"The Poppies in the Blood" By Valvox - Ellen
Author's Note: Improved this today due to a comment suggesting that I was rambling... who, moi??? Rate and Review please! Enjoy ^_^ Poem is "In Flanders Field" by John McRae. Song is "Please Don't Leave Me" by P!nk. ^_^
Summary: Angela convinces Brennan to stay in the countryside in a small cottage in California, instead of going to Peru again for the Summer Break. On the last day of their holidays, they find a body inside a rotting log, and are immediately cast as the main suspects, despite their keen denials of anything to do with the mangled corpse. Possible Booth and Brennan romance/kiss/implications. Roxie and Angela are really hitting it off, but come their breakup, Angela turns celebit at Sweets' call, and is mortified when she starts a new relationship and discovers she cannot express her feelings sexually without breaking her celebicy. Rated K+ to be safe. :)
Disclaimer: I claim nothing but the actual plot and the extra characters, no copyright infringement intended.
The poppies grew wild in the field. They were red, a vibrant red that was eye-catching, and covered acres of the farm. They usually just sat and watched the beautiful flowers as the wind moved them, or Brennan would go walking, in search of more of the fascinating local flora and fauna, but sometimes, when they were really bored (not that Brennan would ever admit to that – it implied unintelligence), they would walk across the field to the small, muddy creek that ran through it.
Angela had rented the cottage for the whole of the vacation, and Brennan was glad she'd accepted the offer (more like order), she needed to "chill" as Angela had put it, and think of ideas for her new book.
The last day of their holidays was just as relaxed as the first; Angela slept in, while Brennan woke with the sun and went outside in search of the rare Spotted Woodpecker. An old saying passed through Brennan's mind. The early bird catches the worm. Brennan shrugged this off; she never really understood it, anyway. She sat in the middle of the field (Angela had adequately dubbed it 'Flanders Field', due to the poppies) and got out her flash, and her very expensive, camera. Sitting on a rotted log she'd dragged over, Brennan began to photograph the birds flying overhead. Though she already had many pictures of the field and its poppies, Brennan still loved photographing them, the Eschscholzia californica, the Californian Red poppy.
'What are you doing?'
Angela had woken up, and stood behind Brennan wearing a white singlet and pj bottoms that she managed to make look good, though Brennan enviously noted she would never be able to wear anything like that.
Brennan smiled despite her envy, and Angela sat down.
'Recording the amount of Rare Spotted Woodpeckers in the area, so I can send the results to the National Animal Conservation Centre in Ohio'
'"Taking photographs" would have sufficed. Can I see?' Angela asked, she bent and sat beside Brennan on the old log
'Sure.' Bones handed Angela the camera carefully, ensuring Angela held it properly before finally letting go of her precious piece of technology.
Angela examined the digital photography with a practised eye, analysing every minute detail, her eyes lapped up the beautiful prowess of the brown feathered bird.
Angela grinned; even clueless Brennan could tell she was impressed.
'It's beautiful'
'The bird, not the photographs' Brennan said, knowing how Angela was wrong in that way sometimes
'Of course, sweetie' Angela smirked.
Angela got out her sketch pad and pencils she had stashed in the hollow log and resumed a drawing she had been working on the whole week. Bones was yet to see the picture, but knew that it would be amazing, no matter the subject – based on past experiences – not trust or faith, that was Booth's area.
'What are you drawing?' Brennan asked, trying (and failing) to peek over Angela's shielding arms
'Something' she said mysteriously, sliding further up the log
Brennan frowned; usually they shared all their work, asked opinions and helped one another – though Angela was usually the one who helped Brennan, socially, of course, never scientifically.
'Can…I see?' Bones asked, trying a different tactic – Angela had told her about tact and sensitivity – but she was yet to completely grasp the concept.
'Not yet,' she winked at Brennan, it irritated her immensely.
'I haven't finished' Angela's eye's never left her work
Bones exhaled, annoyed, and then continued her examination of the amazing avian.
'You want some breakfast, Ange?' Getting up, Brennan began walking towards the cottage.
'Mhmm, if there's some going' Angela still kept painting, and Brennan was getting irritated, trying to lure her away from the mysterious picture was difficult.
Inside, Bones made fruit salad and orange juice, and packed her bags, and Angela's for good measure. 15 minutes later she emerged from the cottage laden with bowls and cups.
When Brennan handed Angela a bowl and cup, she finally put down her work, her 'appetite for art' obviously is not as important as it is for food, Brennan congratulated herself mentally, pleased with her own witty metaphor.
'Thanks, I've finished now anyway'
'So I can see?' Brennan tried to hide her unusual eagerness in her fruit salad, but Ange saw and laughed.
Her laugh echoed across the field, making everything seem happy and jovial.
'Here,' she passed Brennan the picture, 'do you like it?'
She looked at the painting, and was surprised to see a familiar-looking figure sitting in a field full of red poppies, Flanders Field. The woman in the picture sat on a rotted log, hunched over a notebook, a bag with a camera poking out at her side. Her tongue was stuck out as if she was thinking, and her eyes screwed up to look at the work in her lap better. Brennan could see fruit trees, and a creek. This was definitely Flander's field, as Angela had adequately named it, after the poem written about World War one, 'In Flanders Field' by John McRae.
'Who's that?' Bones asked, pointing at the striking woman in the picture, Angela had made the scene look so peaceful and relaxed with the soft tones and pencil-strokes
She smiled.
'You, sweetie'
'The details are amazingly accurate, and the pattern of the poppies is somewhat pleasing.'
'I'll take that as a "thankyou" so, no problem.'
Angela was so happy, but Brennan still didn't know why.
'What's it for anyway, Angela?'
That made her huge grin become even bigger.
'It's your birthday, Happy Birthday, sweetie!' she was beaming now.
'A birthday merely symbolises the date of your actual birth.' Brennan frowned, 'there is no real need to celebrate it in meaningless ways such as gifts. In some countries, on your birthday, they would hit you with a stick the same amount of times as the age you turned, it is meant to symbolise-'
'Shut up, Brennan, before you ruin a perfect day' Angela said, smiling at Brennan in what she thought to be a fond manner – but then Bones never has been very good at reading people
Suddenly, Angela leapt up, in one graceful and fluent movement, like the woodpecker, then sprinted through the poppies.
Brennan sat for a moment, half-expecting her to come back, 'Hey!' she called, running after Angela 'wait up, Angela!'
Angela turned back, smiling, and continued running. Her laughing stopped, and Bones couldn't hear the thudding of her feet anymore.
'Angela?' Brennan yelled, worried 'Angela?'
She slowed to a walk, panting, and stopped when she came to the small, bubbling river that ran through Flander's field.
'Ange?!' Brennan was getting ridiculously worried, as her mind jumped to unrealistic conclusions, despite the conscious effort to remain rational, human nature took her spiralling emotions going haywire 'Where are you?! Ange? Are you there?'
Still nothing.
Whoosh!
Angela suddenly jumped out of nowhere, knocking Brennan over and into the river. Bones was under the water; Angela was on top of her, grinning through the murky water. Brennan burst up through the water, scowling and laughing at the same time. The water plastered Angela's silky, black hair to her head; making her look mermaid-like (though obviously mermaids are a myth, originating from Greece, she noted) Angela smiled, enhancing the siren image in Brennan's mind.
Angela dove under the water, then swam upwards, under Brennan, and grabbed her leg, yanking her under the water with an airy pop. She gave Brennan a cheeky smile, making bubbles rise upwards through the water between them, then pushed off the bottom and gripped Bones' muscular shoulders firmly, pulling them both up and out of the water. They gasped simultaneously, inhaling deeply and panting. Brennan waded over to the sand, laying down on the shore in exhaustion. Angela dragged herself up next to Bones, shaking her wet hair and spreading out in the warm and peaceful, glow of the summer sun. Brennan moved into the lotus position, a yoga pose, closing her eyes and sighing. Bones could hear Angela's bell-like laughter beside her, and a small frown creased her forehead.
'Angela, shhh!' Brennan hissed, still attempting to meditate
The laughter turned to snorting and soon she was rolling around the dusty ground, hysterical.
'BE QUIET!' Bones was really quite irritated now, but she still laughed on 'what's so funny?' Brennan finally asked incredulously
'You…' she spluttered between guffaws 'have a praying mantis on your head!'
'What? Argh! EW! Get it off, Ange! Now!' Bones shrieked, dancing around and shaking her head, but Angela just continued laughing
'Come on! Please, Angela!' Bones whined childishly, she was embarrassed at her own irrational and illogical behaviour, Brennan knew the bug could not hurt her, but having it so close to her, without being able to analyse or dissect it made her extremely uncomfortable
'Ok, ok.' Angela sighed, finally she stopped giggling, leaning closer to Brennan and reaching up, she carefully removed the troublesome bug and smiled. The small, green bug slowly crawled up Ange's arm, tickling her and making her giggle, so she gently placed the mantis on a nearby flower.
'Let's go get changed, we gotta go in an hour or so.' Angela sighed, getting up and offering her hand
'Okay.' Brennan firmly grabbed her hand, and Angela pulled Bones up easily, all the hiking they'd done had made them fitter, Bones thought, in a strictly scientific manner.