Be Your Love

The rain fell from the sky like tiny shards of glass, cold and prickling, as they slammed hard into her skin. She had been sitting on this bench for hours, since the sun had slipped below its darkened harness of a horizon in the distance, awaiting its slumber as it slowly rolled out of sight for it's evenings rest.

At first she hadn't even noticed the tiny droplets, the darkening of the sky, the gentle rolling thunder that echoed in the distance as it pushed at the clouds with invisible hands, coaxing them along the sky like a reluctant child in a game of follow the leader. The gentle droplets plopped unceremoniously onto her coat and her skirt, her bare knees, rolling down her skin to her shoes, tenuous droplets that increased in speed and frequency the longer she sat there.

She found no reason to stand, for there was no shelter within distance that would not find her soaked to the bones before she arrived there anyway, so alone she sat on the bench, staring into the dark, shallow reflecting pool as the monuments shone into its depths from the distance.

Across the pool, and several yards down the way sit a man, not unfamiliar with the sting of the cold rain on his skin. The former Army ranger sits alone, his suit jacket tight on his body as his tie hangs loosely around his neck. He had come to the pool in the darkness, his wrists tired from typing up paperwork, a task he typically would hand over to his partner, a woman who loved to use her hands for most everything. She was a woman of proof, a woman of evidence, and each and every experience for her had to be proven by herself, otherwise it didn't exist.

As the rain had begun to fall around him, each droplet staining his suit with a darkened blob, he closed his eyes and lifted his face, allowing his mind to wander as the cold, stinging drops splattered across his skin, cooling the warm feeling that any thoughts of his partner would bring to him. He had told her that he was going home after he completed his paperwork, and had even stopped at the diner, hoping to see her tall, beautiful figure sitting at their table waiting for someone to join her. He found their table empty, and at the thought of that emptiness, felt the hollowness of his own heart as well, which led him to this bench, in the darkness beside the dark, shallow reflecting pool as the raindrops became larger and more urgent with each passing moment.

She lifted her face against the rain, allowing the hard droplets to hit her face with increasing velocity, the wind blowing her hair as the thunder grumbled above, her eyes closed, but the reflection of the lightning was visible through her eyelids in bright flashes as the wind howled around her, leaves scattering about as she just simply was.

He allowed his eyes to bare the brunt of the rain, eventually allowing himself to close his eyes, the droplets trailing down his skin like heavenly tears, streaking down his face, across his stubble lined jaw, a shiver shaking his body from deep within his core. He wasn't sure if it was the coolness of the rain, or the lost feeling he had in his heart, but there was something, something that sent a shiver down his spine as a leaf flew up and slapped itself against his suit jacket, before skittering off after the wind and rain around him.

As she felt the rain hitting her, she could hear her partner's voice in her mind, chastising her for doing such a ridiculous and irrational thing as sitting on a bench in the rain, waiting for the cold to lower her defenses, to compromise her immune system in such a way so that she'd catch pneumonia, or a cold, or some ridiculous virus. She found herself almost laughing out loud at the thought of him trying to protect her, even when in that exact moment, he was breaking her heart, and she was breaking his. She laughed at the irony of him being the one to tell her to be rational, to think, to not do something as stupid as sitting on a bench in a torrential downpour. It was ironic because she was the rational one, wasn't she?

You cannot protect those of which are victim of your heartbreak.

You cannot step in and be the hero, if you are the villain.

It's like breaking a glass vase, just so that you can glue it back together again. Because no matter how steady your hand, and how perfectly those pieces fit back together, there will always be the evidence of that break. There will be lines and chips on the surface of the vase, and sure… you can paint over those cracks, you can spackle and re-finish… but under all of that work, that effort to repair what you broke, its never as strong as it once was when it was whole.

She stood.

He stood.

And together, yet separated by a darkened pool of water, unknowing and constantly pelted by the angry storm from above, they walked toward the light of the Lincoln Memorial.

Cast in the shadow of the famous monument were numerous people who had moved to its confines to find shelter from the rain. Tourists and homeless, park rangers, and citizens, milled about the center of the monument, their faces illuminated by the bright lights within that spotlighted the massive statue of the 16th president of the United States.

Neither saw the other, their feet slow and steady as they each climbed the steps of the monument separately, yet perfectly in step. She noticed him first, her footing faltering on the marble steps as she tumbled forward, landing hard against the stone with an unconscious yelp, scraping her bare skin against the marble.

Whether he recognized her yelp, or simply felt the duty and honor to help a fellow citizen in need, he wasn't sure, but he rushed to the fallen woman, slumped over the stairs as she tried to stand. "Hey, are you okay? Those stairs can be pretty slippery when they're…" It was that moment that their eyes met, and though her hair was drenched and dripping, and her body was trembling violently, he held her arm tightly as he felt a jolt of electricity shoot down his arm. He smiled at the inane sense of coincidence that they would both be standing there, drenched in the cold spring rain, at the Lincoln Memorial steps when each of them were supposed to be on a date, or home entertaining a guest, or at work, finishing the reports on their last couple of cases, anywhere but right there at that very moment, together. "Bones?"

"Booth." Her voice was clear, not inquisitive or questioning, it was a statement, almost as if she had expected him to be the one there at her side in her moment of weakness, a name so normal and natural that it was more often uttered from her lips than any other word in one day. His hand remained strong on hers, helping her to her foot, she looked down at her scraped shin, and watched the rain send the blood in little rivulets down her skin, causing an intense stinging pain to rattle her resolve.

"Let me get you someplace dry so that we can look at that." He said, watching her quick flash of denial. She saw the insistent look in his eyes that he always reserved for moments like these, and he pushed his arm around her shoulder, supporting her as they climbed the rest of the way up the stairs together.

He pushed them through the throngs of people, dirty looks and people pushing as he found a place below the Gettysburg Address engraving, to help her to the ground. She looked up and saw the words on the wall, her lips curling into a smile as she looked up at them for a moment, and her eyes caught his.

"Did you ever read the Gettysburg address?" She asked, looking up at the words, she caught his eyes as he let out an incredulous laugh.

"Yeah… yeah, Bones… I've read the Gettysburg address, why?"

"It's just funny… almost ironic… how he says, right in the speech itself that 'The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here'… here, being Gettysburg… the battle of course, yet… here it is… carved into this stone, each and every word of that speech…" She said, her teeth chattering as Booth looked at her leg carefully. "It's just a scrape, right?"

"Yeah…" he said, pulling a dry handkerchief from his inside liner of his coat that had somehow remained dry during the storm, perhaps it was because of its location against his body. He allowed his eyes to capture hers in their depths, the sound of the howling wind, the pounding rain, and the chattering people around them were completely drown out as he slowly placed the handkerchief over her injured leg, his eyes never wavering for a moment. "Well, you know Bones… Lincoln… he had a way with words, you know? Some men… they just had a way to say things that could reach out and touch so many people, a talent so far reaching and magical, that no matter how much time passes, it just doesn't matter… because those words survived… and they meant something back then, and they mean something now, and they will always mean something… something very, very important." Booth said, letting his eyes flicker away from hers as he tended to her leg.

"He was a good man."

"Yes."

"An Honorable man."

"Yes."

"Trustworthy."

"Yes."

"And people gave him a chance."

"They did."

"Why?"

His eyes snapped up to hers and held them for a moment. "Because he proved himself to be a good leader. He made promises and kept them… he needed to keep this country united."

"Why?"

"Because if it separated… it would all… fall apart." He swallowed hard, and moved to his side, and pushed his back up against the marble wall beside her, wrapping his arm around her.

"I don't want it to fall apart." She whispered, resting her head on his shoulder, she felt his hand move to her temple as he gently guided her head to his shoulder. He ran his fingers through her hair as he kissed the top of her rain soaked head, breathing in the sweet smell of shampoo that the rain had released.

"I don't want it to fall apart either, Bones." He whispered, kissing the top of her head, they both closed their eyes, finally together, on the same page of the past and the future.