Author's Note: Another update. Also, I'm almost completely finished with this fanfic. Only a few chapters to go. Then some routine edits and once overs through the rough draft chaps. When totally complete, I'll be able to update much faster. More than once a week, at any rate.
Enjoy! And please R&R at the end! I accept all opinions, good or bad. I don't accept bashing, but constructive critcism is totally fine. Let me know how I can improve. Thanks!
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CHAPTER THREE
THE SACRIFICES WE MAKE
*
I've got no reason to be proud
Drink this water around me before I drown
All the flowers die tonight
Teardrops falling down my face
All the candles lose their flame
God save the queen, but why can't God save me?
The more we grow, the less we know
Until the time we lose it all
-Lost Soul-
They've been running for well over twenty minutes, swallowing ground quickly. It is not a very long time. The blink of an eye in a day, a breath in a week, and the life cycle of one heartbeat in a lifetime. But so much can happen in twenty minutes. Each minute can retain different consequences.
Lives change in less time–they are put on the line in seconds. Souls can be steadfast white, then darkening gray at one pull of a trigger.
Brennan had always hated time. There was too little of it, but it was so effortless to lose one's self within the very fabric of it. Time went on without delay, but past years–decades, even–seemed only days forgotten.
Rain gave birth to moments. Each drop a chronicle of existence. The force behind each gale, each fall of rain, signified ever-changing dispositions.
The heavens pour. It is not a cleansing rain. Mud squelches underfoot, challenging their driving footfalls. Fueling their desperation.
Her chest heaves with each shallow breath. Panting, trying to maintain her stamina. She is in excellent condition, but now that they are out of the city, the danger gone, her adrenaline is fast siphoning. Throat raw, muscles cramping.
The mud is like quicksand, and she is soaked to the bone–the both of them sopping.
Her logical mind strives to break down the events that occurred moments previous. But she isn't certain where to begin, so she decides that, for now, running is good. Even with their destination yet undetermined, she trusts her well-being fully unto the man ahead of her. This is what she knows. This has never changed, never failed her.
He guides her forward, a steadfast compass, and she faithfully follows.
He doesn't suffer the elements quite so difficultly as she. His past and personal experiences have accustomed him to conditions such as these. Despite this, however, his silence is unnerving. He hasn't spoken to her since the escape through the alley. Only surges determinedly ahead, intent on getting her away from the danger that hunts them.
Her concern for him is flagrant, but she doesn't know what to do with it. She needs to hear his voice.
Thoughts run faster than his legs can follow. Despite their notable speed, he feels as though he's running in treacle. A great weight manifests on his shoulders, bearing him down. Weighing on his heart.
Traitor.
She finally releases his hand as he slows them to an eventual standstill. For a fleeting moment, he can't tell up from down. The world around him begins to spin. The realization of what he's just done slowly seeps into his consciousness. Invisible claws dig into his chest.
In less than five minutes, he'd defied a direct order from the United States government, shot and killed three American law enforcement officials–his own men, betrayed his country, and is now a fugitive from the law.
His own men, killed his own men. Your own men. Dead. Traitor.
What will happen now–now that he's committed such monstrous crimes? What will happen now that he hasn't sacrificed her for the cause? What will they…
Oh, God…
All at once, he can't breathe. The air abandons his lungs without warning. He feels paralyzed. The scenery charges past him, paying no heed that he is unmoving.
What would happen if he'd had? The reality of what he'd nearly done strikes him like no bullet or explosion could. The horrid truth demands his every awareness.
Almost... you almost... auburn hair backdrops the crosshairs... unthinkable...
Save one... others would have to die...
He'd felt the freezing pain wash over him on that roof upon realizing what he had to do. Their greatest weapon turned against them.
The rushing in his ears intensifies, and he feels the ground beneath him disappear. His vision darkens around the edges the moment his balance deserts him. Everything he's done, intended, left behind, assaults him all at once, and it's too much.
She watches as her partner sinks to his knees and immediately empties the contents of his stomach. For a time, she remains away from him. Hesitant in any approach. But even still, her crystal eyes watch over him carefully, despite feeling inelegant in her awkward distance. She longs to reach out to him, but stays helpless as his world falls down around him.
He feels everything she has felt.
In spite of their communal desolation, the gap between them feels like a chasm.
When the sounds of retching subside, she braves the unknown, walking slowly toward him. He remains on his knees, one palm pressed into the sodden grass, fingers splayed. The other clutches his middle as shudders wrack his frame. He coughs weakly, breathing in shallow rasps.
She lowers herself beside him, gently placing a hand between his shoulder blades through the black fabric. The way his body trembles under her touch leaves another rift in her already bruised heart. Allowing him to gain his bearings, as much as he can, she stays there with him for longer than she can recall.
Simply offering him her presence, as all the times he has done for her. Minutes unspool without regard.
Those men he'd killed–had they had families? Loved ones? She can only imagine what weighs so heavily on his soul now. Her own conscience suffers daily from the consequences her many incurable mistakes have left behind. This consuming guilt is suffocating. The past few days had taken every ounce of her strength just to wake up for the day. Sleep brought such comfort, when the nightmares stayed away. Reality forgotten, dreams could bring promising alternatives. False hope.
Once, together they had saved lives. Now, they destroy them. For the first time since they've grown closer, she doesn't know what to say to ease his mind. She doesn't know how to comfort a person whose torment she feels just as keenly.
Together, bowed over each other, they welcome the rain.
What have we done?
"Booth," she begins gently, finally, voice laden with grief. "I… I'm so sorry." She speaks of everything. There's too much to be sorry for. Too much regret to put a name to. She can't begin to identify them all. Her own sins shine through, but the knowledge of what he's done tips the scales almost equally.
Will he ever forgive himself? Will he ever forgive her for forcing such a monstrous act upon him? He's killed his own men–to save her. When she is the cause behind all the afflictions of the growing threat. One question assails her mind in the din of the other thousands.
Why?
She has to know.
Her voice is small. Very unlike her obstinate confidence. "What you did…" She flinches when he tenses under her fingers.
All she wants is to understand. If she's honest with herself, she's upset with him. Severely troubled by his actions, and the consequences they entail beneath the surface. Ice settles over her spine. Her own thoughts drown out the sound of the downpour that surrounds them.
"You had every reason to," stumbling gracelessly over her words, she falls further soft-spoken. "Why?" she whispers. Madness flickers closer to the surface. Dormant, waiting. "Why didn't you…? Booth, they'll come after you."
Now she is truly afraid, realization evolving with her discourse. The underlying emotion quickly rises to the surface. His own men will hunt him now. Because of her. The contrition is overwhelming. The air rushes from her lungs. She's drowning.
No. No, no, no… he can't die because of her again.
Panic. A surge of protectiveness–this time she needs to shield him.
"Why?" she gasps, shaking him. Indignant on his behalf. "You should have just—"
"Dammit, Temperance!" he finally snaps, wrenching himself away from her and stumbling to his feet. His suddenly tearful gaze burns into her own. Hurt flashing in his eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
She can only stare at him in response, shivering when there's no cold. Her wide, uncertain eyes reflect the vying emotions swelling in her chest. They are both exhausted and pushed to their limits. Both terrified for the other.
"Me?" she bites back finally, confusion and anger lacing the single syllable. "You just had to do what you always do! You can't stop looking out for me and now look what's happened! The Infection's no less cured, and now we're both on the run! What about your job?" Her volume intensifies almost to hysteria. Impassioned now, frozen in horrified dismay. "What about Parker—?"
"Will you shut up for once?!" She might be hurt by the way he yells at her if it isn't for the fact that he's crying. "I almost fucking killed you!" His speech becomes too choked and he struggles for the calm. The sense of desperation is like a living thing growing inside him. "I had orders to terminate you on sight!"
Traitor to her... this is worse... this is... almost killed her. Killed, killed, almost ended her life.
Choice... not my choice... save Bones... had to save...
Heart pounds, his legs are weak. Breath trapped in his chest.
She is staggered at the utter despair in his voice and the harsh weight his words carry, pushed by surprise into silence. Her eyes fill, tears hovering on her lower lashes. Biting down firmly on her bottom lip, she tries to erase the memory of him with the muzzle of a rifle aimed at her.
Booth... ready to silence her. Booth.
Unthinkable, inconceivable.
My protector.
Despite the truth, despite that she'd known he'd be doing the right thing, the sight of him there with his weapon had shattered her. But with the knowledge of how he'd safeguarded and defended her over the past four years–often with his life–she can only imagine the anguish it had held over him.
This is decimating him...
He no longer shouts, only watches her helplessly with glistening eyes that she's become closely familiar with over the course of their partnership. "Bones," he whispers, the name a welcome memory of past ease. An underlying fracture makes his voice catch. It is small, hurting. He is lost.
He'd be lost without her, she realizes.
"I almost…"
The rain has died down.
A drop melds with the stream on the icy roundness of her cheek. If he'd intended on finishing what he was saying, she doesn't give him the chance. Exhaling a tearful sigh, she throws her arms around him and holds him. Instantly, his own encircle her, clinging to her as if she's his last breath.
His anchor. And he is hers.
They fall into each other in desperation, stabilizing and comforting the other at the same time. They've been apart–forced from each other–for too long. Without the other's presence. At long last, the floodgates crash open from the surge of reckless emotion.
Time is forged on the basic simplicity of one's own perceptions. Though only months, the time apart feels like years.
"I know," she whispers back. And she does.
He sobs into her hair with utter lack of control. "I'm sorry," he cries. Begging forgiveness. "Bones, I'm so sorry."
Please, please, oh God, please...
She pulls him closer, clutching at the fabric of his jacket and covering it with her tears. They're both shaking so violently–as if the temperature has dropped forty degrees. Her face presses against his chest, searching out his heartbeat. Evidence of their mutual survival.
The things he does for her, the measures he takes to ensure her safety, it startles her. It scares her to death.
She knows the man he is. A loyal warrior to the country he serves, the country he loves and has very nearly died for on countless occasion. But in that one moment when his homeland had threatened her, he became a betrayer.
She hates that nothing in the world is a constant. Just when she's stalwartly certain of an accurate conclusion, logic vanishes and leaves her abandoned.
But not him. Never him.
Lately, logic had been frequently deceiving her. One thing will always remain a constant, though, and she finds promising comfort in that.
He will always be her savior.
She'd known. Hiding from retribution, fighting to restore life against her devastating aberration... she'd known.
Booth will come. He'll come, and everything will be fine. Everything will be better. He'd save her, so that she could save the world.
She feels a blossoming warmth as new tears spring into her eyes.
"Booth," she whispers, drawing him tighter.
Surrounded by him, everything makes sense. His arms are her shelter, her sanctuary.
He breathes her in deeply, confidant that she is safe–if only for now. This moment will last. A moment full of truth. More than they know. More than they've ever shared before. Things are shifting, changing. Happening.
But he is grateful they have one another. Even if suffering, they are not suffering alone. There is no cause that can separate.
Teardrops falling down my face
Look at me now, I'm so broken and empty
Why does it always rain on me?
Give me your heart so I can live