My next attempt at beating off writers block :) not really sure how this one's turned out since it pretty much gushed out and didnt take all that long to write so we'll see. Song is Where I stood by Missy Higgins and just about breaks my heart.
Reviews as always appreciated
Disclaimer: I dont own Bones
Where I stood
I don't know what I've done
Or if I like what I've begun
But something told me to run
And honey you know me it's all or none
There were sounds in my head
Little voices whispering
That I should go and this should end
Oh and I found myself listening
She isn't surprised that he's found his way to her door. She knew he'd come when he found out.
She just wishes he hadn't.
He'd thought they'd work out. She'd thought things would be fine even if they didn't. They were both wrong in the end, equal in all measures even in their demise. Logically she should have been able to accept that these things happened, that relationships ended and people moved on.
But love and logic hadn't been kind of late.
There hadn't been anything particularly wrong with the life they'd built. It just wasn't what they'd expected; it didn't follow the script they'd spent five long years writing, or rather they'd started the play but missed out all the stage directions. They had the story, the words, just no way to get from A to B, from start to finish, from first date to happily ever after.
They had been happy; she could admit that at least. For the four months that they'd spent together bliss had been a default emotion. It had been everything they'd hoped. Their tipping point in the end hadn't been a grand declaration of undying love but rather a peck on the cheek in thanks that simply migrated in a westerly direction until his lips were on hers. Then her body was under his. In the morning they woke side by side.
The perfect partnership.
Before they'd even stopped to think and take stock her keys shared a spot beside his on a table by the door, his home was her home, her clothes filtered their way into his draws and they consumed one another until their lives merged to the point where they ceased to be separate. They were one. Whole. The way it was supposed to be.
Or at least that's how the fairy-tale goes.
Then again she never really did believe in fairy-tales.
In line with all the most sickening cliché's she doesn't even remember what the fight was about, that final fight, that first real fight. She just remembers that one day things were fine and the next everything was different. She remembers the venom in her voice but not the words. She can recall the hardened expression on his face as she told him she was leaving, going back to her apartment to sleep for the first time in weeks, but she can't recall the harsh words of his reply, only that he did reply… and that she did leave.
It was only supposed to be one night, she knew that much. Even now she's clueless as to why she didn't just go to him the following day or him to her. She just didn't, he just didn't, and one night turned into two, then three, then four, then a box of her things appeared in her office and Angela was telling her he hadn't left a message. She'd looked at that box for two whole days before unpacking her things, residing herself to the fact that they were destined to permanently dwell in her apartment rather than that of the FBI agent or any home they may share. He'd packed everything barring a lavender coloured shirt she'd worn there once. She told herself she'd been careless with it or he'd misplaced it in the wash but alone at night a traitorous part of her whispered that he'd kept it knowingly.
She'd pushed the thought away and rolled over, begging for sleep to come mercifully soon that night.
Before their meeting with Sweets a week later they'd had 'the talk'. They agreed that anything between them could never be as important as the work they did. So it hadn't worked out, so what. At least now they knew and they could move on. No more what-ifs. They were friends before, they could do that again.
It was supposed to set them free.
It was the final nail in the coffin of their relationship and she'd never felt more trapped in her life.
She tried, she really did. She told herself that she could compartmentalise but try as she might Seeley Booth refused to fit in the boxes she attempted to cram him into, their relationship refused to be packed away. There was too much crossover.
And still they'd soldiered on, playing the roles they'd assigned themselves. Things were supposed to be how they used to be, and to an observer perhaps they were. They did their jobs well, laughed at each others jokes, and shared coffee at lunch. But things weren't like before; they could never be like before. Their jobs were now the only thing they shared a passion for, their laughs were hollow, joyless, and the coffee's they shared were all they shared as they sat there face to face in the diner with the weight of their ill-fated relationship expanding to fill the space between them until they were drowning in misspent opportunities and things they could have said.
Subtlety had never been her strong point and she couldn't pretend like him. Her mother had once told her that knowledge was a dangerous thing; something learnt can never be un-learnt. She knew that now when she tried to forget the way Booth's skin tasted beneath her tongue, attempted to hide her sense of loss at the absence of his hand on her lower back, tried to pretend she didn't know what it was like to love him…
He'd ruined her by changing her ideals ... and now she had to be his best friend.
She wasn't angry though, never at him, because she knew it wasn't one sided. She knew that when she blinked back tears he was swallowing his own, when she woke in the night it was because he tossed and turned in his own bed, that when her heart tugged it was his that felt the corresponding ache of the rip. Pretending was hurting him just as much as her. He was just better at hiding it. He at least tried to 'move on'. He went out with his friends, was closer to his brother, played ball with Parker. He at least tried a normal life, the life they'd had before their life together.
Unfortunately for her part of the 'Seeley Booth twelve step programme for moving on' included moving forward, stagnancy apparently wasn't living and moving forward involved moving forward with other people.
He was better at moving on than her.
It wasn't malicious, at least she could know that. Hell, part of her wanted him to flaunt the women he dated, for it to be real. Maybe then she could accept it. But he didn't and there weren't several women, just the one.
She found that worse somehow, it wasn't a fling, he didn't do that.
He'd done everything right, been as sensitive as possible. He'd been the perfect ex-lover, the perfect friend and gentleman as he'd informed her that he was dating again then preceded to keep said date tucked neatly away where she'd never have to meet her. She thinks now that that was the plan, for the two women to never meet, for the lines in his life to never blur again. She was his partner, Hannah his lover. It was the perfect plan.
Their relationship had taught her that perfect didn't exist.
It was an accident really, the chance occurance that had lead to the spiral of events that resulted in her throwing clothes into a bag late at night and him finding his way to her door. She'd only gone to the office to give him paperwork.
She never even got as far as the front desk.
He was stood by his car, a stunning blonde she knew was Hannah, by his side. The other woman was beautiful, and she was kissing him. He pulled away smiling with a promise of dinner but she knew that smile. Brennan had shared his life for almost seven years and she knew that smile. It was resigned, defeated, accepting.
He was settling.
He caught sight of her by her own car as Hannah walked away in the opposite direction. She didn't try to smile at him, it didn't matter, it was over, their cover was blown, the time for lying was finished. She closed her eyes breathing deeply. He made no attempt to bridge to physical distance between them but rather stared at her soft form from his 25 feet distance. She opened her eyes and flicked them quickly to Hannah's retreating form before looking back to him ,searching for the truth. She pleaded with her eyes, wanting to know the right thing to do all the time knowing he was the one person who couldnt tell her. She wanted to know how to heal this, how to heal them.
She saw the answer in his eyes, in the tinge of pink left on his lips, in the sad smile me offered her.
'Okay' she whispered to herself. 'Okay, enough now'.
She slipped back into her own car and drove away. The report could be emailed. He'd moved on, and she owed it to him to do the same, she wouldn't hurt him anymore. She'd let him go for the both of them. He was trying not to hurt her but he had a real chance with Hannah and anything he still felt for her was stopping that. But not anymore. It was over, she wouldn't do this to them anymore, she wouldn't destroy them. She could move on, she could do that for him.
It took her just twelve hours to equate moving on to moving away. Letting go of him meant letting go of the things he had taught her and her default reaction was to run.
And now here he was, standing at her door asking for answers he didn't want and couldn't understand.
'Bones?'
She didn't speak, not yet, just turned and walked back into the apartment leaving the door open behind her. He followed as usual, like her shadow on the wall even now.
They should have been beautiful.
It had taken her until now to realise they had been, their beauty had just come in a different form to others. This was her final gift to him.
This was their swan-song
'Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
'Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood
Reviews are always welcome pretty please :) I'll try to get part 2 (the conclusion) up tomorrow :)