Many thanks to my Bones Soulmate BrainySmurf6 for beta...Lyrics from "Swim" by Jack's Mannequin.
I found a tidal wave, begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets, they fired at me from a gun
A crack in the armor
The door clicks open, then shut, before his deep voice greets her with his signature "hel-loh."
Booth walks to the kitchen to drape his coat on the back of a chair, but is not met with her echo like he is every other day.
"Bones?"
He turns from the kitchen to the living room and finds Brennan sitting on the couch with a tear-stained face, elbows leaned on her knees and taking slow, deep breaths. She looks up at him with panic and confusion and tries to hide it when their eyes meet, but her hands continue to hang loosely in front of her, palms turned up and fingers shaking, like she simply doesn't know what to do with them anymore.
More urgently this time, "Bones…?"
A deeper, shakier breath.
And then he's running. It's not a large distance to cover - the space from the chair to the couch - but to his legs and to his heart it feels like miles. It feels like that deep breath is a tiny puff of dust in the middle of a great quarry of sand. It feels like a century before he's finally crouched down in front of her.
"What's…what's wrong? Bones, what is it?" His eyes maniacally search her body for signs of distress, and he stares at her swollen belly with an overwhelming prayer that they are okay.
Booth's strong hands grasp Brennan's still-unresponsive ones, trying to elicit something besides blank confusion in her eyes. He's murmuring, "Bones, Bones, Bones…" unable to stop moving as if it's an overcompensation for her apparent inability to do so. Feeling his hands crush and shake hers doesn't make a difference, and a sad calm washes over him. She's drowning in whatever this is. She needs some solid ground, and he needs to be that for her.
He brings his face just centimeters from hers and she squeezes her eyes shut, his turning dark and wide with concern.
Running the backs of his rough knuckles tenderly along her cheek, he whispers…
"Bones, honey… I need you to tell me what's wrong."
Her jaw slams shut, her lips pinched together, and she shakes her head vigorously. "Mmm-mm…"
"Do you need to go to the hospital?"
A softer shake of her head, and a small weight lifts from his aching chest.
"Do you need me to call Angela?"
"No" comes out on a breath against his cheek.
"What do you need, baby? What…please, Bones…what do you need?"
Her mouth opens and shuts a few times before she finally rolls her red-rimmed eyes to the ceiling, trying to hold in still more tears before setting her gaze on a shelf just over Booth's shoulder.
Brennan attempts to speak - Booth staring at her with his brow creased as if one break in his concentration would send the entire building crashing down around them - but her words come out as tiny squeaks before she begins breathing heavily again, her face crumbling and lips shaking uncontrollably. All the while staring over Booth's shoulder.
He plants a hand at the nape of her neck, ready to pull her close, before turning to see what it is that's finally getting through to her.
He's confused, at first, to find she's focused on a picture of her and her father that's sitting on a shelf on the wall. Max is fine - he'd sent Booth a text barely an hour ago, confirming plans for dinner with them later in the week. Booth had assumed Max talked to him because Brennan was busy driving home, but now he notices Brennan's phone laying on the floor, it's battery a foot away - and her mother's dolphin ring on the rug next to it.
His face clears of confusion as her turns back to face her. The way he says her name, then, is all concern. But Brennan only hears pity. She's on her feet before she realizes what she's doing, dizzying herself and nearly knocking Booth to the ground. She stumbles once to steady herself, frantically avoiding his efforts to help as he sits on the coffee table behind them. He keeps his arms there, though, hovering just over her hips as she sways with dizziness, grief, and anger.
"This is not…this is not hormones, Booth! This isn't…I can't write this off, okay? We can't...I can't. This is real, okay? This is real! This is real…this is real… oh god, this is real…"
You gotta swim through nights that won't end
Swim for your families, your lovers
Your sisters and brothers and friends
Her whole body is shaking now, visibly trembling, and he stands to grasp her by the elbows, supporting her weight while her fingernails dig into the skin of his arms like that might keep her knees from giving out. She's slammed her eyes shut again, her bottom lip probably bleeding from biting it so hard - and Booth wonders now why his own knees haven't given out at the sight of this incredible woman reverting back to a grieving fifteen-year-old in the blink of an eye. He leans his forehead against hers, his throat constricted with holding back tears, and he rubs his thumbs back and forth along the sensitive skin of her arms. If the whole world hadn't stopped it's spinning he wouldn't have heard her at all…
"I miss my mom."
In one swift motion he's got them spun around and settled softly on the couch, pulling her legs up under one arm and crushing her shoulders to his chest with the other. Her arms curl into her own chest, hands balled into fists as if she'd be pounding the pain right out of ribcage if not for his grip on her shoulders. He rocks her dramatically and whispers as she sobs, always so careful not to say things like "I know"or "It will be okay." Because he doesn't, and it won't. Her mother is not coming back. There is no "heaven" for Brennan - her mother will never see their daughter.
He can't make this momentary drowning sensation any better for her…he can only hold her and remind her to swim.
You gotta swim, and swim when it hurts
The whole world is watching
You haven't come this far to fall off the earth
The currents will pull you away from your love
Just keep your head above, swim