This one is a bit angsty.

The Fourth Year: The Death that Wasn't

"I'm right here. Come on, you can do this. You're gonna be fine. You'll make this. Come on!"

Seeley Booth was dead. As dead as man can be.

As dead as any lost soul in limbo.

His strong, solid body, his warm skin, his contagious charming smile, his big caring heart – it had stopped to exist. Just a useless frame, and within no time the flesh would rot away, revealing the bones underneath. Healed limbs that told stories about pain and suffering; lost singular phalanges that didn't know the wholeness of his comforting warm hand on her back anymore. Empty cranial orbits without reassuring brown eyes to shine at her. A skull – or a ribcage, it depends on the way you look at it – that had once contained and protected everything which had made this one man so very special.

To her.

Lips that knew to kiss so well would be gone, followed by flesh she'd never gotten to know – despite the fact that she had known him and his body by heart. She could name every fracture in his feet, every pain-causing vertebra in his spine, every tooth in his jaw. She could tell about being in his strong arms, pressed to his comforting chest, and about his unique scent.

She couldn't tell about making love to him, feeling his body underneath her, inside of her. Now she would never have the chance to tell.

Seeley Booth was dead.

This had been her mantra for the last few days, ever since the surgeon in the hospital had approached her with that look in his eyes she knew so well. It was the look Booth had given every family they had to tell about the death of one of their beloved ones. The look that marked the end of a life.

She had heard cries, had felt arms wrapped around her, but it couldn't reach her. Nothing could reach her anymore. Seeley Booth was dead, and gone was the only person in this world she hadn't expected to leave her.

Three times she went to sleep with a hole in her heart; three times she awoke in sweet ignorance before it all came back with ache too grave for one lonely woman. Truth be told, she wasn't alone, the others guarded her with grim determination, but she was lonely. And would be forever now. She couldn't work, couldn't be surrounded by death and bones now that he was part of that world. She couldn't eat. Even every breath seemed to be evidence that she was alive, and he wasn't.

Temperance Brennan was lost. She hadn't cried since the paramedics had taken him away from her. Tears were proof of live, and she didn't feel capable of proving life anymore. She knew that her friends were worried about her, that they were grieving as well, but she couldn't take part in their way of dealing with the loss; she couldn't tell stories about things Booth had said and done. Booth... There was pain in her chest in exactly the same spot where the bullet had entered his golden skin.

Seeley Booth was dead.

-BONES-

Day seven. Open the eyes. Feel the pain. Shower. Get dressed. Drink. Eat. Swallow.

Temperance Brennan was building a new routine in her life. Never think about your next step before you make it. Focus on basic needs. Heart in neutral. Brain in overdrive. Never look back. Accept the loneliness. Look at the person sleeping on the couch. This time it was Angela. Sweet, caring Angela with a heart as open as his... stop. Never look back.

Angela opened her eyes and found the woman she considered her best friend looking at her.

"Sweetie, you're already awake. How do you feel?"

Lie. Always lie when somebody asks that question.

"I feel quite focused. My mind has accustomed to the fact that Booth is dead, and I have to move on. I'm going back to work today."

Angela's heart broke for her friend, as she slowly got up and approached her.

"Don't do this, Brenn. You can't compartmentalize this. This was Booth. The man you love, Sweetie."

Love. They had never allowed that one to come in between, but ever since their first fight, their first kiss, the promise of love had been there, and the spark had grown over the years, and they hadn't seen it coming because it was too big for them to see. Love... another lost possibility.

"Booth was my partner, and we were close by necessity, but we didn't love each other. You don't have to treat me like a grieving wife."

Her words were harsher than intended, but Angela simply closed her arms around Brennan, and the first trembles were betraying her.

"Sh, it's okay. You love him, and I know that he has loved you, Brennan. You have to mourn, you can't go on after this without crying."

Brennan wouldn't cry. She wouldn't allow anyone to see how broken she was, so she freed herself out of Angela's arms.

"Don't project any sentiments on me, Ange. We will learn to cope, and soon everything will be normal again."

Nothing could ever be normal again. Seeley Booth was dead.

-BONES-

Day ten. Every disembodied limb was his, every white bone was his, every empty ribcage was his, every lost relative was her.

The pain hadn't faded yet. What had faded was his scent on the shirt he had forgotten at her apartment once. What had faded was her ability to compartmentalize.

She needed him. She wanted him back. She wanted to hold him...

Too late.

Forever too late. Tears threatened to fall, but she fought hard against them.

The others saw her struggles, every day. They hurt for her, this one who had loved him the most, but had never been able to say it. They were scared that the Temperance Brennan they had known had died with her partner.

On her way back home "Girls just wanna have fun" came out of the radio, and she almost crashed the car. Memories of Booth flooded her brain, and she couldn't suppress them. A sob escaped her chest. Jasper and Brainy Smurf, You are not a bad anything, her mother's earrings, his arms, his smile... For once in her life she knew exactly what it meant. Too late...

-BONES-

Day fourteen.

"It's time, Dr. Brennan."

Ignore them.

"It's Agent Booth's funeral, Dr. Brennan, losing a loved one-"

"A partner, Sweets. I lost a partner."

Lie.

Angela's words and the photo of Booth were her undoing, though. She had to give in. No strength to fight anymore because all her energy was needed to keep those tears inside.

It was a beautiful day, and the sun was shining onto the casket. Less people were standing around the hole in the ground than she would have expected. Breathe. Arms around her body. Anger to protect herself. Her insides were crumbling. No.

Suddenly people were running, and hell broke loose. It happened so fast, and then the turmoil blurred, as her whole being focused on one face. His. He was supposed to be dead. How could he be running right now, breathing heavily? Breathing at all...

Relief washed through Brennan's body, followed by the sharp sting of betrayal. The casket fell down, revealing a dummy. A red rose petal lay on the doll right where the bullet had entered his body, but that was the only resemblance.

It was too much, simply too much. Her brain kicked in, rescued her. Grabbing the dummy's arm, she knocked the unknown man Booth was fighting unconsciously. Then her partner was standing in front of her, babbling words that her mind didn't register in her fury. With rage born out of desperation, Brennan clenched her fist, raised her hand and punched him hard. So hard that he fell down again, but she saw it just as little as she noticed her dumbstruck friends because she was already storming out of the graveyard. Leaving this fake behind.

Seeley Booth was alive.

-BONES-

Tears threatened to fall, but Brennan blinked them away. Although she had seen Booth – living, breathing, talking – just a few minutes ago, doubt had already started to gnaw at her. Had she lost her mind? Imagined everything?

Only the painful throbbing in her phalanges told her that it had indeed happened. For a brief moment she had felt the warmth of his skin against her hand. Hitting had been one option; hugging would have been the other one. Her anger had made the decision for her, and that part of her which longed for being buried in his arms yelled in protest.

She wasn't stupid, had recognized the FBI operation behind his faked death. Why hadn't Booth told her? She was his partner, for God's sake, he should have trusted her. Did she mean so little to him? Or could he think that he meant nothing to her? That he could die, and she would go on as if nothing important had happened?

Driving to her apartment had been the natural choice, but as soon as Brennan opened her door, she wondered what she should do next. Two weeks ago her world had fallen into pieces, and the shattered edges were sharp.

Hard knocking interrupted her musings.

"Bones, open the door. I know that you're in there, I've seen your car."

Closing her eyes, Brennan tried to control her features, tried to ignore his voice, even though every fiber of her being longed for seeing Booth.

"Bones, I swear, I will kick this door open."

Knowing him so well, she was positive that he was speaking the truth – but, still, she didn't move.

The sound of cracking wood startled her, as the door gave way. Strong hands grabbed her arms.

"Bones, look at me."

She dictated her eyelids to remain shut, forced herself not to react to the warmth of his touch. He was shaking her now, gently, but she could sense his distress.

"Bones, I didn't know! You were on the list. They were supposed to tell you. Please, open your eyes."

Finally her lids flew open, and Booth had to gasp, as a gaze as cold as ice hit him.

"Well, nobody has told me, but it's okay. You're not dead, your super secret mission was a success, and we can go back to normal again."

"Temperance..."

His voice broke on the second syllable of her first name, but she fought against the tenderness. Concentrating on her rage was easier, so much easier.

"No, Booth, don't you dare calling me 'Temperance' in that voice. Go. Leave me alone. I will see you tomorrow. Be careful not to die in the meantime."

She spit the words into his face, cutting deeply.

"No, I won't go. Yell at me, hit me as often as you want to, but I won't leave you again."

His voice was firm, and Brennan felt something crumbling inside of her. Her eyes prickled with unshed tears, and he could see her agony.

"Go, Booth."

There was a tremor in her voice, and ignoring her words, Booth pulled her into his arms. She struggled in an attempt to fight him, her fists beating against his chest. However, her punches had lost their fierceness, and his heart ached for her.

"Go, Booth. Fuck you. Fuck you..."

Not even bothering with restraining her hands, Booth simply tightened his hold on her, and with his face buried in her hair, her familiar scent overwhelmed him. His palm cupped the back of her head, stroking her with hope to calm her down.

"I'm so sorry, Babe, so sorry."

He mumbled soothing nonsense into her ear, and eventually her resistance subsided, and a sob escaped her chest, as she clutched her hands around his biceps.

"I hate you, Booth, I fucking hate you."

Feeling nothing but his comfort, Brennan couldn't fight the emotions anymore, and the tears started to flow, as she finally broke apart. Her knees gave way under the pressure, and she slumped to the floor. The fall wasn't hard, though, because his arms had protected her. He was holding her like a broken-winged bird, and to him she was just as fragile. She was so small in his arms, her tears so hot on his skin.

And she cried, as silent sobs shook her body, she cried about fourteen days of sheer despair, fourteen days of hopeless pain, fourteen days of numb loneliness. All the while he held her, rocking her gently, and his chest hurt so much, as he realized the magnitude of what he had done to her.

While he had watched TV in the FBI's safe house, the bullet wound healing quite nicely, his biggest problem had been missing Parker and Bones. The entire time she had been in hell, Booth had been warm, safe and slightly bored.

"I'm so, so sorry..."

Booth had lost track of time. He knew that there were forms to sign, interrogations to lead and that they should probably go back to the lab and face the fury of the whole squint squad, but right here right now the only thing that mattered was the woman in his arms. He held her shattered being long after her quavers and sobs had subsided, long after the hotness of her tears had cooled down, leaving behind damp and cold spots on his shirt.

When she dared to lift her head from its safe place in the crook of his neck, she looked at him with glistening eyes, her cheeks flushed and damp. He took her face in his hands – tentatively, carefully – and placed an incredibly tender kiss on her forehead. His lips lingered a few moments longer than necessary, and when he pulled away, he saw something like life flickering in her gaze.

"Booth, I don't really hate you."

"I know, Bones."

To be continued...

Okay, this is technically more than one single moment, and you have to stretch your tolerance a bit to squeeze the last part between the scene at the graveyard and the scene in the lab, but I hope you like it nonetheless. Next chapter will be more fluff.