Disclaimer: If you're looking for Fox, Kathy Reichs, or anyone else associated with Bones... you've clearly made a wrong turn somewhere! ;P
Author's Note: My most favorite episodes in any series can usually be narrowed down into two categories: birth (of my OTP's child) and danger (of the life-threatening kind, usually involving the female member of my OTP. No, I'm not misogynistic, I just find the guy's intense emotional reaction in that situation to be incredibly moving, irresistibly sexy, and all-in-all something quite endearing to watch). I think they resonate so deeply with me because they feed into my own deep-seated needs: to be a mother, and to be taken care of by someone who loves me. But enough of my psychology spouting XD Suffice to say, I'm nearly CRAWLING OUT OF MY SKIN after the promo for "The Shot in the Dark". I have not been *THIS* excited for an episode since "The Prisoner in the Pipe", and as such I just couldn't resist typing out a small two-parter (EDIT: it has become a three-parter, mwhahaha!) while the anticipation is still so fresh and so overwhelming. What you're about to read is a speculatory take on what goes down the night Brennan is shot, from Booth's POV. And please, friends, review when you finish. There is no greater praise than to know your hard work was enjoyed.
"Fight"
Part 1 of 3
It had started out so innocently at first, a small comment taken the wrong way about how she'd overcooked the meat, but on days when the stress of a stagnating case flowed over into evenings with a cranky nine-month-old, that was when exhaustion had a tendency to create firecrackers out of the two of them. Booth wasn't really sure how their argument escalated as quickly as it did, but he was acutely aware of the moment that it ended. When yelling gave way to slumped stances and throbbing headaches, made worse by the chorus of cries from the nursery upstairs as Christine called for an impasse.
Brennan kneaded her temple, scowling and standing up from the table to march out into the hall, Booth on her tail.
"Where are you going?" He'd tried to keep the query light, but somehow the residual anger from their fight remained caught in his voice.
"To the lab," Brennan snapped in reply, grabbing up her purse and jacket. Her hand was reaching for the handle when Booth got in between.
"Bones, you know I don't like it when you work this late-"
"I need to clear my mind. I can't do that here." Brennan gave him a little shove and Booth teetered to the side when he saw the fire in her eyes; the stubborn streak that so attracted and so infuriated him in equal measure. She never failed to get her way, in the end. He was powerless to her desire.
"I need some space, some time to myself," were her last words, before the door was slammed shut in his face.
Booth exhaled, and in that release fled a great deal of his steam.
It wasn't that living with Brennan was difficult, Booth thought as he ascended the stairs two at a time. No, it was the best decision he'd ever made in his entire life - one he knew he would make again in a heartbeat. But it wasn't easy, either. Maybe that was why he loved her so damn much. Night and day, brain and heart. They bickered over everything under the sun, complete and utter opposites, and yet... somehow... they belonged together. They fit. They just had to learn how to navigate this dance that so thoroughly tangled their professional and home lives, until it was hard to tell where one began and the other stopped.
Booth cracked open the door dutifully labelled "Christine's Room" in Parker's boyish scrawl, smiling down at the source of so much of his and Brennan's fatigue-born disputes as she rattled the rails of her crib. Or prison, if you'd have asked her. Booth chuckled, drawing near with a twinkle in his brown eyes.
"Aren't you supposed to be sleeping, little lady?"
"Dadadadada!" Christine wailed, her arms coming up to waggle desperately toward her father. Most times, he would have dodged the nimble fingers until Christine was coaxed back onto her pillow, but tonight was different. Tonight, he needed the comfort of her body against his chest; the comfort of knowing that even if he did a million things wrong, he did just as many right.
Christine settled down into him as Booth carried her over to the rocker, her fussing devolving into soft sniffles and chirruping hiccups that made Booth want to melt. He watched and waited, quietly, as first one eye floated shut, then the next. Head bobbing, thumb nursing, it didn't take long until the tiny girl was dozing pliant against his shoulder.
Booth sighed, letting his head fall back into the chair and staring up at the painted yellow ceiling, one hand stroking Christine's flaxen sprigs of hair while the other played with a loose thread on her jammies.
"I shouldn't have been so short with Mommy," Booth murmured. He blinked his eyes closed then open, closed then open. They felt sluggish and strained. "I feel horrible about it. Daddy is really stupid sometimes, Christine."
The light in the nursery was really bright. Too bright. Maybe if he simply closed his eyes, kept them that way for just a bit, while he held vigil for Brennan...
Barely intelligible, the weary FBI agent swore, "I'll apologize the second Bones gets home."
The last thing Booth remembered thinking before succumbing to the bewitching snares of sleep was that he and Brennan were going to have some truly amazing make-up sex upon her return.
oOo
Booth woke with a start, jerked from strange dreams where frightening black skeletons with gleaming red eyes came to life and battled each other on the lab's platform, while Brennan cried on the floor underneath them. For some reason, it had left a sour taste in his mouth, and as Booth sat up - breathing heavily and checking to make sure Christine was still snoring soundly in his grip - he noticed his agitation growing.
And no wonder - 10:56, the watch on his wrist blared. Booth rubbed his eyes. It had been hours since he last heard from his partner. Where was Brennan? Surely she wasn't still at work?
Booth deliberated, running a hand through his hair. He knew that once upon a time, the Brennan of old would spend hours holed up over her bones, searching valiantly for clues while dawn slowly chased out the moon. But that was before she had let him into his life; before they shared a home and a daughter and the various obligations those two entailed. It had been years since she stayed past nine, let alone eleven, and something about that nightmare had left Booth discomfited.
He quickly finagled out his phone and dialed the familiar digits, having to remind himself halfway through that gulping air did not readily calm the heart. Deep in... slow woosh! out. Deep in... slow woosh! out.
Damn.
Voicemail.
Booth tried not to worry. He was fully aware that Brennan had a tendency to hold grudges when she felt so inclined, and it would be just like her to ignore his calls in order to spite him. Yeah... yeah, that was probably it. Booth began to breathe a smidge easier. He hated that she was still mad at him. It was beyond time to make amends.
The brown-haired man sat up and shifted the baby to his hip.
"Easy does it, Christine. Shh. That's a good girl. We're gonna go for a little car ride and visit Mommy!"
To Be Continued
