Dear Booth ...

Dear Booth:

I know that you’ve probably reading this with someone looking over your shoulder, so all I’m going to say is that I’ve left the real letter in your apartment, behind the picture of us sealing our first case.

Love,
Tempe


Booth:

Hopefully you’re alone now. Because honestly, I don’t think you want your current girlfriend knowing that some strange woman you call “Bones” is leaving you notes.

They’re going to say I killed myself. And they’re right; in all the ways that matter, I did. But I swear never pulled the trigger.

About three weeks ago, a man named Owen Douglas contacted me. His daughter had been murdered, but he’d been arrested twice for harassing the police, trying to get her case reopened. I agreed to look into it for a fee of fifteen hundred dollars. What I found was that his daughter was involved – deeply involved – with a cover-up involving the Director of the FBI. She’d been having an affair with him and had discovered that he was selling secrets to a discreet terrorist group. She was killed for that knowledge.

I decided to try and find proof of this beyond the circumstantial, so that I could make it an official investigation. I knew that you wouldn’t be able to open a case against the Director unless you had the case already solved.

I followed the evidence to a middle man named Carl Wilson. He wanted out, and agreed to help me get the Director. I did this purposefully. I knew he didn’t want out, whatever he said, because if he did he’d be killed. I knew this because I’d seen record of it happening before.

But I did it anyway.

I did it so that when the Director kills me, there would be evidence against him. He’s killed nearly twenty-three people, Booth, and he’s too good to be caught through paper trails and circumstantial evidence--I need to get physical evidence, and the only way to do that is to either attack him myself or wait to be attacked. I can't ask anyone to do this for me. I don't want to die, and maybe I won't--but the chance that I might is enough to forestall asking someone else to take my place. I can't ask anyone to die for me.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I’m expecting him any minute, and I know he’ll find me wherever I am--he's been tailing me for hours now. And I can’t afford to be dead in your apartment. They’ll point the finger at you. So do me a favor and tell Angela I love her to death, and tell Zach that he can have my job.

I went in to change my will today. I’m leaving everything to you and Parker. Hopefully you can get a better apartment now, and forgive Hodgins for being born rich. I left my car and the proceeds from my book to my brother. Do me a favor and help him out when he needs it. He won’t tell you he needs help, so you’ll have to do your FBI thing and figure it out for yourself.

One last thing. I love you, Booth. So much it makes my heart hurt. I wish I’d said something before now.

Love,
Bones


Bones;

Hodgins already found trace evidence to collaborate the evidence you left me. We got him, Bones. The Squints didn’t sleep until we got him. Neither did I. I had the pleasure of arresting the bastard myself.

I ruined it by crying.

I’ve never cried in front of someone before. Not even once. But when I was cuffing him, I cried. I cried when they finally let me see you. And I’m crying now.

You shouldn’t have done it, Bones.

I would have done it for you. I would have lived through it, too. I’m strong enough to handle him. I’ve got ten pounds on him and I’m a better shot than he’ll ever be. You didn’t have to sacrifice yourself for this. The world needed you. I needed you.

I know you don’t believe in God, Bones, but I hope that I’ll see you when I get there. Yeah, when. There’s no if. I’ll see you again. I promise.

Seeley


The crumpled letter fluttered as it floated down to the casket, its words disappearing as dirt slowly filtered down, burying it – and her – forever.