Even Cupid Vacillates
A/N: This is my Valentine's Day Bonesology Challenge story for ecv. Her stated request was " My wishes: ecv~ something romantic with Booth and Brennan - I really have no other requirements." As you might note, I attempted a bit of cleverness with the title for her. Herein, Booth tries to come up with a creative way to observe Valentine's Day with his Bones; the holiday they once both dismissed as meaningless empty nonsense foisted on sappy consumers for commercial gain by card, candy, and flower vendors. I have to give credit to FaithinBones for her brilliantly helpful prompt suggestion of the Appalachian Trail setting; it jarred loose my inspiration, which was temporarily stuck in 'Idle' after the darker tone of my Aldo story.
A few weeks before Valentine's Day, Booth found himself in a conundrum.
Some years back, in the emotional aftermath of his rejected proposal of marriage to Hannah, he had loudly proclaimed his disdain for Valentine's Day celebrations. He, Seeley Booth, had sworn off observing a day for lovers.
He'd been a hopeless romantic ever since presenting the first crookedly-cut, wobbly-printed red construction paper heart to his mother as a first grader. Adorned with lacy white filigree from a paper doily, it had proclaimed his adoration for the first important lady in his life. His teacher Miss Martin had scheduled an entire week of art periods for her class to create family Valentines.
Booth had also made Valentine cards for his dad, Pop and Grams, and his favorite Aunts, Ruth and Franny. His little heart had thrilled at the chance to make his mom happy, and her delighted smile when he shyly handed the over-pasted homemade envelop to her. His father had harrumphed over the heartfelt art project. A generation later, Booth found himself cherishing the same splotchy treasures from Parker.
Several weeks after the break-up, Booth remembered fondly, there he was in the basement firing range, firing gangster tommy guns borrowed from the Jeffersonian by his incredibly thoughtful and inventive partner, blasting his romantic frustrations into oblivion along with those demolished paper targets, as he and Brennan raked the weapons back and forth like Bugs Moran.
Back to his current problem; how creatively to celebrate 'the artificial holiday perpetuated to benefit florists, candy makers, and greeting card companies' his wife still pretended to disdain? He chewed on this matter as he drove Christine and Kennedy to school Monday morning, half-listening to the backseat chatter between his daughter and her best buddy. The little girl's colonel father was on active duty in the Gulf, and she'd spent the weekend at the Booth home to give her mom a breather from solo parenting.
Continuing the internal debate he'd been having with himself since he'd climbed in the shower that morning, Booth considered and rejected ideas for expressing his love to Brennan. Dinner out and dancing at their favorite jazz club? Astonishment at the skillful scary speed of whizzing knives watching sushi prepared at the new Japanese restaurant Aubrey had recommended? A night at the Kimpton Paloma Hotel or Lafayette Square Sofitel?
"When my daddy gets home, he's gonna take me and Mommy camping in Shanna-doa Park!" Kennedy enthused. "They have a house where my grandpa tooked Daddy. They fished when he was little. I don't like it, though, the fishies are slimy, and their eyes scare me. I like picking up red leaves with Grammy. There's lotsa trees and neat rocks you can climb on."
"Sometimes we go camping too, at Daddy's cabin," Christine replied. "It's way out, we hafta drive and drive on bumpy roads, and the car gets all dusty. You get outta the car, and open a gate, drive a little, then you gotta get out and jump over some water to get to the tent. I don't think there's any fishies living in that creek. Parker and Daddy put up the tent, and Mommy puts a pot on some rocks to cook. The fire under the rocks hots up the pot."
Booth glanced in the rearview mirror and chuckled to himself. They had only camped with Christine once, last summer when Parker was home from England, but she talked about it all the time. He and Brennan had decided to keep the land Jacob Broadsky had fraudulently purchased in Booth's name; and they planned to build a permanent cabin there someday.
The girls' conversation had given him an idea. The weather was unseasonably mild this year and it had been a while since the couple had visited his favorite mountain lookout. The first time he'd returned from combat, troubled by his sniper assignments, Booth had sought a quiet place of solitude to clear his head. Aldo Clemens had suggested Washington Monument State Park, 47 minutes outside of Washington DC.
Booth had visited the first monument to George Washington, wandered the now-silent trails of Crampton, Fox, and Turner Gaps where Union troops had first stopped the Army of Northern Virginia in the these rugged mountain areas a few days before Antietam, and found some solace in the continuity of men defending freedom a century before him. In the midst of his hike, he'd found an overlook that won his heart. Its view spanned the land below and offered a flat place to sit.
Pondering his military service and wondering about his future, Booth had watched the sun slip behind the hills. He camped that night and watched again as the sunrise painted a rolling valley beneath his rocky outcrop perch. Since then, he'd returned many times to absorb its peace, and wanted to share it with Brennan.
"Daddy, can we go to the zoo next week and take Kennedy?" Christine asked, interrupting his reverie.
"We'll see what her mom has to say about that, Monkey. We're almost at school. Enjoyed having you around this weekend, Miss Kennedy," Booth responded.
"Thank you for having me, Mr. Booth," the little brunette said politely. The two girls unhooked their seat belts, hopped out of the car and grabbed their Frozen backpacks. Christine had Elsa; Kennedy had Anna. Joining hands, they waved at Booth and disappeared inside the James Monroe Early Childhood annex.
Having fulfilled his carpool duties, Booth turned the SUV toward the Hoover, and began formulating a to do list in his head. Having visited Washington Monument State Park often enough to call its ranger staff friends, he was pretty sure he could count on reserving a cabin the weekend nearest Valentine's Day. Since Max was always up for encouraging romance between his children and their spouses, Booth extracted his cell phone from his pocket at the next stoplight and punched the speed dial.
"Max, I wonder if you're free to watch Christine sometime in the next few weeks? I'm planning a hiking trip to Boonesboro for Bones' Valentine surprise. I need to call the ranger station and reserve a cabin if you can entertain your granddaughter."
"Sure thing, Booth, just let me know when," came the reply. "Tempe has loved hiking ever since her legs were too short to keep up and I had to piggyback her!"
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After spending Valentine's Day at home enjoying Grams' Bolognese sauce over linguini pasta, Caesar salad, a good red wine and sinfully rich chocolate cake from Mama's, Booth and Brennan left work at noon on Friday and headed out of town. He had told her to pack for camping, but not their specific destination. The midday traffic on US 270 was light, and they arrived at the Main Cup Restaurant in Middletown by 1:30. Booth ordered a loaded cheeseburger and Brennan requested a vegetable quesadilla.
"Booth, where are you taking me?" Brennan inquired for the tenth time.
"Patience, grasshopper. All will be revealed shortly," he teased her.
They left the restaurant and drove through the picturesque little town along the first federally funded highway authorized by Congress in 1806, the Maryland National Road. Booth's SUV followed where the citizens of Boonesboro had carried the Stars and Stripes up South Mountain on July 4, 1827 and built a bullet-shaped rock tower to 15 feet, returning that September to finish their 34-ft monument honoring George Washington.
"You've brought me to the Appalachian Trail," Brennan said softly. "Dad always promised we'd go hiking here when I grew tall enough, but we moved around enough that it never happened."
"Well now you can. And your dad keeping Christine is making it possible, Bones."
He pulled into the parking lot of Washington Monument State Park, unloaded their packs, and locked the truck. They strolled together to the ranger station and Booth greeted the officer behind the counter.
"Hey, Harvey, this is my wife Temperance Brennan. Can I pick up the tent I reserved?"
"Seeley, good to see you. My wife loves your books, Dr. Brennan! Your tent is waiting up at the trail shelter near Sunrise Point. Here's a key to the storage locker there. Just be sure to return it when you hike back down. We pick up the tents from each campsite on Mondays and dry them out if need be."
They thanked the ranger, and Booth shook his hand. The couple were experts at packing light and set a brisk pace as they set out. The next hour was spent in spirited conversation and jockeying for position. After years of trekking to dig sites, Brennan moved at a rapid pace. Despite Booth taking longer strides due to his height, she kept hitting his heels like Parker steering a shopping cart when he was younger.
"Geez, Bones, you're gonna trip me up! Take it easy and stop runnin' up behind me! You gotta pace yourself when you're hiking!"
"Booth, you are slowing me down, impeding our progress. I want to observe the fauna and wildlife at the summit. Hodgins told me there are numerous edible fungi and plants indigenous to this region. He asked that I bring him back sassafras, wintergreen, chicory, and wood sorrel for tea. I've brought a carryall to collect some. I plan to pick raspberries, blackberries, huckleberries, and mulberries for our desert; scallions, ramps, dandelion and day lily leaves for a salad; thistle to boil for our vegetable, wild grapes for a snack."
"He said there are several edible fungi around here; chantrelle, chicken of the woods, oyster mushrooms, rock tripe…,"
"Rock tripe?" Booth asked as he nearly gagged at the plant's name. "Bones, I learned to recognize edible native plants for survival in several region by the military, but I'm never eating rock tripe!"
Brennan stopped in the middle of the trail and looked at him as though he'd lost his mind.
"Booth, I'd never gather fungi since I am not an expert. Doing so and consuming them could poison a person. And I certainly don't plan on feeding you toxic plants on our romantic getaway! What kind of a Valentine's celebration would that be?"
She pulled a compass from her pocket and squinted up at the sun. "I wonder if we could make better time reaching the summit if we took that side trail," she mused.
"Bones, I've hiked this mountain dozens of times. Trust me, I know the fastest way to the top. That's where my thinking spot is. We don't need to take any shortcuts. You could twist an ankle very easily on some of the rocks and vines around here. The soldiers in 1862 faced that problem. Men unfamiliar with the region suffered some serious injuries that impeded their march!"
His wife gave him a look of approval. "You certainly know your history, Booth. Hodgins apprised me of that very fact Friday morning."
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They hiked on in companionable silence for another twenty minutes, with Brennan stopping to pick the berries, leaves, and plants she desired. As the afternoon wore on, the wind picked up, and when they paused for a water break, Booth reached over and brushed her hair out of her eyes. Then he kissed her.
"Looks like a storm is moving in. We better make tracks to reach what I want to show you!"
After another twenty minutes, the trees thinned out and the trail opened onto a flat promontory. Booth put his arm around her shoulders and led Brennan closer to the edge. She gazed out across the vista below them.
"Booth, this is a beautiful spot."
"I used to come here on weekends when I didn't have Parker, and was down. It's close enough to DC that I could make it before sunset in the spring and summer. Spent a fair amount of time sitting here, looking, thinking, stewing, until I found some quiet within me," he said softly.
"Thank you for sharing it with me."
"Let's go back to that trail shelter we passed, get the tent and set it up. You can wash your plants under the tap and we can eat the sandwiches and soup I brought."
A half hour later, Booth had expertly erected the spacious tent stamped 'Washington State Park #104', as Brennan washed and tore and peeled. He unpacked a thermos of iced tea, chips, sandwiches, and two canisters of soup bearing the logo 'Mama's'.
"Oh, you brought her soup? Please tell me its vegetable medley!" Brennan exclaimed.
"One and the same! I also ordered a veggie pita wrap for you. I've got minestrone and turkey on wheat."
"How do you like my 'local fare'?" Brennan inquired with a smile.
"Really tasty, Bones! I'm surprised, the salad is good, even without dressing, and these various berries are delicious. Hodgins is a walking encyclopedia of handy botanical knowledge, isn't he?"
"Yes, Booth, he has taught me many helpful things since I came to the Jeffersonian."
Once the food was packed up, and their sleeping bags were unrolled inside the tent, the couple returned to Booth's thinking spot, spread a blanket, and sat together to watch the sunset. Brennan leaned back against her husband's broad chest and he closed his arms around her tenderly. She felt safe, secure, and very much loved.
The brilliant reds and oranges splashed across the sky deepened slightly and began to slide down toward the horizon. The watching pair felt themselves pelted with several fat raindrops. Brennan extended her hand, palm up, and laughed aloud. Booth thought it the most melodious sound, his favorite ever. He got to his feet, reached for her hand, and picked up the blanket. The shower intensified, as they dashed back to the tent.
Once she was inside, he smoothed out the tarp spread at the entrance and zipped up the fly. She removed an LED lantern from her pack and turned its knob, illuminating the tent. Since its fabric was a very light gray, plenty of light pervaded the interior. Leaves from the trees above them whipped about.
Grabbing a pillow, Booth laid out on his back and pulled her down beside him. She pivoted her body to rest her head on his flat stomach as he played with her hair. Sitting up, he leaned over and kissed her deeply. She grasped the front of his flannel shirt, deftly undid the buttons, and pulled it off his broad shoulders. He pulled her sweatshirt over her head and kissed her again. Her agile hands slid along his muscular chest, caressing and kneading.
Shoulders bumped. Breathing became erratic. She felt each familiar ridge and bump as his strong calloused fingers moved down her arms and slipped beneath the hem of her t-shirt. She tugged it up and off in one fluid motion, then repeated the movement with his. The heat coming off their bodies offset the dropping temperature outside the tent. Before long, they were each unzipping jeans and raising hips to facilitate sliding the dark blue garments off entirely. A terrific clap of thunder echoed overhead, and the downpour began. The occupants of tent 104 on Sunset Ridge didn't hear a thing.