Disclaimer: Bones isn't mine… seriously; would I be writing fanfiction if it was?
Summary: It takes both an architect and a thrill seeker to make the ultimate theme park; but only one word for it become open to public endeavour. BB (request)
Author's Notes: This fiction is by request of RoxieBrennan as a result of the challenge on my profile and I was asked for 'BB and Humour/Romance', I've never really tried those genres before, not properly, so this is something a little new to me… D I hope I don't disappoint though (I also hope it's not to clichéd/fluffy for you… I haven't written Bones in a while :P) Summary's a metaphor but it kind of ruins it if I explain it..
She'd always been a genius. It's not something you learned, there isn't a step-by-step manual, and the Idiot's Guide to becoming a Supreme Mastermind isn't yet on sale in the US.
In elementary school teachers had sighed and smiled sympathetically when they thought she wasn't looking as she sat on the bench, watching the other children play hopscotch and tag; at seven it wasn't so much that she was studying her peer's behaviour, but that she simply didn't feel the same exhilaration when it came to running mindlessly around the concrete, screaming as the boys insisted on hounding after the girls in an exuberant game of cuddle-kiss-chase.
Middle school came and went without so much as a glimmer of anything other than repeated statements that 'Tempe was older than her years' and 'she's a brilliant student… very quiet though' when it came to parent-teacher night.
High school had been when she had started to actually notice she was so much different than her classmates; oh she wasn't stupid, it had occurred to her that wandering around the playground instead of running wasn't quite as normal as she wanted to assume, and she knew she was brighter than her friends but before it hadn't mattered; the obscure sense of pride when she outsmarted them all had been bright in her chest but now, the others weren't so awed by her intelligence, more intimidated and as a result there were very few that wanted to associate with her.
And she had only proven them wrong when it came to the Christmas after she turned fifteen; news of her parents disappearance washed over the school in a matter of days after term started, and the whispers she had formally ignored were louder; there had been odd looks, expressions of concern and it wasn't that they had cared, it was that Temperance Brennan's parents had gone missing, it was that they wanted in on the drama.
Some of the more vindictive children had started rumours that it was because their daughter was so obscure that they had run away from her; she'd never believed it, never even contemplated any sick truth those stories held, in fact it hadn't even really gotten to her. But when she broke Danny Sheppard's nose in the lunch hall she'd been sent straight to the counsellor's office and asked those parroted questions 'You must feel very alone right now, how're you feeling Temperance? It's okay to tell me, lots of people have gone through what you are' 'are you okay?' 'You're living with your brother now right? He a good cook?' poor Mrs Matthews, all she was trying to do was help but Temperance Brennan had never needed help, and some college graduate, high-school therapist wasn't going to change that philosophy.
University had been better, thrust amongst people with similar intelligence levels, other geniuses, and comrades with IQs higher than a hundred and twenty; there had been the bullies, the ones who couldn't stand being outwitted or outsmarted but they hadn't mattered because she was finally able to do something that challenged her, that made her think and if there was one thing Temperance Brennan was good at, it was thinking.
At first, when Doctor Goodman had announced that she was going to be working as a consultant for the FBI instead of in the original job she had applied for she had been angry because that hadn't been something she could have predicted. She was okay with change; she travelled all over the world, refurbished her apartment every four months and loved the idea of a puzzle but the FBI? That had never been part of the plan.
Her first impression of Special Agent Seeley Booth had been that he was a cocky, street-smart jock who disliked anyone smarter than him. Her assumptions had been right, except for the last one; Booth was cocky, was street-smart, and at the very least had been a jock. But he didn't dislike people who were more intelligent than him; he wasn't even scared of them, he just wasn't sure how to fit in … Booth felt inadequate.
It hadn't been a conscious decision but she had tried to accommodate him, giving him a pass to the Jeffersonian had been a sort of truce signal; letting him know she considered him to be welcome in the labs whenever he wanted too be there. They bickered and argued, insulted each other and rarely agreed on anything – Booth's religious beliefs had been something it had taken her a while to accept because scientific evidence and logic supported the reality of an ethereal deity existing about as much as it did the existence of Santa Claus.
But accept them she had, albeit she still teased him about it, she knew all the buttons to press to make him scowl, get him all out of breath and start stammering and repeating the same things he'd told her a thousand times and even now he still didn't know that she did it. It was fun, even he found it fun, in some sort of twisted way anyhow.
She would never believe in God or Allah or any other organised religion but she was willing to accept that he did because that's what you do when you love someone; he left the toilet seat up, had faith in things that could not possibly exist, put himself in absurdly dangerous situations and had this whole hero complex that she would never be able to comprehend but she loved him for it anyway because there were the things that made him… him. And the thing was, unlike anyone else, Booth didn't want to change anything about her, nothing, she didn't have to pretend, to act like someone she wasn't; all she had ever had to be was her and even if had taken her fifteen years too find someone other than her parents and her brother to accept and love her for being herself it was more than worth it.
"Brennan!"
She jerked her head up from her computer and blinked owlishly at the brunette standing on the other side of her desk, arms folded across her chest, bangles clinking as they knocked together with the movement, "Ange," she said "sorry,"
Angela gave her a concerned look "sweetie, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she replied quickly, tucking her hair behind her ears and making a show of restacking previously perfectly stacked piles of paper "is everything okay?"
Angela frowned, perfectly sculpted eyebrows curving over her chocolate brown eyes, scrutinising her friend for a moment before going to speak but the phone ringing cut her off.
"Brennan," she picked up the handset without taking her eyes of the artist "okay… I'll be right there," she put the phone back down again and stood up.
"What's going on?" Angela asked as she followed her friend from her office.
"Cam's got a cadaver she wants me too look at,"
Two years is a long time to keep a secret and sometimes it worried her what the others would think if they ever found out; it hadn't been part of the original plan, they hadn't decided to keep their little arrangement confidential, they'd barely even made it official. It had just happened.
Outings because Parker insisted that Doctor Bones come to the zoo with them, dinner because Booth couldn't get reservations at the most prestigious restaurant in thirty miles, late night Chinese because hey, what's more disturbing than finding the remains of your previously believed missing mother lying in some dusty storage container?
Drinks because no one else was around at three o'clock on a Wednesday morning save for each other because they're too wired from the latest case to even contemplate sleep. Camping out in Booth's living room because they'd been snowed in and Parker insisted on trying to toast marshmallows on the radiator; New Year's Parties at Rebecca's because Parker was too cute to resist and was it really so difficult for the blonde to pretend she could get along with her ex for one night? Besides if 'the pretty lady daddy works with' came along it wouldn't be so uncomfortable would it?
It hadn't occurred to them for a while, and when it did it wasn't some eureka moment, there'd been no light bulb flash, it hadn't needed thinking about or questions like 'will you go out with me?' 'So are we… you know… together now or something?' because they'd had dinner, and they'd been to the movies, and kissing wasn't so hard, at least not with a double scotch burning a hole in your belly.
The sex hadn't been a result of some drunken night of lust, it hadn't been the result of anything and when they'd woken up, they'd smiled, and gotten ready for work without awkward silences or getting in the way of each other's morning routines. It had been like that for so long time got away from them.
The pathology lab smelt vile as usual, but she was used to the smells that came with decomposing bodies, the rancid aroma of rotting flesh perhaps not something she was quite so accustomed to but she refused to balk like an undergraduate and smear Vicks under her nose because some of the most important secrets a body can tell you come from the smells it emits after death.
"Doctor Brennan," Cam looked up, her hands buried in the chest cavity of an elderly looking male; if the bullet hole between the eyes was any indicator, cause of death was evident.
Temperance nodded in greeting as she entered the lab "what did you need me for?" she asked.
Cam jerked her head in the direction of the x-rays up on the light box "take a look at the left fibula," she said, as she pulled the lungs from the chest and placed them on a tray to be dissected later "any ideas what could cause damage like that?"
Temperance peered at the x-ray, frowning "it looks like… how old is the victim?" she turned to face the pathologist.
"Thirteen year old Marcus Bentley from Philadelphia, he was in DC visiting family,"
The forensic anthropologist's eyes widened.
"Progeria," Cam explained, away the age of the victim and the way he actually looked "he was lucky to survive this far… most Progeria sufferers die of cardiovascular problems by about eight years old. It's extremely rare," she said, pulling off her gloves and coming to stand behind Temperance.
"It looks like someone punctured the bone multiple times with a needle,"
Cam frowned "who'd want to perform a bone marrow transplant on a dead Progeria patient?"
Temperance shrugged and went back to studying the x-ray, a few moments passed in silence before Cam spoke again.
"Well I'm going to lunch," she announced "this guy's not going anywhere,"
Temperance frowned, tempted to point out that of course he wasn't because he's dead but three years of working with Cam told her that it was meant as some sort of joke… probably not a funny one but people tend to have rather obscure sense of humours so who knew?
His first kiss had been in fourth grade; little Miranda Lockwood, her blonde ringlets clasped in cute pigtails at the sides of her head, she wore an ocean-blue dress and white ankle socks with frills on them that tucked her tiny feet into shiny patent buckle shoes. Sitting under the climbing frame at lunch time and as he shared his peanut butter sandwiches with her she'd leaned over and kissing him wetly on the lips, for two weeks they'd gone everywhere together. That was until little Miranda Lockwood broke his heart when he found her kissing Jamie Dexter outside the boy's restroom.
There'd been a string of girls after that, relationships lasting a decent while and he'd quickly learnt that the easiest way to dump a girl was to get her to think it was her idea. That way the girl didn't cry so much and all he had to do was tear up and act like he was upset, whether he was or not. He wasn't a player, he treated the girls he dated as best he could – his mother wouldn't have him do anything otherwise – but none of them had been right.
Rebecca had been closest but it turned out she was the one scared of commitment; she was the one that couldn't abide the idea of tying herself to one man; pledging infidelity because Rebecca couldn't do that. She could have a relationship, she could fall in love and she could be the best girlfriend a man could possibly want but when it came to picturing the future… Rebecca couldn't do that; she needed to play the field, to explore, to act like she was searching for 'that one', because even she knew, somewhere deep down, she was never going to find 'the one' but Rebecca wasn't the kind of person who settled for second best.
Temperance was unique, in every way imaginable; she was stubborn, literal and bright. She heard precisely what you said so there was no need to worry about innuendoes but sometimes it was difficult to have an actual conversation when every sentence uttered had a specific meaning. Nothing could be generic, everything he said to her had to mean something and for a while that had been irritating, and then funny because when she knew he was laughing at her, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed and her cheeks turned pink no matter how many times she insisted that he could not embarrass her.
Parker adored her and in his eyes that just made her perfect, 'Doctor Bones' was always welcome as far as Parker was concerned, and the child held no resentment nor was he jealous that daddy liked spending time with 'his Bone lady'. In fact, more often than not, within the first ten minutes of coming to stay with him, Parker would bring up the anthropologist and start asking when the three of them could go out. In many ways, maybe the then five year old had been playing an inadvertent match maker to the couple.
Love's a funny thing. The difference between it and lust is indeterminable until that moment when you cross the invisible barrier between the two; that second where nothing is in your mind but them, no thoughts of 'is this love?' or of sex or kissing or that time when they made you laugh so hard you fell off your chair, no it is literally just them. There is no 'one'; you'll never find the perfect woman because she doesn't exist and that's not say you settle because he hadn't, he'd just accepted a very long time ago that 'that one' is always a fantasy, a dream, and those visions have no place in reality.
Temperance could be awkward, socially inappropriate and at times abrasive and insulting, but that's what made her, her, absurdly, the academically learned forensic anthropologist could be more naïve than his seven year old son. She didn't intend to hurt people verbally, she just had a habit of saying precisely what she thought and whilst at times it cold be very funny, at others it was anything but; however if it was explained to her without it being patronising or condescending then nine times out of ten she would apologist for her misdemeanour and attempt another, slightly more tactful way of getting her point across.
She was an anthropologist, she studied people and social interaction; human behaviour so she never insulted a cultural tradition or belief, she didn't do anything that would upset the general population but if there was something specific to one person she'd say it – his Catholicism for example – it wasn't meant to be an insult. In Tempe's eyes it was simply a debate, a discussion but all it took was the wrong person to take it the wrong way and it could turn ugly very quickly.
However, no matter her faults – hey, he had more than enough of his own and she accepted them – he loved her, not an overwhelming passion can't-take-my-eyes-off-of-you kind of love but the deep seated feeling of warmth and satisfaction in his stomach whenever he thought of her. She wasn't perfect, and yet that's what made her so.
He smiled at Cam politely as he approached the pathology lab and she headed towards the elevator to go to the cafeteria. His nose wrinkled momentarily as he glimpsed the body on the table when he reached the door. Temperance was absorbed in studying the x-ray on the light box, the corpse's face was still intact and it looked strange, old but not – like that girl whose mother had killed her using her AIDS meds – although maybe slightly different... it didn't really matter.
Approaching his girlfriend – and boy after two years, that still sounded strange – from behind he grinned when she jumped as he cupped his hands over her eyes, leaning to whisper in her ear "guess who," he felt her scowl and puff out an exasperated breath.
"How'd you do that?" she said, taking hold of his wrists and pulling them away from her face, turning to face him; they were standing so close she could feel his breath on her face.
"Do what?"
She frowned at him "I could have flattened you,"
"But you didn't," he said smugly "guess I'm getting better at sneaking up on you,"
"Hmm," she mumbled, turning back to the light box.
"What's up?" he gestured to the pictures.
"Looks like someone tried to do a bone marrow transplant on a dead Progeria patient,"
Booth glanced back at the cadaver "that him?"
Temperance nodded.
"Poor kid," he muttered, his eyes glazing over the way they did whenever he was confronted with yet another murder victim; when he was pushed to the edge, a primal instinct to protect roaring through his veins.
She touched his face gently to bring him back "what did you want?" she asked, looking at him curiously.
He was silent for several long moments and Temperance was about ready to go back to studying the x-rays when he moved; reaching inside his jacket and pulling something out.
"Booth?" she asked because even after this long, the thought of calling him Seeley seemed obscure.
He cleared his throat and opened the little blue box in his hand, turning it to face her "I know you don't really believe in it," he said as she sucked in a breath of surprise "I know you think it's an antiquated ritual and I promise I won't go killing people to protect you – God knows, you're more than capable of doing that yourself," he swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry "but it would mean a lot if you… well I just… it's…" he paused, huffing out a frustrated breath to calm himself before daring to look her in the eye , asking hopefully "what do you think?"
She looked down at the dainty silver ring encased in bed of blue velvet; the single gem sparkled in the overhead lights of the autopsy room. She gently lifted the ring from the box, turning it in her fingers and catching her name inscribed inside the delicate silver band. For some reason this simple word meant enough for a swell of pleasure to fill her chest because anything more would have been too much but anything less would have seemed almost impersonal.
Taking the box from his hands and putting the ring back inside she closed the lid and pressed it back into his palm, curling his fingers around it. He felt a surge of nausea hit his stomach, because this was it, the refusal, the apology as she backed off again, shut him out. He'd just lost everything because he'd been stupid enough to ask for the one thing he'd known she wouldn't give.
"Are you asking me to marry you?" she asked, voice soft and the question sounded odd, not like she was being obtuse and failing to understand the gesture because surely even Temperance Brennan could figure this one out but… he wasn't even sure what she meant, maybe he was too absorbed in self recriminations to figure it out, "in the autopsy room?" she added.
He swallowed again, the lump in his throat refusing to budge but he was going to be man enough to answer that question without his voice quavering if it killed him "yes," he said, his back straightening and every muscle group in his body tensing.
She cocked her head to one side and paused "so ask me,"
He opened his mouth to point out he just had but as she stared steadily at him he caught a glimpse of something vaguely unfamiliar in her eyes. His breath caught in his chest as he looked at the concrete floor, glancing at the industrial sized drain not three feet away, then at his ridiculously expensive designer pants. The ground was cold and it went straight through the fabric and into his knees as he knelt down; feeling ten times as stupid as he had when he'd suddenly blurted to Rebecca that he wanted to marry her as they waited for the little stick to turn blue.
He glanced to his right and saw the metal leg of the gurney holding the latest murder victim, of all the places to do this, he thought, an autopsy room. Opening the ring box he held it out in front of him "marry me?" he asked, and by God did his voice just squeak?
She smiled and the wait was killing him, as were his knees coming to think of it, just as he was about to give up and make a run for cover, Temperance moved, kneeling in front of him, her skirt pooling on the floor as she leaned in and kissed him, it was only when the need for oxygen became apparent that they parted, breathing heavily.
"So…?" he prompted because his brain was too addled to come to terms with precisely what had just happened.
She laughed lightly, holding out her hand and letting him slip the ring onto her finger, it was hard to believe he was doing this, that she was letting him, it was surreal, a dream, it had to be because…
"Yes," she answered cupping his face in her hands "I will… for you… yes,"
Okay, maybe it was oxygen deprivation because she had just… no, she really had just said it, they really were…
The sound of someone clapping from the doorway had the couple on the floor both whipping round to see who it was; Angela just grinned at them, whilst Cam blinked at them.
"Can't say I was expecting that when I came back," the pathologist said.
Booth could feel himself flushing; glancing at his fiancé he saw a not dissimilar expression on her face. He went to push himself to his feet but slipped, falling clumsily into the gurney and jumping and yelling as the cadaver's arm slipped off the table and promptly whacked him in the side of the head.
Cam rushed forwards to make sure the body wasn't going to fall completely off the table, easing his arm back into position as Jack moved over to help Booth to his feet, hauling the bigger man up in a display of strength none of them – save for possibly Angela – knew he had. The entomologist clapped the FBI Agent on the back "congratulations," he said, grinning broadly at his friend.
Still slightly dazed Booth let the spore specialist shake his hand heartily as Angela helped Temperance to her feet. The artist threw her arms around her best friend's neck, hugging the anthropologist tightly as she whispered something Booth couldn't hear into her ear; it was obviously something relating to him because both women glanced at him afterwards and Temperance… blushed?
The euphoria died down a few moments later as Cam had her turn at congratulating them, hugging both the soon-to-be-weds separately; slipping from surprised employer to elated friend with surprising ease. A noise in the doorway had them all turning to look at Zack.
"Don't you usually date first?" he said, the frown of confusion on his face was almost endearing.
The room exploded in laughter and Zack just stood there wide eyed and bemused as Booth walked over to the younger man and held out his hand; Zack's eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of his head as he cautiously took the proffered hand and allowed it to be shaken with so much force his entire body trembled.
"Say congratulations sweetie," Angela said as Zack's hand was released and he just stared at the now-engaged couple in front of him.
"Congratulations," he echoed some what hesitantly and he was once more taken aback as Temperance swept forward and hugged him; despite this he stayed stock still because no matter the fact he had been hugged by his mentor before, he was never going to get used too it.
Booth looked at Angela who smiled brightly at him "how long have you known?" he found himself asking her quietly.
She patted his arm sympathetically before replying; "sweetie, I knew before you did,"
Author's Notes: I hope that's okay… review if you liked it, don't if you didn't! D