One Year
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: Like I'd WANT to own Sully. Booth though… I'm working on it.
So… new oneshot. Can you all do me a favor? Please? Read it all before you yell at me. I'm a Booth/Brennan shipper all the way, and a fluff-minded one at that. It will end well.
Think of this as an alternative to the "Everything happens eventually" scene at the end of The Boneless Bride in the River. Not that that needs an alternative, of course, but that's where this fits. Enjoy!
--
One year. Fifty two weeks. Three hundred and sixty five days. It wasn't such a long time, really. For the average human, one year was less that 2% of a lifetime.
There were a million reasons to say yes. You wouldn't go so far as to say "love", but you liked Timothy Sullivan. Very much, actually. And what was there for you in Washington D.C? Your career? That would be there when you returned. Not to mention that Angela had practically ordered you to go.
So you told Sully you would go with him.
Everyone's reaction had been different. You would have thought Sully had won the lottery on Christmas day, the way he beamed at you when you informed him of your decision. Angela squealed loudly in your ear as she hugged you, telling you how proud she was, and insisting you call daily. Zack had panicked, unsure how he would function as the only forensic anthropologist at the lab. But he would be fine. When Cam had heard the news, she had nodded, wished you luck, and promised a job whenever you came back.
Booth's reaction had been the one that stuck out the most, however. You weren't quite sure what you had been expecting. Him to beg you not to go? To kiss you and tell you that he wasn't letting you go? Whatever irrational, romantic scenarios had formed in your mind, what actually had happened didn't fit into any of them.
He was driving when you blurted it out. "I told Sully yes." It came out of nowhere, in fact, you had been discussing the case, but Booth didn't seem too surprised.
Instead he remained silent for a moment-- several moments in fact-- so long you wondered if he had heard you, or was ignoring you. You desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but you refrained. Finally:
"Does he make you happy?"
The question threw you off. It seemed innocent enough. But was it? You had never been good at deciphering what people were thinking. So, you went with the simplest answer, even if you couldn't promise it was the whole truth. "Yes. I think so."
Keeping his eyes on the road, Booth nodded. "Good." Then he glanced at you and smiled. "Could you explain this whole marriage/funeral thing again? Because I still think it's insane."
After solving the case, as promised, you and Sully had packed and prepared to leave. You threw your most important possessions into a single bag, since you could pick up anything you needed. In front of a picture of your team at the Jeffersonian, you paused, remembering the day it was taken. Booth's fingers formed rabbit ears above your head, Angela had her tongue sticking out, and Zack was sneezing. But it was perfect. You added it to the bag. Now you found yourself staring off the deck of a boat named after you, about to leave it all behind.
Naturally, as this thought sent a chill through your body, you saw him. He was leaning very inconspicuously against a pole, his expression blank. When he noticed you staring at him, he grinned, although the smile went nowhere near his eyes. His hand raised from his side to give a small wave. At that moment, a realization hit you like a ton of bricks.
"I can't do this," you choked out.
Sully looked up from the rope he was tying. "What'd you say, Tempe?"
"I... can't do this." You turned around, tears beginning to form in your eyes. "I'm so sorry."
Sully's face was one of shock and hurt. "What?"
You didn't—couldn't—answer. Explaining seemed impossible. No words could accurately convey what was going on in your head at that moment.
Suddenly Sully was right in front of you, holding you hands and attempting to hold your gaze. "Tempe, I know you're scared. I know change seems hard. But do you really want to throw away what we have?"
Your eyes fell back on the dock. Booth was in the same place, now looking more puzzled than anything. Sully followed where you was looking, and for him, things were just beginning to make sense.
"Oh."
"Sully—"
He cut you off. "Tempe, I get it. Go."
"Sully—"
"Go. Your bag is still on deck."
"I'm sorry." It was far from enough. You knew that. You knew that you had broken his heart, and you felt terrible. But it was all you could think to say.
Sully gave a pained smile. "I know."
With a final kiss on his cheek, you jumped over the side of the boat and practically ran across the dock, sliding to a stop in front of Booth.
His eyes widened. "Bones, what the hell are you doing?"
"Do you really think I should go?" you asked breathlessly.
"If it's what you want… if it will make you happy… it's what I want."
"That's not an answer, Booth! Do. You. Want. Me. To. Go?"
Booth took what seemed like a century to answer. "No. That's the last thing I want."
That was all you needed.
--
Each review you send donates one million fictional dollars to the "Booth and Brennan Against a Wall" society. Thanks for reading!