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I snapped the phone shut a moment later, my breathing already starting to steady; but still nowhere near even.

I clutched the phone in my hand, gripping it fiercely and pressing my knuckles to my forehead. My eyes had closed but I couldn't remember exactly when I'd stopped being able to see. The wall I was leaning on seemed oddly numbing, as though it was shaping itself to the hunch of my back, rather than the rough bricks grasping at the fabric of my shirt and grating at my spine, which I was sure is what should have been happening.

She was coming for me.

In spite of the relief that washed over me as I thought those words, I could not escape the over-whelming sense of failure that marred its arrival. I wasn't the one who needed to be rescued. Not ever. I was the protector, keeping my little brother from my father's iron-fist, fighting for my friends under heavy fire. I had sworn more than once in my life that I would make sure that someone I love would be safe. The first was Jared. The second was Teddy; the kid of my group, like my own adopted little brother. I grimaced at that thought, the feeling of failure intensifying until my chest felt too tight to breathe. I moved along the mental checklist, trying not to linger at the image of his young face in my mind. I knew my face had fallen into an expressionless blank, as it always did when I thought bad thoughts.

The third was Parker. The shame almost crippled me then, more so than the pain of remembering Teddy. Both hands clenched into fists at the thought him seeing me now; shivering outside some dive in Vegas, unable to control myself, a part of me only focused on dragging myself back to the shining lights, and softly furnished décor, the sound of money cascading into the tray of a slot machine, smooth tables that just reeked of money as you ran your hand along its edge, leaning over it to see the dice before anyone else, the grin spreading across your face as the chips stack up, the winning streak, never ending, all in such close reach, if I could just get to a casino and an ATM, I could-

Stop.

I shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold.

Back to my original train of thought. I glared mentally until those kinds of bad thoughts had all resumed their original place in the back of my mind. Not gone, just quieted. A persistent breeze, ready to explode into a hurricane at the slightest blow.

Parker. I expected the shame this time and so was more prepared when it hit me. I braced against it and managed to think coherently. I knew he deserved more of a father than me. He's such a good kid; bright, happy, kind. That's not something you can say about many 7 year olds. That they're kind. I welled with pride from my son, and it felt so good to be feeling an emotion that didn't make me want to turn to stone.

One day, I would make this up to him. I vowed to myself with fierce conviction that at some point, sooner rather than later, I would be the kind of man that he deserved as a father. Not just better than my own painfully poor excuse for a dad, but someone he was worthy of.

But not today.

*

Six hours is a long time to be stuck in limbo.

I'd have laughed at that irony if I was in any state to do so. As it was, I didn't even notice.

Mark had found me sat on the sidewalk outside sometime after I'd phoned Bones. I couldn't really tell how long I'd been there. My thoughts were too erratic to be keeping time at all. It mustn't have been very long because when he pulled me back inside the club the others were all still there, ready to leave. No one seemed put out that they'd had to wait for Mark to come find me, but to be honest, I wasn't really paying enough attention to their expressions to notice.

My face had composed itself into the hard eyed blank that I wore whenever I felt the boundaries of my uncomfortable thoughts being pushed too close for comfort. At least it wasn't as bad as when someone else was the one pushing too much; that was when I usually got angry. More than one person had gained black eyes from not knowing when to stop prodding and pushing at me, whether to get me riled up or to get me to open up; it didn't really matter. Sweets had been lucky more than once. It was only through immense control and severe jaw clenching that he'd come away from a couple of our conversations unscathed.

This time though, I had no one else to blame. And so I was only angry at myself.

Mark could tell I wasn't right but he knew me well enough not to ask what was bothering me so much. Instead he just took in my hard expression and rigid stance and called a taxi back to the hotel. I was grateful he didn't offer to stay with me, to make sure I was alright. This was his night, before his big day. He11 if I was going to ruin it for him.

The taxi dropped me off outside the hotel entrance and I got out without a word, thrusting some bills at the driver before I could ask him to take me somewhere else. Somewhere I knew I shouldn't go.

I took the stairs, needing the pacing movement to keep me focused. I ended up walking up one floor too high, and having to turn around and come down again. Eventually I got to my room, my pace speeding up until I reached my door. I fumbled around my jacket pocket to find my room key, feeling more hurried, more rushed, just desperate to be inside.

With a 'ping' the light flashed on the key-swipe and I shoved the door open. As soon as I was inside I slammed the door behind me and threw the key on the floor.

I stomped over to the small window and jerked the curtains across the view, but the thin fabric couldn't quite hide the blaring neon lights that shone from the streets outside.

Disgusted, I turned my back on the window and headed into the bathroom, desperate for a shower. I kicked off my shoes and I started to strip off my shirt but as I pulled my vest over my head and dropped it to the floor I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

It didn't take much for my mind to start filling in the gaps on my face. The circles under my eyes darkened to a deeper shade of violet and my jaw became coated in an uneven stubble. My hair grew out into a shaggy mess and my eyes became bloodshot. My pupils threw back no light whatsoever, instead seeming to draw it in as if they were absorbing the life out of the rest of my face, leaving only a wide eyed darkness in its place.

I jerked my head in an unconscious twitch and suddenly the image disappeared, and I was back in the mirror again, looking exactly as I knew I did now, my skin a slightly sickly pallor and my face frozen in a mixture between horror and nausea.

Completely forgetting my shower, I sank to the floor and leaned my head back against the wall, legs sprawled in front of me.

Stop.

The passing of time became something irrelevant and inconsequential. I just stared at the tiles straight in front of me and tried not to think. Numbing myself from it all. My face set in cool, hard marble, carved out by an apathetic sculptor. For all I knew, I could have been back in that clearing, my uniform stained with sweat, dirt and blood, refusing to look at my dead friend lying beside me. The soldier who was only a kid, my little foster brother. The feelings were both identical and alien to each other, slipping into a deadened mindset of pain, fear, grief and guilt.

Time passed. I didn't notice.

"Booth?" A tentative call, barely above a whisper, but strained with anxiety so thick it all but screamed. "Booth?" Again, louder this time and sharper, as though the speaker was no longer able to contain their volume.

I realised, in a distant part of my brain that seemed somehow disconnected from my conscious thoughts, that my name was Booth. It was reasonable to assume then, that this person was looking for me, although I had trouble understanding how that affected me. Should I be doing something?

Before I had the chance to come up with an answer, the voice was suddenly closer, and it was no longer a question.

"Booth!" she all but breathed.

She touched my arm and suddenly my vision cleared, focussing again, as though I'd simply remembered how to see. I tried to move my head, to look at the face I needed to see, but my neck was stiff from being held still for so long.

Somewhat dazed, I tried to move more. My legs, my shoulders. It was like trying to swim through syrup, each movement a great effort that caused my muscles to scream in protest.

Slowly, I started to come back to myself. I could feel her breath, quick and shallow, as she manoeuvred herself around the cramped bathroom so she could see my face. Her fingers brushed my chest and her other hand pulled my chin up gently to see her, crouching low on the bathroom floor.

I caught her gaze and released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "Bones."

Her crystal blue eyes widened as she looked at me, and they were brimming with… anguish. There was no other word for it. A cacophony of worry and pain seemed to roll off her in waves.

I looked into her eyes, and it felt like coming home.

"Booth." Her voice shook, "What happened?"

She didn't bother to ask me if I was okay. Always the rational one; no point wasting time asking a question when the answer was so glaringly obvious.

I didn't answer her question. Instead I just said the most important thing.

"Thank you."

Her face softened slightly and she bit her lip. Without another word, she slid one hand under my arm and around my back and grasped my right hand in her other. Her grip was vice-like, as if to reassure herself that I was still there. I gripped back just as hard. Carefully, using Bones to steady my stiff legs, I stood up.

We moved back into the bedroom and I plopped ungracefully down onto the cheap bed, the springs groaning with the weight of my fall.

I hung my head in my hands as she sat down next to me.

"What happened Booth?" she asked again, quietly.

I didn't know where to start. To tell you the truth, I didn't even know where the start was. Did this story start this weekend? Or 8 years ago? Or when I was a kid, and wanted nothing else except to escape from my home life, by physically leaving or just immersing myself totally into something else as a distraction of the cruellest kind?

Bones sat waiting, without a word or any sign to speed up. Another thing I love about my Bones: she knows when to give my time, and when to give me space. Now more than ever I needed her to give me time, but I don't think I could've coped if she'd given me space. She knew it too, and so although all I could see were my hands, I could feel her warmth pressed against my side and her hand gently squeezing my arm. Her fingers traced circles along my bare skin and gave me goosebumps.

"Mark was in the Rangers with me." I began unsteadily. I paused, wondering how to continue. "I haven't seen him in… in a while. But he's getting married tomorrow." I smiled slightly, as I remembered the huge grin he'd seemed incapable of removing all day. Bones noticed and her thumb faltered mid-circle and she squeezed my arm ever so slightly before continuing. "It's always been his dream to get married in Vegas. Sort of ironic really." I laughed without humour.

I paused as my laugh turned bitter and I lowered my head again.

"I thought I'd be okay." I whispered.

Bones went still beside me. Her voice slipped from her soft mouth, near silent and slick as velvet, tender in every respect and weeping with sincerity, the voice of an angel with nothing but concern on her lips.

"Tell me."

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