A promise

I was kind of frustrated at the Season 3 finale, for the same reason than many of you guys, sentimentally because let's be honest, in terms of narration it was quite a move. Anyhow, I decided not to resume writing anything Bones related until I saw the Season 4 Premiere. Which I did. I knew it would not miss reviving both my interest and my inspiration. So... Here is a little something that, I think, might complete The Yanks in the UK... Spoilers, so those who did not watch it yet, beware.

She had not spoken since their flight had taken off. She knew it made him uneasy, in three years he had never let silence settle between them and she could feel him watching her with -she imagined- a rather quizzical look. But she could not utter a word. What was wrong with her? The trip to England had been nice, skeletons and dead anthropologists aside. She had successfully resolved two investigations, given acclaimed lectures to some of the most brilliant students in Europe. So what was it that made her so sad? It was not the first time she faced the death of a colleague nor the first time she had to investigate their actual demise. What was different this time? She hardly knew Ian; so, rationally, there was no reason for this lump in her throat. And why could she not tell Booth about it? Usually she would speak her mind to him without even thinking about what could or could not be said.

She looked at him and it suddenly became clear. He was now busy trying to figure out how he could get his movie started on the little screen in front of him; nothing out of the ordinary, he was being impatient as usual. Like a child. Then she smiled. She had always appreciated -no, loved- how life seemed to emanate from him, how every little thing could become so lively, so intense when he was there. He was like that, she could put no word on it but she could feel it. Life. It was the closest denomination she could find at that point. This life she had thought over when he had closed his eyes, in her arms, a few months before. As much as she hated psychology, she had to admit that the few days spent with Ian and Kate had made her see her relationship with Booth in a diametrically different way. It had nothing to do with this "Everest climbing" suggested by Kate -or so little; it was something deeper, elementary. When she had seen Kate desperately trying to appear casual after her partner's death, it had seemed familiar, but at that moment she had not let herself question this feeling. Now that it was all over; now that Booth was beside her with his goofy grin and his bad temper, she could not deny the obviousness of the fact... And she had to tell him.

"Kate loved Ian, you know."

He stopped his desperate quest for a movie, frowning. She had remained silent for over half an hour and she was starting a conversation with that? Of course he knew nothing she said was gratuitous, so before answering anything, he just gave her a look suggesting her to further her reflection. Which she did.

"She tries to appear casual, but his death did affect her, truly."

Now he could not prevent himself from asking.

"Of course it did, he was her partner. Where are you going with that?"

After saying those words, he understood why she actually mentioned this. He swallowed, seeing her trying to gather her thoughts into something coherent, concise. Something more like herself. She was about to tell him what he had been waiting for her to say ever since... Ever since that happened.

"When I thought you were dead..."

She lowered her eyes, unable to hold his gaze. Not that what she was about to confess was all that embarrassing, it was just... intimate. And if she felt comfortable giving him details on her sex life, opening her heart was like stripping naked. No one had ever seen her naked, except him. But today it was different, today there would be no coming back, no taking back any word that would be said. He would have a direct view of her mind, her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that he could have been gone before hearing it all, and that she would rather expose her very being to him than to let that happen -again.

"When I thought you were dead, I reacted the same way. I thought it would make things easier, after all, we were just colleagues, it was a professional matter and the percentage of violent deaths in the..."

She stopped. She was doing it again. She had to stay focused on what he needed to know, as painful as it was for her to revive these memories. He could not see the tears forming at the corner of her eyes, but when she resumed speaking, her voice broke.

"I felt betrayed. You had sworn you would never betray me, but you did."

He swallowed again. Yes, he had taken a bullet for her. Yes, he was Mister Heroic. But he still felt guilty. Not only about the fact that he had indeed betrayed her trust -with Sweets' help; but also because he had broken one of the many promises he had made to himself: to protect her from harm, always. Technically he had, but he had proved unable to shelter her from pain, from anger. More than a promise, keeping her happy was a pious vow, a manner to redeem himself for all the things he had done. And he had failed. But was it his fault, really?

"Had I known Sweets would not tell you..."

She interrupted him, calmly, still keeping her head down.

"It's not that Booth. I processed the facts, I know you meant to tell me you were not dead. My reaction was a logical response to a traumatic event. But when I thought you were, as irrational as it may seem, I was mad at you for being dead. Betrayal to me, equals abandon. It is etymologically inaccurate but my previous experiences in that matter prevent me from being objective. I needn't explain you why."

He nodded, desperate to see her eyes, but not daring to force their gazes to meet. He was now slowly coming up to the fact that he had reproduced the worst moment of her life. Usually she was the literal one, but this time, in spite of his ability to read people he had not been able to see through her -or maybe had he just decided not to see. After a short pause, she resumed her explanation. It was getting more painful, but she was aware of the necessity of this speech, so she clenched her teeth:

"All the things I said about your humanizing me; at that time, I hated you for it."

"I'm sorry Bones."

He did not know what else to say. He wished he could hold her, but he was certain she would not even let him. She was not angry, though the distance she was putting between them made him think otherwise. As silence was beginning to settle uncomfortably, she raised her head, giving him the smile he needed to be reassured.

"I am the one who is sorry, Booth. I let this violence cloud my judgment, these emotions take over my reflexion. It was hard, everyday. I was alone. For the first time in three years..."

Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for what she dreaded the most, addressing her very feelings. Booth, in turn, held his breath in anticipation. More confident, he suddenly felt like taking her hand. If the gesture startled her, it nevertheless gave her the strength to continue. Once more she reflected on how indispensable he had become to her throughout the years.

"I hated you for leaving me alone and for making me feel like I thought I would never feel again. I had made sure I would not feel like this anymore, I had learned."

She paused again as he gave her hand a light squeeze. She knew that if she did not resume talking he would say something that would complicate things even more.

"How can you provoke this in me, Booth? What happened to me?"

He smiled lightly, his thumb tracing invisible lines along her knuckles, observing the slow movements he was making as though trying to avoid eye contact. Now he was embarrassed. Could he tell her "Because you fell in love with me" or "Because you need me as much as I need you"? Of course not. He would have to be imaginative.

"You said it yourself. Maybe you just needed a little push to set free the 15 year-old girl in you. You had buried her under science, rationality to forget how it felt to be lost, to suffer. But with her you buried all the rest as well."

She frowned. Maybe he had been too imaginative, even for her.

"What do you mean?"

"Life, Bones. This is life you buried with her."

Life. He was life to her. What she had seen in him a moment earlier, what she had feared to lose. When she had thought he had died, she had died with him. It was not exaggerated, just a mere fact now.

"You're right."

The atmosphere suddenly seemed lighter. A smile, reciprocative for the first time, inviting Booth to further his apologies. He ignored if she would accept them, but he had to say it all the same. If it was time to confess feelings and regrets, he had better make the best of it.

"I wish I had never made you suffer. It's the latest thing I wanted to see happening."

"You would have if you had really been dead. But you're here."

She tightened her grip on his hand, subconsciously emphasizing the importance of his presence in her life. A response he had not expected. How had it begun? Only a few minutes had passed since they had started this conversation but their world seemed now radically different. Oddly enough, neither of them was frightened by this sudden change. Was it a real change anyway? She liked to think of it as an evolution. Inevitable. Although before being totally satisfied with it, she had to ask...

"Promise me not to die again."

The pain and fear were gone, she was now smiling like the 15 year-old girl who ignored what loss and abandon could mean. This girl absolutely certain to have someone to cherish her and protect her from harm. Her personal knight, Sir Seeley Booth.

"I promise."

End...