Their marriage was over. It had been a stormy, intense, passionate, short one. They had only been married for three short years. But the constant fighting over children had made it seem a lot longer. When Booth had stood in front of the altar, God and his loved ones, he had felt so secure that he was okay with it. He knew she'd never want kids and he was fine with that. But ever since Rebecca and her husband had moved away with Parker things had changed. Booth could feel that he was getting older and he missed Parker.
Things had really taken a turn for the worse a year ago. Brennan had suspected that she was pregnant and had went to the doctor without telling him. He had tried to forgive her. He had tried to understand. He had tried to forget about her. He had tried to stop loving her. He had even tried hating her. All of his tries resulted in one thing. Booth realizing that he loved her more than anyone else, realizing that he had agreed to it. That he knew she'd never want kids.
All of this had happened a year ago. Life for Seeley Booth had been hell since the night he walked out of his home and into a local bar. He felt like he had been drunk for an entire year. At first he would revel in the pain of a hangover. But after a few months he had quite willingly replaced that sharp pain with the dull ache that it was transformed into if he was drunk. He picked up the letter again and pressed his lips to it.
"Goodbye, Bones..."
Booth raised his gun and finally dulled the sharp pain permanently.
A year later.
Temperance was standing underneath a strong willow. She looked at the gravestone that read: "RIP Seeley Booth. Beloved father." She knew that what had happened was her fault. Now that he was gone, she would've given everything to have had his baby. She stood there for hours. She didn't move when dawn embraced her and chilled her to her bones. She stayed there throughout the night.
9 years later.
Like every year, she was standing by Booth's grave. This year was different. Parker was an adult. She wouldn't be leaving anyone important behind. Angela and Hodgins would understand. She left the envelope with Booth's suicide note and turned around and left for home.
A year later.
Hodgins, Angela and Parker were standing by two different graves. One headstone was familiar, the other one was new. "RIP Temperance Brennan. You fought hard. But love won." Parker was the only one who spoke. "I hope that the love that they shared will reunite them in heaven... Something it failed to do here on earth."
The two graves beneath the willow would never be forgotten as Parker told his wife, his children and grandchildren the story of true love. The love they came from, cause even though Brennan wasn't his mother, she had always been the woman to hold his father together.
The end.