Author's note: Thank you. Thank you to everyone for the reception to this story. Thank you for the nice things you say. Thank you to MickeyBoggs for her help. Thank you.

With love

Jane

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Perspective

"This is Dr. Brennan with the Jeffersonian Institute. I'm a forensic anthropologist. I work directly with the Criminal Investigative Division of the FBI. My clearance level is_"

"Please hold." The voice was standard operator upbeat with a hint of boredom and it seemed to have all time in the world to practice annoy your caller to death today.

"No, no, no, I don't want to wait_"

"I'll put you through to the Liaison Department." She would kill her. She would find out who that woman was and she would kill her with her bare hands.

"NO! I don't want to be put through to anyone else. I want to know where my partner is. I want to know what's happening with Seeley Booth, Special Agent Seeley Booth... Master Sergeant Booth.

"Ma'am, I need to put you through now. Don't know who that person is_" Her heart was pounding, thumping, seizing.

"Seeley Booth. His name is Seeley Booth. I need to know what's happening_"
"Ma'am," She woman's voice lost the artificial chirpiness to it for a second. "I'll put you through."

"Thank you" There was defeat in Brennan's voice. "Please..." Please what? Find him for me?

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Whoosh. Thump. Sharp inhale. Silence. Static on the line. Dead line.

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"You have reached the Liaison Department, Trudy here, how can I assist you today?" Again with the chirpy happy voice. Brennan let out a silent scream that drowned it out.

"My name is Dr. Brennan with the Jeffersonian Institute. I'm a forensic anthropologist. I work directly with the Criminal Investigative Division of the FBI and my_"
"Good morning, Dr. Brennan. How can help you today?"

"I want to know where my partner is."

"Ma'am?"

"I want to know what's happening with Master Sergeant Booth. I want you to tell me where he is and that he is OK."

"Ma'am, I'm not sure I understand..."

"My partner. Seeley Booth is my partner. I need to know that he is OK. I need a phone number for him, I need to talk to him now. I need_"

"Ma'am, you're quite agitated. You need to calm down. Can have his name and rank?"

"Booth, Seeley Joseph Booth, Master Sergeant."

"Thank you ma'am". Quick typing sounds on the other side.

"Can you please confirm the date of birth for me."

One by one, she answered all the security questions. One by one, spelling, repeating, spelling again. Her nails dug little crevices in her palms as she struggled against the fear and the rage and helplessness.

"Ma'am, I'm very sorry, but there's no record of a Master Sergeant Booth."

"Then try Seeley Booth."

"Ma'am, there are parameters to this search."

"Try Booth."

"Ma'am, please!"

"Stop calling me ma'am"

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"My name is Temperance Brennan."

"Shh, It's OK, I know who you are."

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"Ma'am, You need to calm down."

Whoosh. Thump. Sharp inhale. Silence. Static on the line. Dead line.

"Look, OK. OK, I'm calm." Deep breath. "Please. He was deployed in the Middle East. I'm not sure where. But it must be important. Because it is classified information. But I need to find him. I... need to find him."

Whoosh. Thump. Sharp inhale. Silence. Static on the line. Dead line.

"Ma'am... Can I check the spelling of the surname again, please?" Olive branch.

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"Do you love me?"

"Yes. Do you want me to prove it to you?"

"Yes."

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"Ma'am?"

Whoosh. Thump. Sharp inhale. Silence. Static on the line. Dead line.

"Ma'am, are you there?"

"Yes. Sorry. Yes."

"Ma'am, I can't find any records. Nothing's showing for Booth." Her stomach froze and her lungs tightened, her throat closed painfully. Why would anyone call this a heart ache if all her body agonized?

"Please?" It was a sob slash hiccup. She wasn't used to asking. She was used to giving orders and having them obeyed. She was learning a brand new skill: begging.

"Look, I'll try central records. I need to put you on hold"
"No, plea_" Ode to Joy in digital rendition. Did the irony strike only her or anyone else?

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"I want you all to know that, statistically, he should be fine."

Whoosh. Thump. Sharp inhale. Silence. Static on the line. Dead line.

"...statistically, he should be fine."

Whoosh. Thump. Sharp inhale. Silence. Static on the line. Dead line.

A blink of an eye. A short, unremarkable blink and all that was certain and good in her life could be just... gone. A blink of an eye, a whoosh and a thump. Barely noticeable. Booth's sharp inhale. She was left with an echo It was real, and then only silence. The fabric of her life hung on the static of the line.

"Booth! Come on, Booth. COME. ON. BOOTH."

Dead line.

The fabric frayed. The mere thought of that made her panic come back full force, her palms getting sweaty, her heart not so much beating as flipping out in her chest.

Blood in her hands. She held them to her midsection and rung them. Blood on her hands.

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"Ma'am?"

"Yes. Yes. I'm here"

"Ma'am, Sergeant Major Booth_"
"Master Sergeant Booth. You meant Master Sergeant Booth."

"No, Ma'am, Sergeant Major Booth." You were really good at being a soldier "Ma'am, all information about this individual is classified. I regret, but I cannot provide any information."

"My clearance level is_"

"Ma'am, I cannot access the information from this terminal. My clearance level does not allow this." There was compassion yet finality to tone in the woman's voice.

"Please..." Even to her it sounded like pathetic mewling.

Whoosh. Thump. Sharp inhale. Silence. Static on the line. Dead line.

She tried to break through the nausea and the constriction in her lungs. The effort of pulling herself together was physical, and a thin sheen of perspiration covered her forehead. One foot in front of the other. One. Foot. In. Front. Of. The. Other.

"Please..." There had to be a combination of words that would unlock this door. Right now, the task seemed impossible.

"Look... Let me try something, OK?" Yes, please. "Ma'am, I need to put you on hold, OK..."

One. Foot. In. Front. Of. The. Other. Sometimes, the only thing that gets you through hell is that you're in too deep to pull out.

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"Look, if I die I want you to do me a favor."

"You will, Booth. It's inevitable."

"Whatever. When I inevitably fall dead before you do, I'd like you to come out and spend some time and talk to me every once in a while."

"I'll feel foolish knowing you can't hear me."

"Promise!"

"I promise."

"Hey, there you go! Hey, you've agreed. I didn't think you'd agree! Why did you agree?"

"I believe that if I pretended you were still here, I'd feel better for a moment. And speaking to you would require me to, figuratively, look at me through your eyes, again, temporarily, and I think that would make me live my life more successfully."
"You know what, Bones, that's the best thing anyone as ever said about me."

"I'll say it at your wake!"

"Just make sure when they put me in the ground, I'm dead."

"No problem!"

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Of all the ways she could have already lost him, there had been people and bullets and boats and coffins and brain cells and anesthetics. There had been him and her and their memories that did not match. Somehow, none had seemed as real as this. Not even when he had died in her arms. Not even when she had gone to bury him and her heart in the cold ground of a DC cemetery. No. This was him away from her, where she could not hold him and tell him all was going to be OK. This was him far from her reach, all her bad dreams combined. This was hell.

And she knew. She knew because she'd been there before: and she'd been holding on to the souvenirs of that time. Except that then she'd been able to step out of herself and be a good little robot that went to work and did productive things.

This time, she was outside her crumbled walls.

I've got you baby!

She sent out her thoughts to him.

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"When I inevitably fall dead before you do, I'd like you to come out and spend some time and talk to me every once in a while."

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She sent out beacon thoughts. Short simple thoughts, because maybe he could listen to her and maybe, just maybe, she could reach him and maybe, just maybe he would tell her it was going to OK and not to worry. Maybe, just maybe, she could show him the way back to her.

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"Ma'am?"

"Yes? Yes, my name is Temperance Brennan with the Jeffersonian Institute. I'm a forensic anthropologist. I work directly with the Criminal Investigative Division of the FBI. My clearance level is_"

"Colonel Pelant, Ma'am, at your service. With all due respect, though, Ma'am, your FBI clearance level does not mean anything to the US Rangers." The air was sucked out of her.

Whoosh. Thump. Sharp inhale. Silence. Static on the line. Dead line.

"My clearance level is not issued by the FBI but by the Department of State. Please... I just need to know. Master Sergeant Booth. Sergeant Major Booth..."

"Nonetheless, ma'am, that information is classified."

"He's my partner. I need to know."
"Your... partner is serving our country."

Whoosh. Thump. Sharp inhale. Silence. Static on the line. Dead line.

It was obscenity of the expression. Serving the country. Taking a bullet. Those terms did not equate similar concepts.

"My partner has served his country before."

"So I heard. Listen, Dr. Temperance Brennan. Just because you have a feeling or because you had a bad dream does not mean that anything is wrong. Bad news travel fast. You would have known already if anything was wrong."

Whoosh. Thump. Sharp inhale. Silence. Static on the line. Dead line.

"When I inevitably fall dead before you do, I'd like you to come out and spend some time and talk to me every once in a while."

"I was on the phone with him when something happened. Don't tell me bad news travels fast. Don't you dare. I want to know where he is, I want to know that he's OK and I want you to tell me that now."

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That's what partners do.

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She wished she could believe in some sort of god. She wished she could pray. Not to, it was just so lonely.

"Ma'am. This information is classified."

"Stop saying that! Colonel Pelant, please."

"Look_"

"No, you look. Booth has been my partner for 5 years. We've had each other's back for those 5 years. Please! You should know what that means."

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Walls protected. Silence soothed. But the voices and the laughter were all that she wanted to know- and was afraid to even try. And the more they tempted her, the more she reinforced those walls, brick by boring brick. The clearer the laughter became, the more bricks she piled. The louder the voices became, the more she stood still. The clearer the sounds outside, the more she resisted change.

"Bones!" She pretended she couldn't hear. "Hey Bones, I know you're in there." And, just like that, those walls she'd built, they tumbled, crashed and buried her. There was no announcing disaster. Not even a sound.

She debated, she thrashed, the struggled. All the while she knew it was a lost battle. With every grain of sand, with every speck of dust she had known this was the end.

Because this time, no warm hand grabbed her to pull her out of the rubble of her safety and into the fresh air. This time, there was no voice whispering quietly in her ear I've got you baby.

This time there was no beating heart to lean against and believe that everything was going to be alright.

Whoosh. Thump. Sharp inhale. Silence. Static on the line. Dead line.

This time, there was only blood drying in her hands as she lay dead under the bricks of her walls.

"Booth! Come on, Booth! COME ON!"

"When I inevitably fall dead before you do, I'd like you to come out and spend some time and talk to me every once in a while."

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"Dr. Brennan?"

"Yes?" Suddenly, she didn't want to hear what he had to say. Her stomach was tight a fist, and the fear was fierce as teeth.

"Dr. Brennan, the information available is for the next of kin only. I'm sorry, but as far as I'm aware, you're not related to Sergeant Major Booth..." There was silence. He pitied her. That Colonel whatever his name was pitied her because she was nothing sufficient to Booth to get a simple bit of information. Whatever lay between them was insufficient for the Colonel to even tell her if Booth was alive. "Your relationship to Sergeant Major Booth is only a professional one." No. No. No. Come on, Booth. COME ON!

"No." The words were barely audible.

"No?" Pelant gave her time to fill the blanks. But Brennan was a vacant space. What was there between her and Booth was not significant to others. The way he_

"He knows me. No one else does. Not what I like and what my story is. He knows me, he knows what I feel and what I'm going to feel even before I do."

"Dr. Brennan... that really is not sufficient. There is no evidence... It's wonderful, but... you're not family."

"Tell him, Bones. Tell him!"

"There's more than one type of family, Colonel."

"Again, Dr. Brennan, that is not really enough. If at least you were... intimate..."

"Intimate?"

"You know, boyfriend, girlfriend bonds. Engaged. Lovers... You know, intimate..." Again that silence from Pelant like he was waiting for her to fill the blanks.

"Well, Bones? Are we?"

"Yes." It was real? "Yes, we are intimate." Do you love me?

"Do you love me, Bones?"

"Yes." Her voice was coming short and shallow. She answered both Pelant and Booth

"You are listed as Sergeant Major Booth's medical proxy." Why was there surprise in his voice? The translucent Booth across the distance smiled impishly. She loved that smile too.

"I am..."

"Ma'am, I regret to inform that we have intelligence of disturbance in the area where your... uh... where Sergeant Major Booth is deployed...

Whoosh. Thump. Sharp inhale. Silence. Static on the line. Dead line.

"Booth! Come on, Booth! COME ON!"

"When I inevitably fall dead before you do, I'd like you to come out and spend some time and talk to me every once in a while."

... the situation is not controlled yet. Ma'am we are aware of causalities and we're trying to get in. They are surrounded by hostiles and we cannot get through to them. The situation is volatile. We're trying...

Whoosh. Thump. Sharp inhale. Silence. Static on the line. Dead line.

"Booth! Come on, Booth! COME ON!"

"When I inevitably fall dead before you do, I'd like you to come out and spend some time and talk to me every once in a while."

"Thank you, Colonel... "

"Ma'am_" Pelant, she was sure, droned on. She just couldn't hear him. She dropped the phone and tumbled, a crumpled mess, on the floor.

"Aw, Booth..." The translucent Booth regarded her with that silly smile that annoyed her so much. That smile she missed and loved so much.

When she had decided to leave Washington, she had done so in the certainty that distance would give her perspective and objectivity. And god only knew she needed that because the fabric of her life, which had never been pretty anyway, was all tied up in knots and loose frayed ends that was not good to anyone. She was hurt and she hurt people around her. She hurt Booth more than anyone else. She had needed the perspective of seeing her life from the place it was before Booth had barged into her life 6 years before.

But time and distance had distilled in her feeling and memories from times together and those two fatal months before he had ended up leaving her in that departures lounge. Instead of time dissolving those memories and those feelings, what she remembered, what she felt was clearer, stronger, headier. Much like a vodka or whiskey strengthening over time.

"Booth! Come on, Booth! COME ON!"

"When I inevitably fall dead before you do, I'd like you to come out and spend some time and talk to me every once in a while."

"Aw, Booth. I've already missed so much because I was afraid to miss it..."

"And now?"

He had burrowed right into her cold heart and settled there. Perspective? His warmth and grace, a fire that had thawed her soul out.

"Now you get what you asked for. I'm sitting here talking to you..." Didn't even feel ridiculous.

Perspective.

"You're in everything I do now."

"It's late, Bones. Sleep tight."

"Please don't go, Booth."

"Sleep tight, Bones. Don't let the bed bugs bite."