Christmas Confessions
Rated: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.
Summary: Every time Christmas rolled around, one of them found out they'd ended up facing the truth of some type of confession. And, each year, after said revelation, things never went as Booth and Brennan had planned.
Year 7: Brennan's Fourth Confession
If you'd asked me last Christmas where I thought I'd be this Christmas, I don't know what answer I might've given you. I like to think that it might've been a hopeful one after the damn near perfect holiday that I had last year. Last year was so important for so many reasons. It was the first year that I'd made the conscious decision not to leave the country for an archeological dig or volunteer on a humanitarian mission. True, I had contemplated leaving for El Salvador for about the proverbial span of five minutes before my dad talked me out of it—but, in the end, I'm so glad he did. By doing that, my father laid the ground work for me to have what was the best Christmas I'd had since I was a little girl. My home was decorated for the season just like my Mom used to decorate our house. I cooked a huge meal and ate with my friends and family on Christmas Eve just like I used to. And, after everyone else had left, and it had started to snow, Booth agreed to stay the night. We didn't sleep together—err, I should say we didn't have sex that night. Now, after everything that's happened in the past year, a part of me has to wonder what might've happened if we had. I think I can feel safe in saying that I know if we had actually had sex last Christmas, I wouldn't be spending this Christmas alone.
For the first time in four years, I wouldn't be with him on Christmas. I wouldn't see him on Christmas. Our impromptu tradition that we had started two years ago—and carried on last year to make it an actual tradition—had turned out to be rather short-lived, after all. Despite how much I might wish it to be otherwise, in a particularly useless move since wishing never makes anything come true, I wouldn't be with him at his place on Christmas Eve. And, he wouldn't be with me at my place on Christmas Eve. There would be no staying up all through the night, listening to Christmas carols, and drinking hot chocolate mixed with the Kahlua liquor that I now get nauseous when I smell. We wouldn't fall asleep cuddling on the couch, and he wouldn't wake up in the morning and ask me to crack his back for him in what was both a practical maneuver and a simple excuse that we both knew was so that we could touch each other.
No, this year my apartment looked like it had on any other day of the year. There was no Christmas tree decorated brightly in the corner, there were no lengths of shiny garland decking my bookshelves, or strands of lights wrapped around the outline of my window. My stockings and ornaments stayed in boxes in storage, and the entire place was cold and dark and empty—just like it should be because he wasn't there and I wasn't there and we won't ever be there again together because I was such a damn fool.
What a fool I've been.
This year, instead of spending time with me, he's with the woman he loves. He's with his girlfriend. He's with Hannah. He's not with me. And, the entire reason he's not with me is because I was an idiot and broke his heart last year. I broke his heart, sent him away, told him to leave me alone, and he did.
And, then I realized I'd made a mistake.
What a fool I've been.
Last month, I don't know why I did what I did when we had that damn conversation in his SUV on that horrible night. I was exhausted and overtly emotional and crying and in such pain for so many different reasons that night. And, for a split second, he was there—and it was just like it used to be. He was there, and he was with me, and for just a little bit of time, I could pretend that it was just like things had used to be. But, for those few minutes of happiness, I paid a dear price. I'd never intended to tell him, you know? I really had planned to go to my grave carrying that piece of information with me. There was no reason for him to know. It served no purpose to tell him then. He's happy. He has the relationship with the woman he wants. He's happy now. So, why did I tell him? Why?
After that night in Woodland, I didn't want to see him again. I won't lie. I was so embarrassed about what had happened between us. I was mortified, really. But, I'd knew I'd compound my error if I didn't do my best to pretend that nothing had happened, nothing had happened between us. So, I put on a brave face. I took all my feelings—sadness, regret, embarrassment, and many others—and I put them in a metaphorical box and locked in away deep down in my psyche, never again to see the light of day. I did what I needed to do to help him get through the murder investigation of George Lyford. But, then Hannah was having difficulty with Parker, and I knew that both he and Parker needed my help, and so I did what I had to do to smooth over the transition. And, it worked. I knew it would. But, it was in that moment when I saw that Hannah was sitting with Booth and Parker at our table in the diner that I knew it was finally and really truly over between us. I'd lost him. I wouldn't be getting him back. It was all my own fault, and at that point, I knew I wanted to crack into a million metaphorical pieces.
Fortunately, the Lyford homicide investigation wrapped up a few days after Thanksgiving, but before the first day of December. After that case, I was quite fortuitous in the fact that there weren't any other cases between the beginning of the month and the week of Christmas. I only communicated with him on three occasions during that entire time and both times it was via email or text message. That wasn't a coincidence on my part, either. And, on December 20th, before something might happen to prompt a major breakdown that I greatly feared might occur, I left D.C.
Now, given my tendency to go on archaeological digs or humanitarian missions during the holiday season before I met Booth, one might think the flight I took was to some far away place in Central America, Africa, or Southeast Asia. But, after the disaster of Maluku that had prompted the metaphorical hell I now found myself in, the last thing I wanted to do that Christmas was spend time in any of those places.
So, I did what any logical person who wants to be close to someone whom they love, but can't be with them because of their own stupidity, does—I booked a flight to spend the holiday in Philadelphia. I can't lie and say I don't have a bit of a sado masochistic streak in me in doing what I did, going where I went. But, somehow, standing on the streets of downtown Philadelphia, walking where I know he might've walked at one point and seeing the sights he saw and loved—it was self-indulgent of me, but it helped a bit. It helped soothe the sting of the bloody and raw wounds that I'd inflicted on myself because I'd been too afraid to take what he was offering me with both hands when I'd the chance.
As I stood on the corner of Juniper and Market Streets that Christmas Eve, I looked in the holiday windows of Macys in the old Wanamaker Building. I'd come to see the new Christmas Light show that Booth had told me had been one of his favorite things to do as a child. As I said, I know it was a ridiculous thing to do, but it was a coping mechanism. I was doing my best to get along from day-to-day with the knowledge that I'd lost him, through my own actions, and I'd never get him back. And, on Christmas, it was a particularly difficult day on which to cope with these hard truths. Perhaps that was why I started to tear up slightly when the music playing on the store's PA system started to blare that particular song on that particular day.
Once bitten and twice shy
I keep my distance but you still catch my eye
Tell me, baby, do you recognize me?
Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me
Merry Christmas, I wrapped it up and sent it
With a note saying, "I love you", I meant it
Now I know what a fool I've been
But if you kissed me now I know you'd fool me again
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, you gave it away
This year to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special
I've never been good with guilt. I've never handled it well. But, this year, I didn't really have much of a choice. This year, I was alone on Christmas. And, because I'd made a confession that had come far too late to the man I've loved, this year I was alone and would simply have to make the best of a bad situation. Oh, how I wish that I didn't have to—more than anything, even though I know how useless it is, I really wish I wasn't alone. But, I am, and that's how things are, and I'll learn to deal with it as I always do—I just wish it wasn't so.
-TBC-
A/N: Well, that was rather depressing. Time to end on a positive note. Coming up next—the final chapter and Booth's last confession, which will bring us up to speed with the timeline of season 7. Stay tuned!
