"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up."— Neil Gaiman
"Losing a loved one…"
"Partner, Sweets, I lost a partner." Her correction was automatic, they had said it so many times. Not that she would have to any more, though--in a year's time, the only person she might have to say that to was herself.
"Someone close to you." Marginally better. "The funeral allows you to grieve so you can come to terms with his death."
What if I don't want to? some part of her shrieked while the rest of her took refuge in her beloved anthropology. "The Arunta aboriginal tribe in Australia grieve by burning down their village and moving to a new one. That seems no crazier to me than gathering around a hole in the ground."
Loved one? The rest of her mind dwelled on his earlier comment, and she set her jaw, determined to let nothing else show as she looked over the Provencal skeleton. Mom used to say when I asked her that you just knew when it was love--if you questioned it, it probably wasn't. I hated that answer. Still do. Because I didn't know until it was too late. Love? Yes, I loved him. I'm sure of it now. But he's gone and so are my chances, so why admit it? He was just my partner and friend, that's all, she thought, not for the first time, trying to convince herself. No more, no less.
She knew her withdrawal had upset her friends, especially Angela. But she had no words left to explain. Always too slow to understand feelings. Even my own. She would simply have to live with Booth's death and the gaping metaphorical hole in her heart. Surely it couldn't be any worse than losing her parents.
It should actually be easier, she mused a short time later, sitting stoically next to Angela in the car. Her friend wielded emotional blackmail better than anyone on the planet when she had a mind to. Even Brennan wasn't immune, and had finally given in and let them escort her out of the lab. After all, I know what happened to him. I'm an adult now. I lived 30 years not even knowing him, surely I can go another 30 remembering him.
She let her friends, rather, her family--she had to remember she wasn't entirely alone this time--pull her out of the car, walk her over to the grave site. They all stood in a line, backs to an Army honor guard, but she kept her eyes fixed on other things: the grass at her feet, the roses in their vase, the headstones beyond the other attendees. Not that she knew any of them besides Caroline and Cullen.
And she was well aware of her coworkers' surreptitious glances as they checked on her. Maybe later, she would appreciate their concern. Now, however… She compressed her mouth, striving to prevent any emotional outburst. If I start, I won't stop.
Caroline laid a rose on top of the coffin and everything hit Brennan all at once. This really was it, the final, ultimate event in Booth's life. Once that coffin was lowered into the ground, he would be completely gone--except for all the little reminders scattered about her office and apartment, the too-vivid memories in her head. She truly would have preferred the Arunta way with its fewer reminders. Maybe I should go on a dig, where I won't be expecting him to show up every time I turn around.
When one of the honor guard suddenly pushed his way through their line, though, she was simply resigned, rather than indignant as she might have been in the past. When had anything gone as it should around him? Now, her life would be empty of such surprises; two years ago, she would have welcomed it. Not his death, never that, but the predictability.
Later, she wondered at how natural and automatic her reactions were (no wonder he had thought she knew!). She wasn't sure her conscious mind had even registered it was Booth before she had moved.
It was that incredulous look on his face, that blurted "what?" that blew her apart. All her carefully reconstructed walls, her uncertainty, her grief and guilt--gone in a heartbeat and the swing of a fist. And her pain--and love--lying sprawled on the ground behind her as she stormed away.
I hoped I captured what had to be wildly fluctuating emotions for her. Please let me know what I did right--or wrong!
