Against All Odds
By Phil Collins
How can I just let you walk away?
Just let you leave without a trace?
When I stand here taking every breath with you
You're the only one who really knew me at all
They stood together in a corner of the crowded terminal, a hand's breadth apart, hands clasped, foreheads touching. Neither had said anything for a long time, not because there was nothing to say, but because neither of them could get words past the tears clogging their throats. There was nothing to say that hadn't been already said anyway. A voice over the PA announced her flight and, as though that had been the signal they'd been waiting for, they were suddenly in each other's arms, clutching as though they would never let go. The tears she had been struggling to hold back finally fell and he pulled back to look into her lovely face. His fingers trembled as they lovingly traced her delicate features as though trying to memorize the texture of her skin. She made herself look him in the eye, painfully aware that this might be the last time she would ever see him. The thought caused a spasm in the region of her heart and she drew a shaky breath.
How can you just walk away from me?
When all I can do is watch you leave?
'Cuz we shared the laughter and the pain
And even shared the tears
You're the only one who really knew me at all
"I've gotta go," she rasped as the PA announced the final boarding call for her flight.
He nodded jerkily, then dropped his head for a last kiss. Her lips parted as her arms pulled his head down and she kissed him, giving everything now, even that little corner of her heart that she had held back. Now that it was too late. They finally pulled apart and she bit back a sob at the tears on his face. She'd only seen him cry once before--he was so strong. Stroking his cheek one last time, her eyes told him how deeply she cared, even if she couldn't tell him in so many words.
So take a look at me now
There's just an empty space
There's nothing left here to remind me
Just the memory of your face
Take a look at me now
There's just an empty space
And you coming back to me is against the odds
And that's what I've got to face
He followed her as far as the roped off embarkation area. Standing there, helpless to stop her from leaving and taking his heart with her, he watched her standing in line. He willed her to turn and look at him one last time, but she didn't. Maybe she was afraid if she did, she would lose her resolve to leave. He stayed rooted to the spot until she disappeared from sight, even stayed until the last person had boarded and they closed the doors to the jetway. He didn't lose hope that she'd come running back to him until then. Even then he went to the windows overlooking the tarmac, hoping and praying that she would change her mind and demand to be let off the plane.
I wish I could just make you turn around
Turn around and see me cry
There's so much I need to say to you
So many reasons why
You're the only one who really knew me at all
He left the airport after her flight took off. Arriving at his apartment, he tried to remember driving there, but the trip was a blur. It was a miracle he hadn't crashed. He walked into his living room and collapsed on the couch, unable to summon the energy or the interest to do anything else. She had been the focal point of his life for so long, he didn't know what to do now that she was gone.
He had never been able to convince her to move in with him, but her touch was everywhere. On the wall over the T.V. was an ancient Turkish dagger that she had brought him from her last trip to the Middle East. An antique bowl from Egypt with fruit in it sat on the coffee table. The throw on the couch had been a gift last Christmas. Picking it up, he drew it across his lap and sat fingering the soft fringe.
So take a look at me now
There's just an empty space
There's nothing left here to remind me
Just the memory of your face
Take a look at me now
There's just an empty space
But to wait for you is all I can do
And that's what I've got to face
His mind took him over their last conversation, rehashing the whole thing once more, searching desperately for some key argument that he could have brought up to change her mind.
She turned to face him, arms folded defensively over her chest. "I'm moving to Chicago," Brennan said. Her face was blank, her eyes cool as though she had rehearsed this until she could do it unemotionally.
Booth froze, his mouth open. It took a moment for her words to sink in. "Why?" was all he could think to say.
"I've been offered a professorship at Northwestern University," she said calmly.
Booth shoved his hands into his pockets instead of grabbing her and shaking her like he wanted to. "You're leaving the Jeffersonian?" he asked incredulously.
"It's an incredible opportunity," she said as though that explained it all. He pursed his lips angrily, a muscle jumping in his cheek, and she went on to elaborate. "I just can't do it any more, Booth," she said. "Dealing with death…the brutal things people do to each other…its killing me, killing every bit of humanity in me."
"I thought you found our work rewarding—" he began, trying to understand what had changed for her.
"I did—I do…I just…dealing with Haversham was too—"her voice cracked, the first sign that she wasn't as unemotional as she would have him think.
"We've dealt with serial killers before," he said grimly. He couldn't believe she was doing this, breaking up their partnership. There had to be something he could say to change her mind.
"This was…harder. The way he targeted young girls, runaways, giving them false hope, then torturing them. It was all so…" she trailed off, unable to find the words to describe the absolute horror she felt at what had been done to those girls.
"You're running away," he suddenly accused, stepping closer to her. She tightened her folded arms, hands gripping her own upper arms so hard he was sure she'd have bruises.
"It's a major step for my career," she insisted, lifting her chin, challenging him to push her.
He shook his head, his eyes boring into her. "We're getting too close, getting too serious and you can't handle it, so you're running away," he said harshly.
She shook her head doggedly. "No! No, Booth, I need to do this, for my own sanity—" she said, a pleading note in her voice. "Try to understand, please. I can't do this any more."
He stepped closer, invading her personal space, but she refused to back down. He changed tactics. "I'm sorry I pressured you about moving in. If you're not ready, I can wait, just please don't do this," he begged huskily.
Did he imagine the sheen of tears in her eyes? She blinked and it was gone and her lips pursed in determination. "This has nothing to do with us," she insisted.
His eyes searched hers, looking for some hint that she was stonewalling. She stared back at him, not giving an inch. "Fine," he said finally, turning away so she couldn't see that she was tearing out his heart. He took a few steps away and stopped, working hard to control himself. When he turned back to look at her, the mask was in place. "Go do your professorship thing, try to pretend you don't need me…don't need what we have. But know this—when you finally realize what I've known all along…that we were made for each other…I'll be waiting. However long it takes," he said, finishing on a ragged whisper.
She drew a long, shaky breath. That wasn't what she wanted. It had to be a clean break, or it would never heal. "Don't wait for me, Booth. I'm not coming back." Her eyes were steady.
"I'll be waiting," he repeated, and she caught her breath at the certainty in his eyes.
Take a good look at me now
'Cause I'll still be standing here
And you coming back to me
Is against all odds
It's a chance I've got to take
Take a look at me now
Laying his head against the back of the couch, he sighed heavily, weary to the bone. She'd be back. She had to come back. He didn't want to consider the alternative.
A/N: Part 2 will be posted by the weekend. Please click the little blue button and tell me what you think. Thanks for reading!