Hey! Okay, so. This is my first Bones fan fiction so I'm not expecting it to be spectacular or anything. I haven't written anything in a long time so it's pretty choppy and it needs fleshed out, I think. Also, I haven't seen any season 6 episodes, so I'm winging it with a few details - feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, I promise I won't be offended. I hope this isn't TOO bad. C:
"Trauma to the, uh, frontal lobe suggests a blow, but not fatal… Hodgins, do you have time of burial?"
Temperance raised a hand, pressing the cool skin of her wrist to her throbbing head. She slowly drew a breath, trying to block out the harsh light as Hodgins began to spew off a long, drawn out explanation on how he reached the conclusion that the body had been in the soil for all of a week. Usually, she liked the fluff; it provided reasoning and logic and that was what she centered her life around. But she found it difficult to concentrate, and she could only bring herself to place the blame on her splitting headache. It was obvious that she wasn't on her game, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.
"Decomposition rate, even taking in all of the weather factors, pins time of death at five days." She blinked, the corners of her lips tugging down into a frown.
Shifting uncomfortably, Hodgins stuffed his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. "She was in there for at least six days."
Brennan's gaze swept the skeleton, looking for answers. "So she was buried before she was dead?"
"She was buried alive?"
The two turned to look at Camille, who had just voiced both of their concerns. A feeling of dread settled over the two, which the coroner sensed, and she took a step forward to pull both of them from their thoughts. "So, do we have… Cause of death?"
Temperance gave a feeble nod before wiping the sweat from her brow. The last thing she needed on top of this annoying headache was a vivid flashback to when she thought she was going to suffocate to death. Logically, she had little to worry about; the Gravedigger was safe behind bars and there had been no more reported incidents. Not to mention, the Gravedigger (and any accomplices she may have had) were always consistent, and the body showed no trace of burns on the back of their neck. Still, various possibilities began to run through her mind - she backed up, overwhelmed, and took a seat in the nearest chair. Hodgins swallowed harshly, nervously fumbling with his wedding ring, before looking up with a cocked eyebrow.
"Are you okay, Dr. Brennan?"
She cleared her throat before nodding. "Yes, I'm sorry. Just a headache, that's all. I'll be okay."
"You don't look okay."
Temperance had never missed work due to illness. Even after her near death experience down in New Orleans, she was out in the field the minute she realized there was a case involved. Nothing, aside from hospitalization, had ever kept her from completing her duties as a forensic anthropologist for the FBI. But she'd always been a healthy person, nothing more than the occasional cold, so there had never been a reason for her to stay home. Cam took a few steps forward and placed her hand on Temperance's forehead, causing the doctor to furrow her brow in confusion, before the other retracted. "You have a fever, Dr. Brennan."
"I'm okay," Temperance urged, slowly attempting to stand up before going weak at the knees and crashing back down into the chair. "I just need a few minutes, that's all. Maybe I'll go rest in my office. No more than an hour."
Camille shook her head. "As your boss, I'm going to insist that you take the rest of the way off."
Brennan's eyes widened and she stood up quickly. Hodgins grabbed her elbow to steady her. "What? No, I have a murder to solve here. I'm claiming one of my monthly freebies."
"I'm overruling it."
"You can't do that, that dismisses the entire point of the freebie."
Camille smiled softly, clasping her hands in front of her. "Dr. Brennan, we will deal without you."
Temperance sighed, clenching her jaw momentarily. "Booth won't like it if he knows that I'm stalling the case because I'm just a bit sick."
The other woman gave a single nod, as though she'd just come to realize the real reasoning behind the doctor's reluctance. It was no secret that Booth had been extremely edgy with Dr. Brennan since he returned from war with Hannah. Actually, he hadn't been very friendly with any of them, but it was taking the most toll on Temperance. She was fighting to appease the man who couldn't be appeased. It was evident to all of the Jeffersonian that she loved the FBI agent, no mater how illogical she herself found it; his short attitude hurt her emotionally, which she wasn't accustomed to. Everyone could see the look in her eyes when she saw Hannah, and it was understandable that she didn't want to get on Booth's bad side. But Cam was confident in the conclusion that Brennan had to stand up for herself, so it was only natural to send her home. Her needs before Booth's wants. That was how it was supposed to be, no matter how clouded the anthropologist's judgment was.
"My decision is final, Dr. Brennan. Angela will drive you home, and someone will be by to check up on you. Don't even think about coming back until we've given you clearance, and yes, I promise that someone will be in touch about our findings." Cam nodded to Hodgins, who quickly scattered to find his wife.
Temperance sighed in defeat, letting her head fall into her hands as she closed her eyes, trying to block out the slurring mix of noises and bright lights of the Jeffersonian.
"Sweetie, are you sure you're going to be okay?"
Angela was perched on the edge of Brennan's bed, smoothing down her best friend's bangs affectionately. Temperance, as independent as ever, merely nodded as she curled up beneath the covers, finding comfort in their enclosed warmth. The healthy of the two had already insisted upon soup and cold medicine, leaving only rest to remain in the typical "get better" checklist (along with trashy magazines, according to Angela, but Brennan never saw the point in those and had solidly refused).
"Okay," Angela sighed, smiling sweetly as she slowly stood.
"Thank you, Ange," Temperance murmured, her voice muffled by the material of her pillow as she buried her face into its cool surface, looking for relief.
A smile danced along the other's lips as she gave her a soothing stroke of the hair. "Call if you need anything. And I do mean anything, okay?" After a confirming nod, the artist left the condo, stranding Bones alone to her thoughts and her aching head.
Back at the Jeffersonian, the squints were working harder than ever to try and make up for Temperance's lack of presence. They had enlisted the last minute help of three extra interns, including Daisy Wick, who never failed to drive the lot of them up the wall. Still, if she had Dr. Brennan's approval, there was no getting rid of her.
Seeley Booth's nerves were on edge, as they always were these days, as he strolled into the institute with his hands shoved in his pockets in a manner that showed his superiority complex, as Dr. Sweets had once told him. Working with Bones was not high on his list of priorities anymore, when in the past it had been the only thing worth living for. Perhaps it was their time apart, or his new girlfriend, or a mix of both, but it seemed as though they didn't have the connection they used to have and he found himself irritated with the familiarity of his life before Hannah.
Or maybe, just maybe, he didn't know how to love someone who refused to love him back, so he had to pretend that he didn't love her at all. Still, he couldn't stop his heart from racing as his eyes swept the platform, no Temperance in sight.
Cam was the first to take notice of his presence and she cocked an eyebrow, nodding his way. "Booth." Her patience with him was running low; no matter how much she respected him, his change of attitude was proving to be too much.
"Where's Bones?" he asked, deciding to dismiss all formalities. "We've got the brother in the interrogation room."
"She's at home," Cam said simply, pulling off her gloves and exiting the platform, her arms folding loosely across her chest as she came to a stop in front of the FBI agent. She watched in distaste as he sighed heavily, as though his partner's illness was such a burden. Disheartened by the fact that Brennan's fears as to what would happen if she took the day off became true, Camille turned cold, straightening her back, her lips thinning into a fine line.
"Why the hell is she at home? She's never at home. She's always here."
"She was sick, Seeley. I insisted that she took the afternoon off."
He rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Of all the times she has to get sick." He ran a hand through his hair before continuing, "And don't call me Seeley, Camille."
She wasn't in the mood for his antics. She had a history with Booth, sure, but he was treating everyone, particularly Temperance, like they were gum on the bottom of his finely polished shoes. He had never been one to dismiss others because of a woman, unless he was purely distracted, but that had never made him hostile before. Brennan brought out the best in him, while Hannah, well… She brought out the worst. Usually Cam would bite her tongue to avoid confrontation with one of her oldest friends, but she found that she couldn't bring herself to resist this time around.
"Do you have any idea how much of an ass you're being, Seeley?"
Immediately defensive, Booth made himself taller and cocked his eyebrows, as though challenging her. "Excuse me?"
"One year ago, you would have been the first one to know that Dr. Brennan was sick. You would have been the one to tell her to go home. You would have taken her there yourself, made sure she was okay, dealt with the case as quickly as possible then been the one to stay with her until she was completely better. And don't argue with me, Seeley, because I know you. One year ago, you would have died for her. Now, you're acting as though she's just a burden and that's not right. She loves you, Booth, and I think you love her too. I think you always will." She paused, deciding to wait and see if he had a counter argument. Predictably, he did.
"I love Hannah."
Camille sighed, hanging her head in disappointment. "I think you know that she's just a replacement." Booth opened his mouth to protest but she held up a hand, continuing, "I know you don't want my advice, but you're getting it anyways. Cut the attitude and talk to her. I think the only person it could end badly for is Hannah." She turned, though only got a few steps before she heard him feebly call her name.
"She's at home, then?"
Camille turned, nodding once to confirm the location, before disappearing into her office.
A knock on the door aroused Brennan's attention, but her curiosity wasn't piqued enough to pull her from the bathroom. She had awoken from her nap only an hour in to feel a wave of nausea that sent her running to the bathroom. From then on, it had been a war between nausea and fatigue, all battling it out while she sat miserable on the floor next to the toilet, drifting in and out of slumber with the occasional interruption of vomit. The logical thing to do would be to wait it out, but all she wanted was for it to stop.
She blocked out the next series of knocks as she curled up, deciding that anyone coming to check on her would just come in and anyone else who needed her would just call and she'd get back to them later. Temperance sniffled violently, drowning out the sound of the front door opening and closing, and her ears were too full of fluid to capture the sound of the footsteps. The male voice calling her name, softly, did however register, and it proved to be too much for her. Due to Booth's latest actions, she could only resolve that he was coming to pull her out onto the field to do something case related, and she didn't think she would be able to handle that. She thought of man she'd come to love, and the disappearance of his caring nature, and on top of everything else, she began to weep.
Booth couldn't tell if he was just humoring Cam or if he was actually concerned for his partner's well being, but it was becoming clearer as he found her absent from both the couch and her bed. A flare of anger swelled up inside him at the thought that, perhaps, she had gone back to the Jeffersonian and neglected to take care of herself. He paused, looking down at the carpet beneath his feet, slowly becoming more and more convinced that maybe, just maybe, Camille was right.
Maybe.
He heard a faint noise from the bathroom, and his attention turned to the slightly ajar door. Slowly, he crept towards the door and pushed it open, his gaze settling on the woman who was cracking under the lack of rationality that had always been her glue. He watched momentarily as she buried her face into her knees, trying to hide her grief, but he knew her all too well. Temperance Brennan had always listened to her voice of reason. She had always been independent and always fought to build up that wall that protected her from the world. Once, she had allowed him into her life. She let him see her vulnerable, let him take care of her. But he ruined that and he saw, now, that she regretted it. She was retracting into her shell of logic and when all else failed, she cracked, and couldn't keep strong.
"Bones," he breathed, love and concern flooding his voice as he closed the distance between them, lowering himself to the floor and pulling her into his arms. With all the strength she could muster (which, admittedly, wasn't very much), she fought to free herself, pushing lightly on his chest. Reason had it that if he was so willing to let her go all of those times before, this shouldn't be any different. But Booth wouldn't have it. He only tightened his grip around her until her soft cries melted into full blown sobs, and she pulled herself close to him, burying her face into his chest. His fingers knotted in with her tousled hair and he pressed a kiss to her temple; to hell with getting sick. She was, and forever would be, his Bones.
And he would forever regret the time he forgot that.
The more he whispered words of encouragement into her ear, the harder Brennan seemed to cry. Every time she tried to pry herself away, he pulled her even closer, and somewhere down the line she ended up curled up on his lap while he rested against the wall. He took a moment to reflect on the past few months; if Camille had not told him, Bones would have been going through this alone. In fact, he may very well have been the reason she was crying in the first place, and that thought was enough to kill him. He sighed softly, running his fingers through her hair, enveloping her with as much comfort as he could muster. Camille was right. He loved Bones, and always would. With Hannah, he was settling, and that wasn't fair to anyone involved.
Suddenly, Temperance wrenched away and Booth quickly pulled her hair back as another wave of sickness washed over her, and he rubbed her back until she had nothing else left in her stomach. Slowly, weakly, she pulled back and leaned next to him against the wall, hugging her knees. She shook her head when he reached for her, so instead he turned to face her.
"You should go," she whispered, voice hoarse, "You'll get sick and then Hannah will get sick."
For the first time since he met her, Booth found that Hannah was the last of his concerns. All he wanted was to sooth the woman beside him, and he made a mental note to hold a conversation with his girlfriend when he returned home - not that he planned to do so prior to restoring Bones' health, of course. He shook his head, reaching forward to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'll risk it."
She shook her head, and he reached forward to grasp her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. Slowly, she opened her eyes to look at him, albeit quizzically, and he swept away all of the remaining tears with his thumbs. "Bones, I'm sorry." She shook her head again, vehemently, and tried to stand up to get out of his grasp. She stumbled, however, and he swept her up in his arms, carrying her to the bed. As soon as she was set down, she scooted away from him, curling up and hiding underneath the covers, almost childishly. He sighed and pulled them down from over her head, noticing the stubborn frown on her face.
"Bones, hey. Bones. Look at me."
Reluctantly, she did, and he saw the hurt reflected in her eyes. He felt like a monster; he never meant for this to be the ultimate result. He bit down on his lip and kissed her forehead delicately. "Tempe, I was wrong. I swear that… That things are going to be different now. I was wrong. I'm sorry." But she didn't understand. She pushed him away even more and fumbled with the hem of her shirt, looking down.
"You have nothing to apologize for," she said, though she knew that wasn't true, "Anthropologically speaking, it's not logical to spend the rest of your life with one person. But you believe in it, and it's obvious that you believe that Hannah is the right one for you. It's only natural that you center your life around her, Booth. You said things would change, and they did. You were right, that's not a… A crime or anything."
Booth sighed at her attempt at rationality, shaking his head. "But you're wrong, Bones."
"That's not likely."
He couldn't help but laugh. "You're terrible at psychology."
"Psychology is a soft science."
He nodded, shifting so he was sitting straight up and looking ahead. "Bones, it's you that I'm in love with."
She blinked, looking up at him in a confused fashion before shaking her head in disbelief and sinking into the pillow. "That's impossible. You're in love with Hannah."
Booth winced, guilt settling in the pit of his stomach. "No… No, I love Hannah. But I'm not in love with her."
Brennan laughed suddenly, startling him. "That's impossible, Booth. There's absolutely no difference between the two and… And it's not logical. If you're with Hannah, you love her. It's as simple as that."
He sighed, aware that he was losing the battle. But no matter; he'd just prove it to her later. He cleared his throat and moved closer to her, pulling her into his arms again. "I'll prove you wrong later," he explained, "But for now, let's get you better, huh? C'mon, Bones. I'll stay here while you sleep."
She glared feebly up at him. "Booth, Hannah will get worried." He simply sighed, pressing a light kiss to her temple. "Hannah and I will be over by tomorrow." She fell asleep against him, and he knew not if she heard his declaration.
"And Baby, it's coooold ouuuutsiiiiiiiiiide."
Temperance cocked an eyebrow at Angela, who had gone from humming a mindless Christmas tune to applying lyrics to the concoction, no doubt pulling her attention from the fact that she was supposed to be building a facial reconstruction of the burial victim. She found that she didn't have the heart to tell her best friend to focus. Of course, that would have been hypocritical because her own mind was long gone by now.
She hadn't seen Booth in three days, and had no idea whether or not he lived up to his promise or not. She couldn't expect him to, of course. She was vulnerable and it was human nature to try and please someone you care about. Still, her heart was filled with unwanted emotion and all she wanted to do was rationalize life.
Bones left Angela to her holiday cheer and, instead, she made her way to her office and opened the document that contained her latest book. She could rationalize everything in a world she created, in a situation she had full control over. She set off to typing, only three paragraphs in when a knock on the door aroused her attention. Booth stood still in the doorway, rocking nervously, surveying her as she looked up warily. She only had the energy to think the worst, and nodded in his direction, offering him permission to enter. He did, settling on the couch and gesturing to the spot next to him. Slowly, she sat herself beside him, crossing her legs.
"Hey Bones."
"So was it the brother?" Temperance asked suddenly, her eyebrows flying upwards in half-feigned curiosity. "I mean… You can usually tell by your gut, can't you?" Work was her escape. When reality was too much to deal with, she sank into her own little world and, at the moment, she wasn't too sure she wanted to know what Booth really had to talk to her about. She watched as he sighed and shrugged, dismissing the conversation. This frustrated Brennan, and she scratched above her forehead absentmindedly, lowering her gaze to the floor.
"I don't think so," Booth shrugged, sensing the tension, then the faintest of smiles tugged at his lips. "I did it, Bones."
Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Bones did her best to ignore the rush of positive emotion at his words and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. She looked at him, cocking her head ever so slightly to the side. "Did what?'
Booth still wasn't too sure that Bones had heard him make his promise, so he beamed, jumping at his chance for a fresh start. He grabbed her hand and began tugging her towards the door; surprisingly enough, she didn't protest, so he picked up his speed and the two went whizzing through the Jeffersonian. Hodgins and Angela poked their heads out of the storage closet, smirking to themselves.
"So should we be nice and let Hannah hitch a ride with one of us to the airport?" the male chuckled, glancing back at Angela, who promptly shook her head with a playful smirk on her face. "Let her walk."
Temperance never protested until he led her to his car, and even then, Booth refused to tell her where they were going. She crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest as she leaned back in the passenger's seat, frowning. Confusion didn't hit her completely until he pulled up in front of the Founding Father's, and she found herself disgruntled. She hated being confused.
He led her through the crowd of people until they reached a vacated table a few feet from the bar. Booth caught her elbow before she could sit down, and she looked at him incredulously, though he decided not to humor her any. The last thing he wanted was for her to get angry and storm out on him, which was always a strong possibility with Temperance. He smiled a shit-eating grin and grabbed her hands, watching her closely.
"This is where I first fell in love with you."
Bones blinked, taken aback by his words, and glanced down at the table as though it would hold all of the answers, the entire story. When she found nothing, she looked back up at him, defeat reflected in her eyes. "I don't know what that means."
Oddly satisfied by her answer, he laced the fingers of his right hand through those of her left and brought their conjoined limbs up to his heart, grinning at her. "I was sitting at the counter, you know, when I broke things off with Hannah, and I was just… Just thinking. You know, going through all of the times we've been together, all of the conversations we've had. And I traced it back to this spot."
She opened her mouth to speak once, though closed it, gathering her thoughts. After a few seconds, she took a deep breath. "We've sat here plenty of times, Booth."
He sighed and took a deep breath. He knew the location would have little sentimental value to her, so he pulled her back outside, the night air surrounding them. He took her by the waist, watching her closely. "I don't remember what I said, but… I can remember that you laughed. You laughed and you held a hand up to your mouth and it was… It was just… So beautiful, y'know?"
"That's lust, Booth, that's not love."
Ignoring her protests, Booth continued, "And I started thinking… Briefly and everything, because I always have to pay close attention to what you say and you were talking and all, but I started thinking about you. You know, proving all of your superstitions about love wrong. Spending the rest of my life with you and showing you that sex could mean something more and just… Loving you."
Brennan sighed in disbelief. "That doesn't mean that you're in love with me, Booth, I -"
She was interrupted by a kiss, his lips molding with hers until she was prompted into returning the gesture. After a few moments, he pulled away, though his lips remained close. "There's no use fighting it, Bones. I love you."
For once, all she could manage out was a breathy, "I love you too."