Life changes after rejection. A look that meant something before doesn't mean the same thing anymore. A lingering glance, a soft touch or hitched breath that would have caused hope before only causes pain. It's numbing, the thought that a future that looked so bright, even from behind shielded eyes, is no longer possible.
Booth looked to the manuscript clutched in his hand, secreted from Sweet's office. It was all that reminded him off a past that was infinitesimally greater than the present. Before he gave in to his urge, he had everything and nothing. Now though, he had nothing. He sat down slowly on his couch and loosed a deep sigh.
"If I hadn't said anything" he thought, "I would be at Bones' apartment right now relaxing, enjoying a weird tribal drink from Indonesia or someplace. I could stare at her and pretend it was just our thing; that I was trying to read her. I could have hope that she would one day return my look and we would know. Like I knew."
He twisted the paper copy of the book, enjoying the way it yielded to his hands. That was something he could control. He needed that. Unloosing his hands, he stared at the title- The Heart of the Matter.
Bound in its red exterior, the book looked innocent. Nothing like a life changing object. Things could be deceiving though. "Just like Bones," Booth murmured aloud. He had been sure that he had changed her. Got her to realize that they were the only thing that mattered, that they were worth fighting for. Five years had been a long time to live with his desire, his hope for them. He had done it though, because he knew that it was worth it. It had been difficult holding back the desire that was simmering below the surface every time they were together. Memories of their first kiss in the bar followed by a quick exit to find a cab littered his mind. He had countless scenarios of how it could have happened other ways.
Their passionate embrace in the rain held promises for a much fiery dance. And when he told her of his gambling problems, it wasn't something he did lightly. But he did it because he saw promise, a future. Even though she pulled away and left him on the curb, she did so with a need for more. I had asked enquiringly, "so you're afraid that when I looked at you in the morning, I'd have regrets?"
"That would never happen," she replied looking me up and down. And he knew it wouldn't have. From then on, he had lived with her day to day joking, laughing, sharing problems because he wanted to have that opportunity to look on her the next morning and say "I have no regrets."
"And that," he thought, "is my regret. That I wasn't enough for her to trust in." He pulled himself out of his reverie, sliding the book from his fingers. It dropped to the floor, looking as unwanted as Booth felt right now.
Wearily, he bent over on the couch holding his head in the palms of his hands. He breathed deep breaths because those were the only ones that could keep him from relapsing into a voluntary coma. In and out, soft and slow he focused on the air escaping his mouth.
It was comforting knowing that the air wouldn't leave him stranded. It was there and he could always count on it. "Like I used to be able to with Bones."
"Everything always comes back to her!" he fumed frustrated. Jerking his face up, he looked around wildly, his eyes pulled wide and glistening. Trying to spy everything in his apartment that was hers he stood up and paced around his apartment.
He walked into the kitchen. There were the fresh fruits and vegetables he always kept stocked in case she visited. The foreign beers she had mentioned in passing last week were in his fridge unopened. He had wanted to surprise her.
Haphazardly he pulled open his trashcan and tossed everything he could find of hers in there, trying to rid his home of anything that would remind him of her. He dragged it into the living room ignoring the scratches it left on the floor and the dent where it had hit the wall.
In went the newspaper clippings he collected of them. In went the picture he had of them from Halloween, him as a squint and she as Wonder Women after they had caught their murderer, looking for the world as she had just saved him from a dastardly evil. Her anthropology magazines left on the coffee table went in too He continued on, collecting items until the bag was fit to burst.
It wasn't until he reached the bookcase that he paused. Her entire collection of novels was lined up in loving pristine condition. Each was painstakingly set on the shelf to prevent them from falling off and being damaged. He ran his finger down her last book and opened it to the dedication.
To my partner- you showed me the world and kept me safe doing it.
He remembered when she had that published and forbade him from saying anything about it. She blushed when he had her autograph it. He laid his fingers over her name, tracing the ink.
He glanced down at the full trashcan, feeling guilty. He was throwing his whole past away on an impulse. When he was with Bones, he always controlled his impulses. That was his curse.
Suddenly feeling exhausted, he walked back to the kitchen still holding Bones' novel. He clutched it to his heart, fingers splayed possessively over her picture on the back sleeve. He grabbed an empty glass from the sink, set it down roughly on the counter and poured himself a shot of whiskey.
Throwing it back, he thought, "Tomorrow I'll mourn and move on, but tonight is for the memories. We shared something special and it deserves to be noticed."
Without looking, he added ice to the glass and grabbed the handle of his whiskey bottle. Absentmindedly, he went down the hall to his bedroom. He laid on the bed and stared at the dedication once again.
"This is my legacy with her, I guess. I taught her to look at the world differently, taught her to open herself up to people. I wish she had opened it up to me."
Sipping the alcohol, he put his head back on his pillow and remembered. His hopes, his dreams, and everything they did together. His musings led him back to when he and Bones had sat on a bench outside the Jeffersonian. He still remembered his question and the answer. "We are the center," he whispered. "We will hold."