The Lesson in the Children's Book
Rating: K/K+
Summary: Oneshot, set after the Proof in the Pudding. "I know that I am blunt – too blunt sometimes. I hurt people with what I say, and often I don't even think twice about it. But what I said to you… I've thought about it more than twice."
Pairing: BB friendship.
Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for the Proof in the Pudding, and extremely minor spoilers for the Pain in the Heart and the Parts in the Sum of the Whole/first case.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or the story Friendship by B. Traven.
It had been a slow moving day in the lab with mostly paper work to be done at the desk; almost everyone else had gone to lunch, so seeing Parker and Booth enter was a welcome sight. She was just leaving the platform when Parker rushed to her side the instant he saw her and clutched her leg in a hug. "Hiya, Dr. Bones!" He beamed up at her.
"Hello Parker," She said as she returned the hug as best she could without having to squat down to his level. She turned her attention to her partner who stood a few feet away, "What are you two doing here? It's your day off."
"Yeah, well Parker wanted to see you. Are you-," the shrill ring of his cell phone stopped him. He glanced at the ID and cast her an apologetic look before answering. "Booth."
Brennan locked eyes with him in silent communication – a trait they were infamous for around the lab and the Hoover building - that she was taking Parker to her office, to which he nodded his consent. She looked down at the little boy who was still holding onto her pant leg with one hand. As she was guiding him into her office, she noticed something in his free hand and asked, "What do you have there?" He silently handed it up to her.
It was a children's book with a friendly looking dog on the cover. She appraised it with raised brows and read aloud, "Friendship?"
The boy nodded vigorously as he plopped down on her plush couch. "Will you read it with me, Dr. Bones?"
She watched as a miniature version of the very smile that crumbled her control spread across the little boy's face, and she couldn't help but smile as well. She didn't get to answer the question however, because Booth had stopped at the threshold of her office with a frown on his face.
"Change of plans, Park. I've got to go in to work for a little bit." His warm eyes flicked to her, but he was still talking to his son. "Maybe Bones will go with us to the diner later for dinner?"
"I would like that. And Parker is welcome to stay here while you go in." She felt nervous asking. She knew what time Booth got with his son was dire to him, but she also aware that if Booth had a meeting, Parker would have to wait alone in his father's office.
Parker, who had went from looking crestfallen to completely stoked in a matter of seconds, beamed up at Brennan and then his father. "Please, Dad?"
Booth hesitated. To her, "Are you sure?"
"Yes. If I wasn't, I wouldn't have offered."
"Thanks, Bones. I'll be back for the both of you later, alright?" He pushed away from the doorframe and headed to the glass doors of the exit.
Brennan couldn't help but watch and note once again that the man was very well structured. She faintly heard Parker call his goodbye from the sofa.
She hated that he had to go so soon. She hadn't had the chance to just sit down and talk to Booth in the last few days, not since the lock down of the lab and the conspiracy mess. There hadn't been a case, and he had only stopped by briefly once or twice this week.
"Dr. Bones?"
She snapped from her reverie before taking a seat gracefully next to the young boy. "Would you like to read your book?" He smiled and passed it to her.
She flipped to the first page, completely oblivious that a story of a dog and a Frenchman would stir such emotions.
It's just a story for children, she thought in an attempt to rationalize. Yet every time it ran through her head, she felt the uncomfortable, metaphorical knot in her stomach tighten a little more.
It was a simple, short story by an author whom she had never heard of. The writing wasn't spectacular, seeing as it was geared towards a younger audience, but it held an underlying lesson. It was a tale of a stray dog and a Frenchman who owned a fancy restaurant in the city. The dog, every day at the same time, would stand outside the restaurant and wait for the Frenchman to come out to him; and the two struck up a friendship. The dog would shine his dark brown eyes at the man, shoot him a charming grin before leaving, and would return at the same time the next day. It was habitual. The Frenchman had begun to look forward to the time the dog arrived, constantly watching the clock. No matter how bad a day he was having, seeing the quizzical grin of the dog as he arrived or trotted away never failed to boast his spirits.
That was, until the day mayhem radiated through the restaurant. A customer with a chipped tooth and an extremely low IQ, a ditzy waitress who was currently curled in the corner crying, a lazy baker who had failed at his job, and a stone-hard roll that was the source of the madness that had completely ruined the Frenchman's day. He had stood at the desk, seething and clutching the roll in a vice grip. And then the dog had appeared, sitting on his haunches at the glass doors with that charming grin on his face yet again. There was no explanation for what the Frenchman did. He just reacted. The roll was hurtled through the air, and the dog was completely blindsided with the blow to the face. He had done a double take, his smile fading and his brown eyes shining with a mixture of surprise and hurt. The Frenchman had been shocked at his own reactions, and instantly had rushed to the doors and towards the dog. The stray had just looked up, his expression pained. His eyes had seemed to ask, why? Then, he had trotted off without so much as glancing back over his shoulder. The dog had never just left. The Frenchman had rushed behind the dog for a few yards, pleading for him to stop. He halted his movements, realizing that the dog would be back surely, but he couldn't help but feel guilty.
The next day he had waited for the dog to show up, and he did, even though it was a little later than usual. The Frenchman had gone out to the dog, but the stray hadn't smiled up at him or approached him. He kept his distance before leaving again without so much as a grin. The day after the same thing happened, and the dog was even more distant than he had been previously. The third day the Frenchman waited all day, and the dog never showed up. The fourth and fifth held the same events, and the Frenchman sickeningly realized that the dog would never return.
Brennan didn't deal with metaphors and hidden messages – that was Booth's department. She dealt in blunt facts and saw things in black and white. But somehow the underlying message of this story plagued her, and she knew exactly why.
The night the lab had been locked down, she had brought up his assassin ancestor. She hadn't done it in anger nor had she actually struck him – she'd only ever hit him twice, once during their very first case and a second time at his own funeral – but his expression had been startled. She'd blindsided him with something he had shared with her and said he never wanted brought back up, and he had left. Booth never just left. She had hurried after him, promising repeatedly that she'd never bring it up again. She wasn't one to promise, and for once she had no idea what was spilling from her mouth. And he still hadn't stopped; he hadn't even glanced back at her.
She wished more than anything that she could just retract her words.
She'd seen him a few times since the whole group had parted from the diner the morning after. There hadn't been a case, so he'd only stopped by to drop off some paper work twice from the case previous. He had been in a hurry to get back to the Hoover building both times, claiming to have meetings. He hadn't been around to kidnap her and take her to lunch, hadn't brought any Thai food to her apartment at ungodly hours in the night, or taken her out for a drink. She wasn't even sure that he had stepped all the way into her office since that night, and that had been almost a week and a half ago. She realized that the only reason he had appeared in the lab today was for his son – he had said 'Parker had wanted to see you' not 'we wanted to see you.'
Brennan wasn't one to fret about things that there was no proof of, to feel guilty about stating a fact, or to allow a metaphorical child's story to upset her. Yet, here she was chewing on her lip nervously and nearly wringing her hands together.
She risked a glance at him. Booth sat silently beside her, his eyes watching the road intently. They had already taken Parker to Rebecca's after dinner, and now he was dropping her off at the lab. He had been uncharacteristically quiet all evening, not shining with his usual childlike mirth. He must have felt her eyes on him or noticed her unease, because his dark eyes flicked to her briefly before they returned to the road. A frown graced his ruggedly handsome face. "What's the matter, Bones?"
She had no idea how to express her thoughts, so she forced herself to look more relaxed. "Nothing, I just haven't been sleeping well. And I just remembered that I left something in my office." She wasn't sure why she said it. Neither of those things explained her fidgeting and anxiety. His eyebrows drew together at her jumbled answer, but thankfully, he didn't question it.
He pulled into the parking lot of the Jeffersonian. tugged his keys out of the ignition before slipping them into his jean pocket. She was slightly relieved that he was at least going to walk her in, a thought that struck her oddly. Since when did she want to be escorted anywhere? She shook her head and pushed her door open before meeting him at the front bumper of the Sequoia.
They entered the lab silently, their shoulders nearly brushing as they walked. She entered her office, but once more he held back and leaned his shoulder against the frame. She felt her stomach clench again and a wave of nausea roll over her.
"You can come in, you know," she made herself say as she began bagging up her laptop and a few papers.
"I really should get home," he answered with the shake of his head.
She really felt like she was going to be sick, so she pressed a hand to her stomach. She opened her mouth, struggling to find something to say. And once again, she was talking without really knowing what she was saying until it was audible, "I'm sorry, Booth."
He had been staring at something on the far wall of her office, but now his attention snapped back to her when he heard her tone. He quirked a brow, "For?"
She breathed a pained sigh and straightened. "I know that I am blunt – too blunt sometimes. I hurt people with what I say, and often I don't even think twice about it. But what I said to you… I've thought about it more than twice."
His brow scrunched in confusion. "What are you talking about, Bones?"
"We bicker. Some times we go too far or say the wrong thing, and sometimes feelings get hurt. We always talk it out though, always. But not this last time… Booth, you walked away. You've never done that - not when I disagree with your beliefs or what you say, not even when I hit you at your funeral service. I'm the one who has always walked away, not you." She was faintly shaking by the time she was done.
He was staring at her, his expression shell-shocked. He watched her with concern before moving to stand in front of her, and he gently reaching out to touch her trembling shoulder. "What-"
"I'm sorry for bringing up your ancestry. I never should have, not when you were already under so much stress. You've been so distant since then. Please don't leave; don't walk away again." She felt weak, and she absolutely loathed it, but some things couldn't remain unsaid. She was starting to learn that.
Traitorous tears stung her eyes at the thought of the only constant in her life walking away, but somehow she managed to keep them from falling. She felt his hand drop from her shoulder and she irrationally half-expected him to turn around and leave anyway.
He didn't. Instead, he pulled her to him and hugged her tightly. She nearly sobbed in relief, something that Temperance Brennan just didn't do. God, how she had missed him.
"I overreacted, and I shouldn't have walked away." He murmured into her ear. "I'm sorry, too. I really am."
She inhaled deeply, taking in his masculine scent. When she didn't say anything, he pressed on.
"After five years, I wish you would know that I'm not going to leave you, Bones. You're my best friend, and I wouldn't walk away from you just because of something so minor. No way in hell. At this point, you're stuck with me." She smiled against him. "And for the record, I haven't been distant because of what you said."
"Why then?" She looked up quickly, not quite able to mask the flicker of fear that shot through her.
"I... I've had a lot on my mind, and there are some things that I've been trying to figure out." He looked uneasy again, and he adverted his eyes.
She pressed him anyway, "Like what?"
He only smirked that smile of his and returned his gaze to her. He squeezed her shoulder tightly before releasing her completely. He took the laptop bag from her, and he ushered her towards the door with his hand on the small of her back. "Another time, Bones. Another time."
Even though her curiosity was piqued, she could wait. After all, he was apparently sticking around for a while.
She wouldn't have it any other way.
A/N: Hmm… I wonder what he has been trying to figure out. :)
Reviews would be lovely. This is my first Bones fanfiction, so I really hope that these two seem in character. Brennan seems a little emotional, but after seeing her pleading/promising/panicky moment in Proof in the Pudding, I think that this isn't too OC. Constructive criticism is welcome, but please don't flame.
EDIT: Because I've had several requests to do so, I want to convert this into a twoshot. The second part will be children's book themed as well. Hopefully I'll be able to do so before this summer comes to an end.