I've noticed a small upswing in Sully stories (did I miss a spoiler or something?) and it made me think. I don't know that I've seen one like this. Oh, and I might be wrong about cell and wireless signals…call it poetic license.
Tim Sullivan, late of the FBI, and now master of the Temperance, stretched out on the aft deck to study the night sky. It had been eleven months since he had sailed out of DC, and he had only a week or two left if he was going to return to DC when expected. But what would be waiting for him?
Tempe. Only Tempe, and maybe a job he was afraid of. Oh, not that the actual job itself scared him; the physical requirements were nothing to be concerned about, there were plenty of mental challenges, though the prospect of loss was rather daunting to go through again. But it was far too easy to burn out, focusing solely on the evil Man did. Not many could handle it, and he no longer understood those who could. Like Booth, like Cullen until it was his daughter affected, or, or… He sighed. Or Temperance.
He had thought about her a lot when he first left; for a while, he saw her in every brunette who crossed his path. They had exchanged emails and phone calls when he could. All very friendly, but hardly the stuff to set the world on fire. Once or twice, he thought he detected a note of wistful regret when she told him about the harder cases. And he noted she never mentioned her father's case--he had had to read about that in a paper months old. And the frequency had fallen off, too. On his side as much as on hers.
Their affair had been more than a fling--he was positive of that. Just not the undying love he wished for. But the fact was, they were too different. It had taken him a while to realize that, but now it was clear as the stars hanging above him.
He loved change, thrived on it, in fact. And he was considering heading back to be with a woman to whom change was anathema. Tempe had told him very little about her past, but he had picked up some of it, done a little research while he still worked for the FBI. Maybe he wasn't the agent Booth was, but he was no slouch. And what he knew was that she craved stability as a reaction to her adolescence. Not that she would ever admit that!
Sailing satisfied his need for change, his thirst for the unexpected was well sated when a storm could blow up at any time and send him hundreds of miles off his present course, when he never knew what he'd see in the air or in the water. Running charters for extra cash gave him ever-changing human company when he wanted it. But Tempe--she needed a different sort of stimulation along with her stability. And the only place she was likely to find that was in DC, with or without Booth. Not sailing around the Caribbean.
He thought about the day he had left; not once had he asked her if the shadowy figure at the far end of the dock had been Booth. He had never really wanted to know. And with unusual tact, she had never mentioned that day. At least, he thought it was tact. It could be that she didn't want to talk about it herself or that she had already dismissed it as irrelevant. Hard to tell with her.
He had believed Booth that they had never been involved, if not that there was no interest. Didn't understand it, but believed it. But their connection was undeniable. And that, he was sure, was half the reason she hadn't wanted to leave. As his eyes closed, he couldn't help wondering if the man had finally made his move.
When he woke, the sky directly above him was the exact color of Tempe's eyes. And he found he had decided.
Slowly pushing himself to his feet, he checked the maps and altered course for the nearest port, wanting to get in range of a signal and call her. He didn't think she would argue with his decision.
Despite the fact that I don't like to rewatch those episodes very often, I couldn't quite be mean to him (besides, there's been a lot of those). But I did want some closure--even if I had to provide it myself!