Author's Note: Open-ending, yay?
Summary: Booth and Brennan talk to each other at the cemetery.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Italics = Just Breathe from Pearl Jam, obvious inspiration for the fic.

Yes, I understand that every life must end
As we sit alone, I know someday we must go

He doesn't stand in front of her as he would to the others he would visit. He sits next to her to give off a casual feeling in a solemn and serious setting.

"Hey there, Bones," he starts off. "I got you some flowers, daffodils and daisies, huh?" He chuckled. "See what I did there? Haha, now if only I could get you Jupiter." He looked at the empty space of grass next to him. "Oh, Bones."

He turns towards her, kneeling now. "You know, what you did was pretty stupid. I mean, more stupid than usual. You're smart, yeah, I get it, but sometimes, sometimes the logic that goes through your head only makes sense in your head." He pointed at her headstone as if it could replace her.

"It, ah, it's," Booth was at a loss for words. How could he get mad at someone who wasn't there? He ran a hand over his tired face. Since her passing, the bags under his eyes became more pronounced, the wrinkles on his forehead multiplied, and his hairs started to gray despite his age. "It, ah, doesn't matter anymore, Bones. It doesn't matter."

Booth patted the grass next to him, as if he were patting her hands, in a reassuring manner. He looked down and imagined her still pristine, still there, still alive; and he sniffed.

"It's alright, Bones. I'm okay."

Did I say that I need you?
Did I say that I want you?
Oh, if I didn't I'm a fool you see,
no one knows this more than me
As I come clean

She stopped short of of his headstone, right where his feet would be six feet under. Nothing was said between her and the stone, just awkward silence as she tried to form some casual conversation openers.

She looked up at the sky, into the trees, anywhere but his headstone. It seemed surreal, but it was true. It was evident that this headstone bore his name, it was evident that she was present at his wake and funeral, it was also evident that he had died from a gun shot to a vital organ.

But she didn't believe any of it. Brennan let out a sigh. "Hey, Booth. You told me to speak to you when you die, so here I am."

Bones sat down, cross-legged, across from her former partner. "I see absolutely no point in this conversation. You can't hear me, you can't see me, you can't even talk back. How can I visualize what you are going to say, when I can't see your facial expressions?" She pulled a couple blades of grass from beneath her. Silence answered her back.

Picking at the blades she had pulled, she answered her own question. "If you were here, you'd tell me that I wouldn't need to see you or hear you. I just need to talk to you and...and logically speaking-" her voice cracked, "logically speaking it's not possible because you're dead."

She was more emotional since her partner's funeral. She seemed more lost in thought or in a memory, but she always buried herself in her work. Since his passing, she wasn't getting enough sleep. Temperance closed her eyes; there was a slight breeze, the sun was nearing its peak, and for a moment she could hear his voice.

It's alright, Bones. Just relax. She could picture his face smiling at her, his hands welcoming her and drawing her into a comforting and familiar hug. Just relax, it's all going to be alright.

Angela found her later, asleep on the ground at Booth's feet, after she didn't return to the lab from her daily meeting with Booth.