At the end of the day, your feet should be dirty, your hair messy, and your eyes sparkling.
She sat in the waiting room,
silently,
alternating between fiddling with the stuffed bunny in her lap
and staring blankly into space.
The others were there, too, of course,
Cam
and Wendell
and Sweets.
And Booth, too.
She kept glancing over toward him without really meaning to.
He was sitting a couple seats away, facing her general direction but not really looking at her,
like he knew,
for whatever reason,
she needed space,
and he was giving it to her.
But sometimes she would look up and he'd be looking at her.
A few weeks ago,
he would have looked away.
He didn't do that now.
He simply held her gaze
and smiled slightly
until she ducked her head and smiled
in flattered embarrassment.
Despite all this,
it was very quiet.
Well,
except for Angela's exasperated screams,
which came every few minutes from behind the door.
Brennan expected they came with each contraction.
She shuddered internally at the thought of such pain,
something she generally didn't give much thought to,
since it was done so regularly
and was,
after all,
natural, an evolutionary purpose for all women.
Still,
it made her nervous.
Which made her glance at Booth anxiously even more often.
His gentle assurance made her all at once
very at ease
and all the more anxious.
She had to tell him soon.
But,
she didn't want to
"steal Angela's lightning",
or whatever it was.
So she hadn't yet.
At least,
that's why she kept telling herself that she hadn't yet.
She didn't want to admit that she was rather scared,
both of his reaction
and what would surely happen if he chose not to be a part of it.
She had lost herself so deep in thought that she barely heard the click of the door open,
barely saw Hodgins come through and introduce his son, Michael Vincent,
whose name she couldn't help but smile at,
both for the life of the man and for his death,
which led her to Booth.
Finally pulling herself from her thoughts
(for the most part, anyway),
she snuck back,
away from the commotion,
into the quiet room where Angela lay,
looking exhausted,
but so incredibly happy.
Seeing her like this,
asking about her experience,
offering the stuffed bunny Booth had helped her pick out,
she almost told her.
But she reminded herself that Booth had the right to know first,
that she didn't really want anyone else's input until then,
anyway.
They had been talking for quite some time when Hodgins interrupted with the baby,
who needed to be fed.
Angela insisted Brennan stay until after,
wanting "his godmother" to be one of the first to hold him.
And so she stayed,
talking and watching Angela and her son,
a look of inquiry crossing her face that Angela took note of.
With all the questions she had been asking,
and that look,
and all the details of what had happened with Booth that night,
she had a feeling.
And when Michael Vincent was done feeding
and Angela unceremoniously plopped the baby into Brennan's arms,
she knew.
Nobody who doesn't want children would look at a baby like that.
So, when Brennan excused herself to leave the family to get some rest,
she was sure she had mistaken the twinkle in Angela's eye,
the wink she had given her,
but she hadn't.
She made her way out into the waiting room,
fully expecting everyone to have left
(it was three o'clock in the morning, after all).
Instead, she was met with Booth,
who looked very out of place as he dozed in a tiny waiting room chair.
She grazed his shoulder with her fingers,
bending slightly to ease him out of sleep,
out of this hospital,
back home.
She didn't honestly know where home would be,
at this point.
Neither of them had spent the night at the other's since Vincent's death,
but that wasn't to say she didn't expect it happening again soon.
Either way,
he slowly made his way up,
cracked his back
(for which she reprimanded him),
and led the way out of the hospital.
She had to admit,
walking in the glow of the street lamps,
that DC,
for all the crime they had seen happen there,
was quite a beautiful city at night.
She was comfortable with Booth by her side,
their shoulders brushing ever so slightly with every step,
her relative ease surprising her with how anxious she had felt before.
They were close to her apartment when she mentioned Angela's new baby.
He began assuring her that it was healthy,
they were all happy,
not to worry.
Internally,
she chuckled a bit at him
and rolled her eyes because he just didn't get it.
At the same time her unease was almost tangible.
If she didn't know better,
she would have thought Booth could hear her heartbeat,
it was thumping so loud in her ears.
He actually might have noticed her shaking.
It wasn't until she found him staring at her that she realized she had stopped.
I guess this is it, then, isn't it?
She spoke the truth in what seemed to her like a whisper,
but which was actually strong and clear.
The goofy smile he had on his lips was one she would never forget.
It all at once filled her with floods of relief and an urge to kiss those lips again.
Which,
with his reaction being what it was,
she foresaw a lot of kissing in their future.
He smiled that goofy smile
and pulled her into a lopsided hug,
whispering words of happiness and excitement in her ear.
She didn't speak; couldn't, really.
Tears were threatening to spill over,
after such a release of tension like that.
She knew he was a good man,
knew he would stand by his actions
and accept the consequences.
But she never knew how fully he would embrace them,
to the point where they were no longer consequences,
but a life, and a love, and a baby,
with her.
And she thought that she loved him, then.
She didn't say anything of course,
but she thought she knew.
The feeling strengthened as they walked the rest of the way to her apartment.
It strengthened as she unlocked the door,
and instead of saying his goodbyes,
he stepped inside and took off his shoes.
It strengthened as she opened an extra toothbrush for him to borrow,
and as he crawled into her bed,
and as he cradled her face, her body,
in his arms as if she had suddenly become very fragile.
He talked to her softly until her eyelids started to droop
and the exhaustion of the day overtook her body.
It was right before sleep swept her into oblivion that she heard him speak once more,
but not to her this time.
To their baby.
She wanted to tell him that the fetus was so small that it wouldn't have developed its hearing yet,
but she didn't.
Instead she smiled slightly,
letting the sleep wash over her.
And she knew.
She was a goner.