PARTICULAR WARMTH
Rating: K
Spoilers: BitE; slight for the 100th
Summary: A little snippet of Brennan's thoughts through the year apart. Brennan POV. Warning: MAJOR FLUFF AHEAD
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…if I did, they'd been doing the naked pretzel long ago.
A/N: My first posted Bones fic. I'd love some feedback!
As the Cathay Pacific airbus ascended through the sky, Brennan reclined her first class seat and settled in for the long ride. With her patterned eye mask, and latest issue of Anthropology Today, she was equipped with everything she typically required for long trips. The only thing missing, she thought, was the person she'd grown infinitely closer to since her travelling days began; A person with whom she and travelling had become inextricably linked. Though she believed in neither fate nor psychic connection, she couldn't help but feel that Booth was accompanying her on this journey. But feelings were not her specialty, so instead she let her mind wander and focused on watching the coastline of Maryland give way to ocean blue.
Her thoughts drifted to him, to them, to where this year might take them. Though she feared for his safety, she held comfort in one thing: he had made a promise to meet her. One year from today. And he never broke his promises. Though she'd never put much stock in things like promises, Booth had shown her time and time again, that promises could be more than hollow pledges. They were actions; consistent and steady. This, she reasoned, had become fact during her process of cataloguing Booth's behavior. Based on empirical evidence, she concluded he would be there. She only hoped that evolution, a concept he now understood because of her, would not take him away.
Indonesia was beautiful, fascinating, excruciating, and necessary. She became acquainted easily with her fellow anthropologists, archaeologists, and paleontologists—engaging in both professional and social connections with an aplomb that both surprised and pleased her. Though there were still awkward moments, she would even venture to say she made a friend or two. Her colleagues in Maluku often asked about her life as a best-selling author and world renowned anthropologist. She talked about her work at the Jeffersonian, her team, and Booth, and the melancholy she expected to accompany these conversations was noticeably absent. Instead she shared her life with solid pride and confidence. Booth would have been proud of her. Booth. She referenced him frequently; whether it was while speaking anecdotally about her work (Some people actually think it's gross to put your finger in someone's maxillary orbit.), or making an observation about human behavior (All of us, are basically alone, separate creatures, just circling each other…) or when her attempts at colloquialism actually worked (he who smelt it dealt it…how do you even know that phrase?). She even went so far as to nod and move her lips along to the lyrics of American pop song playing on the crackly radio next to the dig site. She knew this one! It was Miss Googoo, or Lady GooGoo or something else equally forgettable. Lady GaGa, that's right. His voice was her constant companion. She found comfort in the Booth echoes and somehow she felt closer to him with this little bit of mundane pop culture information. She smiled fondly as she mentioned aloud that Booth loved this song, and though she now understood why someone would want someone else's love, she still wasn't sure why they would also want their disease.
Days slipped into weeks, weeks to months, until inevitably the day that Brennan had been so eager for, had become ready for, and yet approached with trepidation, arrived. What if he had changed his mind? She tried to dismiss this thought, as she focused instead on what she knew of Booth. Trying her hand at trust, she allowed herself believe that wherever Booth's mind was, it was still aligned with hers.
Brennan believed that the year of space had only brought her closer to her truth of him—she loved him and was deeply committed to him, in a way that spanned time and reason. She also believed that Booth reciprocated this truth. Whether distance led her to perspective, or whether she simply caught up to her own reality, once she had accepted their mutual feelings as fact, albeit with reticence at first, she wholly embraced it. In the days leading up to her departure from Maluku she was filled with a light-hearted energy she hadn't felt in a long, long time, if ever. It was as if a burden had been lifted. She even felt physically lighter, if that were possible, as she got out of the DC taxi and made her way to Mall. She moved toward their coffee cart with a relief and swiftness she felt to her very bones, as her contentment began to swell its way into excitement and happiness.
She spotted him first, standing by the bench, hands in his pockets staring out at the reflecting pool. She allowed herself to watch him momentarily, noting her observations. He looked leaner, tired maybe, but held himself with an ease that had been missing before he went to Afghanistan. Brennan decided not to dwell on that irony, as she focused on his face. He chewed lightly on his bottom lip, letting his eyes drift across the water, scanning the horizon looking for her.
She'd been standing mere moments, when his gaze swiveled around sensing her presence. When their eyes locked, Brennan experienced what she would describe as her heart bursting open inside her, even though she knew that was ludricrous. Where once she would have explained it away as a physiological reaction fueled by hormones, serotonin, and adrenaline, instead she let herself simply feel it. A particular warmth accompanied the feeling, as she swayed a little bit before quickening her pace toward him. His face broke into a huge smile—something akin to the charm smile, but she knew better. That smile was all love.
She stopped abruptly in front of him, drinking him in. Brennan felt him doing the same, warming further under his scrutiny. His eyes travelled swiftly up and down her body before landing on her eyes again. She slowly exhaled and sighed, matching his smile. They looked at each other for long seconds, before Brennan reached out her hand to intertwine her fingers with Booth's. They both broke eye contact and looked pointedly at their hands. Booth squeezed her hand looking at her again, she squeezed back. Her eyes connected with his again, conveying everything. Booth lightly tugged her to him, enveloping her in his arms. She followed suit, wrapping her arms around his waist, and burying her head in the space between his neck and shoulder. Her forehead rested on his clavicle, as she breathed him in; tears springing to her eyes, as her body registered who she was holding. He rubbed her back in slow strokes, lumbar to thoracic, as she felt his head tilt toward her, his nose lightly grazing her neck and earlobe as he sharply inhaled. He chuffed out what sounded like a faint laugh to Brennan's ears, and she moved slightly away to look at him, both of them still holding on. His eyes were bright and his smile so wide, she thought it would split his face, even though she knew that too, was ludicrous.
He reached up and ran a finger down the side of her face, rubbing the blunt ends of her shorter hair between his thumb and forefinger.
"Hi Bones," he said.
"Hi Booth." She answered.
They continued to smile at each other, their arms dropping, Brennan moving to his side. In a nod to a time before, she nudged him with her shoulder linking her arm with his, as they started to walk.
"We're home," he said covering the hand on his bicep with his own, strolling leisurely down the Mall.
"Yes." She said.
END
MORE A/N: I hope Brennan wasn't too OOC. I know she's really not quite there yet emotionally, and I doubt a year will get her there. But this idea of her coming to a realization about their relationship wouldn't leave me alone. I'll spare you where I think Booth is headed-- it involves a female sergeant, said sargent coming to DC, and him becoming extremely torn with his feelings. But, I digress... that's another story;)