The sky was a clear blue and sunlight blanketed her surroundings. Brennan looked down at her black heels and form fitting somber cut dress. Abby had insisted she wear a veil so now everywhere she looked everything was netted and spotted with black.
The first recorded instance of veiling for women is recorded in an Assyrian legal text from the 13th century BCE, which restricted its use to noble women and forbade prostitutes and common women from adopting it.
Brennan grasped at her anthropology. Her entire body was rigid and pulled away from the small crowd that gathered for Booth's funeral. The dark, plain pine coffin lay innocuously in front of her, a priest reciting the Commital Rite. The framed picture of Booth was an official FBI portrait. It looked awkward; his charm smile in full effect except Brennan could see that he felt distinctly uncomfortable.
Someone squeezed her hand. Brennan glanced up, finding Tony's concerned face almost inches from her own.
'I didn't want to be here,' she reminded him, as if daring him to start questioning her. Tony raised an eyebrow, as if in sarcastic surprise. Something akin to déjà vu crept over her skin. For a moment, Brennan thought she had gone back in time three years ago, clutching Tony as they had watched Kate's body disappear under freshly turned earth.
'He shouldn't have taken that bullet for me,' Brennan murmured, noticing Parker standing sedately next to Rebecca. Squinting, Brennan thought they looked too…untouched by what was going on. For some reason, she half-expected Parker to be shrieking and crying in his mother's arms.
Why aren't you?
'But he did,' Tony responded. Out of the corner of her eye, Brennan saw Angela shoot her a look equal parts concern and hurt. Her best friend had all but forced her to attend this charade. While Brennan understood the significance that funerals bore – after all, she had paid for more than a few – this particular one meant affirming what she had tried to ignore the past two weeks. Nonetheless, Angela had pulled her away from the ancient skeleton Brennan had occupied herself with, choosing to disregard the circle of people that had formed part of the forensic artist's entourage. Sweets had of course tried to put in his two cents worth, which only served to aggravate her even more, before Ange had pulled her aside.
'Look, I know why you don't want to go to this thing. You've walked around this place like a zombie these past few weeks. You barely eat, you hardly sleep. And don't think I don't know where you go when you decide you actually need to look like a normal human being,' Angela had said, referring to Brennan's almost reverent pilgrimage to Booth's apartment. 'But this is the man you love. Booth would want you there. I need you there too.'
'That man needs closure too,' Brennan had mumbled unconvincingly, feeling somewhat chastised as she had seen the sheen of tears start to coalesce on Angela's dark eyes.
'Sweetie, he's been dead for five hundred years. I'm pretty sure his family's adjusted.'
So she had gone to the funeral mass, sat through something which she found unreasonable but which Booth had taken extreme comfort in. During their partnership, even after they had gotten together, Booth hadn't tried to change her mind on religion. Something about respecting her beliefs and not wanting to become like one of those hack TV evangelists. But, he had asked that she be respectful of his faith. Somehow, this wasn't quite what she had in mind. Midway through the service, however, something the minister had said had struck her.
Welcome into your kingdom our departed brothers and sisters, and all who have left this world in your friendship. There we hope to share in your glory when every tear will be wiped away. There we hope to share in your glory when every tear will be wiped away.
Brennan wondered if Booth was up in heaven where he belonged, finally securing the peace he deserved. She wondered if Kate was up there with him, looking down on her and the NCIS team with a fond smile. Maybe they had already seen her mother? Maybe they had seen Thomas with his wife Margaret, sipping an iced tea and rocking on a porch made out of cloud and light?
Of course, this was all entirely wishful thinking since she couldn't bring herself to believe in such things. Brennan had seen too much, experienced too much, to fully let herself completely embrace the idea that after someone had passed, they truly did leave for a better place.
All she could see were bones disintegrating, succumbing to nature's pull, dissolving into the earth.
The flag draped across pall was vivid in colour, the red, white and blue stark. An odd number of officers in pressed dress military uniform stood slightly apart from the crowd, their M16s clasped in their hands for the 3-volley salute that would occur later. Tracing her eyes over the line of men, she thought that one in particular looked familiar.
The curve of Booth's jaw would always be imprinted in her mind. She loved how his day old stubble felt whenever he kissed her, when she would softly caress the strong line of it was okay to let her guard down.
'Hey.' Tony's quiet voice startled her out of her thoughts. Chancing one last glance at the man, Brennan shook her head.
He's dead Temperance.
Caroline Julian asked the priest if she could say a few words. The old man looked surprised at her request, since the eulogy had already been delivered before by a downtrodden Cam.
Brennan had refused to give the address. Her hand came around the small sheet of paper she had taken to carrying around her pocket. It was the note she had written when Hodgins and herself had been buried alive. The words were too personal for her to share to a sea of people she barely knew. To those that she did, it would leave her feeling too exposed. No, Brennan would read this aloud when everyone else had departed. It was something that she needed to say, something that Booth should have heard when he was alive.
'I knew Seeley Booth. He was a good man who earned my respect and affection. And I don't like many people,' Caroline said pointedly. Brennan saw Cam resist the urge to smile at the prosecutor. 'Booth had a selfless commitment to his work, first in the military and then the FBI. Two weeks ago, he made the ultimate sacrifice – giving his life to save his partner. And in the brave act, he showed us what greatness we are all capable of.'
Booth was more than great. He saved lives. He helped people.
Well, he died saving you. Isn't that great too?
No, that was stupid, Brennan thought, focusing on the little boy with a mop of curls and a smile that she swore was genetic. She had taken away his father. How could Parker even stand being around her, let along seeing her?
Booth had told her once about his time in Kosovo, about General Raddick and his son, how that little boy had never known who his father was. Raddick's son had been Parker's age.
'It's never just the one person who dies, Bones. Never. Never.'
Booth was right. Because she had died right alongside with him. And now Parker would never know what a good man his father was, how he had helped serve his country, kept the streets of Washington safer for people he would never know but wanted to help anyway, how he worked tirelessly everyday to tip that cosmic balance sheet, how he carried the scars and pain of the past with him everyday as a reminder of why he did what he did…
The drums started to pound.
'Stand by,' one of the officers yelled. 'At ease.'
'What the hell?' Hearing Tony's muttered oath, Brennan glanced up to see one of the officers break rank as another middle-aged man making his way towards Booth's coffin reached into his jacket for something. Immediately, the NCIS team went for their guns.
'Sir, NCIS. Put your hands where I can see them,' Tony barked out, drawing his sidearm and leveling it at the older man. The officer halted and Brennan saw a carbon copy of Booth's chin clench in irritation as Ziva, Gibbs and McGee subtly tried to form a shield against the rest of the attendees.
Just as Brennan made to move towards Parker and Rebecca, the unnamed man lunged towards the officer. The officer reacted on instinct, slamming the butt of his rifle into the man's jaw, reversing his momentum and sending him careening toward the coffin. Brennan watched wide-eyed as the casket fell to the ground, breaking apart and revealing…
Was that a stuffed dummy?
Ziva, who was now the closest, immediately tackled the man to the ground.
'Unbelievable. They couldn't even spring for a life-size replica?'
Brennan felt the blood in her veins run cold. It couldn't be. Absolutely not. It was her mind playing tricks on her.
'Agent Booth?' Zach's incredulous tone shattered all that. Brennan slowly angled her body, watching as the officer with Booth's jaw whipped his brimmed hat off. The familiar features that had haunted her thoughts, both in dreams and when she was awake, was staring morosely at the broken pine box and its upset contents.
The priest, Caroline and Cam stared as if they were seeing a mirage.
'Bones! You came,' Booth grinned.
Brennan could only gape. He was standing in front of her, shoulder and chest right as snow, as if he hadn't left her, as if he hadn't let her cry herself to what little sleep she had managed, as if he hadn't let that aching wound on her heart bleed because she thought he had died for nothing?
What she could only describe as anger suddenly engulfed her like a tsunami. It lapped and pushed and foamed as she marched over towards what she now saw was a mannequin and hefted a heavy arm into her grip.
'Temperance?' Booth sounded wary now. Unaware of everything around her, Brennan could hardly form words, let alone give voice to them.
'You asshole,' was all she managed to spit out. Booth's face crumpled.
'You haven't seen me for two weeks and-'
Tony's fist collided with Booth's cheek, sending the FBI agent to the floor.
Brennan shot the Italian a look, watching as he shook out his fist.
Tossing the arm at Booth, who was on the ground groaning, she was satisfied to hear it thud solidly against his midsection.
GSW be damned.
He had lied to her.
Sending Booth one last scathing glare, she left.
After all, it wasn't like he hadn't done it to her.