Not Broken

She watched as he stormed off down the hall. She could hardly believe she had lost her temper with him. It was silly. He shouldn't be upset and so she followed him down the hall. Desperate to get to him. She felt panicked as she opened the bedroom door. "Please Booth. I am sorry."

He looked at her, his face was hurt not angry. "You're only sorry because I got upset. You are always trying to protect me. But I don't need you to shield my feelings. How long are we going to be here, standing in this place with you still thinking that I am broken. There may be holes in my memory but there is nothing wrong with me. I am tired of waiting for you to realize that this man, the man I am NOW loves you. Wants to be with you. But you're so damn afraid of me that you shut me out. You think I don't know that you hide things, that you keep our friends from talking about things. But I know I know that there is more to this story. I know that there is pain you won't let me share. But I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend that this….that this is enough." He shocked himself that he said it. Had he ever been angry at her before? Not that he remembered.

Standing there with her face set in stone she looked at him. He was right, she had known this day was coming for a long time. When he decided that she wasn't enough and would leave. Everyone always leaves. Well, she had discovered a long time ago that the hurt is less if she ran first. Her feet were itching to run, but it was like she was made of lead, unable to move.

He didn't want to hurt her, you never want to hurt the one's you love. But it is inevitable. Looking into her face he could see that this was not the first time that they had argued. He went to reach out to touch her, she always responded better to his touch then words. But she backed away and slunk toward the corner, slumped to the floor like an injured animal.

It came as a flash. A cemetery. She was wearing her dark blue overcoat a white blouse peaked through. Their friends were all in black. Who had died? Her face had the same stony look she had given him earlier. Lost, hurt, terrified but trying to be stoic, starring ahead with unfocused eyes. The same tears threatened. Where was he? These were all of his friends. Why wasn't he there with them, why wasn't he with her comforting her? Who ever had died obviously meant the world to her. She was standing next to the casket, she was talking, rambling really, he didn't know her to ramble. He heard her words crystal clear, as if the woman in the room had spoken them at that moment, "If there is a God why did he let Booth die?" How could this be a memory? Was it just a bad dream? What had happened in his other life? The memory continued to play out as if watching a movie. He then saw himself standing to one side dressed in a military uniform. He struggled with a man and his gun. She stepped in, saved him really, and then slugged him.

"I remember you" he said quietly. She didn't respond. "There was a funeral for me, but I don't understand. You were there, trying not to cry, but I could see that I hurt you. Did you think I was dead? Why would I do that to you?" His voice shook a little. How much pain had he caused this woman before?

She didn't look at him but kept her gaze firmly at her feet. Afraid to make a move. "You were trying to catch a bad guy. I was supposed to be informed, but wasn't. Yes I thought you were dead. For two weeks. The longest two weeks of my entire life. I am sorry that is your first memory of me. I shouldn't have hit you that day." She sharply inhaled and looked up at him. Her blue eyes finally letting the tears flow. "We never really talked about it, even before you lost your memory. You came back, we went on with our job, I broke into your house, you apologized. But I never told you about those two weeks. You said I protect you from the hurt. Do you want to hear about those days now?"

He went over and sat on the floor next to her, and held her hand. She put her head on his shoulder. He rested his head on hers. They had sat like this before, in a stairwell. They were sharing pain. Pain over the loss of a friend. He could see them, but he didn't know the story behind the image. But he could feel her pain in his heart. He was about to ask, but she started telling him a story.

"It was a case about a young man, a personal trainer and aspiring singer. Found dead in a field…."

For two hours she told him the story. She told him of Pam Nunan, and singing "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." She told him of the shot, and of begging him to stay. She told him of the hospital, of the waiting room, of the doctor coming out to say that he was gone. After his "death" she buried herself in her work, the nights crying in her apartment. She drove to his apartment and cried outside the door. That she had refused to go to the funeral, but Angela had forced her. Of how she spent the entire time wishing she could jump in the ground with him. Each time she spoke, he could actually see a little more, and he questioned the details, all of which he got right. He truly remembered this event. He suddenly remembered what happened next.

"Did you come to me in the…in the… tub? I was relaxing and you broke in. I was shocked and annoyed but most of all I was glad to see you. I wasn't sure if you would forgive me after the cemetery."

She looked at him and nodded.

He smiled. "I wonder where my beer hat is?"