Bit of a ramble written late at night, while listening to 'Lover/Soldier' by Washington on a loop – if you feel so inclined, YouTube that song and listen to it when you read the story, cos it's how I wrote it.

The story is meant to be disjointed and a bit jumpy – I think that that's the way thoughts are early in the morning, after all. It's fairly angsty for me, but its how I'm feeling after catching up on most of the sixth season! I've actually been a little frustrated at Booth. But since I really like him, I decided to write this so I could sympathise with him again.

Hope you enjoy.

Letting Her Go

I woke up quietly, staring at my watch. Three a.m.

I'd kept on waking around this time, every night. Or morning, as she'd no doubt have corrected me.

It's at that time when things were generally quiet. The sounds of sleeping men around me, the occasional murmured word of home, of lovers they'd left behind. So many times I wondered if I murmured her name in my sleep, telling her to be careful, to stay safe. That I loved her.

Temperance.

I'd told her I needed to move on. Five long years I'd put my life on hold for her, five long years. Finally ending with my idiot attempt to be with her, goaded on by the boy genius. I liked to think I could take rejection gracefully. But I'd felt broken. I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel like I used to be able too.

I know love's hard work, and that she was even harder. But it had never felt like work with her, and it had all seemed worth it. I'd lived in blissful ignorance, thinking that one day it would get somewhere.

Why did you give up?

I walked outside, staring up at the stars that always looked the same, despite all the raging that went on down in this tiny place. I was in the middle of a war zone, dodging bullets every other day, and I still couldn't get her out of my head. She was on the other side of the world, and yet still everything, her absolute everything engulfed me.

Does she feel the same?

I shook my head, disgusted at myself. She didn't. She never would. She just wasn't that kind of woman, and I'd been a fool to expect it from her. Rumblings of anger and bitterness boiled in the pit of my stomach, burning acidic against the tenderness of the emotion I'd felt for her, twisting it into something else, leaving open wounds in what remained. I didn't want any of it anymore.

I'll always love her.

I'm trying so hard not to. I'm trying so hard to forget.

But her face, her smile, her laugh, that look she gave me that had always given me hope were always in my mind, and I just couldn't forget.

A light breeze crossed the camp, making tents sway slightly, and I leaned against a post, closing my eyes. I was so tired. From crappy sleep, worrying about my men, seeing terrible things, missing my son, and from constantly trying not to think about her.

You're surviving, Seeley. Just keep on surviving.

That was the problem. I'd never just survived, I'd lived. I'd loved life.

I'd loved her.

Loved.

I couldn't love her anymore.

My eyes pricked, but I blinked fiercely, refusing any tears.

It's time to let her go.

It felt as though everything inside me raged against that thought. I'd spent years inching towards her, every atom in my body attuned to hers, waiting. But I was so sick of waiting. So sick of all these atoms in my body tearing themselves apart from the denial I'd put them through, of the hope they were now starved off. I couldn't live like this anymore.

'Good bye, Temperance.'

The breeze swept up my words into the night air, and I imagined them being carried away, taking with them an inch of the pain I'd been feeling, the sadness.

I turned back to the tent, quietly entering it and climbed into bed. I closed my eyes, and waited for sleep.

I still dreamed of her.

Thanks for reading!