My funeral is in half an hour. What are you doing?

"I'm getting my friend to look at some footage from the outside of the hospital the night you were killed," Booth answered, frowning at his phone. It was going to cost him some season tickets apparently.

We should be getting ready to go.

"Oh, so suddenly your funeral is more important than solving your murder?" Booth asked, incredulous.

Yes.

"Why?"

Because, Booth. I have to watch myself be buried beside my mother today. I'm...sad.

"Aw, Bones. I'm sorry. I was insensitive."

No, you were right. I was so focused on solving my murder that I forgot about the human ritual for saying goodbye.

"Well, lucky for me, I don't have to," Booth said.

Why not?

"Because you're right here," he answered. "Remember?"

Right.

There was knocking on his door suddenly. He knew it would be either Cam or Hodgins. Or maybe both. He answered and found all of them standing there.

"You ready?" Cam asked.

"Yup," he nodded, closing the door behind him.

"You are oddly calm about the fact Brennan is gone," Angela noticed.

"She's closer than you think," Booth replied, adjusting his tie.

"Unless she's here as a ghost or trapped in your head, I doubt that," Zack said. Booth froze. Angela squinted her eyes at him.

"Trapped in my head? Really?" Booth asked carefully. "Where do you come up with these things?"

"I was trying to make a joke. I didn't execute it properly," Zack sighed. Booth led the way, careful to avoid Angela's prying eyes. He didn't like the way she was looking at him.

Do you think she's figured it out?

"No," he muttered under his breath. She didn't talk anymore for the car ride or even throughout the service, which surprised Booth. When it was his turn to get up to speak, he suddenly felt as though a weight was on his chest and heart. He stared at all the faces looking back at him, and he suddenly didn't know if he could talk.

"Bones was my best friend," he started finally. "She was brilliant and fun and just about everything you could ask for as a partner and a friend. She's helped solve so many crimes and helped people get closure without ever wanting any credit. She was very special, and I miss her every day. I think if she were here right now, she'd be telling us not to be upset but to remember that we all have one life, so we should live it the best we can."

I would not say that.

"I mean, I think she'd say that. I like to think that I know her well enough to think she would say something at least in that ball park," Booth rambled, trying not to be thrown off by her interruption. He was also trying to prompt her to say what she would say if she was standing there.

Not even close, Booth. I'd say that dying is a part of life, and you all should accept the reality of that and not put too much emphasis on my corpse in that coffin being a part of closure. It's not. It's just a body.

"And that concludes my speech," Booth said, stepping down.

What? You wanted to hear what I'd say, and now you're just going to ignore it?

"I'm trying to be comforting not cold," Booth hissed.

"Are you okay?" Hodgins asked, worried.

"Yea. I think I might be getting a cold," Booth said a little louder. He heard loud sniffing inside his head. Was she crying? He couldn't just leave the funeral to talk to her. It would be rude. She was definitely crying, though, especially after Angela's speech. When he could escape to the washroom, he took off as fast as he could.

"What's wrong?" he asked her once alone.

Do you all see me as someone who is not emotional or caring?

"What? No! You're a very caring person, Bones."

I can be emotional, Booth. I just never show it to anyone.

"I realize that."

Being emotional means being vulnerable, and I don't do vulnerable.

"I know," he soothed.

I can't watch them lower me into the ground.

"I won't look," he promised. "We should get back, though."

Okay.

Booth wanted to hug her, but he hoped that his words were enough. He kept his promise and didn't watch them bury her. He couldn't bear to see it himself anyway.

...

Booth was in his apartment drinking alone. Brennan was either sleeping or not talking to him. It had been a very hard day. His phone buzzed then, and he looked at it.

Max Keenan arrested today. Thought you'd want to know.

Booth shot up from the couch like a bullet. Max Keenan? Brennan's Dad? What the hell...

Where did you find him? he texted back.

Graveyard.

Shit. So he'd heard about Brennan dying and was paying his respects. Booth tapped his foot anxiously. He really wanted to talk to Max, but he didn't want Brennan interrupting him.

"Bones?" he asked. She didn't answer. She was definitely asleep then.

Be right there, he tapped back. He hurried to his SUV. Hopefully Brennan wouldn't wake up before he got back.

...

"Agent Booth," Max said, smiling.

"Hi, Max," Booth said.

"You were my daughter's partner?"

"Work partner, yes," Booth answered.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be on bereavement leave or something?" Max asked.

"I am. I wanted to talk to you, though."

"Why?"

"I thought you might have answers," Booth said.

"About what?"

"Who would want to kill your daughter? Was it someone who knew McVicar?"

"I don't know anything, Agent," Max shook his head.

"Cherie," Caroline said, popping her head around the door. "Can you come with me for a second?"

"All right," Booth sighed. He followed her out. "What?"

"That man is not Max Keenan. He's a law abiding citizen who works as an electrician in Coos Bay. His name is Art MacGregor."

"Get out of here. Seriously?" Booth said, looking through the glass at Max sitting there.

"Until proven otherwise, he has to be released," Caroline shrugged.

"That might actually work better for me," Booth murmured.

"What's that now?"

"Nothing. Thanks, Caroline," Booth said, heading back into the interrogation room.

"You're free to go," he said to Max, who smiled.

"Ah, good. This place is a bit of a dive anyway."

"Hey, before you disappear, can I speak with you?" Booth asked.

No.

Damn it. She was awake.

"No," Max said at the same time.

"Just hear me out," Booth said to both of them.

Absolutely not! Booth, you are not talking to my father.

"I am not talking to you," Max echoed, turning away. Booth growled in frustration. He charged after Max and caught up with him in the lobby.

Booth! Stop!

"Stop chasing me," Max warned. He went out the front doors and into the fresh air.

"Your daughter was murdered," Booth blurted out. Max halted in his tracks.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

Please stop. I'm begging you.

"She was buried alive, and after we rescued her, she died of a supposed heart attack. I've found evidence that says otherwise, and my only suspect is the Grave Digger. I need your help."

"Son, I'm Art MacGregor, electrician. I know nothing of what you're speaking of," Max said, turning to go again. Booth knew he was bothered, though. He could just tell.

"I need your help! Please," Booth begged.

If I was alive right now, I'd slap you.

"I can't help you, Booth. I'm sorry," Max said. Then he disappeared into the darkness.

"You'd slap me?" Booth said out loud, going back to Brennan's comment.

Yes! You got my father involved. That is not cool.

"He's a con man robber turned murderer," Booth argued. "He knows criminals. I need him on our side."

I'm not speaking to him, remember?

"And you never will!" Booth shouted. Then he clamped his mouth shut. If he could take the words back, he would. Immediately.

That...that was very mean, Booth.

"I'm sorry," he said.

You know what? Do what you want since I'm dead anyway.

"Come on, Bones! I forget because you're right here in my ear the way you always were. I didn't mean it to be mean."

It was mean.

"Aargh! I'm sorry. I take it back."

Too late.

"Are you all right?" Caroline asked Booth, making him jump. She had followed him outside.

"I'm fine. Just...working through some stuff," Booth said. Her eyes softened.

"I know you really cared about her. Some might even say you loved her."

"Ah...ahuh," Booth said awkwardly.

What is she saying?

"I gotta go, Caroline. It's getting late," Booth gestured.

"Take care. I'm here if you need to talk about it," Caroline said. He thanked her and hopped into his car.

Booth, did you love me?

"Let's go find this killer, huh?" Booth interrupted. "I have a hunch."

Booth, you're deflecting.

"Am not," he argued. "I just don't want to talk about it."

Why not?

"Because it hurts too much!" he shouted into the silence. She didn't respond for a moment.

Did you get my things from the hospital?

"Yea."

Go through it. Look in the cover of my book.

"Why?"

Just do it.

"All right," he agreed. He headed towards home. He was curious as to what he was going to find.

...

"Dear Agent Booth, you are a confusing man. You are irrational and impulsive, superstitious and exasperating. You believe in ghosts and maybe even Santa Claus and because of you, I've started to see the universe differently. How is it possible that simply looking into your fine face gives me such joy? Why does it make me so happy that every time I try to sneak a peek at you, you're already looking at me. Like you, it makes no sense, and like you, it feels right. If I ever get out of here, I will find a time and place to tell you that you make my life messy and confusing and unfocused and irrational and wonderful."

Booth stared at the letter. He felt his throat tighten, and his eyes burn. It was pretty close to a confession of feelings for him.

This is that time. This is that place.

"A pretty lousy time and place," Booth answered.

I'm sorry. If I had survived, maybe I would have told you sooner.

"I'm so sorry that this happened to you, Bones," Booth said, his voice thick. "I should have been there to save you..."

Don't, Booth. It's okay.

"It's not okay. Damn it. I love you, Bones. And now it's too late."

I...I don't know if it's because I'm dead or if I'm genuinely feeling this, but...I love you too, Booth. I think a part of me always has.

"This is so hard," Booth sniffed. This was killing him actually. The fact that she was with him but not really with him was the hardest thing to swallow.

Maybe...maybe we will see each other again. Maybe we can be together.

"I would really like that, Bones," Booth said quietly. A knocking at his door interrupted her from speaking. He went to answer and found Max standing there.

"How did you...?" Booth started.

"I have decided to help you," Max cut him off. "May I come in?"

"Sure."

Max came in and surveyed the place.

"So, what made you change your mind?" Booth asked.

"I think I might know who this Gravedigger person is," Max replied. "And I think I might even be able to help you find him."


Written with the help of the song The Night We Met by Lord Huron Feat. Phoebe Bridgers and Tangled Up by Parade of Lights.