Chapter 5 - The Parts in the Sums
Temperance Brennan found that, while physically impossible, time did indeed seem to drag when one was stuck in a hotel room with a rotating crew of FBI agents. She'd worked on her book, listened to music, caught up on reading some journals she'd been meaning to read, done yoga in her bedroom, and edited some papers she intended to publish. She'd only been "dead" for three days, but it seemed like three years.
She flopped on the bed for approximately the hundredth time and closed her eyes. She missed Booth, she admitted to herself. And she still couldn't get rid of the tight feeling in her chest when she thought about how he must be feeling. She had only spoken to Cam twice since she'd been here and neither conversation had given her much comfort. Cam had indicated Booth was struggling to deal with her "death" and was not doing well at all. He'd lost weight already, wouldn't eat, didn't appear to do much sleeping, wouldn't come to work, wouldn't talk to anyone. Sweets had attempted to help, but was summarily thrown out of Booth's apartment with the threat that if he returned without being asked, he'd be shot on sight. Booth had apparently also been attempting to make arrangements for a service and make sure everyone who should be informed had been, but the FBI had been surreptitiously blocking those efforts. The team wanted at least another few days before any kind of memorial was held in hopes they'd catch up to Lockton quickly. It was, however, starting to look like the funeral would be the best place to lure him out.
It would have been almost funny, really. Capturing the suspect at Brennan's funeral just as they'd captured the suspect at Booth's. But somehow Brennan couldn't bring herself to be amused. She turned herself on the bed and curled up around her pillow. It wasn't like her to contemplate her emotions, much better to tuck them away, especially in a situation like this. But she couldn't seem to help herself. Her thoughts continued to return to Booth and the pain she imagined he was going through at this moment. While everyone seemed to think that Booth's faked death had not cracked her cool exterior, this was not the case. She'd spent quite a few of the nights during the two weeks before his funeral either crying into her pillow or punching it in anger.
She jumped up from the bed in frustration and began pacing the room, staring blindly at the dirty beige carpet. As she paced, another thought occurred to her. She stopped, drawing in a deep breath and wrapping her arms around her belly. What if he was so angry at her deception he didn't want to see here anymore or be her partner anymore? What if he couldn't forgive her? She was doing all this to protect him, but what if he didn't believe her?
No, no, no, she thought. He'd said he loved her, he couldn't just abandon her after this. Well, ok, he hadn't really said he loved her, but she assumed that's what he meant when he said he wanted to give their relationship a try. Of course, she thought, didn't that make her betrayal that much more ugly? If she knew he was in love with her and still agreed to deceive him with something as large and seemingly permanent as her death, what sort of person did that make her?
She began pacing again, fists clenching and un-clenching as she tried to make sense of the feelings swirling around inside her head. She wasn't any good at dealing with this sort of thing and it had been a long time since there'd been anyone in her life that mattered the way that Booth did. And that was telling as well, wasn't it, she decided. While she understood there were people in her life that would be saddened by her death, she wasn't consumed with thoughts of how this would affect those people. She was consumed with thoughts of how it would affect Booth. It always came back to Booth in the end. He was the other part that made up the sum of the whole of who she was. When that happened, exactly, she wasn't sure, but somewhere along the way, he'd integrated himself into the very center of her. And now she was afraid that part would be ripped away from her, leaving something jagged and empty in its place.
Brennan shook her head and sank back down on the edge of the bed. No, he wouldn't do that to her. He'd understand that she was trying to save them both. He'd be happy she wasn't really dead, Lockton would be in jail and life would go back to normal. They'd be partners and he'd still be her best friend. Wouldn't he?
~~BB~~
Booth sat in his apartment, staring at the bottom of his last bottle of whiskey. He'd had far too much to drink over the last few days, but sometimes it was the only way to get any relief from the unrelenting pain. He set the empty bottle carefully back on the coffee table and stood to walk to the bathroom. His legs were a little wobbly, but he steadied himself and made his way across the room. Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, a brief moment of shock penetrated his grief and whiskey induced haze. Jesus, he looked like hell...eyes sunken in and dull, several days of not shaving having produced a ragged looking beard, cheeks hollow and bags under his eyes big enough to serve as luggage for a week's vacation.
He shook his head at the vision and leaned over to splash cold water on his face. He really should take a shower and get cleaned up. Get himself out of this apartment. Get some fresh air. Get a grip. Cam was on his ass several times a day over the phone (he'd threatened to shoot anyone coming to the door, especially Sweets). Maybe if he went to lunch with her today, she'd leave him alone for a few more days.
He flipped on the shower as hot as it would go and waited for it to heat. He really just couldn't stand the look of pity in her eyes when she looked at him. It just reminded him even more of how much he'd lost. And it wasn't just mourning for the loss of his partner, his best friend, his whole fucking world, but also for the relationship they never had, the love they never had the chance to explore. Even as he was insisting he was moving on, he knew in his heart he wasn't giving up on her. He was just giving her more time to come to the same realization he had...they were meant to be together in every way. It had never occurred to him that there wouldn't be more time; that he didn't have as long as it took to convince her that his love was deep and true.
Booth stepped into the steaming hot shower and groaned as the water coursed over him. He stood under the spray, torturing himself with the excessive heat for a few minutes before turning up the cold water enough to make a comfortable temperature. Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and reached to wipe the mirror free of steam. He shaved carefully, figuring that if he looked at least halfway human Cam would cut him some slack.
Clean, newly shaved and dressed in his favorite jeans and Grateful Dead t-shirt, he called Cam at the lab to invite her to lunch. She seemed surprised, but readily agreed to meet him at the diner at one. His plan was to try to convince her that he was dealing just fine with his loss on his own and she should just leave him be. He wasn't really convinced his plan would work, knowing Cam as he did, but he figured it was worth a shot. Booth understood that what he was doing wasn't healthy. All the booze and the crying and the sleepless nights and the lack of food. He also understood that his friends just wanted to help and they were suffering too. He wasn't the only one who had lost someone; the family had lost one of its own. Booth understood all those things, but for now, he just couldn't bear the thought of sharing this with them.
It might be selfish, sure, but at the moment he just didn't give a damn. He needed his time and his space to try to figure out where the hell he was supposed to go from here. A huge part of the sum of the whole that was him was gone, ripped away, leaving a jagged and empty place behind. He thought he deserved some time to grieve for all those things, to find his center again, to find his way out of this crushing agony. Then, when he was ready, when he had started the healing process, only then would he come out and join the world again.
He glanced at the clock on the wall and realized it was time to leave to meet Cam. She'd probably panic if he was five seconds late and start calling his cell. He sighed heavily and flicked off the lights as he opened the door for the first time in three days. He smirked to himself as he pulled it shut behind him, locking it.
He may as well go out now; he was out of whiskey and he hadn't yet been able to find anyone who delivered Jack Daniels.
A/N: Sorry for the wait between the last chapter and this one...apparently sometimes you actually have to do work when you go to work! ;) One of my lovely reviewers wondered if Booth would forgive Brennan for the fake death and I thought it was such an interesting question, I had her contemplate it here, so thank you for that! Also, I had to stop and fan myself a few times as I was writing the shower scene...is that a bad sign? ;) I'll try to update a little quicker with the next chapter...some things are coming to a head, so please stick around!
