Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea.
Author's Note: The title is based on the first verse of 'Look After You' by the Fray. It's a wonderful song, and I recommend you listen to it to understand where this story comes from.
In the time it had taken me to walk from the parking structure across the street – a mere hundred yards away – a gentle rain had begun to fall from the thick grey clouds that hung low in the mid-afternoon sky.
I stood at the bottom of the steps that led up to the grand columned entrance of the Jeffersonian Institute, barely aware of the sea of bodies that parted around me as they rushed through the summer rain. I had stood at the bottom of these steps, looking up at the imposing architecture above me, on more than one occasion in the past week. I had never got further than the fifth step, and now, as I slowly moved forward through the crowd, I counted silently. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. I paused briefly, willing my feet to move further. I glanced behind me, at the sea of multi-colored umbrellas below, then back up at a set of heavy oak doors. I kept them in my line of vision as I ascended the steps. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. I stopped counting at ten and quickened my pace, a new sense of urgency pushing me forward.
I barely noticed the physical effort it took to push open the doors to the Institute. The doors slammed shut behind me, the sound reverberating around the expanse of polished marble like a gunshot. The aging clerk looked up from behind the reception desk, her eyes surveying me from behind thick wire rimmed spectacles before returning her attention back to the magazine before her. A wrinkled hand rose to her neck and thick fingers played with the string of pearls nestled in the folds of her neck.
My feet carried me across the lobby before I was fully aware of where I was headed. I pushed open a door marked 'Personnel Only', wood scraping along the marble floor. I stepped into a dimly lit corridor where fluorescent lighting danced and pulsed against the marble walls. I ignored the works of art hung from the walls, walking past Rembrandt, Van Gough, and Angela Montenegro's recent addition to the art world.
It took me fourteen paces before I was stood in front of the glass automatic doors. I stood far enough back for the sensor not to detect me and watched the bustle of bodies as they rushed around the majestic hall that served as the Institute's laboratory. I could make out the huddle stood on top of the platform in the middle of the room, knew that she was there in the midst of the activity.
The doors whirred open as I stepped forward. I hesitated before I fully crossed the threshold, paused in the doorway as my eyes sought to confirm her whereabouts. I could see a gloved hand gesturing to a large plasma screen set up at the far end of the platform, heard her animated voice as she talked to her companions.
I moved forward, full of purpose. I counted the steps it took before I was stood at the base of the platform, but didn't pause as I walked up the stairs. An alarm beeped three times and a siren wailed as I reached the top of the platform. I hadn't swiped my access card, and I heard the hurried steps and admonishing tone of the security guard as he fumbled for his own card.
The group gathered at the back of the platform looked up as I continued ahead, weaving in and out of metal gurneys and various scientific equipment. She was the last to look up, but when she did her eyebrows furrowed and her nose wrinkled.
"Booth, what are you— ." I cut her short, my lips assaulting hers in a rough kiss as I grabbed hold of her shoulders. We stayed that way for a moment before the full extent of the situation caused her to pull back from me.
"Booth, what's wrong?" She was breathless, the light pink lipstick she wore smudged across her swollen lips.
I hadn't let go of her shoulders, and I held her at arms length as I spoke. "I have to go."
Those beautiful eyes reflected her confusion, her eyebrows meeting again. "Go? Go where? Booth, you're not making any sense."
I heard Angela mumble under her breath, heard a not so subtle response from Jack. My brain attempted to decode the words but failed.
"I have to go to Iraq." I felt tears sting the corners of my eyes, tasted acid rise in my throat. "The Rangers called me up. I don't have a choice."
She was shaking her head, her long locks swaying across her shoulders. I could see the glint of tears in her own eyes. "No." Her voice was breathless, incredulous. "You can't. I need you here." The tears began to fall and I wiped them away with the pad of my thumb.
I tried to soothe her but the words got stuck in my throat. "It won't be for long," I tried lamely.
Anger flashed across her features and she angrily swiped away her tears. "I don't care. You can't go." She breached the distance between us and wrapped her arms around my waist. I responded, wrapping her in my arms and burying my face in her hair. I breathed in the scent of her shampoo, of jasmine and passion fruit. It was a smell I wanted to carry with me forever.
"I love you, Temperance." I forgot about the line we had drawn between us, forgot about the group of stunned scientists stood beside us.
"I love you, too." She stepped back from me and I realised my hold on her.
"I'm sorry." I reached out and ran my thumb across her lips. Then I turned on my heel and walked away. I could hear her desperate sobs as I stepped off the platform, could hear Angela's comforting words. As the automatic doors opened and I stepped through them for the last time, made my way through the lobby and out into the thick summer heat, my own tears began to fall and mingle with the rain as my heart split in two.