Author's Note: I started this short story a year or so ago after I watched "The Part in the Sum of the Whole". It happens between the flashback and the pilot episode of the show.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. FOX does. I just play around with the characters when I feel like it.
I had to leave D.C. Just for a vacation, more like a sabbatical. To clear my head. Set my priorities straight. Dr. Clifton, an old friend of mine from Northwestern University, was heading a dig in Guatemala. The timing was perfect. How could I let a chance like this go? Everyone would be fine at the Jeffersonian without me. I would only be gone for a couple months.
Like I said I needed to clear my head. Focus on my work. Not think about a certain dark-haired, dark-eyed FBI agent named Seeley Booth. Not think about a chance in lifetime of true happiness. (I don't know why I thought that because that can surely not be quantified.) Not think about the way he kissed me, how his lips felt upon mine, how my heart beat faster in response to his body pressed against mine, how my always active mind shut down.
After the investigation into the murder victim's death, I tried to forget about Booth. It irritated me to no end that he had fired my team, fired me, the brilliant world-renowned forensic anthropologist, Dr. Temperance Brennan, off the case, all because I had hit the judge who ended up being guilty anyways. Booth may have better skills than I in the people department, but I have feelings too.
I absorbed myself in my work. The problem was that examining ancient remains did not give me the same thrill, the same satisfaction, as finding the identity of a murder victim and investigating a murder. I found myself wanting to work with Booth again. I wanted to solve murder cases with Zach, Hodgins, and Angela helping me at the Jeffersonian.
I thought I was dealing well enough today. Two hours before, I had walked down Eagle Boulevard. I felt like I needed a breath of fresh air. I like the Jeffersonian, but sometimes it smelled too clean.
Be it coincidence, fate, luck, whatever one believes, I walked on the side of the street where the Royal Diner sat. I paid no heed to that establishment. I have heard of the place before, how good it was, but it held no interest to me…until then.
Even with his back to me, I recognized him immediately. Those broad shoulders, the slick dark hair, the black suit…it was Booth. I wondered why he was here, how often he frequented this display of 1950's American culture, if he'd realized how close he was to the Jeffersonian, to me.
My thoughts continued on this path until I noticed he was with someone, a woman. She had an attractive facial structure. They acted like they were familiar with one another. She smiled. I could imagine him give her his wide, white-toothed grin, the way that only Booth could.
The woman stood up and Booth followed her example. She looked as if she was going to grab her coat, but Booth grabbed it before her and helped her into it, always the gentleman. In my mind's eye I imagined him doing the same for me.
I shook my head out of those thoughts. Those thoughts led down a path I could not go down. I am Dr. Temperance Brennan, forensic anthropologist of the Jeffersonian Institution of Washington D.C. Booth was no longer my partner; we had gone our separate ways.
I felt a flare of what I could only describe as jealousy rage up in my gut. He was hugging her! How close was he to her? Who was she to him? Family? Friend? Girlfriend? Had he gotten over me so quickly? Had he forgotten me and the time we spent together?
Snap out of it, Bones! No! Not that name! Anything but that! Snap out of it, Temperance! Just turn around and walk away before he can see you. I tried to do just that, but my legs would not cooperate with the rest of my body. Neither was my head. While my body twisted as if to turn, my feet and face were turned towards him.
He was turning in my direction. I started to panic. What if he saw me? This was so unlike my usual cool, calm, collected self. This man did things to me, inside of me, which scared me. He made me feel in ways I had learned to hide in a locked box, which no one was supposed to access. I tried to move again. Still stuck. Why was this happening to me? I had to move before he saw me.
Too late! He saw me. He…saw…me. His eyes widened as wide as his perfect facial structure allowed. His mouth mouthed one word, "Bones." My nickname, what he called me when we were together.
He was moving. So, I did the only thing that my mind could make sense to do. I ran. Not towards him. Away from him. Away from Booth. Away from the only man who made me feel again.
I heard him call out to me in a loud voice, heard his loud footsteps follow mine. I had a head start. I put on a burst of speed. I heard his footsteps stop. He knew I needed my space.
When I got to my office, I locked the door, shut the blinds, and broke down on the couch. Why do I feel this way? Like my heart is broken and he is the only person who can fix it? I had always prided myself on my imperviousness. Hardly anything affected me anymore. Why is it that Booth does?
Now, I am back to where I was when I started this tale. One thing was for certain; I needed to get away, preferably nowhere in the United States. Dr. Clifton's dig will be perfect. Far enough away that I would not be reminded of memories I did not want to remember. Plus I would be away from Zach, Hodgins, Angela, and the lab, all reminders of him and the case. Yes, a trip is just what I needed. Just what the Doctor ordered.