Author's Note: I was pretty angry, probably unreasonably so, after watching The Predator in the Pool. I miss the old Booth and Bones just as much as they do, I think. It's hard to watch them like this. I'm trying to remain hopeful, but some days it's tough. So this is my sad and angry ranting about the current state of affairs. Perhaps some of you out there have felt the same thing. Hope you like it and please let me know what you think, even if you think I'm off my nut!
Disclaimer: Nothing Bones related belongs to me. The angst and anger is allllll mine though!
Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
~Kahlil Gibran
So this is what they've come down to finally. Sitting in a bar pretending to be excited about dating other people. Talk about your theater of the absurd.
He gives a rundown on how funny the marine biologist is. She gives a rundown on how funny his boss is.
They stood in front of the elevator comparing their respective "dates" to each other. Somehow each has become the others "standard" for what's beautiful, attractive, smart, whatever. How fucked up is that?
She puts on the "I'm really just a girl looking for a good time" mask, even as she's sure to tell him that she's not sleeping with his boss. She giggles with Angela about what she should wear and if coffee is code for sex. She tries so desperately to hide the feelings she doesn't understand that her face ends up blank as she asks about the jokes they laughed at together. Without her. She's not really sure why such a thing would bother her, but it does.
He puts on the charm smile and gamely tries to engage in some kind of normal chit chat about her date with his boss. He gets the message she's trying to send about not having sex with him, finds he's relieved, but tries to put that aside. It doesn't matter to him who she sleeps with, right? He's got Catherine to think about now. Someone who's actually interested in him. Someone he might have a future with…..if he could just stop thinking about her.
Each of them struggles. Silently and alone. Wrestling with feelings they either don't understand, can't adequately deal with or both. They pretend everything's normal. It's fine. No tension here, no sir. They're just partners solving homicides and having a quick beer after work. They're the center. They're both exceedingly practiced at pretending the foundation isn't cracking, the mortar's not crumbling just a little, and the whole thing's not tilting sideways. Because if they don't acknowledge it, it's not happening, right? It's all about compartmentalizing. Isn't that what she always says? No point in thinking about things you can't do anything about.
Each of them suffers. Silently and alone. Hurting for different reasons and in different ways. God, they manage to do everything together, don't they? Waiting and praying and hoping. Waiting for this to either heal them or break them completely. Praying (and she is, even if she doesn't know it) they'll get through this somehow. Hoping they're doing the right thing for the right reasons. Why is this so damn hard?
But each of them knows. Not just him this time, she knows it too. They know and they push it aside for now. They need to struggle and suffer and pretend first. They need to wait and pray and hope. But in their hearts, they know. And when the struggling and suffering and pretending are done, and they find each other with open hearts and clear eyes, they'll know they've found the truth of each other. And they'll be dazzled by that truth.