OOM: We Pay Our Not So Final Respects
“I’m not going. I’ve already made that clear.”
“It’s Agent Booth’s funeral, Dr. Brennan,” Dr. Sweets said. “Losing a loved one is--”
“A partner, Sweets. I lost a partner,” Brennan corrected, coldly.
Partner in this context implied a relationship based on the necessities of a work environment rather than any sort of emotional connection. Brennan had fallen back on that label for Booth more and more in the past two weeks. It’s easier to lose a partner than a friend.
Funerals, in Brennan’s mind, are largely pointless. They are nothing more than elaborate social rituals designed to give people an acceptable outlet for grief. The funeral allows you to grieve so you can come to terms with his death, was what Sweets had said.
Brennan, in her mind, had already come to terms with Booth’s death. There had been the period of shock while her mind had adjusted to the state. There had been an hour or so of open grief when she had accepted it (her father’s concern and hovering had far outlasted the grieving period). And now, logically, there is nothing to be done but move forward.
She did not feel the need to partake of a ritual that was, at its core, more for the living than the dead.
But in the end she had gone for the living. Angela could be very persuasive.
If nothing else, she could be the voice of calm and rationality for the rest of the team.
Brennan was so calm and rational that when a very much alive Booth broke out of the line of Honor Guard to tackle the strange man approaching the casket to pay respects (a casket that, during the melee, was upended reveling a weighted dummy body inside) she couldn’t even react with shock.
Instinct born out of three years of partnership had taken over as Brennan watched Booth grapple with the stranger. She grabbed one of the dummy’s arms and clubbed the strange man over the head, knocking him unconscious.
Much to the apparent delight of Booth. Booth, whom she had thought dead for the last two weeks.
“Bones! Nice shot!” he said, grinning down at her. The grin faltered a bit as he took in her expression. “What?”
Brennan just stared up at him for a moment. She had thought this man was dead. And given the logical improbability of an afterlife, and his absence from Milliways, she had come to terms with the fact that she would never see him again. Gone forever.
Brennan looked up at her partner. Her friend. Her loved one.
Then slugged him in the face for all she was worth.
And walked away.
“It’s Agent Booth’s funeral, Dr. Brennan,” Dr. Sweets said. “Losing a loved one is--”
“A partner, Sweets. I lost a partner,” Brennan corrected, coldly.
Partner in this context implied a relationship based on the necessities of a work environment rather than any sort of emotional connection. Brennan had fallen back on that label for Booth more and more in the past two weeks. It’s easier to lose a partner than a friend.
Funerals, in Brennan’s mind, are largely pointless. They are nothing more than elaborate social rituals designed to give people an acceptable outlet for grief. The funeral allows you to grieve so you can come to terms with his death, was what Sweets had said.
Brennan, in her mind, had already come to terms with Booth’s death. There had been the period of shock while her mind had adjusted to the state. There had been an hour or so of open grief when she had accepted it (her father’s concern and hovering had far outlasted the grieving period). And now, logically, there is nothing to be done but move forward.
She did not feel the need to partake of a ritual that was, at its core, more for the living than the dead.
But in the end she had gone for the living. Angela could be very persuasive.
If nothing else, she could be the voice of calm and rationality for the rest of the team.
Brennan was so calm and rational that when a very much alive Booth broke out of the line of Honor Guard to tackle the strange man approaching the casket to pay respects (a casket that, during the melee, was upended reveling a weighted dummy body inside) she couldn’t even react with shock.
Instinct born out of three years of partnership had taken over as Brennan watched Booth grapple with the stranger. She grabbed one of the dummy’s arms and clubbed the strange man over the head, knocking him unconscious.
Much to the apparent delight of Booth. Booth, whom she had thought dead for the last two weeks.
“Bones! Nice shot!” he said, grinning down at her. The grin faltered a bit as he took in her expression. “What?”
Brennan just stared up at him for a moment. She had thought this man was dead. And given the logical improbability of an afterlife, and his absence from Milliways, she had come to terms with the fact that she would never see him again. Gone forever.
Brennan looked up at her partner. Her friend. Her loved one.
Then slugged him in the face for all she was worth.
And walked away.