Author's note: I have my own theory about the final episode. Time will, I'm sure, prove me wrong. Hart always comes up with a twist we didn't even see coming. But I'm already dreading the time after next week when we will have watched The Beginning in the End. So, hopefully, this story will help carry me- and those of you who read it- through some of that time.
Note 2- Thank you to MickeyBoggs for her help with this chapter.
Jane
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Prologue
The moving on in the standing still.
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"Time takes it all, whether you want it or not. Time takes it all, time bears it away, and in the end, there is only darkness. Sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes, we lose them again."
Stephen King, The Green Mile
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Booth packed lightly. What could he take with him anyway that would fill the void of her absence? He zipped up the duffel, closed the lights in the apartment and locked the security tap under sink cupboard and the gas meter in hall closet.
Some places were difficult to leave. Or was it that some times were difficult to walk away from?
The sooner the better. The decision had been made. This time with Bones... this was just stupid now. Time. He needed a new time in his life. This division of the Time Before Bones and the Time With Bones would have to be a thing of the past. He would need to find new markers, new things to measure his days by. He would need a new self, more likely. But staying here, seeing her every day, wanting her every day until it hurt so bad he actually found it difficult to get out of bed? Nah, that stuff was not good. It was unhealthy.
And it made her uncomfortable. He hated that.
He had come to realize that holding on to the hope of winning her was just a case of losing in increments. Losing her, losing himself. Hell, losing his mind a little bit every day. It was the triumph of experience over hope.
This mission, this was a heaven sent. Going away, far away. Getting his heart in order, make himself strong again. Make himself worthy. It was a permanent change, like relocating a mountain a couple thousand miles or drawing a new bed for a river. It was a permanent change in the landscape. This old dog would have to learn a new trick.
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Brennan knew many things. Abstract and concrete knowledge. And what knowledge she did not have, she had the skills to learn. What she did not know was how to mend a broken heart. Hers. Booth's. There was no research to help her, no expert to guide her. Not one she could ask anyway. This was the kind of thing she went to Booth for. He was her expert in the matters of the heart.
Except her expert was unavailable for consultation. On this count at least.
So she signed the agreement papers, the insurance papers, took care of the vaccines and, just in case, made a will. Details were important because when she concentrated on concrete details, she did not have to try so hard at keeping herself together. She prepared notices for Cam and Hacker. She had sent those too..
This expedition was going to be a good thing. Even career-wise, it was good. Leaps and bounds forward good. Personally good too. Away from the weight of murder and pain and misery. Away from what's ugly and unkind about mankind. Far enough. Long enough. This was going to give them both time, and time heals everything. Or so it was said. Experience showed her otherwise. Some things time did not heal.
But as long as Booth was there, even if far, to her, it would be like she still had him. A little bit at least. She would not be so alone.
But she had to let go. She was the one who had to open the door for him to walk through, free from her.
She stacked her files neatly and held her tears out of habit. She huddled inside her lab coat, squeezing her molecules into a cohesive form trying to hold herself together because that's what she always did.
She stacked her files neatly on a tray, printed and signed reports, put all her affairs in order. She was as ready to leave as she was ever going to get.
There was just telling Booth now.
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Her phone rang. See? This was why she could not afford to let her guard down for a single moment. That was Booth on the phone. What if she had been a weeping mess now? He would know. He always knew what was going on inside her. She held her tears, it was a private mess of misery and hurt. A visible mess? That was not what he needed. She took a deep breath.
"Brennan."
"Hi, Bones."
"Hi." She noted the silence. She didn't dare fill it in. She had an overwhelming feeling that something was about to change. Something vital. And that nothing was ever going to be the same again.
"Are you still at the lab?"
"Yeah..."
"You should go home. It's late."
"Yeah. Do you wanna stop by? I'll get us some food" And again there was silence. Her heart started thumping against her rib cage, thundering in her veins, drumming in her temples. And air became scarce. God, the flesh was so weak.
"Bones... Listen... I can't"
"Is it Catherine?" It was none of her business. She shouldn't have asked.
"Bones..." It was the way he said it. It was more serious than a date. It was some life changing event. Quite possibly, some extinction level cataclysm.
"Booth."
"I just wanted to tell you to uh... stay safe. Take care, Bones."
"Booth?" She just couldn't process the tone or the words. Or what her gut was yelling at her. Guts do not talk to you. Much less scream. Do they?
"Bones.... I..." On the other side of the line, Booth was feeling that pulling all his teeth out without anesthetic would have been far less painful than extracting her from his life. "I've accepted an assignment. Out of DC..."
"Booth... I…" I what? She didn't even know what to say. She was leaving, she was giving him space and his life back. Why was he leaving? What about Pops and Parker? What about Sweets and Angela and Hodgins and their people at the lab? It was like they were both walking out on them. Almost like leaving them... orphans.
She wanted one thing only: to ask him to stay. And that was the only thing she couldn't do. If he needed the distance, she had to love him enough to let him go. Let him be the one to leave. Let him have his pride. It was what a decent person would do. Give him the distance to get over things. To move on. Just because this was as good as it would ever get for her, it did not mean the same to him. "Where are you going?" Except that it was like missing a vital part of herself. Like her heart.
"Bones... Just... away."
"Is it dangerous?"
What could he say? He opted for silence. In the vast ocean of things unsaid between them, it was only one little thing. Perhaps the last.
Brennan was immobile. Absolutely still. Whenever emotions were too big for her, she became paralyzed. Her fingers were stretched as if in a spasm and her eyelids were wide open, unblinking. The only thing moving was her heart, beating heard, rebelling against her, beating, thumping, storming its way out of her chest.
"Booth... just..." One night. Just one more night. One more conversation, one more meal, one more drink. One more hour or one more minute before she went back to being all alone. "Can I stop by your place?" Her chest rehearsed a breathing movement. Words needed air to come out. "Just to wish you good luck..."
"Oh Bones..." One more time the hesitation. How bad could it be? How much worse could it be? How much more difficult? "I'm at the airport. I've checked in for my flight already."
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Life is generally kind with the choices it gives you: black shirt or white top with those pants, pizza or Thai for dinner. Life warms you in a blanket of commonality of neither here nor there in the choices that you make. Nothing is vital, nothing is potentially life changing or heart-crushing. But then, sometimes, you are put at a crossroads that will forever change your life whether you take a right or a left. Free will becomes a burden, not a gift. A burden that demands action. You wish for nothing but for someone to tell you what to do, or you pray for a road sign pointing you into the right direction because standing still just isn't an option but you don't know what to choose and there's no way you can just create a new path. It's either right or left. No third choice. And no second guessing.
Brennan held the cell phone in her hand knowing she had to chose which way to go now: let him go or ask him to stay.
Because the moment he was ready to leave she realized she ready for him to stay. With her.
She took the car keys and drove to Dulles Airport. She tossed the car into a curb more than parked it and ran, she just ran. Not even sure what flight to look for. She hit her speed dial #1.
If ever there was a moment to believe in something beyond herself, if ever there was a moment to actually pray, this was it. Oh God... please. It surprised her that she actually tried to believe it, to put her back into it, into that prayer of sorts that was mostly just please, please, please. When he picked up she felt Booth might have been on to something there.
"Bones." Why did he have to sound so defeated?
"Booth. I... huh... where are you?"
"Airport, Bones"
"Where in the airport, Booth?" And all the while she was just running through the terminal building, bumping into people, tripping over suitcases, her vision of the departures screens blurred by something she did not then recognize as tears."
"About to go through security check" And then she saw him. The leather jacket, the broad shoulders, the brown hair. She rushed to him. When she got there, she put her hand on his shoulder. But the man that turned to her was not Booth. Just a smiling guy that resembled him. Story of her life. When she turned around praying for the backbone to get herself through this, it was as if, in her rush to find him, every man in the terminal had the same height and the same bone structure. Like everybody was conspiring to delay her, to let him leave without her saying... without her saying... What exactly was she going to say to him? She stopped realizing suddenly that she was lost in the middle of so many people.
"Bones?" What was she going to say to him? What could she say that did not make it worse for him? "Bones, are you there?" But suddenly the voice was coming through the air, not just through the receiver and she had to turn around and see him there, a bag slung across his shoulder, boarding pass in one hand, the phone on the other, still close to his ear.
She paralyzed. There was so much she wanted to say, and so, so much she wanted to do, but she was overwhelmed by his presence there, his warmth so close to her. Maybe for the very last time. And she just couldn't think of what to do or what to say.
Booth snapped his phone shut and put it away with deliberate movements. He too was struggling for composure, desperately trying to find the right thing to say or do.
"Move it," someone prompted from the behind them in the queue.
"Bones... I..." But what was it that he could say to her? It wasn't like he hadn't opened his heart to her once, like he hadn't closed his eyes and taken that leap of faith. He had. He had! And look where it had landed him. In a pit of moving sand where everything that he did, everything that he felt made it awkward and painful for both of them. No more.
"Booth..." Brennan took a deep breath. Suddenly she felt ridiculous and small. Booth took one more step in her direction, a slow tentative step. But a step nonetheless. With his head tilted down and his profile so strong and true, he was incredibly beautiful. "You were going. Without letting me say goodbye." She hadn't meant for it to be an accusation. She was guilty of the same sin.
His hand made a small awkward movement to her hair but stopped short, as if he just couldn't muster the strength to conclude the gesture.
"I'm sorry, Bones." He wanted to explain. He really did. But there were times when you needed your pride to hold yourself up.
"You're going because of me." It was not a question. So he did not answer it. God knew that it was plain to see.
To Brennan, the air was acquiring a strange texture, something thick and viscous that made breathing impossible.
"Please don't go." There. It was said. The silence between them was so loud it deafened the hullabaloo of the terminal.
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Booth was a strong resilient sort. He had endured plenty in his life. Physically. Mentally. But this? This small voice asking him what he wanted to hear more than anything in his wretched life? This was hell. This was his own mermaid singing to him. And the result would be him crash boom banging it in her shore. But sometimes, the fact that you were forced to be strong was enough to turn you into what you had to be. And him? He had to leave.
"Bones..." He cupped her face in his hands. Marveled at the soft feel of her skin and the warmth of it. Maybe for the very last time. So he committed it to memory. "I need to go Bones." He saw it when her heart splintered and fractured. He felt it in his fingers and in his palms through her skin.
"I need to go or I'll keep on falling in love with you."
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Booth kissed her gently on the forehead, picked up his bag and adjusted it on his shoulder, took his boarding pass out of his pocket and waved goodbye. He was out of words and out of heart to say them even if he had them. He took his place in the queue and walked away from her.
What if I want you to do that, to keep on falling in love with me?
"Booth..." The voice came small and faded. He didn't hear it. She tried again. Louder, stronger. "Booth!" But when he turned she realized. Even the strong need protection. She waved. She just stood there, holding herself together out of habit, and waved him goodbye.
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Booth walked out of her sight, past the metal detectors and security guards. He looked tired. He felt it too. He just didn't know how he was going to do this. Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together. He repeated the three little words over and over again. Repeated and repeated until he didn't feel so much like he was going to explode.
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As Booth walked out of her sight, Brennan succumbed to a strange phenomenon. Her heart burst and her body rattled and her eyes overflowed. Her throat closed up. Standing there in the brightly lit departures lounge, she was alone in the darkness. She did nothing to control the tremors that shook her or the copious tears that fell down the sides of her face and traced her neck and her chest and stained her shirt. Her vision clouded.
She cried for minutes, for hours, for days.
Alone.