Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or anything to do with it and the song is Who Knew by Pink and fits amazingly well.

Summary: He promised her forever and she believed him. They told her he was dead. She told them they were wrong.

A/N: I have no idea how long it is after some is missing in America they are declared officially dead but I do know that in England, at least according to the site I went on, it is three years.

I tried to research American law on the net but all I got was some very strange things that I didn't understand the only one I could read said something about married women in Kentucky and parachuting so I decided to go with the English one okay? My apologies for any inaccuracies, but the way it is I have that time stretch to fit in everything I want too.

IMPORTANT: Mack Winters, if you have read anything leading on from Flick of the Switch you will know who he is. For those who don't, he's a character of my own making, a FBI agent that is also a friend of Booth's. Personally I really like him and so I decided to use him in most of my other Bones fictions as well. You do NOT need to have read any of my other fanfictions to understand this.

Chapter 1: That's Life.

Grief is the worst of all human emotions. Your soul is torn in two, your heart is shattered and the last thing you want to hear is the only thing anyone will say. The words I understand mean nothing and the words I'm sorry make you scream. Time won't make things better; it is only wasted seconds, which you count wondering when the torture will end. Tomorrow may be another day to them but to her it is merely another lifetime without him.


One date. That's all it had been. One date, one movie and dinner. A single night that she remembered every single thing about down to the time he had picked her up to the movie's title. He had promised her everything and she had believed him. Stupidly she had believed.

One thousand, one hundred and one days Agent Seeley Booth had taken Dr Temperance Brennan out on a date.

One thousand and ninety four days ago he had gone undercover.

One thousand and eighty nine days ago he was pronounced missing.

Seven days ago he had been declared officially dead.

Ten minutes ago, she knew he wasn't.

You took my hand,

You showed me how,

You promised me you'd be around,

Ahuh that's right,

I took your words,

And I believed,

In everything you said to me,

Yeah huh that's right,

Time passes and you move on, no that's wrong. You forget. They tell you moving on is part of healing and it just takes time. That's the reason they tell you it. Moving on is forgetting. You may not forget the person completely but you do forget; the image in your mind fades, the sound of their voice is lost to a memory you cannot conjure and the pain you felt when they left is forgotten.

What they tell you is a lie.

Temperance hates lies. She hates mistruth, obfuscation. She likes fact, cold hard fact, two-plus-two-is-four-no-room-for-discussion kind of fact. She does not have time for miscalculations and misinterpretation, guesses and idle speculation. It leads you no where. That's why this angered her so.

Life is an incomprehensible, inescapable occurrence that you cannot possibly try to understand. It is a concept that cannot be understood; the reason we're here, were we created merely to destroy ourselves and take the world down with us? Or do we have a higher meaning? It is all part of on thing and one thing only. Time.

She dealt with the harsh realities of time and of life and of death every single day of her life. Dreamt the dreams that no one else did and saw things that no one else should. Time passed by and all it took was one moment for her to realise she felt as dead as the corpse in front of her and she could be brought back to life by the touch of one man and one man only.

Every person around her, whom she saw every day should know precisely the meanings of life and of death and despite what anyone else said she refused to believe he was dead.

One can say that they believe a loved one is dead and therefore they grieve and cry and weep but until the body is presented, the cause of death given and the remains buried she herself refused to believe this time.

If someone said three years from now,

You'd be long gone,

I'd stand up and punch them out,

Cause they're all wrong,

I knew better,

Cause you said forever,

And ever,

Who knew?

She was sat in the dark of her bedroom, she refused to turn the light on, the slight ache that came as she forced herself to make out the silhouettes in the blacked out room was comforting in an odd way.

It was only… five AM she could go to work? No why go to work? He wouldn't be there. He would never be there, not now everyone had given up hope.


Hope, time, life, death. To live and let live. To watch as people fell and rose around you. That was life. It wasn't velvet tears and satin lips; it wasn't roses and laughter, tears, pain. Money and expensive cars, all night parties, husbands, wives and children. One likes to believe it is but it's not. Life is to watch, to see and to feel. That's what life is.

Remember when we were such fools,

And so convinced and just too cool,

Oh no, no, no,

Some say life is precious. And to some, she supposed, it was. To those who took it because they could not stand to see their man with another woman, or that someone could have love and they could not or simply because they were addicted to the kick it gave. To others it is so worthless they take it themselves.

In some ways she preferred those who killed others; they could not help themselves, something in their brains, in their blood made them the way they were but those who killed themselves… suicide was cowardice. An inability to face a world that at the same time as kicking you whilst you were down could turn such an all encompassing darkness into a flickering light which only needed nurturing before it was ten times as powerful as the dark.

I wish I could touch you again,

I wish I could still call you friend,

I'd give, anything,

Booth was not dead. He was alive and the only problem with that is that she was the only one that believed it. She would be ignored once more, just like when the rumours had started when she had been referred to a psychologist at one point. She had turned them down less than gratefully and was not inclined to speak to Cullen again any time soon.

Pushing the sheets back she got out of bed and dressed, she was in no hurry and it gave her more time to think and to wonder and to plan.

5.10 AM.

Technically still too early to work but no, she could still go in. There was the Garratt case that the paperwork still needed to be filled out on and she really needed to sort through some of the papers on her desk…

The lab was pitched in darkness and she was loathe to turn the lights on the buzzing that would follow would just make it that much clearer that it was as silent as it was.

The others would be in later and they would not bat an eyelid as she was regularly in before dawn but the anticipation that had long since dissipated was back and she hated it. She wanted to ignore it because she knew the disappointment that would come with her in great waves was so much worse.

When someone said count your blessings now,

'Fore they're long gone,

I guess I just didn't know how,

I was all wrong,

But they knew, better,

Still you said forever,

And ever,

Who Knew,

The light from her lamp illuminated her desk and despite her normal preferences she did not turn the computer on, filling the documents out by hand. Why? The computer buzzed too.

Margaret and Phillip Garratt died from bullets to the head…

Dreams are merely your subconscious' way of dealing with the issues you faced every day. It would act out scenarios or replay the most tragic events of your life again and again searching for a reason, a moment in which something could have been done because knowing something is your fault is easier to face, in a way, than guessing.

So maybe… maybe dreaming about him, about his voice and his face and the touch of his skin against hers when he had taken her hand. Maybe that was just what it had appeared as; a dream rather than what she, despite her usual beliefs, hoped it was.

Communication; fate's way of telling her he needed her help, that every single other person in this god forsaken city was wrong and he was alive.

small indentations in the bone of both Margaret and Phillip's forearms suggest that they both tried to defend themselves. The indentations spread to Phillip's forehead and neck, which works along side the idea that Margaret, was killed, or at the very least restrained first and he tried to get to her…

But the dreams had stopped months ago. Months ago when she pushed them to the furthest back of her mind. Refusing to even acknowledge it when she woke drenched in sweat and screaming as in her minds eye she saw the decomposed and rotting remains of one of her best friends lying on a gurney in the Jeffersonian lab where she had seen every age of bone. From remains claiming to have been from the time of Jesus Christ right down to new born children but she had never, ever even wanted to consider the fact that maybe she would one day have to examine the remains of one of her friends. Her self created family.

I'll keep you locked in my head,

Until we meet again,

Until we, until we meet again,

And I won't forget you my friend,

What happened?

No one. Not even Cullen or any one who had been with Booth the day that he had gone missing knew what had happened. And that just did not make sense! How could a man, a FBI agent go missing like that, without a trace, without even trying to escape himself?

Don't do this to yourself, she thought, he has tried he just can't… or maybe… maybe he likes it where he is, maybe he wants to be there.

That was ridiculous. Sarcastic Seeley Booth may have been, be, be, but he was not cruel. Overprotective, yes, had a hero complex, most definitely but he would not make idle promises. Not to her, to the woman he had saved the life of more times than either of them cared to remember.

Signing the next few documents she jumped when the main light of her office was switched on and was even more surprised to see Mack stood there.

"Tempe" he sighed with the air of someone who was sympathetic but knew she despised anyone who gave it to her.

"What're you doing here so early?"

"I was going to ask you the same question" he said as she crossed to a filing cabinet on the other side of the room and put a file in there, when she didn't answer "couldn't sleep. What's your excuse?"

"What do you think?" she said, sarcastic for her but damn wasn't it obvious?

If someone said three years from now,

You'd be long gone,

I'd stand up and punch them out,

Cause they're all wrong and,

That last kiss, I'll cherish,

Until we meet again,

And time makes it harder,

I wish I could remember,

But I keep, your memory,

You visit me in my sleep,

My darlin' who knew,

Mack took a breath "he really did love you, you know"

"Then where is he?" she snapped without meaning to, the abandoned woman inside her rearing her head.

"I don't… I don't know but if he could be here you know he would"

"You don't have to say it Mack. I know okay? I know what you're thinking" she went back to her desk and say in front of it, gathering discarded post its and after reading them scrunching them up and throwing them in the waste paper basket at her feet.

"Oh yeah?" he sat in the chair opposite her casually, folding his hands on his stomach "what's that then?"

She raised an eyebrow "it doesn't matter Mack. I have work to do" wow, there's a desk under this lot…

"What happened?" he asked sincerely. Mack was the one person that hadn't acted nervous round her for the first few months after Booth had gone missing, who even as everyone else, including Angela, didn't give her a concerned look when no one else was looking.

My darlin' my darlin' who knew,

My darlin' I miss you,

My darlin' who knew,

Mack was the one that had told her that Cullen had people tailing her when she drove home, had people watching her as she walked round the grocery store all because they believe that she would do something rash. Cullen had never made such an impact on her life before and yet ever since Booth had gone missing he had made his presence known in the most irritating of ways.

"I saw him" she slowed down but did not stop, sorting her pens and pencils so they were the right way up "in a dream… I… it's stupid Mack but I just I know" she looked up after placing the stationary back in the pot.

He peered into her eyes "you think he's alive" he murmured.

She gave a half laugh, sounding almost insane "I always have Mack"

His next words were what shocked her and what made her freeze completely, staring at him through wide eyes "so have I"

Who knew?

I am working on LLE at the moment so I should have an update on that as soon as I can, but in the mean time how badly have I screwed up this time?