Candle in the storm
Author's Note: With all the sweetness that is Bones this seventh season, I fear that angst is right around the corner. I am going to use this story to propose several scenarios that I envision might happen in the seventh season finale or as a result of the finale. SN has said that a "beloved character" would be affected somehow and that the beginning of season 8 would be changed circumstances for a time. There are theories afloat out there as to what might happen and I'm just throwing in my two cents here.
I don't own Bones and I don't have any idea if anything I'm suggesting here will happen. It's all conjecture, baby.
oOo
It just felt too good.
A baby slumbering on the couch next to her exhausted mother, both looking far too cute in sleep.
It had been a hard case, a long hard grind for both of them and while neither of them had had as much time as they would have liked with the baby, it had been harder on Brennan. She'd managed to skirt Cam's rules (and government regulations) by bringing the baby into her office while she worked in the bone room. She'd managed daily trips to daycare to nurse her child.
She'd managed.
And she'd managed to break open the case in typical Bones fashion. That giant brain of hers had never given up.
She'd put the pieces together, quoted some obscure text suggesting a means for the poison to be administered to not just the one victim, but to the other potential victims in the firm and she had not only solved the case, but saved lives.
And they had come to his office—those who could walk—and they had wanted to meet the genius woman scientist who had saved them.
He sat on the floor beside the couch and ran his fingers along the tiny fingers of his daughter, sketching her hand with his. It was hard to believe this miniature person would grow into someone as lovely as her mother, someone as brilliant as her. But he had little doubt.
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"There's room up here, Booth."
His partner's eyes drank him in and he wondered how he had become so lucky.
"I've got the best seat in the house."
In her answering smile he saw the woman behind the walls, the woman who had been lurking just beyond his reach—anyone's reach—for so long. He found it interesting that he could see her softening around some of the people in their lives—Cam, Sweets, even Caroline—but she seemed to reserve the very soft, very emotional woman for him and their daughter.
"I just wanted to hold her," she murmured. "I didn't get a chance to hold her much this week."
Her arm, carefully tucked around the baby, curled protectively around her as she played her fingers along the side of her face. He wondered if she had the same urge he had at times to wake Christine to see the small changes she'd made in sleep, to see the personality beneath her toothless smile.
"Why don't we bring her into bed with us?" he asked.
He'd managed more sleep than she, managed to celebrate the end of the case with the squints while she had finished some project for the Jeffersonian board. She'd insisted everyone leave her behind with Christine.
He doubted she'd stayed behind just for the Jeffersonian board.
"I don't really want to move right now, Booth."
She almost purred the words, purred with a contentment that he had had a hand in.
His fingers touched hers along the crown of their daughter's head and for a moment he wondered if his back would be up for carrying the two of them upstairs to bed.
Brennan's eyes fluttered and he marveled at how she seemed to fight sleep with the same determination as their daughter.
Then Bones' eyes opened wide. "There's that hockey match you wanted to watch."
The only TV in the house was the one mounted above the fireplace. No, that wasn't true. A smaller set, Bones' set that had done its duty in her closet, had been designated for the basement and the workroom that might someday become his man cave. It already had his old refrigerator waiting to house a storehouse of beer and an assortment of snacks and a chair that Bones had donated to his cause.
"It's only a playoff game," he said. But she had grown in the past few months, learned to read him better than he'd thought her capable, and she just surprised him again and rose from her position on the couch and sat up without disturbing the baby.
"I can take her upstairs," she offered, "so you could watch your game."
"Naw," he countered, "I'll take her upstairs. Unless you want to sleep."
It took her a millisecond to choose, and the small shake of her head told him she chose him.
"Hey, there," he said as he stood and scooped up his daughter, "we're going for a ride."
He caught that imperceptible tilt of Brennan's head, that look which he always thought was her look of wonderment, of "how the hell did I get here, and will I ever have to leave" look. He swore he saw the same look on his face in the morning as he shaved, Brennan humming in the baby's room as she nursed or fussed or proved just how great she was as a mother. And a partner.
And just how damned lucky he was.
He padded upstairs, Christine barely moving in his arms, her sleep deep and untroubled. Maybe in a few more weeks they'd be battling through teething, but for now they were just dealing with feedings and baths and wet and messy diapers. He couldn't even consider those a burden as he laid his daughter in her crib and adjusted the camera.
"Sleepy sleep, my little one," he whispered. "Let me have mommy for a little bit, okay?"
While he might hope for a sign of her understanding later, for now he was content that she was still asleep, still out for the count. He didn't doubt that they'd get through the game uninterrupted, but he'd take what he could get.
Despite the game about to begin downstairs, he lingered and raised a prayer of thanks.
He was truly blessed.
oOo
Author's note: That's the premise: Life's good, bad things are about to happen to good people. My intention is to simply suggest scenarios and as it is, I have a couple of theories for some of the main characters. If any of you are also speculating about how Pellant will torment our squint squad, feel free to join me in exercising our imaginations in this, our own little mental gymnasium. Who knows? We might get something right.
By the way, I ran across a good story by timeaftertime09 called "The Strength in the Sorrow" that deals with the Pellant threat and seems to be a story if that's more your thing. Mine is intended to be vignettes about the various characters and how they are affected by Pellant's actions.