The Silence Of Flowers
Disclaimer: The scenes in this one-shot are taken from the Bones episodes The Titan's On the Track and The Killer in the Concrete. I do not own Bones, nor the characters. I just watch them on a weekly basis and love them.
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" I never understood the idea of bringing flowers."
"Just for once Bones. Do what people do. See how it feels."
I remained still as Booth shifted to me, trying to pass the bouquet of flowers in his hands to mine. I kept my eyes forward, as I felt a slight frown pushing on my brow with my hands tightly clasped in the pockets of my jeans. I kept still - unwavering in my stance – resisting the urge to even cast a quick glance in Booths direction. For I knew it would be my downfall. I felt him bend more beside me, the flowers stirring in his hands and my eyes flickered up to meet his on their own accord. I broke.
"Come on," he murmured and I followed his movements with my eyes, watched as my own hands came out to rest before me as he placed the bouquet in my care. "That's it," he encouraged. "Now I'm going to stand over here while you… ugh…talk to your mom."
I turned to him, my lips settling into a frown – now matching the one on my brow – and I let the flowers momentarily hang by my side.
"I told you – I don't do that." But Booth ignored me, quietly made his way to stand a few feet away and he pointedly set his gaze ahead, clasping his hands infront of himself as he slightly bounced on the balls of his feet.
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I slid behind the wheel of my car, and before starting the engine I secured my passenger, ensuring that the fragile bundle of strong, lean stems and soft petals of tinted pink apple blossoms - accentuated by a line of white gladiolus – were properly situated on the seat. A heavy scent of blossoms filled my car and I inhaled deeply as I maneuvered the vehicle away from the curb.
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"Mom. It's me. Temperance."
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I felt my hands tighten on the steering wheel as I gulped loudly, furtively trying to push the floating memories aside. Instead, I felt them swim before my vision and whisper in my ears. So, letting my head fall back against the headrest, lazily watching the road as I drove, I let the memories grow stronger and stronger until I knew I was fully submerged.
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"I have questions, but you can't answer them. No offense, but I don't think there's anything here but your bones."
I quickly glanced out of the corner of my eye towards Booth. He held my gaze for a brief moment before he circled his body forward, again motioning with his eyes and hands that I should continue on. I cast my attention, once again, on the cold gray stone that marked my mothers burial site.
I felt, rather than heard, the sigh build low in my chest and escape past my lips as a low hiss. " I can't believe I'm doing this."
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"We're here."
I sat motionless for a breathless moment, doing nothing but look at the control panel of my car with unfocused eyes. As I inhaled shakily I glanced up and felt a small jolt to see myself parked in the Rock Creek Cemeteries parking lot. With a quick shake of my head, I felt a rueful smile grace my lips. I didn't remember the drive here – I never did – but all the same it never failed to sneak up behind me and catch me unawares whenever I did arrive. It was the same reaction each year, each time. And yet, I was always surprised.
Because you wish you didn't have to be here. Ah… I'd missed that one. The part of me that I was told that was my heart speaking, a part of me that you could never really lock up, no matter how hard you tried. Psychology was a blast.
"But hearts do not speak." That was always my opening argument line.
"Well, not literally, but it's that part inside of you Dr. Brennan," And that would be Sweets opening line. "You know, it's like a conscience, but so much more. Look - " But I was looking. Didn't he see that? "You can't lock that part up. Not only is your heart a vital source to actually living but also it's the part that adds to your life. Yeah? Deep down inside of you is a part screaming to be heard, to be acknowledged and the only person close enough to reaching that was Boo-"
"This is not relative to the case I'm working on. So if you'll excuse me, I have to do some real work in a real field of science." My cue to walk away, "And just so you know Dr. Sweets, the heart is literally locked inside of you thus it cannot literally speak."
But if you would just open your eyes, listen, not hear, you would see that I do speak- I stopped that one from continuing. No need to inform Sweets that I was hearing voices. Or would he consider that a voice? He might just confirm what you don't want to hear; that the heart-
Heaving a sigh, I reached for the buckle of my seat as I simultaneously reached over and grasped the simple bundle of flowers. Slipping out of the car I let the musky smell of wood and plants, of pinecones and the fresh aroma of overturned earth fill my lungs. But the underlying taste of coldness, of raw metal, carved stone and the quietness of silence left bitterness in the back of my throat. Yet, despite the slight chill that seeped into me, I felt myself truly unwind. My shoulders eased back and my breathing slowed as I realized what I was feeling.
I was coming home.
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"Booth." I sighed, "I asked the questions and guess what? No answer." I bit back a smile as he slowly approached me. Let him try and explain that in a logical manner.
"Well… Maybe if you weren't standing right on top of her," Oh. I hadn't thought of that as an issue. "Take a step to the left – showed just a little respect."
I shifted over, standing closely next to Booth, hesitant at what he would say or do next. He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful as he contemplated his next words. "Sometimes it takes a while to get an answer. Just leave the flowers." And so I did.
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"I like these flowers." I said softly to myself as I walked over the trimmed lawns. I spun them slowly in my hand, watching the setting sun hit them from different angles, creating different avenues of beauty. I smiled as I felt the memories push again, wanting to be in the forefront of my mind. I didn't even have to look up – there was no need – I knew exactly where I was headed.
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"I get answers at a lab; you, from people." I said in an irritated voice as I crouched infront of my mother's grave. It irked me that something as simple as placing flowers on a headstone confounded me while it placed Booth in his element. He was the teacher and I the student.
"Nobody gets answers from a slab of stone."
"Yeah?" He asked. I opened my mouth to retort but he cut me off. "Well I see an answer in the stone." Of course he did. All the same, I felt myself still and I remained crouching, waiting for him to finish explaining. "See, you buried your mother as Christine Brennan – the woman you know as your mother – and not by her real name, Ruth Keenan."
He was quiet for a moment.
"That tells me who you are."
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My feet stopped and I knew I was there. I didn't even have to look up. I could feel the presence of him - even if it were a marble stone - from where I stood. I took a step forward but soon stopped myself. I always stopped. Even though I never felt more comfortable anywhere else, I always felt that first sense of doubt. That I didn't know what I was doing, that I was making a fool out of myself. It was like breaking the ice, each and every time; I just needed to step forward.
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"I'm really not good at this kind of thing. I don't get the significance." I shrugged my shoulders with the ease of somebody who didn't belong here, who had no reason to be here. But I knew that I even if I walked away, Angela would hunt me down like a trained search dog. Maybe not right away – she usually let me sift through my own thoughts for a while- before she would appear before me, use a tactful manner to persuade me to go with her and then just bring me right back here. And we would start all over again.
"One year ago – today – you buried your mother. You laid her to rest. Here. You're marking the anniversary." And with that Angela passed the bundle of flowers over to my hands. It was always flowers. I scowled at them, wanting nothing more than just drop them and walk. Flowers. I really did not get the significance of them. If flowers, why not also assemble chocolates and mini presents to bring? Seriously, it was just like that of a date – though I always made it clear I didn't care for such frivolous gifts – except here the intellectually aspect was all one-sided.
"Angela," I sighed, " I simply don't believe my mother retains sensations beyond death."
Angela was quiet for a moment before she looked at me with what could be only described as a 'twinkle in her eye'. She'd found a way for me to be here, to go along – not because she wanted me too – but because what she was going to say would illogically make some sense to me and I would be guilted into going along with her plans.
"Well…" she started off slowly." Part of you is made up of your mother, right?"
"In a manner of speaking." I couldn't see where this was going.
"So honor that part of yourself. Visualize a memory of her. See what it brings up."
I was thoughtful for a second, and I scowled at the ground once I realized that I couldn't. Looking up at Angela, all I stated was,
"I've very few distinct memories of my mother."
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But I have plenty of you.
I knew that to be true. Everyday something would relate to a memory of ours, and even though it was just me now, it would always be our memory. And with that, the ice was broken. I was here now, he was here and for a moment, everything would be fine. I was sure of where I was, who I was and I knelt infront of the headstone to place the flowers to the side.
I couldn't recall details easily. The human brain was built to forget details over time; they blurred together until you had the big picture, but lost the small one. I could not recall his voice, the angle of his jaw, and the set of his nose. It was there, I knew that, but the perfect clarity was lost.
And yet, when a memory rose up I could see him. Perfectly. No flaws, no blurred edges. It was like a short video playing out behind my closed eyelids. It was one of the hidden reasons why I still worked everyday in the same office, same field. I may have a different work associate – he would not be my partner – but the constant dependency of the setting allowed me to relive memories. Snippets of conversations were brought to the forefront of my mind throughout the day. Backdrops and colours of the past came to mind and I could see his faded blue jeans, his crooked smile. And it made me happy.
I rocked back on my knees with a jerk and I hastily scrubbed away the wetness on my cheeks. That was one of my rules, a law I had laid years ago. I had had my time to cry, now was not the time. In fact, never again. Shedding tears got me nowhere, it just left me drained and tired.
"Get a grasp, Brennan." I muttered to myself with a shaky laugh, as I used my sleeve to dry my face. And then it was there.
Get a grip, Bones. Get a grip.
A gasp tore its way through me and his voice spoke to me softly, correcting my statement in my ear as a whisper. And as I stood up, roughly jerking myself to my feet, getting my hands moist from the damp grass, I felt the dark whispers of the submerged memory push its way up like water out of a faucet. He was there; I could feel him behind me, beside me, around me. And even though I knew just six feet below my feet were his bones I couldn't help but secretly admit that he and Angela had been right. Sweets would have a kick for sure if I ever decided to tell him this.
Instead, I rocked back on the balls of my feet – just like he did – and I allowed the potent, dark thought swallow me whole. Just as it did every year, each time I came here.
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Thursday, August 31, 2006
4:36 pm
"Hut! Hut! Go long, Parker!" Booth yelled as he dramatically swung his arm back, clenching the football tightly in his hand. He loped a few feet back, arched his back and made to go as if he were going to whip the football across the park with all his might. Parker ran ahead of us, a bit clumsy as he constantly twisted his body to look back at his dad as he continued to further the distance between us. He yelped a laugh as he saw his dad preparing to throw and Parker pivoted on the spot, shifting on his feet with his arms out to catch the ball. He was biting his lip, his forehead pinched into a frown as he concentrated on his dad. Booth took another quick step back before lunging forward and, instead of letting the football zip through the air at the speed it look like he intended it too, Booth swung his arm forward and tossed the ball lightly out of his hand. The football soared through the air and landed just at Parkers feet, slipping through his uncoordinated hands. Parker scrambled to grab the ball and with a triumphant cry he jumped to his feet, holding the football high in the air.
"Touchdown!" He cried, as he then proceeded to run in a loose, lazy circle.
"Great job, buddy!" Booth yelled out to him. I couldn't help but notice that both held the same smile, and that as Parker ran in his circle, the wind blowing his wheat coloured hair away from his face, that father and son carried the same look in their eyes when accomplishing what they were proud of.
"He's very good." I stated as I watched Parker bounce the football on the ground. We had been walking through the park; slowly following the outer path that traced the playground while Parker ran past us, behind us.
"Isn't he?" It was hard not to miss the pride in Booth's voice. "He's athletic, that's for sure. Just you wait Bones. A couple of years and this kid will be the star of the football and basketball team."
"You know, most take up sports within their education to make up for a lack in other skills. It's a ways for adolescence to remain arrested in boyhood forever, for fear of growing up and being forced to enter into society as a full-fledged member. In lack of better terms, its being afraid to meet the required expectations."
Booth stooped low to grab the fallen football off the ground, glancing up to watch Parker make his way to the playground set. Clenching his jaw, Booth straightened out, turned to me as he slowly spun the football between his hands.
"Excuse me? Bones – did you just call my son a chicken?"
"Not at all. I'm just merely stating-"
"Ah, ah, ah. No. Parker is a great kid, Bones. And I do not want you going about-"
"Booth! Parker is smart and sensitive and knows how to hold his own…"
"Oh, so now he's a wimp? What? He plays sports because he's too sensitive to win over all the girls?" I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Booth took his – what Angela liked to call his 'Bull Stance' – pose, feet shoulders width apart, his chin slightly raised as his eyes dared me to go on.
"What girls?" I asked. "Parkers only six! There are girls?"
"Yes! Yes, there are girls! There's always girls!"
I paused as I let this information sink in.
"But he's only six!"
"What? No, Bones. There are no girls."
"But you just said there were girls." This wasn't making any sense. Booth was going in circles and I had no clue what he was really ranting on about. "This doesn't make sense. Most cultures wait until the boys are readily able to sexually reproduce before any females become a common factor-"
"Bones!" Shouted Booth. His eyes were nearly bugging out of his head, and he clenched the ball tightly with his hands, so tight that his knuckles were turning white from the strain. "Just… just forget it. Okay? There's no… there's no girls. I'm just… it's just,"
"Did Rebecca buy Parker a Barbie again? You know, it's not wrong for a boy to have such a thing. There should be no line drawn between male and female toys. Most of them are used for educational purposes, and Parker having a Barbie will only enhance-"
Booth stared at me for a long pause; his head tilted to the side a bit as he observed me. I fell quiet as I met his gaze, unsure what this conversation really meant. The sun inched it's way a bit more down the sky, the grass fading from a rich green to a soft olive, hints of autumn colours making it's way known. Booth finally turned his body, and walked ahead. I fell into step beside him and I saw his shoulders relax, rolling back until they settled softly.
"Daddy! Dad look!" Parker ran up to us, holding out a maple leaf, the colour of a dark pumpkin. "It used to be green. But now it's not! You know why?"
"I have no idea, little buddy. Tell me." Booth said. He leaned forward, bracing himself on his bent knees, his hands clasped together infront of himself. And as Parker went into a spiel about what Miss. Robin had said about changing leaves Booth watched his son with utter fascination, nodding is head at the right moments, oohing and awing when needed.
"- And we have the whole weekend together, right Bones?" I snapped out of my thoughts to look down at Parker. Booth was looking up at me beside his son and I smiled.
"Yeah," agreed Booth and he stood up. "The whole long weekend. Which-" Booth glanced down at his watch, "officially started after we picked Parker up, about an hour ago."
"Well, that's not good," I teased. "We've spent the last hour here in the park when we could be planning our entire weekend."
"Do you want to have supper with my dad, Bones?" Parker asked. Booth reached out and clasped his hand on the side of his son's head as he gave a low, nervous chuckle.
"Well… not like that Parker-"
"I'd like to." I answered as I stared straight into Booth's eyes. Booth audibly gulped and I felt a silent satisfaction at making him twitch. That is, until Booth shifted his weight and tilted a bit towards me, his eyes glinting in the setting light.
"Great." He cooed, in a lazy, almost a bored voice. "What would you call something like that, Parker?" Parker was silent for a second before a huge smile split his face and he jumped on the spot.
"A date! It's called a date!"
"Now, that's not what we're having here Park-" I started.
"Ah. Come on Bones. Parker wants us to call it a date, than a date it is." I felt my teeth clench as I stared into Booth's smug face; he knew how I hated labeling relationships. If anything was going to be called a date, it would be done so on my terms.
"And what makes the perfect date, Parker?" Continued Booth, and although his arm was tightly wrapped around his son's shoulders his eyes held me in an inescapable gaze.
"Ice cream!"
Booth's face, just like Parker's had minutes before, split into a wide smile. "Well then! Ice cream it is! You in Bones?"
"Ice cream never hurt anybody." Was all I replied.
5:18 pm
"How's your ice cream Parker?" Booth asked from his driver's seat. He cast a glance at his son, buckled safely in the back seat behind me, through the review mirror. His son may be safe in his harness, but I wouldn't say the same for his t-shirt or Booth's leather car seat. Parker, after nearly half an hour of licking and slurping at his ice cream cone, was effectively smothered in the sticky, sweet substance; his chin, hand and arm was covered and bits of the ice cream was slowly, but surely dripping off the cone onto the seat as it melted. It would be an understatement to say that Parker was slow when it came to eating.
"Hey? Do you need a napkin buddy?" And as Parker answered with a lazy, "No. I'm fine." Booth was asking me for napkins.
"Why would I have some? This is your car." I answered.
"Just check the glove compartment, or the middle console."
"Nope. Sorry Booth. There's nothing here."
"What? Look harder Bones; there has to be something for Parker to wipe the seat with." I went through the front of car, even reaching under my seat to see if there was any form of tissue. But there was no such luck. I rested my head on the back of my chair and I let out a loose sigh. It was nice, being here. Spending the time with Booth and Parker – especially when Booth only had limited weekends with Parker. It made me feel privileged to be included on their plans. And even though I carried the aloofness that I could be doing other chores at the time, I secretly enjoyed these outings more than I let on. I let Booth's words sink in and I blinked my eyes open in surprise.
"That's what you're worried about?" I started, "The seat?" Booth argued in a low voice, not wanting Parker to hear.
"They're leather seats Bones. And dried ice cream won't do them wonders." Typical. The men let their worries lie on the leather interior and not the fact their child was smeared in a sticky mess. Although, I had to admit, it is easier to wash a child and his or her clothes rather than a cars interior.
"Well then, you should have gotten a cup instead of cone for Parker if you were worried about you car."
"Come on Bones. Don't start with this-"
"The Alley!" Shouted Parker, causing Booth and I to jump in our seats.
"The what?" Asked Booth.
"The Alley." Repeated Parker. "It was blue… or something. Mommy went there with Greg and she had a tail in her drink! I think we should go there this weekend." Tail-in-the-drink? I mouthed to Booth, and upon he seeing my confused expression he answered in a low murmur, "A cocktail… I think."
"The Blue Alley?" I said aloud. "The one in Georgetown?" At that Booth scoffed as he lightly shook his head.
"We'll have to hold on to that one Parker. I don't think you'd like that place."
"Why not?" Parked looked adorable when his face scrunched up like that, and he only looked younger with ice cream all over his face. "They have tails in their drinks! I like tails."
"Uh, no, Parker. Your dad means the atmosphere of the Blue Alley wouldn't be suitable for someone of your age nor would it be anything to your liking." I twisted in my seat, bending and propping my left leg under my right so that I could look at Parker as I talked. I place my hand on the side of my seat to balance myself and I heard Booth sigh as I opened my mouth to continue on with what I was saying.
"I think we should do something we all would like this weekend." Booth cut in, as always, and the car fell silent as we all thought of different ideas.
"We could go to the Smithsonian Institution," I piped. At that, Booth truly did groan out loud. "It's the largest museum complex in the world, it houses nineteen museums. And at its very center is a 19th-century ret turreted castle. Fascinating, isn't it?"
"Bones…" Booth drawled. "I don't think we want to spend our free weekend," I noticed the heavy emphasis on the word free, "Looking at paintings and statues." And I had to admit that Parker did not look sold. I thought carefully for a second before I spoke again.
"The Smithsonian has a National zoo; as well as a National Air & Space Museum. I've heard they're pretty cool places to see."
"Now that's more like it Bones!" Booth said in an enthusiastic voice as Parker yelled out his approval and excitement. I fell back in my chair, a silly grin on my face. It was little, but I felt like I had finally done something right. Most of my ideas of what was fun and where to go were usually tossed out the window.
"So there. We'll go to the Smith's tomorrow, have supper on Saturday-"
"It's spelt Smithsonian, Booth. I don't know who the Smith's are." I frowned as a sudden thought hit me. "We should probably go Saturday too, I heard it's impossible to see everything in just one day."
"Bones…" Booth didn't like that. "It's not that big."
"There are nineteen museums Booth." I stated in exasperation, "We can buy weekend passes."
"I like that." Parked nodded his approval, voicing his own opinion from the back. There was a peaceful interlude of silence and I twisted to look at Parker as he asked his next question. "Where are we going now?" Resting my head on the headrest, I absentmindedly slipped my hand into the pouch infront of Parker -on the back of my seat - and grasped a bunch of napkins.
"Oh!" I exclaimed, and I handed Parker the napkins, "Here you go Parker. Wipe yourself off. And we're going to my place. Your dad is dropping me off for the night and then we'll go to the Smithsonian Institution tomorrow."
"Hey, Bones," Booth started, and turned my head to look at him, "Did you get that file I had Cam send you about-" But Booth's words were cut off as I felt my eyes narrow and shut at the blinding white light shining through Booth's window. Whether Booth stopped talking, or whether I just shut out his words, I don't know. But I do remember the squealing of tires, wind blowing through my hair and the sickening, deafening sound of metal colliding on metal – twisting, crunching and breaking. The outside scenery of the vehicle was blurred into a spiraling mass and the car lurched from side to side, it's front end swinging out as the back end smashed into a solid force. My face was wet and cold, and before I could fully open my eyes to register what had happened, I felt something press into me, and the squeezing force caused my sore lungs to empty. I felt alone, distant and all I could think about was the ice cream that was dripping infront of my face as a dark sheet of night was pulled over my eyes.
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"Mom? It's me. Temperance."
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Sunday, September 2, 2006
6: 14 pm
It was fuzzy. And quiet. Quiet to the point where my own breathing seemed as loud as a pounding waterfall. Slowly blocking the haggard pattern of my own breaths I strained to hear any other sounds. Beeping. And it was still fuzzy. I felt a dull pressure on my eyes and I soon realized that it was the dead weight of my closed eyelids. The urge to open my eyes surged through me but I hesitated at the last moment. Would I want to open my eyes? It didn't feel right. Flashes of bright lights, loud noises and screeches were the last things that were flashing through my mind. It was too quiet here. But that beeping. It was oddly discomforting. So I opened my eyes.
The room was bathed in a soft yellow light, and I was startled to see that it was the setting sun. That must mean that I'd been here for only a short while. When I'd been driving in the car with Booth and Parker, the sun had just been on the horizon, lowering in the sky. I was pleased to know that I still had the entire weekend to spend with the two.
"Sweetie?" A soft voice called from my side and I closed my eyes upon hearing it. Why would Angela be here? I'd be leaving as soon as I got up. This was nothing serious. "Brennan? You there sweetie?"
I opened my mouth to answer and I was shocked to feel no sound come out. My throat was incredibly dry, it was glued together and the only noise able to come out was a low groan. Angela immediately noticed and reached for a cup on the side table beside my bed.
"Here." She coaxed as she put the cup to my lips. Ah… the coolness was glorious. It soothed the low burning in my throat and I leaned my head against my limp pillow as dizziness overcame me. Angela was silent as she put my water away.
"This is silly," I rasped, "it was only a small accident. Right? Booth and Parker, they're okay, right?"
"Just fine. Parker is with his mom." Angela reached out and grasped my hand. "It's been a long weekend, Brennan." I blinked my eyes in surprise.
"Long weekend? Ang, it's only Thursday. I still have the entire weekend with Booth and Parker." Angela was quiet as she softly rubbed my hand with hers.
"Yeah. Sweetie, it's…it's not Thursday." Angela paused for a minute. "It's Sunday. You've been here for the weekend, Brennan."
"The whole weekend?" I managed to squeak after gulping profusely. My head fell back onto the bed. I started counting backwards – everything seemed to be going much slower in my head than I usually liked or accepted. "Ang – that can't be." My breathing was speeding up - was it speeding? – and my heart started to pound loudly. But I couldn't understand why.
Angela jumped when I gave out a short bark of laughter.
"Sweetie?" She asked uncertainly.
"Booth-" I chuckled out. "He's going to be so mad. He was looking forward to this long weekend all week – he wouldn't stop talking about it – and now…" I felt the laughter bubble up in my chest; it hurt how much pressure there was. "Now he has to go to work tomorrow! He's not going to like that at all!"
I chuckled to myself for a while, until it slowly died down, leaving only slight heaves and mindless giggles. Angela was silent throughout the whole thing and I caught her biting her lip.
"Ang?" I asked, "Angela, what is it?" Angela took a deep breath and gave my hand a tight squeeze. She looked straight at me and I stopped when I saw her bright eyes, covered with tears.
"Oh, sweetie." And that was all she said. But it was enough.
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Taking a quick step forward I leaned down and placed my hand on the cool stone of Booth's headstone. If I was truly honest with myself, I think what hurt me the most was that I never got to say good-bye. I'm not the emotional type. For the most part. I wouldn't have clung on to him if I knew he was passing, but I would have been by his side.
I remember feeling angry; furious when I found out we had been hit by a drunk driver. I felt Booth's influence float around me like an aura when I realized I was furious on his behalf. I didn't want him to go, never did, but I knew in the bottom of my and maybe even his heart, that if he had a choice, Booth would have taken the path with honor. He would have gone out with a bang, so to say. Saving somebody's life. He would not have wanted to have gone and left loved ones behind. Like Parker. And, I hoped, me.
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I knelt by my mother's grave in silence. Booth was a quiet, strong force beside me. I shrugged my shoulders back and was about to stand when a glint of light crossed my eyesight. I reached out and grasped a small, cold object at the base of my mother's headstone. I ran my fingers along its smooth surface as I stood and Booth caught onto my focus.
"What'cha got?" He questioned. I frowned at the small item as glimpses, colours and smells flashed through my consciousness.
"Dolphin." I murmured. Booth was silent before he looked at me.
"What does that tell you?" He asked in soft voice. I continued to frown as more flashes of unwritten history passed through. But one voice spoke up the loudest in my mind, and I voiced it as no more than a whisper.
"My father was here." I felt, rather than saw, Booth nod next to me.
"Because he loves your mother." He said as he reached over and grabbed the evidence bag out of my hand. "And grieves her loss, and…" as he spoke, Booth emptied the bag, dropping the small blue dolphin into the palm of his hand, "he comes here to talk to her."
"You're tainting evidence!"
But Booth just shook is head. "It's not that kind of evidence Bones. It's evidence of something else. Something that can't be tainted." And he passed the dolphin to me. I spun the dolphin slowly in my hands and I started to see it in a different light. I pushed pass the automatic thoughts of evidence and focused on the deeper train of thought that was sporadically zipping through my mind. This was from my father, a father that was out to be arrested. And yet, here he was, taking the time to come out in the open to 'see' my mother.
"It's beautiful." I breathed.
"Yeah." Booth agreed.
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And it was beautiful. Being here, by and with Booth, no matter what setting or time, was right. It was simple and calm. A natural aroma that put my heart into a steady beat.
Beautiful.
I leaned over and softly placed my lips on the cool exterior of the marble.
Beautiful.
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"Booth? It's me. Temperance."
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The flowers used have specific meanings, so that's why I chose them. The apple blossoms mean "promise" and the gladiolus mean "strength of character." That one is mainly referring to Booth. The place where Bones bought the flowers is Johnnie's Florist – I even mapped out the distance from the cemetery and florist to make the story as realistic as possible. Although, I haven't a clue if Johnnie's Florist has these flowers, seeing as how I'm in Canada, and have never been to Washington DC. Oh! Also, I made sure to check to see when the actual long weekend was and this is the right weekend. Actually, it was supposed to be a Monday, September 4th long weekend, not Friday, September 1st. But I changed it to suit the needs of the story.
Well, the length of this was not intended. At all. But the moment I started writing the park and crash setting, it just all came flowing out. That, and I have the terrible tendency to ramble on. And let me just add that I think I'm quite disappointed with the flashback. It seems to be lacking – for lack of better word – the art that the rest of the story has… oh well. But, I did want to write this to be as natural as possible; I didn't want to jump into the situation where Bones is thinking along the lines of love, and how much Booth means to her. This was just Bones realizing – especially in the flashback – that with Booth, she is content. Happy. It would have fully molded itself into that love that we all know they have, deep in there, somewhere, but at the moment it just friends. A deep connection that Bones doesn't truly grasp until Booth is gone. It's to the point where she even brings flowers to his grave on the anniversary of his death.
I do hope this was suitable to fit your needs. I am a huge Bones fan (though mainly with just watching the TV show, I've read a couple of fics through a friend), but I am not yet at the point where I can comfortably write their characters down perfectly. Just writing Bones arguments, per say, was hard enough! I kept on thinking, "What would Bones say?"
This was my first fanfic – well that's not true. I have "written" (Twilight) many in my head, but not yet on paper. I'm very slow to do so when it comes to that. I never intended my first fanfic to be a Bones one, but I was watching one of the episodes and it just popped into my head. Although I'm pretty sure this has been done a million times before. I just thought I'd give a hand at it!