Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Just a short ficlet on Brennan's view of Booth. At least, from my point of view. And, I think he's near perfect. So, the view is very biased.
In Mayhem on a Cross, Dr. Wyatt speculated that either Booth or Brennan was in love with the other. The most obvious choice is Booth but...
The Heart Of The Matter
By I.M.
I was closed off, closed in. Everyone knew it and yet no one was brave enough to say it to my face. Until Booth.
He wasn't distant, remote, secluded. Booth is a people person, I sneered. Face it, Brennan. You're… not.
He can communicate with people. I can only communicate with cadavers.
He can help people, sooth people, make their pain go away. I can identify corpses.
He wards away death. I feel the most comfortable when I am around it.
But, no one ever says anything. No one has ever come up to me and told me that I couldn't be human. I couldn't be human if I could unflinching face death and murder every day.
So calmly, so rationally.
No one's ever told me I wasn't good enough for Booth.
Why did he stick around?
Why was he the only one who ever treated me like a person? Saw me as a person?
I'm not just a tragedy. Not just a psychology case.
I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan, forensic anthropologist and best-selling author.
No… I'm Bones, friend, daughter, sister, partner. I'm a person, I'm a liver.
Who am I? Does it even really matter to me when I'm with Booth? Maybe it doesn't matter because it's clearest when I'm with him. Crystal clear. Pure. Perfect. Clean.
I'm just me.
He makes me feel alive. He gives me hope.
How?
Does it matter? I ask myself, for the first time in my life. Sometimes you just have to have faith.
Get down to the heart of the matter. Heart? Heart? I'm all bone, I thought sullenly. Hard and structured.
Yet, even bones can become brittle.
Weak. Fragile. Breakable.
"Bones!" I heard Booth's voice call out. "Where are you? We've got a murder to investigate!"
I stayed still. Immovability is the best bet, I always learned over the years.
"Hey, Bones," Booth's voice got softer. "You okay?"
Immovable.
"I'm fine," I said, in my empirical, scientist voice. But, my empiricism—my mask—never fooled Booth.
"No, you're not. I know you, Bones. What's wrong?"
I sighed, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "Do I have a heart?"
"You have one of the biggest hearts I have ever seen."
I looked up in surprise. "Me? The same Brennan who looks at murdered people without losing a minute of sleep? I'm trying to get down to the heart of the matter rationally and intelligently, and I just keep going around in circles. Logic is infallible. It's never led me astray before. But, I'm upset. I feel upset, and I don't know why."
"Just because you don't show that you're upset, doesn't mean that you aren't. I know you, Bones," he repeated. "This is the reason that you're an anthropologist in the first place. You hold the hope thatkeep this whole team alive. Your determination for the truth, for justice, it's what makes you Temperance Brennan. You've got the biggest heart I've ever seen."
I swallowed. "Thanks Booth."
"No problem," he said. He clapped and swiftly got up, pulling me along with him. "Now, come on. We've got a murder investigation on our hands. A woman's head was found in a bathtub… in the middle of the woods."
"Let's go." I walked out the door behind Booth.
"Bones," Booth said, turning around to face me at the doorway. "It's not that hard to get down to the heart of the matter. It's you. You're the heart of the matter. You always have been."
A click on a certain green box and a few words to make my day.
