I wrote this story back in December of 2010, but I'd forgotten about it until I found it in Management class this afternoon. I read it through and decided that I liked it well enough to post it. If you listen to the song Lucy by Skillet, then you may understand a little better where this story comes from. I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or "Lucy" by Skillet.
Booth took a deep breath. The air smelled of spruce and the wildflowers growing along the path. The sun glinted majestically off the grass in front of him, accenting the few leaves that had just begun falling from the trees.
To him, it was the perfect day. It was the kind of day that he and Parker would spend in the park, tossing a football or a Frisbee, or they would spend it by the pond, lines in the water, doing more talking and goofing off than actual fishing. Yes, it was the perfect day.
Suddenly his illusion of perfection was ripped violently from him as he approached the tiny marble headstone marked simply Lucy. There was no last name and no date of birth or death, for she'd never truly been born. He knelt slowly, wiping the leaves lovingly from the tiny marker.
"Hey baby girl…it's…" the emotion was too much as his voice broke and the tears streamed down his tanned cheeks, "It's Daddy sweetheart."
He remembered everything from the day she had died. He remembered his every step, every word, heck he remembered his every THOUGHT.
The morning had started innocently enough. He woke up at the crack of dawn, a new habit he'd picked up from his recent redeployment, and, after a good balanced breakfast of pancakes and sausage, ran the 5 miles to his girlfriend, Hannah's, new apartment. They had decided that living together wasn't doing either of them any good, so they had gotten separate places about a month before.
Sweating and tired, Booth let himself in with his spare key and was immediately assaulted with the sound of sobs. He ran through the house, sure she'd been hurt by some of the idiots that were slightly insulted by the honest but damaging article she'd written on them. He checked the bedroom, the den and the kitchen before finally throwing open the door to the bathroom.
Hannah was leaning over the toilet vomiting violently. Booth sighed and grabbed a washcloth, some cool water, and her toothbrush, intent on waiting out the nausea and perhaps even calling in to work this morning if it didn't get better soon. Instead of welcoming his attention, however, she pushed him away and sat up, fire in her eyes.
"You've done enough, Seeley, thank you."
Booth was puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
She rolled her eyes. "This is your fault you know. I'm NOT going through this. I can't. There's too much at stake. If I can't write and I have to watch out for myself around every turn, then I'll never get the story and nothing in this world can ever change. I'm doing too much good to be sidetracked by this. I refuse."
His face paled and he sat down hard. "Hannah….what the hell are you talking about?"
She handed him the small white stick. "You know what it's about. And before you ask," Hannah stood to walk out of the tiny apartment bathroom, "No I am NOT keeping it."
The next few hours passed in a blur. He knew that he'd left her place and gone to work, changing in one of the restrooms in the Hoover Building, but all he could think about was that he'd done it…..again. He'd gotten another girlfriend pregnant out of wedlock…but worse….this time the baby wouldn't survive.
That kicked his senses into overdrive and he spent the next several hours calling Hannah's cell phone, praying that he could stop her from doing something he knew that he, for one, would regret for the rest of his life.
Booth stood from his position in front of his daughter's grave. It had been three months since that day. He hadn't been quick enough. She'd already gone through with the abortion, but she did tell them that the doctor's had discovered that it was a girl. She gave him all rights to bury her or whatever he wanted to do with her, but Hannah never wanted to see him again.
It was just as well in his mind. He could never have that level of trust with someone who had killed their child without even a second thought. Without even asking if he wanted to keep her or considering what he wanted at all.
Booth kissed his fingertips, then touched them to the cool marble. Whether he'd ever known the baby or not, he was her daddy and he loved her very much.
Over a year later
Booth woke slowly that morning, a smile on his face, and looked over to the side of his bed, half expecting to see a crib with a tiny little face peeking from between the bars, just waiting for daddy to wake up. The pain was like a sucker punch as he realized that it was, once again, a dream.
It had been so real that he could have sworn that a tow-headed toddler was staring straight at him. This one had been different though. Booth sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. This time he was serving her and Michael, Jack and Angie's son, small pieces of the chocolate cake that he had made especially for Lucy's first birthday.
He had realized some time back that he never dreamed of Hannah anymore, and even his few and far between wild fantasies about Bones couldn't erase the pain from his heart. Booth stood and grabbed the roses he had bought and started jogging toward the cemetery.
"Hey little one" He began as he approached, "Happy Birthday, Lucy." He gently arranged the roses. "Yeah I know a one-year-old doesn't really like roses as a present," He chuckled darkly, sniffling, "But it's all I could think of that would be appropriate….I know it doesn't really make up for what I did….it doesn't make amends for me not being there when momma found out about you…maybe if I'd been there….maybe you'd still be here….maybe….maybe I could have done something." He was finally crying full force, something he hadn't done since her funeral,
"I had another dream about you, Luce. I dreamed that you were there, playing with Michael…smiling at me…smiling at Uncle Jack and Aunt Angie…even Auntie Bones was there….oh baby what I wouldn't give for it to be real…what I would do to bring you back to me…."
He couldn't talk much after that but simply sob and grieve. Suddenly he felt, rather than saw, a little blond girl walk up and hug him tightly. She seemed to say, "Don't worry, daddy. I'll meet you one day." And that alone gave him the strength to stand up and go on, knowing that this life on this earth wasn't all he had, and that he would meet his daughter eventually in heaven.