A/N: Okay, let me admit that I'm an evil horrible fanfic writer for leaving you hanging for so long! The fanfic bunnies are even mad at me!

Disclaimer: Unless I've suddenly become Hart Hanson, FOX, or Kathy Reichs, I don't own 'em.

Goodbyes:

Booth gasped as he tried to pull in some air. He couldn't take a deep breath, no matter how hard he tried. His chest ached from his efforts, and it was harder to keep thinking clearly.

"Are you still with me, Agent Booth? Not too much longer, I think…"

"Shut up," Booth muttered. His right hand was sticky with his blood – he'd cut it trying to break the plastic protector over the speaker so he could break it. But the plastic had proven tougher than his fist, and he'd been forced to listen to his captor tell him over and over again what a piece of garbage he was.

And he was starting to think maybe she was right.

A part of his brain, the small part that was still somewhat rational (and for some reason that part sounded like Bones to him) tried to tell him he wasn't thinking clearly.

He was shaking not only from the lingering chill in the freezer but from the panic that bubbled up when one of his arms or legs brushed the side of his prison and reminded him how small the space was.

He'd been Tasered, drugged, and was slowly suffocating.

Not to mention how badly he'd been sleeping and the nightmares. All these things would surely be skewing his judgment.

But the voice was small and his doubts at the moment were large. Laying there, helpless, feeling himself die, he looked over his life and knew – simply knew – that he wasn't worthy of Heaven. He didn't deserve mercy.

He'd done too many wrong things, killed too many people. Why did he think he could ever balance those deaths out with catching murderers? Yes, he put away bad people, but that didn't change the fact that others were dead because of him. And no matter what he did he simply couldn't undo that.

Booth felt as if the regrets he had were crushing him. He wished…he wished he could see everyone again one more time. Tell them what they meant to him. Apologize for failing them.

Many faces swam in his mind's eye. Hodgins. Cam. Angela. Sweets. Rebecca.

But four in particular kept coming back.

Jared…he'd failed his little brother. His dad had been right – if Booth had been more careful, Jared wouldn't have had to torpedo his career. Booth hoped that someone would give him a hand, that Caroline wouldn't forget about him and send the help she'd talked about…

Pops…The grandfather who'd given Booth so much, and gotten back so little…he wished he could talk to Pops one more time, apologize for the disappointment he knew he must be to the man he'd looked up to all these years…

Parker…Booth's eyes filled with tears as he thought of his son. The person who for a long time was the reason Booth woke up every morning and kept going. He knew his son was depending on him.

And the best he'd managed was a kind of part-time fatherhood. He wished he could've changed that, could've found a way to persuade Rebecca to let him be there more. He hoped whatever man his ex settled on, he would be good to Parker. He hoped his son wouldn't hate him for dying.

And then…

Bones…His partner, his best friend…she had become the other reason he hadn't given up. Because she needed him. Needed him to nag her to eat, needed him to help her bring justice to those denied it, needed him to just be there sometimes.

And now he was leaving her. Not willingly, not without regret, but leaving all the same. He hoped it wouldn't break her, that she wouldn't go back to those walls she'd put up around herself. He wanted her to find someone to love and protect her. He hoped that perhaps he'd opened her eyes to the possibility, even if he couldn't be there to see it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, to her, to all of them. His left hand crept up his chest to grasp his St. Christopher's Medal. With his bleeding right hand, he made the sign of the cross.

Closing his eyes, struggling to take one more breath, Seeley Booth began to pray.