Special thanks to Baileyjane, who read the other incarnation of this chapter...the one that will never see the light of day. Your thoughts are much appreciated. And to my other twitter girls as well. Thanks for the laughs and support.

Chapter Two

The world should be different.

Although she knows this is an absurd thought, Brennan cannot help but feel that the world should be different.

Vincent is dead.

Broadsky has been captured.

She and Booth are…they're them, but more. Better.

Her life is completely different.

This is the first time she's been out and about among the rest of the world since Vincent…since that shot came through the Jeffersonian glass and changed everything.

And she feels different.

But all these other people, all these men and women rushing around, talking on their phones, driving their cars, going home, going to work, going on dates, having dinner…their lives are the same as they were yesterday. They just…keep going, exactly as the days before and she feels as if she wants to tell them that nothing is the same and never will be again.

Of course their lives are the same. But hers is not and it seems odd that anyone's would be.

She feels disoriented. It's like she is swimming upstream, slow motion, against a tide of normalcy.

She is so off kilter she's failed to realize the time. Florists are closed. She had wanted to get a spray for Vincent's casket. The idea of sending it off without anything is abhorrent to her. There should not be a plain, ordinary casket for a young man who was anything but plain. A boy, really, who was so much more than ordinary.

But she had lost track of the time and so she stands now, in a big box store staring at wilted bouquets and finds them extremely lacking. Unsure of what to do next, the indecisiveness likely stemming from exhaustion and grief, she spots a hydrangea plant and remembers something that makes it clear it's the only good option.

"Did you know, Dr. Brennan, that Faial Island in Portugal is called "The Blue Island" because of its abundance of blue hydrangea plants?"

So she grabs it and takes it to the register and pays and it's all so normal for such an abnormal purchase that when the clerk tells her to have a nice night she can barely contain the gasp that threatens to escape.

This night will not be nice. It will be brutal. Of this she is certain.

She is also certain that Booth will be her anchor and while the kick start for this new turn in their relationship is tragic and difficult, the relationship itself is the very thing that is holding her upright.

She arrives at the Jeffersonian just before nine, and though the hearse is set to arrive at any time, she allows herself a few minutes to prepare for the assault on her emotions that she knows is about to occur. She has never been one who believes in ceremony and rituals for the dead. She has always understood they are for the living. She can certainly appreciate that, but knowing this send off might make her feel better in the end does not make her look forward to facing it right now.

Old Brennan would have locked herself in Bone Storage and not come out for a few days. This Brennan, the one forging a new relationship and a new kind of openness, will not.

She arrives at the loading dock after the others. Though she suspects not everyone likes her plant, Angela assures her it's perfect and she herself knows that it is, so she decides not to be concerned about anyone else's interpretation of her choice.

Especially once she sees her partner looking at her in a way she hasn't seen in a while. She used to fear that look a little bit. It is now and has always been so unguarded, his feelings unchecked until he remembers to school his features into ambivalence. She finds now that she welcomes the look he wears now, feels reassured by it. More than anything she is glad to see it because she suspects a similar expression has crossed her face as well.

And suddenly, as awful as this moment is, as difficult as it is, she understands this ritual of honoring the dead to comfort the living. While all the others share a piece of trivia Vincent shared with them, it is only she who knows and shares something personal about Vincent himself. It is then that she understands that she did have a connection with him, knew him and she can only hope that Vincent recognized it too.

Sweets begins to sing and while that might seem inappropriate to some, it does not seem wrong to her. Funerals are often music heavy and it seems right to sing a song that meant something to the person for whom they are singing. It's a silly, nonsensical song, really, like much of Vincent's trivia and it feels absolutely like the right way to send him off.

They all lift the casket, save a very pregnant Angela who should not lift anything, and they slide it, slide Vincent, hydrangea and all, into the hearse.

The door is shut and he is gone and the need for physical comfort is great. In a move she would not have dared to make just days before but now cannot imagine not making, she leans into Booth ever so slightly and links her arm through his. She cannot tear her eyes away from the hearse as it pulls away, taking her favorite intern's body home to his family.

She feels sad. There is no other, more accurate word that comes to mind, but she also feels better. Booth's acceptance of her touch, his understanding of the gesture, makes this moment something she allows herself to feel, rather than something she tries to stuff down into compartmentalization. She realizes in that instant that while Vincent's body is on it's way home to his family, she is on a Jeffersonian loading dock with hers and that there is no one else she would rather share her grief with, no one who will understand it more, than these people here.

So they sing on and go inside and share a drink and more fond memories of the British intern. And they laugh and remember and celebrate a young man whose promise never got the chance to turn into the greatness she is certain it would have.

It is Hodgins who breaks the night up first, with the decision that Angela needs to go home and his wife is too tired to argue, which only proves the bug man is correct. There are hugs all around and Angela whispers in her ear "Don't be scared. Let it ride, okay?" Brennan nods because she has no intention of doing anything destructive and isn't the least bit scared.

Sweets leaves with them while Cam goes to her office to call and double check that the casket made it onto the plane, leaving Brennan and Booth alone in her office.

"You okay, Bones?" he asks softly.

"I will be."

He nods because words would seem empty, but the silence is comforting just the same.

After a while she says, "He wore my iguana like a hat once." She is facing the iguana's tank, her back to Booth.

Booth smiles but doesn't answer because her words don't require one.

"He said he was clever with ribbons. I'm still not sure how it was possible." She turns to look at him now. "But I like that I know that."

"It's a good thing to know, Bones."

Cam returns then, coat on, ready to leave. Vincent's body is safely on it's way home and Cam is exhausted and says she just wants to go home and hug Michelle.

"You ready?" Booth asks her and she knows that she is not, not quite yet.

"Perhaps you should walk Cam out while I pack up."

He nods, and Brennan wonders if he knows why she is stalling.

"Goodnight, Dr. Brennan." Cam offers and impulsively, Brennan feels the need to hug her, so she does.

"Goodnight, Dr. Saroyan. Thank you."

Cam returns the hug. "He loved you, Dr. Brennan. Don't doubt it."

Brennan steps back and notices the tears in her boss' eyes. "Go be with Michelle." She can't think of what else to say, but that seems appropriate enough.

"I'll be right back." Booth says over his shoulder as he escorts Cam out of her office and Brennan rewards him with a wan smile.

When they are gone, she puts on her coat and puts some files in her bag, draws the blinds and turns out the lights to her office. She closes the door and walks to the spot where Vincent died beneath their hands.

She had thought she was all cried out, but the tears spring up now, just the same, and she tries to keep them from falling by looking upwards, but sees the temporary cover over the broken pane of glass. It hurts and the tears fall anyway.

But she also sees stars in the sky and she remembers something else, a conversation on the steps of the Jeffersonian late one night.

"Did you know, Dr. Brennan, that the constellation Delphinus, is thought to be named for the dolphin who persuaded Amphitrite to return to Poseidon and be his wife? It is believed that Poseidon placed Delphinus in the heavens as a constellation as a thank you."

"Yes, Mr. Nigel Murray. I did actually know that."

"It's rather a lovely thought, isn't it? The idea of living forever among the stars?"

"Yes. I suppose it is." She looked up briefly and then: "Goodnight, Mr. Nigel Murray."

"Goodnight, Dr. Brennan."

"You ready, Bones?"

Booth's voice, as gentle as it is, startles her and it is too late to hide the tears. He doesn't pull her into his arms, though. Instead her takes her hand and threads his fingers through hers and looks up with her.

"You know, Bones, whatever you believe about where Vincent is now or what happens after a person dies…I know what I believe. He's in a good place now."

She nods because she knows his words are as much a comfort for himself and she thinks he deserves that.

"I will miss him." She admits. "He really was my favorite."

"Yeah. He was a good kid." He takes a small, almost imperceptible step back, silently asking her to come with him now and she does because she just wants to sleep and not think or feel this weight anymore tonight. The day has been long and while there have been good things in it, here, on her beloved forensics platform, the heaviness of the bad things feels like it is winning.

She climbs wordlessly into the SUV and he takes her home. He never asks if he should stay; it is a foregone conclusion that he will. She appreciates this certainty and is sure that he does too.

There is no awkwardness as they prepare for bed. She had thought there might be, but it is not like the night before, with closing doors and strange small talk. It's…easy and that's nice, the familiarity of seven years triumphing over the adjustment to this new dynamic.

He uses the restroom and she dons her pajamas and then they switch. They brush their teeth side by side and there is a rhythm to the routine that they seem to have already found. He catches her eyes in the mirror and grins at her, because this is surreal in a way and she has to smile back because she can admit now she has been waiting a long time for this kind of moment with him.

They climb into bed, still without words, he on the left and she, laying on her side, on the right. She reaches over and turns off the light on her side of the bed, plunging them into darkness.

He only hesitates a second before he says the words she has been hoping he would say.

"Come here."

So she scoots closer, still on her side and he scoots too, meeting her in the middle, pressing his chest into her back, burying his nose in her hair, enveloping her in his arms.

It's right. It's as it should be.

And so they sleep.

Together.

~Fin~

Thank you for reading.