The hunter tread ever so slowly towards the edge of the forest, his steps relaxed and easy now. His journey had been so long to this point that there was no reason for him to hurry. His target was in sight. In plain sight. The hunter sighed softly; he had worked so hard to get here. Harder than he has ever worked before. Snow begins to drift slowly to the ground. He glances up and marvels at this winter's treat that is rare back in his homeland.
His alert hunter's attention is drawn quickly back to his prey and his heart softens. The sight of it breathing softly, its frame rising slowly with the rigors of slumber made his stomach turn. What was he doing?
Yet… what was the harm? Didn't he do similar things everyday? How was this different? How were his morals clenching at the thought of his next act when he slays animals everyday! This was hardly different than that! Hardly…
He stopped at the edge of the silver forest. Taking one last look at his beautiful prey, he raises his mahogany bow and slowly cocks a brilliantly feathered arrow.
He finger almost sensually lets go of the gut.
The arrow twangs out of his hands, knifing through the air, times slows to an impenetrable crawl….
Booth sits dead up right in his bed, panting as if he just ran a marathon. This was the third time he's dreamt of Bones this week. Today was Tuesday.
This dream was slightly more symbolic and disturbing than the last. Shooting Bones with an arrow? The hunter obviously wanted to cart her of as his wife.
Well… that is an interesting scenario. Booth slowly lies back down and shuts his eyes….
A handsome prince stops and gazes at the princess's door. It was ornately carved with scenes of mythic importance, lending to the princess's intelligence that he loves. The prince's hand stretches out to the handle, caressing the smooth, cold metal. He eases open the oak and enters the secret haven.
The princess eyes him cautiously as she sits on her bed. Her beautiful tiara is slightly askew and her gray eyes are filled with tears. The prince crosses the room and joins her on her cloud of depression.
His arm reaches over to her far shoulder, attempting to offer some needed comfort. Tears fly down her face, making his heart break. He envelops her into a sweet smelling hug.
"I love you…" he whispers the beautiful sentiment and it permeates the room like a floral perfume.
She nods slowly, adding her consent. In her delicate state, the prince can hardly expect her to reply coherently.
The princess edges closer to him and presses her lips lightly to his. The soft pressure and salty taste mixed with her familiar one out-weighs the repercussions that would ensue if they were caught. The prince's mind wanders and before he realizes it, they fall back softly onto her perfect duvet. His mind sparks as she runs her hand ever so softly down his half open, white dress shirt...
The stark reality jolts Booth awake again. His head pounds and he struggles to make sense of his fading dream. In typical Booth fashion, his mind wanders to what should have been the next part of his dream…
Maybe later he concedes as his eyelids become lead and droop slowly. He was too tired and the next day with Bones was sure to be….
Booth's alarm goes off at 6:00 sharp. His usually favorite radio station lets him down today and blasts some generic Miley Cyrus song. Booth groans and gropes blindly for the off button in the dark.
After a few internal, get up!'s, and even more, NOW!'s, Booth finally stretches and plops his freezing feet on the dingy carpet he hates. He struggles to find his favorite suit jacket, almost impossible since they're all virtually the same, a fervent omen that today was not a good one.
His morning got even worst from there, tripped over shoes in the hallway, burnt toast, couldn't find his badge, lost his car keys....
Yes, he thought, what a beautiful morning indeed. But as Booth walked into the Jeffersonian this morning could go either way…