Yes, another story about TDITP. I watched this episode, fell asleep and dreamt this. It wouldn't let me go, so I wrote it down. Some aspects are similar to other stories I've read since, but I honestly didn't take any of it from anyone else. My first fic, ever.
No Regrets, Here
He watched to make sure she got safely into her apartment building before pulling away from the curb. The tires screeched just a little and he winced, but he couldn't get out of there fast enough.
He didn't realize he had been holding his breath until the pounding in his ears forced him to exhale.
Whew! He knew she'd been acting weird since getting this case, but he didn't expect that. He really didn't want to hurt her, but she likes the facts and he knew she would appreciate what he said. After all, it was her choice to begin with. He had to adjust. She will, too.
He had to not think about it anymore. He turned on sports radio. He caught up with all the scores and the not thinking worked for a while, but the voice on the radio started to drone on so he switched to his iPod. A Dead song started to play. He smiled and sang the old familiar words as he drummed his hand on his leg, still not thinking.
He was doing okay until the next song, Hot Blooded. Suddenly a rush of images of her foot high-kicking and her air-guitar playing flooded his mind.
A car horn startled him. He was sitting at a green light. It took a moment to loosen his grip from the steering wheel to go.
He drove to an empty parking lot and stopped, turning off the engine. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calmly gather his wits so he could continue not thinking and driving.
But his breathing became ragged. And he couldn't hold it back, anymore.
"What the HELL, Bones!" He punched the dash board with his right hand.
"You are UN-FREAKIN-BELIEVABLE!" The dashboard suffered another hit.
"You got a GODDAMNED SIGNAL and NOW YOU HAVE REGRETS? Why the hell NOW?" He roared, throwing his hands up in the air with the question.
He stopped, abruptly. His head hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, his chest was tight, and he wanted to vomit. He was panting like he'd run a marathon.
And then as quickly as it flared, the rage dissipated and he dropped his hands to the seat on either side of him. He dropped his head forward, chin to chest, his breath slowing.
"I know I fumbled it last year, Bones, but when I told you that I wanted to give us a chance you reached in and tore the heart right out of my chest. You left it lying there, bleeding, while you went off to that stupid island. So, I had to….adjust." Shrugging his shoulders to no one there.
He rubbed his hands over his face to scrub away the tears and that painful memory. He turned the key in the ignition and sped out of parking lot. His mouth set in grim determination.
This was her choice. It's what she wanted.
No regrets, here.
He needed to pull himself together and get home.
Someone was waiting for him to come home. He'd made sure of that. He'd adjusted and made sure of that, damn it.