The Way The Sky Holds

He's never seen her like this. Distracted, fumbling, irrational. This isn't Bones; she's so much more careful than that, so in control. He's been watching her the past few days, taking it all into heart, her mind running in every direction. There've been shadows under her eyes, her hair messy – just a little, but it was prominent enough to Booth. She sees herself in the victim – that's why. And it scares the shit out of him, imagining her consuming drugs to escape reality. Imagining her hurtling through the air as a car collides with her body, because she isn't herself. And for one moment, that almost happened. His heart is still beating out fast thump-thump-thumps after pulling her away from the speeding vehicle, the vision of headlights illuminating her crouched form in the darkness scorched into his brain.

Booth breathes out slowly as he drives, Bones sitting quietly in the passenger seat. He keeps glancing at her out of the corner of his eye; he can't stop. Her clothes are soaked through from the downpour outside, clinging to her pale skin. She shivers, her red hair darkened and hanging in stringy tresses, framing her beautiful face. Booth turns up the heater a little more, and takes in the brightness of Bones' green eyes.

He hopes now that this case is closed, Bones will return to her normal self. But her eyes tell him she's thinking about something. The way she's holding herself makes him wonder what's about to come. He wants to reach over and trace his finger along her jawbone – her mandible, as she would call it – as he says, "Maybe you just need a couple days off." Because you're scaring me.

And she's telling him she's alright now… To Booth's surprise, the next thing out of Bones' mouth is, "But I made a mistake."

With what?

The victim died with regrets.

Doesn't everyone?

Booth swallows. He knows he's going to die with regrets – that's for sure. Not being able to spend his life with Bones… That is something he'll never stop regretting. He would do anything, give anything, to be with her. But he told everyone he's moved on, and he has. They don't believe him, and neither does he himself. If he keeps saying it, over and over, maybe it'll be true. He can never get that night of out his head, though. He can't just stop feeling his lips against hers, her body taut with fear and rejection against his before he's pushed away, the way she struck him with her words and tears. I knew, I knew, I knew… Bones, I knew. I've always known.

She's speaking again. Talking about Micah and the universe. And suddenly: "He offered himself to her, but she never gave him a chance. That was her regret. I got my signal, Booth. I don't want to have any regrets."

Booth understands what Bones is saying. He's not stupid. He looks at her and sees her looking back at him, clarity and hope glimmering in those green eyes. So vulnerable, he can't help thinking. So vulnerable, so open. Everything about her is screaming to him, "I love you, Booth. I messed up that night, and I understand now. I love you."

He stops breathing for a moment. His heart stops beating; it suddenly hurts so much. Why is this happening?

Sucking in a breath, Booth waits for his heart to beat again, its thumps painful against the wall of his chest. The pangs vibrate through his entire being, and he forces himself to focus on driving, his gaze on the road ahead, willing the weakness of his body to dissipate.

They both have terrible timing, he realizes.

Maybe Bones had been right all along. Maybe they just weren't right for each other.

But he looks at her again, and looks away; he can't do this while staring into her intense gaze.

He's telling her he loves Hannah, but not with as much conviction as he would like. He sounds weak, and yet cold, to his own ears. He listens to her cry, and he can almost hear her fragile heart rip into pieces once again.

It's killing him inside, but all he can say is, "The last thing I want to do is hurt you, but you know, those are the facts." He wants to hurt himself. He's being cruel. But it's life, Booth tells himself, not a fairytale. He can't just up and leave Hannah because… he just can't. He loves her.

He loves her…

Yet all he wants to do is pull Bones into him and tangle up their bodies and kiss her everywhere and be with her forever—

The yearning is so breathtaking and painful he tightens his grip on the steering wheel; he needs to get a hold of himself, damn it.

That's what Bones is doing. She's hastily putting herself back together right now, blinking her tears away, telling him it's fine, she'll adjust.

Booth vaguely, bleakly, realizes the rain screaming down from the sky is fitting tonight, as he lies, "I did." I adjusted.

He's not lying.

But he is.

He's not. He is.

It rips through the air, his lie. Cuts through the smothering tension inside the SUV, draws blood from the wound it creates. And Bones believes him.

He wonders if he should have someone be with her, because he can't do it. No, he can't be the one to comfort her, to hold her in his arms like he's done before. He wants to be away from her, to be far away, so he can scream and cry alone. To curse life, to curse fate.

As he watches her get out of the car and walk away into her apartment, he hates himself in such a way he's never done before.

But there's nothing he can do, so he drives home – to Hannah.

Not Bones.