Hello all! *waves* Hope you all had a glorious holiday! And now my friend and I, SheandHer are proud to present our sequel to "Moving On."
SHADOW OF A DOUBT
Synopsis: A look into Booth and Brennan's joined life and the lives of their children. A continuation of the story: "Moving On." In the perils of their jobs, can they manage to keep their family from falling victim to those that wish them harm?
It's not of utter importance that you read the prequel to this, but here are the main points that you missed;
Alternate universe – Season 6 never happened; BB are married – married in the last story; They have a daughter – A girl named Alice, two years old by the time this story begins (our previous story leads up to her birth). They have another child on the way. And that's what you missed in "Moving On."
Should you wish to read the story (Moving On) Here's the link: .net/s/6213544/1/Moving_On
"Love is always patient and kind. It is never jealous. Love is never boastful or conceited. It is never rude or selfish. It does not take offense and is not resentful. Love does not take pleasure in other people's sins but delights in the truth; it is always ready excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes. Love does not come to an end."
Angela
God. I am. So. Anxious.
You know the kind of feeling. The sensation of fluttering butterflies in the pit of your stomach; you feel almost nauseous as a mixture of anticipation and fear of the unknown wells up inside you. It's one of those situations where resistance is futile; you know whatever you are dreading is inescapable. The nagging worries are unavoidable, etc, etc. Yup. This is one of those moments…
I peer down the windowless hallway, with its cold, antiseptic feeling. I've never suffered from claustrophobia, but each time I take a breath, it seems like the walls become narrower. I feel as if each tick of the clock traps me further. I twirl my hair absentmindedly.
I remain seated in the unbending chair, stooped over, elbows on my knees. I stare at my chipping black nail polish then spare a glance to the floor. I lose myself in the pattern of the tiles, the way the designer laid them out in a symmetric, predictable way. Not inspired. Becoming lost in artistic thought where I analyze line, shape and color puts my mind at ease if only for a moment.
Then the sound of boots treading upon linoleum…the scraping of a creaking chair breaks me out of my short-lived daydream. Looking somewhat worried but carefree at the same time, Jack squeezes my hand while offering me coffee in the other. I feel life return to my hand the minute he weaves his fingers through mine. I grasp the Styrofoam cup with the other. The warmth traveling up my arm has nothing to do with the coffee. His blue eyes have somehow always made me feel better. A striking color of irises that can say so much.
He gives me a slight smile.
"Shouldn't be too long now Angie."
"I know. I'm just nervous for her. It's been hours."
"Yeah and I'm sure they're in a worse state than us."
"That's what I'm worried about, I'm sure Booth is ready to have a heart attack. They've been through so much already-"
"…We all have." He speaks softly, yet everything seems to echo in this deserted corridor.
"It's just…a really big day."
He nods.
If waiting for my best friend to give birth is this stressful, I don't even want to imagine myself in this situation. I'm on the outside looking in…
Alice was to be in my care, but I didn't think I could focus enough to give her the attention she deserves. Cam has taken over the duty, Sweets is on standby, while Max is out of town. Very inconvenient of him to be out of town during the birth of his second grandchild; he is probably speeding down the highway as we speak, taking a leap of faith.
Even with Hodgin's company, the hours move painstakingly slow. Is it possible to be trapped in limbo? Is there seriously nothing I can do to make the clock on the wall move faster? Longing to move, I begin to pace up and down the floor.
In the early hour of approaching dawn, I am dozing upon Hodgins shoulder when he nudges me.
"Hey, someone's coming." He points down the long hallway, entry blocked by double doors. A dark figure is approaching. The closer he or she moves I am on pins and needles as excitement begins to wash away my anxiety. It's Booth. He looks exhausted. Hair ruffled, he is decked out in scrubs.
As he gingerly pushes through the doors, I run towards him.
"So?"
His expression is unreadable at first…
"Booth come on man, don't leave us hanging here." Hodgins says. The wonder we are both feeling is evident in his voice.
"It's a boy." He says, a bright smile spreading across his face. The light of the smile reaches his eyes so he looks youthful and whole.
"Oh my god! That's wonderful!" The giddiness inside me is overflowing. I grab him, bringing him into one of my world class, rib-breaking hugs. Hodgins grips his hand and we give endless words of:
"Congratulations."
"This is just, my gosh, I'm so happy for you! For the both of you!"
"Thank you." He says, the tiredness of these long hours of labor is beginning to creep into his demeanor.
"How is Bren?"
"Bones? Oh she's fine, tired, but you know. I'm lucky my hand is still intact." Beaming still, he raises his hand. It definitely looks like it's been gripped for hours on end.
"Our Dr. B doesn't know her own strength." Says Hodgins.
"When can we see her? Your son? The both of them?" I can't help it, this is such a colossal thing, my exhilaration can't be dampened.
"Ange, let's give them a little bit of space, let em' take a breath, a nap-."
"It's okay." Booth continues to grin. I don't think I've ever seen him look so cheerful, not like this.
The sunlight has begun to kiss every surface of the tiled ground… it streams through thick vertical blinds and fills the room with a pleasant peachy glow. Despite the early hour of the morning, Brennan is quite alert, wavy wisps of hair giving her a beautiful, natural look.
Booth is out like a light, scrunched up in an uncomfortable chair in the corner of the room, surly refusing to go home to take a shower and power nap. In her arms is their son. She can't look away. I've seen several degrees of looks of complete fascination on her face, examining remains, trying to make sense of the wrong doings of others. With a rumpled brow, her eyes are usually engrossed in the problem before her, but this look is different. It's not a look of trying to crack a code, or a look of trying to grip a solution before it slips through the team's fingers. This is a look of…..well, love. It's a beautiful thing.
I lean with the side of my forehead against the doorframe. She doesn't notice me, until I shift in my flats.
"Ange, hi."
"You should be sleeping." I say smiling. I silently settle into a chair at her bedside.
"Well you wanted to see me didn't you?" She raises her eyebrows in a playful way.
"Maybe." I say laughing.
"Congrats sweetie." I clutch at her hand.
"Thank you…" A few moments pass, the room is eerily quiet except for the sound of Booth's deep breathing.
"I've never seen that look on your face before you know."
"What look?"
"It's a wonderful thing." I continue.
"I don't understand."
"The way you look when you hold him…"
"Do I have other kinds of 'looks'?"
"What I mean to say is that…you've finally found some completeness Bren. I've wanted that for you for a while now."
She smiles sweetly. Unsure of where to go next, I go on: "You know, after everything that's happened with you and"-
"I don't really prefer to talk about that right now." I'm surprised at how abruptly she's cut me off. Her face grows dark. Stupid. I shouldn't have mentioned…that. The past is called the past for a reason. To be forgotten.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up."
She looks over to Booth who has not stirred.
She locks gazes with me for a moment. I guess she's trying to make sense of all these heavy emotional statements I'm presenting her with. We seem to reach an unspoken understanding. An understanding between women, between best friends.
She's become much more in tune with the little things that determine what a person is really feeling. The ability was always there. Everything presents themselves in the eyes, how they lighten, soften, harden or darken. Life is reflected in the eyes.
"Look I'm sorry sweetie. Just know that I'm just happy for you. So happy."
"I know." She whispers. "Thank you Ange."
Leaning in to look at the baby boy's face I say: "He's precious." Looking from her husband to her new son she finally speaks.
"He is…"
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