"To think that only yesterday
I was cheerful, bright and gay.
Looking forward to, and who wouldn't do,
The role I was about to play.
But as if to knock me down, reality came around
And without so much as a mere touch,
Cut me into little pieces, leaving me to doubt…
And in my hour of need, I truly am indeed
Alone again, naturally."

'Alone Again Naturally', Gilbert O'Sullivan

oo00oo

Temperance Brennan didn't have a clue how she had ended up where she was now standing. Nothing seemed to make sense, her normally rational mind shrouded in a mist of memories that did nothing but disorientate her.

The gentle caress of the rain could not drag her from that daze as she stood there, her coat flapping against her legs in the bitter wind that seemed to be whispering to her through the boughs of the trees.

She was vaguely aware of a deep voice speaking familiar words nearby but she wasn't listening. Instead she focused her full attention on the whispers of the breeze, the words slowly forming in her mind.

Seeeeleeeey… Seeeeeleeeeey…

A shudder ran down Brennan's spine at that familiar name, the false mention of it bringing tears to her eyes. She wished he was with her now, she wished he could comfort her, wished he was close.

But he is Temperance, he is. You can feel it, you always can. All you have to do is look.

Slowly, her eyes began to focus on her surroundings and she felt her stomach sink. In front of her was a sea of white covering the carefully kept grass. Row after row of white marble, the men still in formation, the crosses standing though the men had fallen. This was the final resting place of far too many, where valour proudly slept.

Arlington Cemetery.

A sudden pain in her hands forced Brennan to look down, finding blood on her fingers where she had been gripping the stem of the single white rose. She watched as rain diluted red, dripping to the earth beside the gaping hole staring back up at her, mocking her. The very essence of her life was seeping in to the ground that was about to claim the only man she had ever loved.

She raised her heavy eyes, watching the solemn faces of uniformed men as they held the flag taught over his coffin, folding it over and over until all that was left was a triangle of stripes and stars, their colours muted in the day's grey haze.

The flag was carried across to Booth's weeping mother, her pearls gleaming in the rain. She clutched it to her chest, clinging to it tightly, her sobbing muted slightly as her husband lay a trembling but uniformed hand on her arm, offering her his silent support the best way he knew how.

The soldier moved on, kneeling in front of Parker, his brown eyes glistening with tears that streamed down his scared face like his grandmother's pearls. The little boy, seeming even smaller than usual in his dark suit, tentatively took the framed medals being offered to him, looking up to Rebecca for reassurance. She barely managed a squeeze of his shoulder, consumed as she was in her own ache of grief.

Temperance averted her eyes, realising that the military were not about to offer her any mementos. Not that she would ever really want any reminders of this occasion. She didn't need the regalia or the posthumous accolades to remember him. All she needed were the memories she carried in a shattered heart.

The wind picked up, whispering that painful name while it lashed the rain against her face. She didn't feel it. She didn't feel anything.

The seven riflemen fired three shots in to the air, making her jump and sending her hand fluttering to her chest, leaving a slight bloody handprint above her heart. Temperance didn't even notice.

She was barely conscious of the crowd moving around her, the gentle whispers as they passed, their concerned glances. None of it mattered. She wasn't sure if anything ever would again.

She let the surge of people move her forward, towards the wooden box, the brass plate engraved with the name that once made her heart soar but now left her feeling hollow.

Temperance stood there, just staring blankly as the rain washed away her tears.

If only it could wash away the pain, this emptiness…

Swallowing hard, she laid her rose on top of the coffin, letting her hand rest there for a moment, desperate for the closeness they had once shared but never would again.

I'll never be with him again. I'll never see those eyes, hear that voice, feel his touch… He's gone. He left me. He broke his promise, just like everyone else…

Removing her hand, she felt her chest ache as she realised she had smeared blood from the cut on her fingers right across the brass plate. It pooled there briefly before the rain claimed it.

Somewhere from the recesses of her memory, WH Auden's words filled her mind.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong…

Biting her lower lip to try and keep it from trembling, she was aware of Angela moving to her side, feeling her best friend's puffy, red-rimmed eyes boring in to her. Temperance couldn't look at her, couldn't bear to hear the words she knew were about to be offered in comfort.

There is no comfort now. There is nothing. Booth's gone. Nothing else matters.

"Temperance…"

Brennan just stared down at the flower laden coffin, her vision blurring with tears as she ignored the friend she knew was only trying to help.

"Temperance…"

This isn't happening.

She screwed her eyes shut as tightly as she could, her fists clenched by her sides.

This isn't happening, it can't be. He promised me he was coming home to me. He promised!

She felt Angela's hand on her arm, gripping her tightly.

"Temperance!"

Brennan's eyes flew open and stared straight in to those of the artist. Except they weren't crying anymore, not quite.

Blinking rapidly, the anthropologist stared around her, running a confused hand over her face. She was lying on the sofa in her office, the blanket tangled between her legs and her cheeks damp with tears.

She looked back at Angela, relief washing over her. At least until she saw the look in her best friend's eye and heard the tone of her voice.

"Sweetie, I'm sorry to wake you but… There was an attack. Booth, he's…"

She tailed off and the sight of Arlington Cemetery burnt in to the back of Brennan's eyelids as her heart shattered beyond repair.

When she finally found the strength to speak, her voice was hoarse and distant.

"He's gone…"

Angela's eyes widened as she shook her head frantically.

"No, sweetie, don't say that! He's been badly injured but he's a fighter, you know that. He's holding on, Bren. He's not letting go of you that easily."

The anthropologist just stared at her, tears rolling down her face.

"He's… He's alive?"

"Yes! They're transferring him to some hospital in Germany and…"

Angela didn't get a chance to finish her sentence as Brennan jumped to her feet and charged out of the door.

"Wait, what? Where are you going?"

Angela barely heard the reply as her best friend disappeared through the main doors of the lab.

"Germany."

A/N: And you thought I was going to kill Booth... Hee hee. I'm not that cruel, honest! Have to admit that I was writing this I was getting distinct Dallas vibes ("It was just a dream?")... Don't worry, it's all nearly over now. And thank you to everyone for being so supportive along the way. Keep it up and I'll write faster!