Author's Note: New story time! You'll get the gist on the once you read this chapter, so I'm not going to ruin anything for you by blabbing too much. I'm having a lot of fun with this one, I'll say that much. It's sort of inspired by an ER fanfiction I've read, written by Ocean of Ashes called Against the Odds, so thank you Ocean for your support with this story.
Obligatory Disclaimer: Bones and all affiliated plots and characters do not belong to me. This story does. Idea based on Against the Odds by Ocean of Ashes and title is a modified song lyric from the Cheers theme song written by Gary Portnoy and Judy Hart Angelo
Running away is an art. It always had been, but it's even more so when you've got friends in the FBI. You don't want to be found and they're hell bent on tracking you down. It's even harder when everyone knows your name, when your face is permanently affixed to the back of a dozen books in local libraries, book shops, and living room shelves.
There are fewer places to go that he doesn't know about. My childhood residence is out the question; probably the first place he'd look. I can't stay with my brother; he'd look there too. But I don't know if I'd want to go there anyway. He'd ask too many questions to which I don't have the answers. The only person I'd consider talking to is my best friends, but in these particular circumstances, I can't expect her to keep quiet. It's kind of, in a messed up sort of way, exactly what she's always wanted. I'm pregnant with Special Agent Seely Booth's child. He doesn't know and I'd like to keep it that way.
What happened that night, the night of Mr. Nigel-Murray's untimely passing, simply shouldn't have. Any feelings I have or don't have for Booth should not have been acted upon in a time of guilt and grief. It haunts me that this is the memory I carry with me of my child's conception and is a large contributing factor in my decision to get as far away from D.C. as I possibly can. I'm frightened enough about the prospect of being a mother and doing this all on my own, but I don't need that hanging over my head. It's not healthy and if I want to be the best mother I can be, I need to remove myself from the negativity. But as far as everyone else is concerned, I'm just taking another sabbatical. The Maluku Islands project didn't work out and as far as they know, I've found something more promising.
When Booth and I go undercover, our new identities are assigned to us by the FBI. If it's a more subtle operation, I turn to Angela for wardrobe advice, or rather, she tends to give it unsolicited. As neither of these are feasible options now, I must turn to my fiction writing prowess. I had to be careful though. Anything remotely similar to my books and Booth would catch on quickly. I also had to be sure to commit everything to memory. I couldn't leave any sort of paper trail.
I would no longer go by Temperance Brennan but by Addison Marsh, a 35-year old librarian from Rock Island, Illinois. That's where my trail of lies would begin. Eventually my pregnancy would raise questions. Who is the father? Where is he? Patrick Marsh served in the United States Army, stationed at the Rock Island Arsenal, and had been deployed to Afghanistan shortly after learning of our new status as parents-to be. We met in high school and, as Booth would say, it was love at first sight. Temperance Brennan would say there could only be infatuation and sexual appeal upon initial laying of eyes, but I wasn't Temperance Brennan anymore so what she thought didn't matter. Patrick and I wed (another thing Temperance Brennan wouldn't do) spontaneously in an airport just before he was about to leave for his first deployment three years prior, back when he was stationed out of Fort Jackson in South Carolina where we grew up.
I was able to pay someone to change all of my legal documents and I'd get a new driver's license once I arrived in Illinois. I planned on dying my hair, changing my current brunette locks to a lighter auburn. I couldn't do that here as my friends would be seeing me off tomorrow morning, all the while thinking I was headed for an Egyptian burial ground and not starting a new life just across the country. As far as I knew, no one had any suspicions to the contrary. The request for sabbatical had been met with reluctance, especially from Dr. Saroyan and Booth, but I eventually convinced them that it was something I needed to pursue. Or at least I convinced Dr. Saroyan. Booth was pissed to have to work with another, less qualified anthropologist. He's told me so ever since my trip was approved. I was fairly certain that was why he was here now, to complain while he still had the chance. I let him in but continued with my packing.
"What's the big deal about this mummy project anyway, Bones? I know Malupichu didn't go as planned, but you're not going to find missing evolutionary puzzle pieces in any sarcophagus."
"You have no way of knowing that. And need I remind you that we were pretty highly lauded the last time we investigated a mummy?"
"That was different. We were working together. And on the same continent."
"We've done this before, Booth, the whole different continent thing. I'm certain we'll get on just fine."
"Again, that was different," he argued. "We hadn't…you know…we didn't"
"Have sexual intercourse, you mean?" I said it nonchalantly, but my heart rate increased. No matter what was said from here on out, I was not uttering a word about this baby, I promised myself in the awkward silence.
"Yeah, that," Booth said uncomfortably. "You can't tell me it didn't mean anything to you. You can't run away from it."
"I'm not running away from it," I said, perhaps too quickly. "And yes, I'll admit it meant something, but does it have to mean everything? We can go about our lives. We can catch the bad guys. We can exhume mummies. The world doesn't have to stop or change because of one night."
But it did. My world was changing forever. I was just sparing Booth from having his world turned upside down as well. He was nearly the victim of a sniper attack. I think that's enough to bear.
"You may drive me crazy, Bones," he said, taking my hand and pulling me away from my packing and into his arms, "but I'm going to miss you." I didn't shy away, though my mind was screaming for me to back off. His scent, the warmth of his body against mine; it lured me in. I buried my face in his shirt, inhaling deeply so to catalog the memory, and he tightened his embrace. In that moment, all I wanted to do was come clean. I wanted to tell him that I now believed in love. I wanted to tell him that I was carrying his child. I wanted to see his face light up before he kissed me senseless.
"It'll only be a few months," I lied instead.