If this seems familiar, it's because I originally had all of my one-shots in one story. I've decided to continue them during the summer, so I had to put them into their own stories. Sorry for the confusion. Oh, and, much as I wish it were otherwise, I don't own Bones. And by the way, this story takes place about twenty years from now.
Brennan scanned the wall in front of her, comparing prices of mandarin oranges.
Brennan scanned the wall in front of her, comparing prices of mandarin oranges. She chewed on her bottom lip, debating over how much she would need over the next month. Brennan ran numbers in her head as she shifted her weight from side to side. All of the sudden, Brennan was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her.
"Um … miss? Could I just grab a can?" he asked politely, speaking with a slight lisp.
Brennan smiled at him and stepped to the side. Turning to the oranges once again, she began to calculate once again. Then, it hit her. She wheeled around to face the young boy and realized she was correct. He looked too familiar: the dark, curly hair, the sharp nose, the square jaw. Debating in her mind, Brennan tried to decide whether to follow her instincts or to play it safe. Once again, Brennan's thoughts were interrupted, this time by a man turning onto the aisle and calling out to the boy.
"Ollie! Got the oranges yet?"
"Coming, Daddy!"
Brennan immediately recognized the man. Although his hair had grayed and he had gained a bit of weight, it was him. Brennan stood up straight and stared at him, immediately clenching her fists, thumbs on the outside. Then, he looked over at her.
"My God. Ms. Brennan?" he asked, incredulous.
Gritting her teeth, she snarled, "Don't move, or I'll kick you in the testicles."
"Well, you haven't changed a bit," the man chuckled.
"I'm married now. Leave me alone," Brennan demanded, beginning to fear him.
Lifting up his hand, he showed her thin gold band. "Me too. 12 years next month."
"Your wife can expect a call from me very, very soon. You can't be trusted," Brennan promised.
Shaking his head, he smiled and said, "Christine knows everything, and she knows it won't be a problem ever again."
"Excuse me?" Brennan questioned worriedly.
Patiently explaining, he told her, "Brain tumor. It was surgically removed sixteen years ago."
Shocked and embarrassed, Brennan quietly responded, "Oh, well, congratulations."
"I appreciate that, and I want to apologize for what I did," he continued, surprisingly friendly.
Still surprised, Brennan swallowed and forgave him. "Of course."
Unexpectedly, the younger version of the man ran up and tugged on his shirt. "Daddy, can we get ice cream?" Smiling, the man turned and walked away with his son. Brennan breathed a sigh of relief and walked down the aisle in the opposite direction. When she reached the end, Brennan looked over her shoulder. As she had feared, Oliver Laurier was watching her.