As I ask her if she wants to have another drink, I realize that I want to stay, seated at the bar, with her. I see willingness in her eyes, but her words are contradictory.
"Shouldn't you be getting home. Tessa will be worried about you."
I don't feel like going home. I took another life today. Every time I am responsible for someone's death, I die a little inside. In moments like these, my solitary nature emerges. Going home means pretending to be fine, pretending not to be broken. Tessa doesn't understand so I don't tell her about the dirty little truths about my job. But with Bones, I can be honest about what I had been forced to do, and she understands. She reminded me of the lives that I saved, helping me put things in perspective.
"Yeah, I guess I should."
I reluctantly remove myself from my seat at the bar. I should go home, whether I want to or not. My obligations beckon me. When did my established relationships become simple obligations? At this moment I feel that there is something missing from my life, but I have to push it out of mind.
"Thanks for your help Bones."
As I look in your eyes, I hope you understand the truth behind my statement. Thanks for helping me catch a killer. Thanks for listening. Thanks for understanding.Looking at her, I feel that maybe I have just gained something that could prove to be very valuable.
