She'd stayed at the hospital for an hour after the doctor had given her the news. Six hours had passed since the shot had interrupted her song. She'd just sat in the waiting room as the doctor had walked away. Her eyes had been trained on her hands, still soaked with the blood of her partner, her friend. Angela had tried to get her to go into the ladies room and wash it off when they'd first arrived, but she'd refused. The doctor said to wait here Angela. He said he'd come to me when he knew better what was going on. He told me to wait here. Rationally, she knew the doctor would be able to find her if she took the twenty steps into the ladies room. But her heart had held control, her feet had stayed glued to the spot where she'd seen Booth disappear behind the swinging doors and her mouth continued to utter the same words. He told me to wait here. He'll show up, he always does.
The doctor had returned as promised. But it was with his surgical cap in hand, eyes downcast. Temperance Brennan knew quite well that this was never a good sign. But still her heart held control. Her legs had remained stiff until the doctor approached and muttered those two words. I'm sorry. Then her entire world had shifted and her legs had collapsed under her. Jack had immediately rushed to her side, helped her to stand. He'd moved her to the bench as Cam had stepped forward to talk to the doctor. Temperance had tried to listen to the words but she only heard that horrible phrase of apology repeating over and over again.
She'd been lost in space until Cam's hand had touched her shoulder. Then the world had rushed back to her. She heard Angela wailing next to her, felt Jack's hand still on her shoulder, saw Cam's lips moving, but then her sense of smell kicked in. Instead of the antiseptic smell that usually filled hospitals, all she could smell, all she could taste was the copper tang of blood. Booth's blood. Her eyes went to her hands. They were still stained with it. Her stomach lurched and she ran for the bathroom. She collapsed in front of the toilet, losing what little she'd eaten before taking the stage at the club. She stumbled toward the sink. Stared at her hands, unable to rinse her mouth because her hands were still sticky with Booth's blood.
You have to wash them, Sweetie. Angela's voice cut through the wind tunnel in her head. Yes, wash her hands. She could do that. Though Angela was still consumed with her own grief, she leaned in to assist her best friend. When Brennan pulled back, cringing from Angela's touch, Angela could see the pain in her friend's eyes. Sorry. Brennan resumed washing her hands. She kept scrubbing them, for almost twenty minutes, as if she could still see the blood that was no longer there. Bren, hunnie, they're clean. C'mon. Angela did not try to touch Brennan again, instead moving around her to lead her out of the bathroom.
Brennan looked around the waiting room, into the eyes of her friends, felt a hole form in her heart because someone was missing. Jack, can you follow me to Brennan's? I'm going to drive her car.
Hodgins threw a covered look at his friend and boss. She didn't look much like the woman he'd met in the Jeffersonian all those years ago. But he could imagine the pain ripping through her right now. Frankly he was impressed she was even on her feet. Sure, Angie. It took another twenty minutes to get world renowned forensic anthropologist Temperance Brennan to leave the ER waiting room. She wouldn't allow them to touch her and she had started muttering under her breath. Over and over again, she uttered the words in the hole forever; we're in that hole forever. Angela didn't know what that meant, but she was beginning to fear for her friend's sanity.
With Cam's help, Jack and Angela were able to herd Brennan to the passenger seat of her car. Angela drove her to her apartment, Jack following behind. When they arrived, Brennan made her way to her door on her own, letting herself in. She began moving around the room, tidying things up. Angela had told Jack to stay downstairs. She loved her best friend dearly, but Angela knew she had no idea how to comfort her. She waited until Temperance walked down the hall then grabbed Brennan's cell. She scrolled down to the listing she needed. The phone rang twice before it was picked up
Hello?
Max?
Yes, who's this?
This is Angela Montenegro, I work with Temperance.
The artist, right? How is my daughter?
That's actually what I'm calling about. Angela could practically hear Max snap to attention on the other end of the line. She wasn't sure how to deal with Temperance, but she hoped Max might be able to help.
What happened? Is she all right? I'll kill Booth if he got her hurt.
Angela decided it would be best to just get him here, and explain in person. Brennan's not hurt. I can't explain over the phone. Please come to her apartment, now. Angela really hoped he'd just come, not ask more questions she didn't want to answer over the phone.
I'm on my way. Angela heard the click and dial tone that signaled Max had hung up.
It seemed like next to no time had passed when Angela heard the knock on the door. She moved toward it quickly, wanting a few minutes to explain what had happened before Temperance saw her father. She pulled the door open and let Max in.
Where is she? What happened?
Angela covered his mouth to quiet him. There was… I… Booth, he… She just couldn't string the words together. The tears welled in her eyes. Max moved his hands to her shoulders, trying to calm and comfort her. Angela took a deep breath. Booth was shot. And now Brennan is, she's losing it, and I don't know what to do. But you're her father, so I thought, that maybe… Her voice trailed off. She wasn't sure what she'd thought.
You thought the solution would be to call a man who's barely seen her for the last fifteen years? Not the best decision, Ms. Montenegro. Max didn't know what the pretty artist expected from him. He loved his daughter, but she was not his biggest fan. His being here would only make things worse.
No. I thought that maybe talking to someone who loves her, who's had to bury the love of their life, might be able to reach her where I can't. Max's attitude allowed Angela to find her steely resolve. Being talked to like an idiot pissed her off, and she knew how to function pissed off.
What are you talking about? She and Booth were just partners. She just needs a few hours to accept the loss.
You're blind if you think all Booth was was your daughters' partner. He loved her. And she may not have been able to admit it yet, but she loves him too. She held up her hand to stop the protest he was about to make. Don't believe me if you don't want to. But Booth was more then a coworker. He's the person who got her to leave the lab and experience the world. He's the man who helped her to deal with her pain. He's the friend who held her hand when she cried, and he's the partner who just died taking a bullet meant for her.
Meant for her? Never mind. Where is she now? Max hadn't quite grasped what Booth's death would mean to his daughter, but he was beginning too.
She's down the hall. I just didn't know what to do. I figured since you can at least empathize, maybe it would be better if you were here with her.
I'm not sure if that's true, but I wouldn't leave her for the world.
Good, because she was counting on Booth to be the person who was there no matter what. And I really think he had every intention of doing it. I don't know what she'll do now.
I'll stay with her tonight. Tomorrow there will be funeral arrangements and things to distract her. You should be the one there for that. But tonight I'll be strong for her. Go and deal with your pain tonight. Max could see the tears in Angela's eyes. Apparently Temperance hadn't been the only one who loved Booth.
Thank you. Angela got her coat and walked to the door. She decided she'd let Temperance be. She couldn't stand to see her best friend in this pain.
Max waited for the door to close. Then he made his way down the corridor to his daughter's bedroom. The door was open just a crack, he pushed it the rest of the way. The sight that greeted his eyes pained his heart. His only daughter, the girl who'd been so full of life when he'd left all those years ago, the woman whose brilliance had nearly blinded him when he saw her just a few short months ago, sat on a chair by her window. It was as if she sat in a black hole, no light existed around her, and the color was nearly removed from her entire form. Her usually straight back was slumped in defeat and she had curled in upon herself. The words Angela had said had not really hit him, but he now saw the truth in her words.
The woman in front of him was broken. Not by the loss of a mere partner, but by the devastating pain that accompanied the loss of one's soul mate. If given the choice, he would have preferred never coming back into his daughter's life then to see her like this.
As he stepped into the room, the floor squeaked. It took Temperance a minute to register the noise, but once she did, she looked up. Daddy? There was so much pain in her voice; he would have given anything to remove it.
I'm here, Tempe. He moved to her side, and knelt down beside her chair.
She hesitated for only a second, and then threw herself in his arms. He stood back up, allowing her to wrap her arms completely around his neck. He moved his hand to her back, trying anything to soothe her. He started whispering words of comfort, telling her everything would be alright. He was quite certain she couldn't hear his words over her own sobs.
He's gone Dad. Booth's gone. He promised me, said he'd be here. I need him. He knew me. What am I supposed to do without him? How am I supposed to go back to the way it was? She was overcome by sobs again.
I don't know. Honey, I just don't know. I wish I could explain it to you, but sometimes life just doesn't make sense. I wish I could change it for you, but it's not that simple.
Why did he do it? It was the one piece of her that wasn't mourning her partner, her brain. It was still stuck in that damn bar, watching the scene that changed her life over and over again. The bullet should have hit her, Booth should still be alive. She needed that question answered.
Do what? Max was confused, both by her question and her sudden change in mood.
The gun was aimed at me. The bullet was meant for me. Why does Booth have such a savior complex? I'm not his responsibility. I can take care of myself. I don't need him to keep saving me. He shouldn't be saving me. Her voice reached an almost hysteric pitch. She pushed away from Max. What the hell is the matter with him? He shouldn't have done that, I'm not his responsibility. My life isn't more important than his. He has responsibilities. She sucked in a breath so she could continue; yelling about Booth was helping her to clear her head. It was helping her to be herself again. But the mention of responsibilities led her thoughts to a young boy who would never see his father again. Oh my God. Parker. What was Booth thinking? What about Parker. The tears started again, but so did the anger. How could Booth do this to Parker? How could he leave him without a father? Once again Brennan lost herself in tears.
Though she was completely oblivious to it, Max flinched. He'd always regretted having to leave his children all those years ago, yet it had never really occurred to him how much it had actually hurt his daughter. But he could hear the anger and pain from that abandonment in the way she had just said that little boy's name. For the first time in quite a long time, Max Keenan was at a total loss of what to do. He stood for a second and watched his only daughter, his baby girl, break. He'd seen heartache before, but this seemed more than that. Unable to do nothing any longer, he stepped forward and tentatively wrapped his arms around his little girl. He felt her resist for a second, but then he felt her collapse against him.
It was this collapse that caused him to hold her tighter. In the little time he had been able to spend with her since she found her mother's remains, he had seen many versions of her. Every one of them had been strong. Whether it had been her trying to arrest him at the parish, or sitting in the courtroom trying to convince a jury that she was a murderer, he'd never seen her weak. But then he'd never seen her without Booth. It had occurred to him that Booth might love his daughter, and that she might even return the feeling, but it had never occurred to him just how important they were to each other. Even when Booth had been held by Gallagher a few months back, Temperance had been strong, as if she had known he'd be okay. She had approached the situation not as if she feared for his life, but as if his being missing was a huge inconvenience to their plans. Not as if she was worried for his life, more like she didn't know what to do without him sitting next to her. It should have dawned on him then how important the FBI agent was, but he'd been more worried about saving his own ass.
They sat that way for some time, Max with his arms wrapped around his daughter, whose sobs were still coming though they had quieted. When she was finally able to bring her pain back under control, she pushed back from her father. Max couldn't quite put a name to it, but he saw something different in her eyes. It wasn't quite the look of strength she'd had before this evening, but it was more reminiscent of it. Temperance? Are you alright?
Brennan seemed slightly surprised to be hearing her father's voice, as if she had forgotten he was there. While he had been holding her, praying there would be some relief from her pain, she had been lost in her own head. There had been a time when she didn't know Booth; there had even been a time when she'd disliked him immensely. But it had been years since she'd felt anything negative about her partner. While her heart had been occupied with tears, her brain had been busy trying to remember how it functioned before Booth. Though in her heart she wasn't looking forward to going back to being Dr. Temperance Brennan, her brain knew that she could never be Bones again, not without Booth. Bones had been personable, funny, and charming. She was occasionally sexy, even managing to be quirky and normal sometimes. Dr. Brennan was analytical, smart and dry. She saw things in black and white; there was no room in the doctor's life for the shenanigans that Bones was known for with Booth at her side. And now that Booth was gone, Bones would go with him. It was Bones who was mourning the loss of her partner, because Dr. Brennan knew very well that death was a part of life, having spent many nights identifying the remains of the dead.
So as the tears had been streaming down her face, and her father had been worrying about her sanity, Dr. Brennan had been reemerging. She had known that Booth would cause her pain eventually. She had read it in that damn smile of his, the one that made her want to open up and share things with him. Losing Booth was just further proof that opening your heart to people left you alone and in pain. Well she had learned that lesson for the last time, she wouldn't make the mistake of getting attached again.
Her father's voice called her from her own head, returning her to the world. I'm fine, Max. I was being irrational, I don't know what was wrong with me.
Max could hardly believe the change that had occurred in Tempe's voice. All of a sudden, all traces of pain were gone, as if she hadn't just lost a partner. That was not the only change he saw. Her back was once again straight, and her eyes were no longer pools of grief. In fact her eyes looked almost empty, now holding only the look of strength that fell just short of being what it had been yesterday. Her words did not match the torment she'd just been in. You just lost someone you loved, honey. Grief isn't irrational. It's normal.
Anger flashed through her eyes. Grief is pointless. It serves no purpose, except to make you feel sorry for yourself. And I didn't lose a loved one. I lost a partner.
He may have agreed with her words before, even said them himself to Angela, but after seeing Tempe's breakdown, he knew they were false. Booth wasn't just your partner. He was your friend at the very least. He tried to detect any reaction, but her eyes were steel.
Her heart gave a little jerk at each mention of Booth's name, but her brain had regained all control. All the progress Booth had helped her make since the first time he'd told her she had to offer a little piece of herself had been erased by one night. Her brain once again held the control. Had her father been on trial today, she would have been the one on the stand testifying to have him put on death row. Her emotions were caged, no longer able to be read.
Max wasn't sure what had happened to his daughter, but he knew it wasn't good. He had wanted to take away her pain, but the woman sitting in front of him now scared him much more then the one who had been crying in his arms just 20 minutes before. He wasn't sure what to make of this new Temperance. The only thing he could think was at least it seemed like the pain from losing Booth was under control, because she wouldn't have been able to spend the rest of her life in that kind of pain. He watched as his daughter stood up and walked down the hall, as if she'd forgotten he was even there. He was fairly certain that whatever heartache she'd been experiencing when he'd first arrived was gone. But he did not like the new way of dealing with her pain any more than he had liked the last. He was no longer the expert here, he'd have to wait and see what the artist said in the morning when she came back. Till then, he'd sit on the couch, waiting on the off chance that his daughter may need comfort again. And as he sat down in the living room, he cursed Booth for doing this to his daughter, the same way he'd cursed his wife when she had left him.