Booth sat alone with their baby, restlessly going back and forth in the glider in the almost darkness of her room, the soft glow of a butterfly nightlight and her warm, bundled form the only things keeping him from falling headfirst into his own version of a black hole. Holding her tight, despite the fact that she'd fallen asleep a while ago and would've gone into her crib without complaint. She smelled so sweet, of baby soap and milk and the special laundry detergent that Bones used to wash all her things. A child conceived against almost impossible odds, who had made his bond with her mother so seemingly unbreakable only this morning. Looking bleakly around the room, he remembered how that too had been both a victory and a small miracle in and of itself; cobbled together in a hurry a few days before the birth and bearing the stamp everywhere you turned of the dreams that he and Bones were finally daring to share. Happiness and family and a wish for those run-of-the-mill, everyday moments others took for granted which they'd both been denied growing up, projected through stuffed toys and books, paint and hard work. And all possibly lost in the blink of an eye.
She wasn't back yet and he was feeling sick to his stomach; it could only get worse. And when she did come back? She would of course, he knew that much. He just wasn't sure that he'd be figuring at all in that equation anymore and his throat tightened once again at the thought.
He couldn't stop berating himself even though he'd been doing it for hours now, ever since she left. How could he bring all that stuff home, taking out his frustrations of the morning on his unsuspecting girlfriend? His partner on every level that mattered-and his best friend. His cheeks were flaming with shame at the thought that he was starting to resemble the one person he'd always tried his damnest not to be anything like. The smell of stale beer and its attendant memories were crushing reminders that maybe nature and nurture weren't that far apart for him. He'd sworn so many times not to be like him, a man who distilled his anger at the world and bottled it up saving it for home, for what was always the path of least resistance. Unlike his dad he made it a point not to curse, he rarely drank in excess and he never laid a hand on anyone he cared about; he wanted to believe that his vices were purely his own and that they didn't affect the people around him. Tonight though, his behavior had been right out of his father's playbook; an ambush of the most cowardly kind that nothing could exculpate. His dad's long shadow had been present in the house with them during their argument and it gutted him to think that Bones was finally getting a good look at the dirty little legacy he'd been trying so hard to keep from her for all these years.
Bones had trusted him. With three deceptively simple words she'd knowingly done away with the last of her defenses, counting on him to keep her heart safe-and he had violated that trust in the cheapest of ways. Wasn't he the same person who just weeks ago was offering up his life to God in exchange for hers when she lay close to bleeding to death during the birth of their child? He couldn't have foreseen this turn of events if he'd been paid out the biggest jackpot in Vegas. Surely that same God was howling with laughter right now at the emptiness of his offer in that hospital chapel. Even assuming she found it in her heart to forgive him, he would never, never be able to forgive himself. Such a f***-up, Seeley. No one's ever going to put up with you.
Those words were promising to be as true now as they were in the past. Maybe it was high time to admit that there just wasn't enough of him to make anyone happy in the long haul, that small doses of Seeley Joseph Booth was all that any sane woman could be expected to handle at any given time. Everyone else seemed to have figured that one out a while back-why did he keep ignoring the evidence? There was just regret that Bones might end up paying the price for his attempt at one final, disastrous experiment to prove that theory wrong.
Where was she? What was she thinking? Would she even bother giving him the chance to explain once she got back? Of all the dangers they'd faced together, it was the ultimate irony to think that the one thing that might end up breaking them apart didn't come from the outside, but from him. He never should've left the office without making sure as hell that his emotions were under control. The admonishment was too little, too late, he thought with a hefty amount of self-loathing.
When he heard the front door lock turning he breathed a sigh of relief and bent his head down, kissing his sleeping daughter's forehead softly in gratitude. At least Bones was here with him, safe-it was one less thing to worry about. One less of so many. She walked up the stairs and he tensed in anticipation of an angry rebuke, but when a perfunctory look confirmed that he was in the baby's room she turned her head quickly without meeting his eyes and kept going. With his heart thumping erratically in his chest, he heard her go into their bedroom and shut the door firmly and he knew she was avoiding him because she probably couldn't stand the sight of him right now, or possibly ever. With that dull sound he saw his dreams of walks in the park, family dinners and holiday plans laid to waste, the knowledge that he had only himself to blame only serving to make his grief that much sharper. You screw everything that you touch.
Baby went in the crib but he didn't have the nerve to open the door to their room, choosing instead to go downstairs and sit on the lonely expanse of the living room couch to wait for her. He looked over at the stadium seats, the ones Bones had so unexpectedly salvaged from his apartment as a symbol that she wanted him in her life as more than partner and friend; but instead of seeing in them that perfect autumn day with his dad, all he saw were his own glaring imperfections and the countless events that had made him into who he was. At this very minute, those chairs were stark reminders of all the other days when his life had been less than perfect, all the days that together added up to his becoming damaged goods. But he wasn't assigning blame; the fault tonight landed squarely on his shoulders. If after all these years he still couldn't leave bad memories and less than stellar examples behind, then maybe he just didn't deserve the kind of life that stronger people got to have.
The sound of feet walking softly overhead. She was checking up on their daughter and it left him wanting so badly to go up there to apologize, but the same stab of fear kept slicing through his heart over and over again, and it left him ice cold inside. Maybe the time for listening was over for Bones; maybe all she could manage from this day on forward was walking away because she'd finally had enough of the ups and downs of their relationship-and there had been far too many in too short a span of time. Even the eternal optimist in him would admit to that. The relative safety of the living room for a few more minutes, then. Besides, he didn't want to make her feel cornered because he knew her too well; if she felt even remotely trapped she would fight back, hard. Such a monumental, biblical mess, and there wasn't a single excuse available to him on the face of the planet that she couldn't just mince to shreds with her logic if she wanted to. If he couldn't fix this…
You are such a f***-up Seeley… Tonight he'd broken the unwritten rule they lived by that they would never use any of the intimate knowledge they had about each other as ammunition; there was just too much history there and the potential for damage was incalculable. She'd never done it, not since that time they barely knew each other and she made that comment about him having an illegitimate child. That was a lifetime ago and since then she'd always been good to him. Maybe too honest at times, but only out of what she deemed was necessity, and never ever out of spite. And there was so much she could dredge up if she wanted. How he'd paraded Hannah around because he needed to show to himself and to the world that he could do fine without her, how ridiculously jealous and controlling and needy he could be, how stubborn and unyielding. She had always taken the high road, and he in turn had messed up royally.
A long, long time ago his mother had told him in a roundabout way to pick his friends and possible girlfriends carefully because the way they were when you first met them would only be magnified as time went by, especially their bad parts. He was still a kid when she said those words to him, and he hadn't quite understood what she meant by the warning or why she was saying it. Now he knew; his own mother had picked traits unwisely when she fell in love and the resulting mayhem of their family life now stood as a testament to the wisdom of her words. Maybe Bones was taking an accounting of him right now in their bedroom, wondering if all his character flaws were worth putting up with, if his moodiness, his tendency to overreact and his simmering anger issues were fated to get more and more pronounced until they became intolerable. Maybe best to cut and run. Bones wasn't anything like his mother; she was strong, independent. She could, and would leave, if the facts added up to something she didn't approve of.
He kept waiting for what seemed like forever, sitting in their home's heavy silence, praying she'd come into the living room and at the very least yell at him. In so many ways, ignoring him was infinitely worse than an outburst of emotion because an angry lecture might mean she still cared enough to give him some well-deserved hell. He'd seen her cut herself off in the most complete of ways, physically and emotionally, from people who'd hurt her and it was unthinkable that he might be next. But that look on her face right after his tirade... It was a wounded expression that spoke of deep disappointment and betrayal, that said that maybe she was seeing him with new eyes that were suddenly open to all the obvious shortcomings in front of her. On the heels of that, being dismissed from her life didn't seem so far out of the question right now. He had to go in there and get her to talk to him before she over-thought things, even if the conversation was bound to be terrible.
After a few more minutes of beating himself up he decided he couldn't take the uncertainty any longer-the legendary patience he possessed from his sniper days was used up for the night. Except that he was no longer feeling like the hunter but the hunted, expecting at any moment the obliterating shot that was almost inevitably coming his way. He stood up abruptly and walked up the stairs, gently pushing open the door to their bedroom when he came to it. He had to know where he stood, regardless of the outcome. And if after all his apologies she still didn't want to be around him anymore then the least he could do for her was to leave for a while, saving her any more trouble. That, he could manage, even if doing it would kill him.
