Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Hands in her pocket, wind whipping at her face, Temperance Brennan walked silently out of the hospital with tears streaming down her cheeks. She had come to realize that even though she prepared for it for months, eight to be exact, she could never be ready for what she knew would happen all along.

He had been admitted to the hospital on her birthday with flu-like symptoms, and a few days later the bomb was dropped. He had cancer. He had cancer, and the doctors weren't so hopeful. But even though they were going into the battle with half the army they thought they would have, it still didn't stop them from fighting. They had tried every type of chemo available, spent countless hours talking to doctors and specialists about possible options, and spent every day at the hospital hoping one day that everything would be ok and he wouldn't be sick anymore.

But hoping only gets you somewhere half the time. The other half of the time you were stuck where she was now, crying miserably and wondering why. Why everything always happened to you. Why everyone you loved left you by yourself in the world with nowhere to go and no one to go to. But you hate having a one-man pity party and you know that's not totally true. You still have Booth and Ange and even Hodgins and Cam. But for some reason or another that's just not good enough. You want your dad for the first time since you were fifteen and he left you and your brother on Christmas day. But embracing the natural human action of "wanting" is another thing you've deprived yourself of since those days as a teen. You know that want you want will never come true because they never have. It is pointless to work yourself up for something you know won't happen anyway. So you put one foot in front of the other as you head down the street to your car hoping that maybe, just maybe, this was all a dream and you'd wake up tomorrow and he'd be ok.

---

She reached for his hand as they entered the funeral parlor. Everything was set for the next two days. Today, friends and family would come to pay their respects while she stood in the front, receiving hugs and condolences for four straight hours. Tomorrow they would meet here to say their last goodbyes and watch in sorrow as they solemnly led him to his final resting place, a twelve- foot- wide-six-foot-deep hole in the ground where he would lay for eternity under a simply marked gravestone that read "Max Keenan. Husband, Father, Friend."

The room was dimly lit, and around his coffin lay arrangements of flowers sent by co-workers, friends, and a family she didn't even know existed until a few days ago. She leaned in closer as they spoke a few quiet words to the funeral parlor director, signed the little white book, and made her way into the room where her father was showcased for the world to see.

She had dealt with many dead people before but for some reason the image of her father laying dead in a black box irked her a little. With her head bowed in sorrow she and Booth made their way up to his eternally sleeping figure and knelt down on the cushion. She watched as he made the sign of the cross and bowed his head, most likely praying to the God she didn't believe existed. Turning her focus to her father she couldn't help but notice how peaceful he finally looked. He had been struggling with cancer for the past eight months, and she remembered stopping by at the hospital almost every night watching as he tossed and turned on his bed, his face contorted, as he tried to fight off the pain he was undoubtedly feeling.

She touched his arm; she was not surprised when her warm, life-filled hand met is stony, icy skin. She looked at his face, desperately trying to remember the man she knew when she was little. This was to no avail. The cancer had done damage to his face, blisters starting from up his neck onto the planes of his forehead. His face was aged a good twenty years and the joyful, soulful eyes she was so used to seeing were closed forever, never to be reopened again.

All she could do was stare. It was like she was in a trance, watching him sleep like she used to when she was little. It was only a matter of time before he noticed her presence and woke up. But that didn't happen. Yet, she still kneeled there watching him with an unreadable expression. She stayed there for a good ten minutes when Booth finally put a hand on her shoulder, whispering in her ear to "come on." She didn't want to get up but her body had a mind of its own. She felt herself get up and watched as Russ and Amy kneeled down by her father to pay their respects as well. The farther he took her though, the more she craned her neck to see him. She still couldn't keep her eyes away. She didn't know why she was behaving this way; it was weird. She knew he was dead; yet, she couldn't quite place the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach every time she looked his way.

She wasn't sad. No, sad required her to feel depressed and possibly on the verge of tears. She wasn't like that at all. No tears, no depression. She wasn't angry at him for leaving this world, no. She was actually surprisingly calm because she knew that he was no longer in any pain. She knew that there was no hope and he wasn't getting any better. She was happy for him that his suffering was over. But not quite happy either. She wasn't really anything; she was numb. Numb was probably the best way to describe it.

So she took her numb body and mind and went through the rest of the motions of the wake and funeral. She held Amy as she cried, gave Russ tissues when he needed them, took Angela's hand in comfort as she began to break down, and even wrapped her arms around Booth's torso as tears began welling up in his eyes. She was the strong one in this situation, as always. At this point she didn't care if she was seen as "cold" or "heartless," she just wanted to help take her family and friends' pain away. That was the only thing she could do to keep her mind active and in true Temperance Brennan fashion, she succeeded with flying colors.

The day's festivities came to an end with a final goodbye at his resting place, a quiet hill by the river, trees plastered to the background in a picturesque scene she'd only seen in the movies. Everything was calm, a slight breeze in the air was the only thing giving some resemblance of life to this dull, despondent moment. She let Booth guide her to the limousine, and she carefully lowered herself into the car, resting her head on his shoulder. The drive to Russ's house was quiet, each occupant of the car lost in their own thoughts, silently remembering the one they once held dear.

When the limo arrived, they all made their way to the front door of the house, each quietly remembering the steps he had once taken in the very spot. It seemed almost fake, like a silent film no one wanted to see. Yet, they all were engrossed in every aspect of the film, attached to all the main characters in some way or another. The members of the procession followed in behind the immediate family and they all settled down to eat. Putting nothing but a piece of fruit on her plate, Temperance sat down on the couch and was almost immediately joined by her partner whose plate was filled to the top with pastas and other entrees. She looked at his plate with interest wondering how he could eat at a time like this. Then she heard her own stomach growl and looked at her plate with disgust. She was far too weak to get up to get more food, so she turned her attention back to her dish. Just as she was about to take her first bite, she noticed a fork in front of her face. She looked to her right to find her partner flashing her that all too familiar charm-smile as he pulled out a second fork from behind his back. Even in a time like this, she couldn't help but smile back.

It was one of those moments they had been sharing more and more frequently these days. The whole world disappeared and it was just them. Seeley and Temperance. Booth and Bones. G-man and his Squint. Two people just waiting to become one.

He placed his dish in between them and the partners continued to eat in silence. Sometime during the meal however, Booth's arm found its way around her shoulders, and her hand had somehow found itself in a death grip on his shirt. When the plate was empty she buried her head in the crook of his neck, and he gently stroked her back. They stayed this way for so long she lost track of time, and when she finally opened her eyes after what seemed like a few minutes, she found Booth asleep with his head resting against hers. Carefully looking at her watch, she noticed they had dozed off for over forty minutes. Feeling to guilty to wake him, she took the precious moments she had to watch him.

She had done this many times before, but somehow this time seemed different. She was finally able to see the true man Seeley Booth was under all the walls he had so carefully built around him all these years. His face had true stress lines by his eyes and he had creases in his forehead, but he still looked amazing in her eyes. He seemed relaxed and at ease, and she wondered if it had anything to do with the current position they were in. Her left arm was wrapped around his stomach and her right was wrapped around his back, engulfing him in one of the most affectionate hugs she had ever experienced. His arms were wrapped around hers in a similar fashion, as if they were clinging on to each other for dear life.

She appreciated this man so much, and she had let him into her heart without much of a fight. This was most likely why she let him take her home after the gathering was over, and take her in his arms as he carried her, bridal style, upstairs. She had fallen asleep on the ride home, and as she buried her face into his shirt, she thought about how he could read her mind and give her exactly what she needed. He proved that again as he made his way to her room and placed her under her covers, climbing in next to her without a word. They both knew this was what she wanted and needed. This man never seized to amaze her. As he wrapped his arms around her again and brought her body to his, they seemed to mold together in a way not even she could explain. They just seemed to fit. And she knew it was cliché, and she knew it was overwritten, but he was just what she needed. Today. Tomorrow. Forever. Always. Together.

END

A/N: This ones been sitting on my computer for awhile and I've been hesitant to put it up. Hopefully, it wasn't too depressing for you and hopefully there was enough about BB for all of you fluff lovers! Tell me what you think! Thanks!!