Title: Mutualism
Author: Lucy (somethingsdont)
Pairing: Booth/Brennan
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: 4.24, The Beaver in the Otter
Summary: "It was unsettling, sometimes, how he could translate and decipher the words she dipped in decorum or hid behind professional courtesy."
Notes: While I had some qualms with the episode itself (since when does Brennan question the size of her frontal lobe?), this wanted to be written, so here it is. Please enjoy!
It took Brennan three days and two restless nights to work out the most likely scenarios in her head. She'd tried to be meticulous in her calculations, taking into account even the minutest variables, which only added to the complexity of her simulation. Her mind had become awash in statistics and probability as she substituted strings of numbers for human behavior and her own ability to adapt to change. She'd stopped just short of computing an approximate margin of error, finally realizing how consuming it'd become, how ridiculous it was to allow hypotheses and conjectures to devour her.
Booth was staying. That was all that mattered.
Still, she couldn't shake the feeling she would've had difficulty adjusting to life without him. In fact, she had first-hand knowledge confirming that assertion. Though India wasn't the same as a coffin resting in a six-foot deep ditch, she had a fairly good idea how it'd feel going to work and not seeing his swagger or hearing his footsteps. She'd learned at a young age how to be adaptable and react to changes in her environment, in the people around her, but she recalled that nothing had prepared her for Booth's apparent demise. It was the little things, people had always said, and she'd experienced enough loss in her life to corroborate.
She'd certainly been away from him for extended periods of time. After all, she had taken vacations, too. But they'd been different environments altogether, which seemed to soothe her sense of urgency. She was independent, she reminded herself. Independent and self-reliant. But her carefully-crafted line between want and need seemed to be blurred around him, and she briefly wondered if he'd ever experienced a similar struggle when she was abroad.
Booth was on his third drink when she touched his arm to catch his attention. "I'm glad you're not going to India with Jared."
He exhaled, tapping his thumbs rhythmically against his beer bottle. "Yeah, well, gotta let the guy find his way, you know?"
She leaned against the bar top. "No, I mean, I'm glad you decided against terminating our partnership," she explained.
His forehead creased as he echoed her words. "Terminating our partnership?"
"Yes," she said primly, adjusting herself on the bar stool. "I enjoy working with you, Booth. It'd be counterproductive to disrupt a harmonious professional relationship."
He let out a short chuckle. "I'd miss you too, Bones."
Brennan softened. It was unsettling, sometimes, how he could translate and decipher the words she dipped in decorum or hid behind professional courtesy. Even as his observations edged closer to some semblance of discovery deeper than she'd dared attempt herself, she held on to her tangible evidence and the hard facts.
"I don't think," she began, the words sounding strangely stiff as they left her lips, "that the concept of experiencing a sense of despondency when faced with the absence of another human being is very sensible."
Booth's lips curved into a grin. "It's not rocket science, Bones. When two people care about each other, they tend to not like being apart for long periods of time." He lifted his beer bottle and clinked it against hers. "Especially," he emphasized, "if they've got a routine going on like you and me."
"It's still uncomfortable," she replied, taking a gulp of her beer. "People should have been made to respond neutrally to abandonment."
He frowned, confusion etched across his features. "Is this about me almost going to India? I wasn't gonna abandon you."
She tipped the neck of her beer bottle toward him as though pointing accusatorily at him. "You did once."
He let out a here we go again groan. "Look, I told Sweets to tell y—"
"I remember," she interrupted, struggling against her mind as it attempted to play back the moment without her permission. "I know you thought I was informed," she continued, reasoning with herself more than anyone else. "I know you didn't abandon me."
Booth studied her for a moment. "Bones, I'm never gonna abandoning you," he rehashed quietly.
Brennan offered a small, appreciative smile. "I know that now."
He squinted at the sticker on his bottle. "I would have called you every day from India."
"I highly doubt that," she dismissed with a disbelieving laugh, and it wasn't until she noticed the shift in his demeanor that she realized her words had been callous and presumptuous. She wasn't the only one who'd need the daily call, the steady connection they'd share even thousands of miles apart. In all her preoccupation, she'd forgotten about the symbiotic nature of their relationship. There was an implicit mutuality between them, and the sudden insight hit her hard. She glided her hand across the top of his thigh in a wordless apology.
He leaned against her slightly, bumping his shoulder to hers. His proximity soothed her, kept her grounded, and served as a constant reminder that there were things greater than sheer intelligence and skeletal structures. She loved bones and mysteries, but somewhere along the way, they ceded their positions on her list of priorities. She leaned her head against his shoulder; it was solid, a little stiff, but she felt him turn his neck and relax as he skimmed his lips across the top of her head.
It was late, and the bar had begun emptying out, but the two stayed there, nearly motionless and deep in thought. Brennan was the first to speak again.
"Were you really like that in college?"
He chuckled. "Like what?"
She lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him. "Like the guys in that fraternity: rash and impolite, with a penchant for exhibitionism."
His smile was bursting with amusement. "You think I was?"
"Your knowledge on the internal mechanisms and hierarchies of fraternities was impressive," she reasoned, "and you were rather sympathetic toward them, which suggests that you understand why they are rash, impolite and have a penchant for exhibitionism."
"They're just kids, Bones," he explained. "They get to college, want to find a place where they belong. Nothing wrong with that." He lifted his beer to his lips and took a swig. "Most of them will grow out of it."
"Like you did," she ascertained, to which she received a nod. She leaned closer so as to be discreet, more for Booth's sake than her own. "So how many stars were beside your name?"
His immediate confusion subsided quickly. "Aw, c'mon, Bones, we don't want to get into that."
"Why not?" she pressed.
"Because it's not something I'm proud of," he replied earnestly, his eyes meeting hers. "I don't want a number to discount the few times I did it for the right reasons."
The right reasons. Her skepticism when it came to believing that sex was not solely about physical need was not unknown to him, but he always maintained that there was something deeper that escaped measurable values such as changes in heart rate and neurotransmitter levels. It was a tough sell, but he was persistent, and she… she wanted to believe it, too.
"You're not going to try again to convince me that two objects can occupy the same space, are you?" she asked, tossing him a look just skeptical enough to convey her cynicism but at the same time preserve the tiny bead of belief she'd invested in the idea.
He appeared undeterred. "One day, Bones," he insisted, "you're gonna know what I'm talking about."
She smiled, thankful for his confidence, for the lessons he'd taught her and the ones he hadn't yet. Thankful that she had him, that he wasn't going to India with his brother but staying in DC, not for her but with her.
"You're gonna know what I'm talking about," he repeated, smiling at her smiling at him.
And as her head found his shoulder again, she had no doubt that one day, she would.