Disclaimer: I don't own Bones.
I know this is probably highly OOC for Brennan, but the idea came to me a few days ago and just won't leave.
She knew she was being highly irrational. She knew that imbedding a little ink into her skin would not really bring him back, but she needed something… she needed a piece of him while she was away.
Dr. Temperance Brennan had been in Maluku for 2 months now. Two months of not finding any real discoveries, two months of dealing with Ms. Wick, and two months of absolutely no contact with the outside world – especially FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth. That last part was killing her (metaphorically speaking).
She had always had a disturbingly high learning curve, and it hadn't even taken her the full length of the flight to Australia (the first leg of her very long journey to Maluku) to realize that leaving him was a mistake. Letting him go back to the army as a sniper trainer was a mistake. Telling him No was the biggest mistake she had ever made. And now, she couldn't even tell him, or talk to him, for a year.
Even surrounded by some of the world's brightest anthropological minds, she felt so very alone. She needed something, or someone to alleviate that loneliness. An idea formed, but executing it would be a problem as what she needed would not be found on the islands. She had what she needed on her laptop, but what she really needed was Angela – who was on her honeymoon in France.
About 10 days later, she heard that the individual who was to pick up supplies in Australia had come down sick and couldn't make the flight. Thinking this might be her chance; Dr. Brennan volunteered to retrieve the supplies. She left in the helicopter with only her laptop and her satellite phone (in case of emergencies). During the flight she toyed with the idea of emailing Booth once she reached Australia. She couldn't contact anyone while on the islands – their only contact with the outside world was the satellite phone which was for emergencies only. Reluctantly, she decided against sending him an email – he would have no time to respond before she was back on the islands, which meant she would have another 10 months to agonize over whether or not he would have responded. If she had opened her email account, she would have seen several messages from the FBI agent, each asking her to contact him so he knew she was okay.
While waiting for the supplies to arrive (the shipment was late), Dr. Brennan wandered the town and found a street fair. Surely she would find what she needed here. One of the first stalls she passed had some extremely well drawn portraits and still life drawings. They looked very familiar – was that a drawing of her and Booth in formal wear? She quickly looked around for the artist – she had to be here somewhere! Sure enough, in the shade with sketchbook in hand, sat Angela with Hodgins nearby. Perfect!
She wandered over, and surprised the Forensic Artist. Angela had been drawing almost non stop for the past two months and was invited on a street fair tour of spanning cities on several continents, which Hodgins encouraged her to accept. Her work had been very well received. The drawing that Brennan had noticed was a big hit in all the cities they had visited, but Angela wouldn't sell it. After a few minutes of chatting, Brennan pulled up a black and white image on her laptop and explained to Angela what she needed, but not why. Angela had the drawing done in a matter of minutes. Brennan reluctantly said goodbye to her friends, and promised to see them in less than 10 months in DC. She was one step closer to completing her irrational plan.
She easily found her next stop, and because money was no object, had no trouble finding an artist who would fly out to the islands for a day or two to complete the next step. After setting up that appointment, she ran back to the helicopter, which was now loaded with the supplies she had come for.
During the unloading back at camp, an unaccounted for package was found addressed to Dr. Brennan. She cautiously opened it and found the drawing Angela had done of her and Booth. There was a note explaining that even while she was drawing it, Angela knew this picture belonged to Brennan. Angela had just been holding on to it until it could be delivered to its rightful owner. Now, Dr. Brennan had not only a piece of Booth with her, but also a piece of Angela, her best friend. Would this help alleviate her loneliness?
One week later she had her answer; it helped, but not enough. She was waiting at the helicopter pad for the artist she had enticed to fly out for the next step in her plan. He had been working with the drawing that Angela had created, and had all of his supplies with him. It would take a few hours.
Dr. Brennan led the artist into the makeshift forensics lab, the most sterile environment they had. She lay on her stomach, lifting her shirt and lowering her waistband to reveal her lower back to the artist. She explained the exact location she had in mind, and at what angle the picture should be at. He demonstrated with his own hand, and she acknowledged that he had it right.
As he worked, she thought about how this was going to change things. Not drastically, but she wouldn't be able to wear bikinis around any of her friends anymore – unless she wanted to explain her irrationality. She wondered how Booth was going to react to her confessions – first that she loved him too (because she intended to tell him as soon as she saw him in approximately 9 months), and second that she had another mark from him – this one not an invisible, metaphorical mark that would have the possibility of fading but a permanent, visible mark.
Once the artist was done, he explained how to keep the new tattoo covered for the next few days, and also provided the antiseptic lotion she would have to use for about a week. Before he covered it, he set up a few mirrors so she could see the finished product. There on her back, exactly where Booth had rested his hand so many times in the past was a perfect replica of the skeleton of his hand. Angela had done an outstanding job of transforming the x-ray of Booth's hand (which she had because she insisted on viewing the x-rays when he broke his hand at that hockey game) into a life-sized sketch. The tattoo artist had placed the angle of the hand exactly as Booth had always placed it. As she studied the new tattoo in the mirror she felt a sense of peace flow over her. She was no longer alone… she always had Booth with her now, no matter what. As irrational as it sounded, she now knew she would not feel as lonely as she had the past few months.