Hah, so what has it been, years since the last April installment? Lol. Well, I decided I just had to give them one more go. You understand, don't you?
HUGE thanks to my beta, friend and co-author Willgurl for looking this over and helping me with my silly mistakes. Luvya chica!
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I love him…oh but I hate him. He's lucky I didn't ju-jit-zu his ass into his last year of med school.
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Brennan entered the living room with her phone cradled between her shoulder and her ear, scribbling something on her paper pad.
"Booth, what day is the cake tasting?" She spoke quietly, trying to listen to the caterer and Booth's response at the same time.
Booth, a spot of black in his sweater and jeans, in a sea of silver and white wrapping paper from presents, scrunched up his face in thought. "Thursday the…eleventh."
"Um, yes, how's Friday the twelfth?" Brennan nodded, scribbling something else onto her pad and pushing an empty box off the edge of the coffee table so she could sit.
She hung up a few moments later and sighed deeply. "Why are we doing this again?" She slumped over slightly, her auburn hair falling out of a loose ponytail and framing her flushed face.
Booth smiled, on his knees he was at just the right height to face her so he kissed her forehead. "Because April wants a traditional wedding. This, my dear," he made a broad gesture that included their kitchen, dining and living rooms, all filled to the brim with flowers, presents and papers, "is traditional."
Brennan rolled her eyes and said teasingly, "Traditional. I hate that word."
Booth squeezed her shoulder, returning to the mass of cardboard boxes at his feet.
"Hey look," he said with faux brightness and enthusiasm, "another silver tea set!"
Brennan opened her mouth mid eye-roll to make a comment, but cut herself off when the phone started to ring again. She groaned when she saw the caller ID. "The caterer. Again." Booth gave her a sympathetic smile as she answered the call in the most amiable way she could muster.
Just then, the front door burst open, and then blew shut again, announcing the bride-to-be's arrival, and what a bride-to-be she was. Heavy black boots she'd never been convinced to grow out of, black leggings, a bright green ruffled skirt to a form-fitting scoop neck black shirt and a long black wool coat.
The incessant appearance of black in April's wardrobe didn't really concern Booth. Some things, he'd learned, would never change. He had, however, been expecting to see that dreamy smile she'd been wearing since the moment they got back from Jamaica plastered all over her face.
A near scowl was what he saw.
"April?"
She didn't look up, instead yanked off her coat, threw it to the floor and then pulled off her boots, all with the enthusiasm one might use when delivering a sound beating to someone who'd insulted your mother. And with the same general demeanor.
Brennan came back into the room, the phone at her ear. "April! I'm glad you're here, the caterer says he thinks Northern Pacific Cod would go better with the…" she paused, a sure sign she was being fed the words from across the phone line, "the taste pallet of your menu better than Salt Water Salmon."
April's eyes flashed with something maniacal and Booth could only watch as she marched over to his wife, quietly demanded the phone, and cut loose on the poor, unsuspecting food supplier.
"Hi, Mr. Caterer person?" Booth winced at the venom underlying her thinly veiled brightness, and exchanged a worried glance with Brennan, "Here's what I want you to do. Get yourself one big Northern Pacific Cod fish and one equally big and delicious Salt Water Salmon fish. Then, I want you to heat them up and stuff them with all those wonderfully expensive and ultimately inconsequential spices you guys like so much, and then dump them in a blender with two cups of I Don't Give A Damn and a pinch of Kiss My Ass. Hit the 'puree' button three times for two seconds each, pour it into a cup and remove your head from your ass so you'll have room to shove it up there. Got it? Call me when you've finished and we'll chat." She ended with punching the red 'end' button so forcefully it made Brennan wince and then slamming the object down on the nearest flat surface which, thankfully, was a nice soft recliner.
Booth and Brennan watched in stunned silence as the hurricane meant to be a girl made a bee-line for some of the unwrapped packages and began haphazardly taping the ripped white paper back on them in no particular arrangement. She spoke low, so they couldn't make out exactly what she was muttering to herself, but the words 'bastard', 'caveman' and 'self-obsessed' were fairly clear.
"I had no idea you took your fish so seriously, Angel-face."
It was a bad time for a joke, and Booth quickly wiped the good-natured grin he wore off his face when she looked up at him, a gaze so cold it practically froze him where he sat.
After a moment and a sharp breath she said, "The wedding's off," in a voice that seemed surprisingly shaky for a face that was so calm, and disappeared into her bedroom as quickly as she could.
They stared after her for a moment, and then turned to each other.
"I think you should go talk to her." The said in unison and then gave each other equally disbelieving looks.
"Why should I go?" Brennan asked, picking up the phone to examine it.
"Bones, you called off our wedding at least four times. I have a feeling you know better what to say to her than I do." He said, getting off his knees in the 'wedding present' sea and moving to stand beside her.
She shook her head with a slight smile. "Booth, April's not me. She needs…comfort, not affirmation that her feminist ideals are going remain in tact after she participates in an archaic ceremony."
Booth frowned, considering, but Brennan had already made up her mind. She stood on her tip-toes to kiss him briefly, and then moved into the kitchen where his meatloaf was just begging to be pulled from the oven.
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She sat on her bed with her back to the door, fiddling with the corners of a well-worn envelope she held delicately in her lap.
"April?" He knocked softly as he pushed the door open. She lifted her head and put it aside.
"I'm sorry. I know how hard you and Tempe have been working to make this day special for me. Now it's all for nothing." Her words dropped off as she turned to look out the window, where rain pelted softly and determinedly against it.
Booth frowned and entered her bedroom, the wall-to-wall mural no longer shocking him with its contrast to the rest of the white walled house. He stuck his hands in his pockets, uncertain about what to do next.
"Are you okay with this?" He asked carefully.
He watched her shoulders rise and fall slowly as she took a deep breath and then turn slightly, the soft outdoor light reflecting across her pale skin.
"I am disappointed, obviously. But I'll be fine. Loss and…pain are a part of life. I understand that." She told him, silently forbidding the tears that sat on the brink falling.
Booth tilted his head and studied her for a moment, a low roll of thunder in the distance prompted him to speak. "Okay. Now you want to stop being brave for two seconds and tell me the truth?"
Her dark eyes flashed at him and then fell back to the floor as she considered insisting she'd already told him the truth and that she didn't have any idea as to what he was alluding to. Her chin trembled imperceptibly as she took a shuddering breath.
"I'm kind of…scared. Sort of…alone." The last word came out in a high pitched squeak and Booth had crossed the room in three steps, wrapping her in a firm hug as the sobs turned all her carefully constructed walls into rubble.
He led her back to the bed and sat beside her, running his hand up and down her arm, attempting to sooth her while she cried.
"What happened? Another woman?" he asked once she'd calmed down enough to speak.
"No, nothing like that," she said, shaking her head. She sat up from his chest, where there was now a large dark spot as testament to her tears. "It was….I mean we…" she shook her head, wiping her hands roughly across her eyes, and then pushing her long dark hair behind her ears.
"C'mon Bug, what happened?"
She swallowed stood and started pacing. "He invited me out to dinner, said he had big news. So I go and he tells me that he was accepted to pre-med school."
"Which is…" his eyes followed her back and forth as she paced agitatedly.
"Great. Fantastic. I'm ecstatic for him. Then he tells me, 'that's not the great part'. And he starts going on and on about how he knows how much I love New York and how he knows I was accepted to the New York University of Fine Art but that I haven't decided whether or not to go yet."
Booth swallowed hard and folded his hands. Every time the NY word left her mouth, his stomach clenched.
"Then he drops the bomb. The medical school that accepted him is the Medical Institute of New York City. Seeley, he went ahead and signed himself up for classes, signed me up for classes and got us into an apartment." She threw her hands into the air, now talking more to herself than to him. "I freaked out! I mean, what is this? 1956? Am I supposed to just…follow my husband wherever his imagination takes him? What's next? Is he going to buy me an apron and a blender and tell me to punch out a few kids for him? Where was I in all this decision-making and planning? He says he thought it would be a nice wedding present since I'm so caught up and stressed with all the arrangements. I mean, is he really that brain dead as to think that I wouldn't want to have some say in where we live for the next four to twelve years?"
She stopped and turned on Booth suddenly, waiting for his response.
He didn't speak right away, he'd noticed about halfway through her tirade, that her words lacked a certain conviction, and he wondered if the feminist values she was spouting were really at the root of the problem she had with the whole New York scenario.
"April, not that the preservation of female equality isn't a perfectly good reason to call off a wedding, are you sure that's your only reason?"
She was only caught off guard for a second before defensively crossing her arms. "Of course. What else?"
Booth tilted his head and shrugged, studying her closely. "Well, if you were Bones, I'd believe that's what really has you upset but…you're not Bones, April. Is there something else?"
She sighed exasperatedly. "No, there's nothing else Seeley! He just should have talked too me first. I mean we're getting married; we should make these kinds of decisions together. What if I don't like the classes he picked for me? What if I don't like the apartment or the neighborhood? And New York is like three hours away, what if I'm not sure I want to move that far away? What if I feel like…I just found a family in you and Tempe and Angela and Jack and what if I'm not quite ready to give that up? What if…I don't want be left behind again?"
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Oh my God, why am I crying again! This is ridiculous, I didn't cry this much the day the Backstreet Boys broke up.
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The skeptical frown on Booth's face melted away into compassion as he reached for April's hand and pulled her down to sit beside him again. She stubbornly refused to meet his gaze, as if afraid he would see the tears streaming down her face and wasn't already abundantly aware of the way they'd stolen her voice.
"Oh April," he wrapped a strong arm around her, smoothing her dark hair with the other. "We'd never leave you…"
"Don't say that!" She leapt up from the bed, "You can't say that. It's happened before Seeley, my mom and dad both left me. So did you. What's there to make me believe that this time, if I go away and come back you guys won't have made new lives without me?"
"April that's not going to happen. I was dumb kid back then and I made a mistake, and you know how sorry I am. And your mom and dad," he stood and pulled the locket she wore out from under her shirt, "they never left you either. You know that."
She stared up at him defiantly for more than a minute, neither saying a word. Then all of a sudden her face fell and she slammed into him, hugging him hard.
"You're right, you're right, I'm sorry." She told him, "But that doesn't change the fact that New York is far away from here. I really…I really like having a family."
Booth smiled and kissed the top of her head before pulling back to look at her. "Aw Bug, we like you too." He teased, making her smile, "And don't think you can get rid of us that easy. I mean, we'll call you constantly, so much you'll be begging us to stop. And, you know, Jack has that private jet. We'll probably be there every weekend busting down your door and making you show us around the city."
She full on grinned now, feeling silly for her outburst. "Promise?"
"Promise." He sighed, "And you know, sure Tommy was a little out of line with the whole thing, but I think his intentions were good. He really was trying to help, he just went about it in the wrong way. We all do it."
April nodded and took a deep breath. "I guess I overreacted a little." She admitted in a small voice.
Booth grinned. "Maybe only a little. But it runs in your family so…"
"Really?"
"Oh yeah, your dad? Lets just say he was of the 'if a windows broken just burn down the whole house' school of thought."
"Wow, that's a little extreme." She smiled, wiping her eyes.
"You're telling me, try going through high school with a guy like that. I mean, does anything go right in high school?"
"I don't think so."
A knock drew both their attention to the door.
"Sorry to interrupt but," Brennan poked her head inside, "April, there's a very upset looking young man out here who I think would like to talk to you."
She nodded and started toward the door before muttering a curse. "The caterer! I totally wigged on him. What are we going to do?"
"Tell you what," Booth touched her shoulder and guided her toward the door, "you handle the groom, I'll handle the caterer."
She gave him a small smile and a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks Uncle Seeley."
She stepped out into the hall to find a wet, ragged and sad looking Tommy Hopkins standing at the other end.
"April?"
"Tommy."
She ran toward him, hugging him fiercely and their kisses were punctuated with 'I'm sorry's and 'I love you's until neither could breathe.
"So, the wedding's back on?" Brennan asked quietly as she and Booth headed back toward their bedroom in an attempt to give the young couple some privacy.
Booth stopped to glance over his shoulder where April and Tommy had left off the short, tearful kisses for something decidedly…hotter.
"Yeah," he said, swinging his arm across her shoulder and planting a kiss on her temple, "I think you could say that."
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Temporary insanity. That's the only explanation for my almost letting a guy like Tommy slip through my fingers. Temporary-freakin-insanity.
I have the strangest urge to scream something so unforgivably cheesy that I can't hardly think it…Oh what the hell.
Ready or not, Big Apple, here we come!!
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THE END
Okay, now I'm really done. Scouts honor...well, I guess nothing's definite. Willie said she'd like to see snippets of their and BBs life together after the fact, I'm not sure yet. I don't want to beat a dead horse (that would be mean). I'll leave it to the ingenius voting system.