perfect moment before she remembered the day he said goodbye and never came back to her.
xxxxxx
Following its nature, the sunlight searched the edges of the window, seeking its way past the barriers she had constructed in its path. It found faint victory against the shadowed room and so settled itself against the glass and upon the stones of the sill to wait.