A/N: Not really a songfic, but the song kind of defines the mood. If you want to give it a listen (which I highly recommend), the name of the song is "Perfume and Promises" by Idina Menzel. This is my take on the trial of Brennan's father, more specifically, what that situation will mean for Booth and Brennan.
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Perfume & Promises
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A crack in the smile but she's always in style while she waits
Waving goodbye but she's too tired to cry and she's wasted
A letter, he wrote but it's far too exposed so he throws it away
The sound of regret as it's counting the steps back to safe
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Darkness fell over the streets and sidewalks of Washington, DC, and with it came the storms. The city was dark and quiet, tonight DC was just for those that called it home. Though it was only mid-spring, a strong summer wind whipped through the desolate streets, rustling trees and blowing straight the American flags that flew at every monument. People stayed inside and waited. Waited for the storm to begin, for the rains to come. For what tomorrow would bring.
Tomorrow - that's why Temperance Brennan was still at the lab. Because of what would be happening tomorrow. She'd known for months that it would eventually come to this, that her father would eventually be on trial for the crimes that he had committed. He'd allowed himself to be caught for her, Booth said, so he could be near her and be with her. Sometimes, she worried that he had done more harm to her than help. He had forced her to re-examine her perceptions, to re-open a chapter of her life that she had thought closed and to feel all the stitches ripped out of old wounds and relive all the pain that he had once caused. He had changed, and she had to learn how to accept that, how to accept him, and above all how to accept herself. With each new insight into her father's character, new pieces of herself became visible, and with every new part of herself, her vision of the world shifted. No cataclysmic shift, not even a discernable change. Just a tiny amendment that threw her off balance.
All that would be changing tomorrow, for better or (she suspected) for worse. Max Keenan had forced his way back into her life, and she found she was no longer able to be the rational creature. Already, she was becoming his daughter again, a daughter that would not give up her father again without a fight. She had agreed, after much coercion from her father, to testify for the defense. Caroline Julian, who was, coincidentally, the prosecutor assigned to the case, was beside herself. Booth, as the arresting officer would be the chief witness for the prosecution, a position which he was quite obviously not thrilled to be in. Brennan sighed at this recollection and rubbed her eyes. Tomorrow was going to be hell for everyone involved.
Gathering her wits, she tried to turn her attention back to work, but for once she was unable to focus. On every skull, she saw her father's face. At every turn, she heard the voice of an unnamed judge sentencing him to die for the people he had killed. She wasn't sure whether it would be better for him to live or die. She just knew that she could not stand idly by and wait for the sentence.
Life was ephemeral, she decided. No matter how much effort you put in, how much you stuffed into the days and years of your life, it all came down to moments. Moments that defined you, moments that changed you. Moments in which you had to let go. Feeling distinctly unsettled at these thoughts, she rose from her chair. Her blood ran thick with need. Raw emotion coursed through her body, and she felt the need to do something. Not just to do but to do, to act so radically that the decision could never be taken back.
She needed something, someone, anything that could make her feel through the numbness that had settled in her bones. She needed to manifest the change that she knew she was on the brink of. She needed something certain in a world where nothing was guaranteed except for death and taxes. Death. The only way to escape that inevitable sentence was to live, if only for moments at a time. Tomorrow was death's day. Tonight, she would cling to life.
She bolted for the exit, not even stopping to grab a jacket or case files. Climbing into her car, she turned the key and buckled her seatbelt in one fluid motion. She drove out into the night, aimlessly at first, but quickly finding clear direction. She pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine. Thunder rumbled overhead as she made her way to the stairwell, an omen of the momentous decision to come. Change was going to happen, one way or the other. Temperance Brennan refused to allow it to control her any longer. Raising her hand, she knocked at last on the door.