***It has been a very long time since I have written. More than a year if I am count correctly. I have continued to read, to allow myself to be lost in the tales others weave, but my own inspiration has long waned. I have always enjoyed thinking on, enjoyed writing the emotional component of the character. What waits behind the carefully constructed façade. This week's episode embraced that as Booth drank himself into oblivion. This is my take on what come next.
It was a simple thing really. Well simply a very expensive thing. Precious metal swirled in intricate patterns around a polished piece of carbon that had been lucky enough to spend millions of years with the perfect amount of heat and pressure. It was simply a symbol. An outward expression of commitment that was as timeless as the stone itself. Now he had purchased one…twice, and for all intents and purposes still had nothing to show for his efforts.
Booth continued his morning run around the Washington Mall, beads of sweat glistening on his furrowed brow despite the frigid temperatures common to late February. A man that liked to keep in shape he preferred to achieve his exercise in the great outdoors. Never a particular fan of the mechanical attributes of the treadmills in the FBI gym. In reality there was something about the bright sunshine, the chill in the air and the constant sound of his footfalls on pavement that were soothing to the weary soul. Running from something, running toward something, it didn't matter, but it was easier to imagine he was succeeding as he communed with nature.
He marked his third mile, a point where he very often began to slow pace and head home, but today he felt the need to push further. There were still too many thoughts encumbering his mind, or perhaps just one. He thought about the first ring, the first girl, the first unmitigated disaster. Done in the heat of the moment as the stick turned pink he had thrust himself at her feet, at her mercy. He asked for them, the now three of them, to be a family. When she turned him down flat he had made the impulsive decision to purchase a ring anyway.
Perhaps her reluctance steamed from wanting a more traditional proposal and he had been more than willing to provide that. He was low of the FBI pay scale, buried in student loans, gambling debt weighing heavily, but he had managed to procure her a simple ring. A friend of a friend knew a place where he could get one of "less than reputable origins" on the cheap. He offered her the simple quarter karat, a twisted decorative gold band, and his heart. She hadn't wanted it, any of it.
Within the week it found its way into the pot of a local poker game.
He had lost.
The sun was rising higher in the sky as his running path began to meander along the edge of the city; he had long left the park of monument and the seat of government. Trading the power of the architecture for the rushing tide of the Potomac, hoping a change of scenery would bring a change of mindset. The air off the water was even chillier as the breeze picked up, and his shirt was nearly soaked through. But any coldness he felt was only steaming from inside.
He mused on the second ring he had purchased, just beyond a decade after the first. 10 years and he hadn't learned a thing. Once again he found himself in a relationship with a gorgeous, intelligent, independent blonde who had made her presence in his life specific. Specifically not the marrying kind. Once again he found himself up against a brick wall; however this time it wasn't a 10 week pregnancy but a barely post pubescent doctor that was the precipitator.
This ring had been flashier and at least purchased from a secured source that wouldn't weigh so heavily on his conscious. The moment was less pressured. The life offered was more stable, more mature. He hadn't been able to perform the typical fantasy engagement this time either, and his quick question was met with an equally poor thought out reply. This time around the result had been no less painful, if anything the situation had exacerbated the sting or rejection. He was now a two-time loser, three if he was really being honest with himself. This time the ring did not end up in a poker game, more the pity because it would actually provide a substantial buy in. He wasn't willing to give into that temptation again, there was still one facet of his life he maintained control and instead sent the emotionally toxic box to the bottom of the rippling water.
Once again he had lost.
The steps of his home were welcoming and familiar. He entered his home, quiet and alone but he noted somehow lighter than when he had left. Or perhaps that was just him. Peeling his sweat soaked clothing and mindlessly dropping them to the bathroom floor he turned the shower on high and hot. He turned and stared at his face in the mirror for a long moment. The steam had begun to billow behind him but he was transfixed. When had he started looking so much older? When had those small lines around his eyes suddenly crept up?
Where had that decade, a decade between his failures gone?
A single thought, a single word, a single face appeared in his mind.
He turned and got under the restorative spray. Allowing the sting to penetrate his tense muscles and as the water washed away the remnants of his run. He allowed himself one more passing thought, that he was just a little annoyed at himself for being so careless with something so valuable. His temper, his pride allowed something so precious to be thrown over, to be lost. He thought of the rings he would never get back, and perhaps of the one thing he still could.
He couldn't help but smile.