AN: I started writing this not long after the 100th episode when it became clear to me that this was the way the season was ending. I got about 3/4 of the way through and then couldn't find the words to finish what I saw in my mind's eyes. And then life happened (and the season ending) and I like my version of their parting better. I don't think one like mine would change anything significant about what they want to do with the story and I think it reflects the emotional states of the characters. So read it and feel free to tell me you think I'm wrong. Thanks as always to redrider6612 for her editing.
Temperance Brennan stood before the bank of screens, checking the gate for her flight, when her "Booth radar" kicked in. What was he doing here? They'd said their good-byes last night with Thai food and emotion-charged silence.
Turning slowly, she scanned the crowd. His army fatigues answered her question. They were both flying out today, but she hadn't realized their flights were around the same time.
Booth looked over his shoulder and locked eyes with her. Without missing a beat or breaking eye contact, he came over to her.
Since she wouldn't be seeing him for the next year, she allowed herself the luxury of devouring him with her eyes and committing him to memory. In his uniform, he was somehow "more" than she remembered. A bit taller, wider across the shoulders. More serious. Seeing him in something other than his usual attire accentuated his good looks.
His eyes were shadowed, shuttered. She didn't get the feeling that he was shutting her out, but rather that he was beginning to slip into his Ranger persona.
She looked down, uncertain how to react to this new aspect of her partner, and noticed that his boot was untied. She knelt and retied the laces.
"Bones, you didn't have to do that." His voice came out a bit gravelly.
"I know, but I…" Words deserted her.
She caressed the line of his jaw with her fingertips and then reached up to push back the bill of his hat. His regulation cropped hair, the uniform and his expression all spoke of a serious man with a mission. The fun-loving FBI agent with spiky hair and rebellious socks and ties was gone.
"Just because we're not together doesn't mean that I don't need you to come home." She forced the words past the lump in her throat.
His head dipped toward her and he kissed her. After a surprised moment, she kissed him back, saying with actions what she couldn't and shouldn't say aloud. When he nibbled at her lip, she allowed him to deepen the kiss, holding nothing back as the seriousness of the parting finally hit her.
After a long time, he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. He stepped back and reached for his bag. "I should probably get to my gate."
She panicked. He couldn't leave yet. "Wait, Booth. You need… something."
There was a reason she didn't do the heart thing. It was confusing and painful. She twisted her fingers together as she desperately tried to figure out why she had said that and what she meant. Her ring!
She slipped her mother's ring off her finger and thrust it at him, ignoring her inner anthropologist's explanations of the significance of the act.
He studied her for a moment, then took the ring and slipped it on the chain of his St. Christopher medal.
He thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out his lucky poker chip. "Here."
"But won't you need it?"
"No."
He pressed his lips to hers for a final quick kiss, but she deepened it, stretching his last moments with her as long as she could.
His eyes were glassy with unshed tears as he backed away from her, and then he turned and headed toward his gate. She watched until he disappeared into the crowd. For a long moment, she stared at that spot, her mind and emotions swirling, then she turned back to the bank of screens and found the gate number for the flight that was taking her away from D.C. and her friends for the next year.
As Seeley Booth walked through the airport, he realized he hated the uniform more now than he ever had. The uniform and the regulation haircut erased individual expression. If circumstances had been different, he never would have accepted this assignment and taken a leave of absence from the FBI. She was going on a year-long dig in Indonesia, freeing him to accept an assignment training snipers.
His heart couldn't take being around her or their places anymore. D.C. held too many memories right now. He doubted that he could move on, even though he knew he should. He needed time to heal the worst of his hurt or he was going to break.
Feeling eyes on him, he glanced over his shoulder and saw his partner. He sighed internally. He should have known they'd both end up here at the same time. Why couldn't he catch a break?
Drawn to her against his will, he walked over. She looked him over slowly, devouring him with her eyes. Would the torture never end?
He masked his hurt a moment before she looked him in the eyes. Whatever she saw in them caused her to look at the floor.
She bent down and what? She was tying his boot for him?
"Bones, you didn't have to do that."
"I know, but I…"
But she what? He didn't wonder for long. The slide of her soft fingers against his face sent his heartbeat into double-time and stole his breath. This was torture. The reason he needed to get away.
She spoke again. "Just because we're not together doesn't mean that I don't need you to come home."
At the word "need," a host of thoughts and emotions exploded in him. If she "needed" him, then wouldn't they be together? As much as he understood, he couldn't stop the pain or maintain hope or deal with the awkwardness any longer. Didn't she understand how much he needed her, in every way?
In moment of weakness, he gave into his need and kissed her. Not a kiss of passion or a gentle kiss, rather the kiss of a desperate man leaving the woman he loved.
When she didn't respond immediately, the rejection stung deeply. He started to pull away and then she was with him, kissing him back, and he couldn't get enough. Having nothing to lose, he deepened the kiss, taking as much as she was willing to give.
When the need for air forced him to pull back, he rested his head on her forehead. Her kiss was like everything else in their relationship had been – hesitation on her part and followed by eager participation. He wanted to believe that this was her hesitation point and that at some point she'd be as deeply invested in him as he was in her.
But right now, she was going on a dig and he was leaving. He slung his bag over his shoulder. "I should probably get to my gate."
"Wait, Booth. You need… something."
Something? What he needed was her.
He glanced at her face and saw uncertainty. And since when was she vague? Or wring her hands?
"Here." She held out her mother's ring toward him.
He stared at it dumbfounded for a moment and then accepted the token from her. He knew how much she treasured the few things she had from her mother. She couldn't have chosen a better way to ensure he would come back to her.
While he slipped the ring onto the chain of his St. Christopher medal, he could almost hear her voice explaining the historical connection between her act and that of a lady giving her scarf to a knight.
Pulling his poker chip out of his pocket, he offered it to her. "Here."
"But won't you need it?"
"No." Why would he need the poker chip when he was carrying a piece of her next to his heart?
He dropped a kiss on her lips, intending it to be a quick good-bye for what he hoped would be a year that passed swiftly. She kissed him back with enthusiasm, or maybe it was desperation, prolonging their last moments together.
Eventually, he stepped back. He gave her one last long glance and then turned swiftly away, unable to handle the situation a moment longer. As much as he understood people, he didn't really get what was happening to them. On some level he understood, but he just couldn't reconcile mind and gut. Maybe he'd replaced his gambling addiction with an addiction to her.
He glanced over his shoulder, but she was no longer in sight. With a sigh, he heaved his bag further up on his shoulder and trudged toward his gate.