Hey, guys. I'm new to FanFiction. Well, not new to reading it, but certainly new to writing it. Although it would have made more sense to start off with a oneshot or drabble just to figure out the lay of the land, this particular idea attacked me with a viciousness that I could hardly ignore. I sincerely hope everyone enjoys it. The story begins just after The Doctor in the Photo (spoiler alert) and carries on from there. It will not go along with whatever happens in future episodes. Also, just a heads up: although I am deeply troubled by the way Booth has been acting this season, I am forced to portray him as his less-desirable-terribly-disappointing-Season-6 self because it would simply make no sense for him to magically transform into his old self without any viable reason. Do not worry, he will return to the Land of the Squints as time goes on. And as for you who hate Hannah with a raging passion: she won't stick around forever. I don't appreciate her presence in Bones either and I am a B&B supporter all the way. For the purposes of this story, I need to keep her for at least a little while, but I will think of a fun way to eliminate her. I am open to suggestions for that, by the way. (:
-Lauren
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. I wish I did because that would make me brilliantly witty and intelligent... Maybe one day.
B&B
It was eleven o'clock at night and the park was deserted but for two nearly invisible figures standing deep within the shadows underneath the jungle gym. Their voices were stolen by the whispering of the wind; the sounds of their feet disturbing the wood chip-covered ground were silenced by whipping branches of the surrounding trees. Absolutely no one would ever know that they were there or why they came.
"What have you got?" drawled a man in a bored but authoritative tone.
"I'm still gathering information," murmured a smaller voice. "We're getting close."
"Did you complete the assignment I delegated to you?" questioned the man.
"I did."
"Good. I will send you a message within the next week and we shall meet again."
"How come you can't just call me?" blurted the softer voice, seemingly before it could stop itself. The owner of the voice's eyes widened in fear as the other man drew himself up to his full height and loomed over his underling.
"Because I said so."
"O-okay," agreed the timid voice instantly, clearly trying to make amends for contradicting the boss.
"If we were to contact each other, our relationship could be traced. I need you where you are, Moth. You are right in the thick of things, a direct observer. Your position behind enemy lines is extremely important. We can't let anything give you away. Do you understand me?"
Moth nodded bashfully, contritely.
"Good. Now get out of here. We don't want to draw suspicion."
With a final nod, Moth tiptoed out from under the jungle gym, glancing around to make sure that no one was watching. Once certain that no one was there, Moth quietly dashed to a car semi-hidden behind a bush, climbed in, and zoomed away.
B&B
Booth sat slouched in his living room chair, brow crinkled and posture defeated. Hannah was not home from work yet and he was glad she wasn't there to witness him breaking down. The gargantuan flood of emotions threatening to drown him was sending him into a near catatonic state and he was struggling to keep his head above the water.
"Damn it, Bones!" he muttered to himself, shaking his head. Among the feelings raging inside him, fury, sadness, and repressed hope were forefront in his mind along with an emotion he couldn't exactly name but made him really want to roll his eyes. Really? Now she wants me? He sighed, trying desperately to rid himself of the one feeling that was most unnerving to him: the overwhelming sense of loss. He rubbed his chest and stomach constantly, battling the strange sensation that his insides had evaporated. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but experience that panicked feeling that he had made the wrong decision and now it was too late.
"Damn it," he said again, louder this time, banging his fist on the arm of the chair. "Why?" he whimpered, dropping his head into his hands in anguish just as the lock turned in his front door.
"Seeley?" Hannah called, sounding relaxed and almost cheery. "Where are you, babe?"
"I'm in here," he grunted in response, unable to conjure the energy to stand and greet his girlfriend properly.
"What's the matter, baby?" asked Hannah in a concerned tone, dropping her things and seating herself in his lap, her arms wrapping around her neck. "Did you have a bad day?"
"You could say that," he replied with a wry smile.
"Maybe I could help fix it…" she offered, rubbing her hand enticingly against his thigh, expecting an enthusiastic response.
"Sorry, not tonight, Hannah," answered Booth, glancing up at her apologetically.
"Oh, God. It's not Temperance, is it? I know that case you were working on really upset her. Is she alright?"
Booth smiled at his girlfriend's concern and put his arms around her waist, pulling her tighter to him. "She's going to be fine, Hannah. She's—"
"She's in love with you," Hannah stated simply as Booth's mouth gaped open.
"Um…uh…"
"Come on, you can't deny it. I've seen the way she looks at you, the way she looks at me," interjected Hannah gently.
"How does she look at you?" asked Booth curiously.
"Like…I don't know, like she wishes she were lucky enough to be me. Like she wants to have the position that I hold in your life but cares too much about you to make mention of it," explained Hannah patiently.
"This is…kind of a weird conversation to be having with my girlfriend," admitted Booth with a humorless chuckle.
"Look, I know you love me. She's just your partner. You don't have to worry about anything, I trust you." She beamed down at him and he smiled vaguely back up at her, but something about her words set him on edge.
"I need to make sure someone checks on her," sighed Booth, reaching for his phone laboriously.
"I could," Hannah volunteered, her eyes bright.
"No, I don't think that would be a good idea, baby," Booth said, shaking his head. "She needs Angela or someone. I think I'll call her."
"Okay. I'll go make some sandwiches or something."
"Thanks, babe." He flicked open his phone and went to speed dial Angela, but before he could do so, an incoming call set his phone ringing. "Hello?" he answered with another sigh, his heart sinking, knowing he wasn't going to like what he heard.
B&B
Angela twiddled her thumbs impatiently against the steering wheel as she sat waiting at a red light.
"Come on, come on," she muttered to herself, foot itching to just slam against the accelerator, to hell with the consequences. Her best friend needed her, damn it.
The light finally flashed green and Angela's car roared to life, racing down the road to reach her friend. As she drove, her mind drifted to the phone conversation she had had with Brennan just over an hour earlier.
"Brennan, sweetie? Are you there?"
"Yes, Ange."
"Bren? Are you crying?"
"No! Why are you calling? Did Booth call you?"
"No…why? Bren, what's going on?"
"Nothing, I'm perfectly fine. You don't have to worry about me." Sniffle. "I've gotta go."
"No, Temperance Brennan, you tell me what's the matter right now!"
"I've gotta go." Click.
Angela had paced her office for a full half hour, debating whether or not to go check on Brennan. On the one hand, she really wanted to make sure that her best friend was doing okay. She hadn't been there for her as much lately, feeling a little bit left behind at her decision to travel halfway across the country to examine bones, and wanted to make up for that lack of attention she was paying to her. On the other hand, she knew that Brennan was sometimes best left alone to work through her own problems and outside help only made things worse. And one thing was fore sure, Angela did not want to become subject to the Wrath of Brennan.
Finally, she had decided that she had given Brennan enough time to herself and it was time that she had some help from her best friend. Angela had hopped into her car immediately and took off for her friend's apartment.
Angela slid haphazardly into a parking spot as close to the front doors as possible and took off for Brennan's apartment building at a sprint, anxious to check on her friend. She huffed impatiently when the wind pushed against the door to the building, making it nearly impossible to open, and yanked it with all of her weight until it allowed her passage. She strode swiftly to the elevator and pressed the up button, but it took too long, so with a scowl and a glare, Angela took off for the stairs, taking them three at a time. Finally, she was staring at the door to her best friend's apartment.
"Brennan!" she shouted, beating on the door with her fist. "Brennan, it's me. And you're going to open this door."
"Go away, Angela," came her voice from within and Angela huffed frustratedly.
"Hey! You open this door right now!" demanded Angela, slapping her open hand against the closed door. "If you don't, I'm going to break in."
Without any warning, the sound of a chain scraping interrupting Angela's yelling and the door swung open, revealing a very agitated Brennan.
"What do you want, Ange?"
"Hi, sweetie," Angela smiled sweetly, shouldering her way into the apartment. "I just came to check on you, see how you were doing."
"I'm doing fine, Ange. I wish you hadn't come."
Angela glanced up at her best friend with a wounded expression on her face. As was typical, Brennan didn't even notice the look Angela sent her, but she did seem to regret her words the second she said them.
"Look, I'm sorry Angela. I don't mean to snap at you, but I've had a fairly stressful day and I just need some time to myself," explained Brennan in a much calmer, controlled voice.
"Yeah, you've had a pretty stressful week, actually. That's why I wanted to talk to you, make sure you were okay. I noticed that the Lauren Eames case hit you kinda hard…"
"I'm fine now," insisted Brennan, plopping down onto the couch in a hopeless kind of way. Angela noticed the dejected expression crossing Brennan's face and reached a hand out to touch Brennan's arm.
"Bren, honey, you need to talk to me. I know you don't believe in psychology, but I'm your best friend and I am here to listen to you rant and rave and cry about the things that make you feel bad. When someone or something messes with your objectivity and rational thinking, that's what I'm here for. To put it back into perspective for you and to make you feel better." Angela smiled understandingly at her, kind brown eyes holding closed-off blue ones.
"Why?" whispered Brennan, looking away.
"Well because I love you, Brennan. You're my best friend."
"But…you have Hodgins now. You're pregnant, you're starting your own family. You don't need me," sighed Brennan, rubbing her face tiredly.
"Of course I need you," scoffed Angela. "And more importantly, you need me. I don't care how many kids me and Hodgins have, you're stuck with me." She grinned cheekily and Brennan had to laugh.
"Bren, why were you crying?" asked Angela softly, glancing imploringly up at Brennan.
"What? I wasn't crying…"
"Yeah. You were. There's a pile of tissues on the floor beside you and all of the makeup that is actually still on your face is smudged."
"Oh," sighed Brennan, leaning her head against the back of the couch. "I don't think I want to talk about it."
"Well too bad. Tell me."
"It's embarrassing," whined Brennan and Angela gave her a look. "Fine. Just…God, Ange, it hurts so much. I'd much rather just forget it ever happened." Her voice broke and Angela's heart went out to her. She didn't say anything, but waited patiently for her friend to tell her story.
"I told him," Brennan blurted, looking anxiously at Angela, who stared uncomprehendingly at her.
"You're going to have to give me a little more than that, sweetie."
"Booth. I told Booth."
"Told Booth…what?"
"I told him…how I feel."
"And how do you feel?" prodded Angela, her eyebrows flying up to meet her hairline. She hardly dared believe what Brennan was trying to tell her. It was so out of character for her best friend that she couldn't even imagine it being true.
The rain dove through the air, dancing against the ground and battering against the solitary woman standing silently in the middle of the deserted road. Her hair and clothing were drenched and droplets of water skidded down her face in rivulets, looking almost like tears. One hand tightened into a fist, crumpling up a forgotten slip of paper. As she knelt down, determination and sadness shining in her eyes, she felt her breath catch in her chest at the sight of the broken-off headlight lying abandoned in the center of the road. She nodded to herself, mouth slightly agape, tracing the edges of the dirt-smudged piece with one delicate finger as if to ascertain whether or not it was really there. She exhaled softly and blinked against the rain dripping from her bangs, trying her hardest not to think. Her eyes fluttered shut against the confusion and chaos erupting in her brain.
She didn't hear the sounds of a car approaching over the beating of the rain and the sudden brightness behind her closed eyelids did not register right away. When she finally did open her eyes to see a car careening towards her, her shock stole her ability to move and she knelt frozen on the cold, wet earth, waiting with wide eyes for Lauren Eames' fate to become her own. It's ironic, she thought, dying this way. Perfect somehow.
Out of nowhere, a strong pair of hands pulled her roughly out of the way, practically dragging her across the pavement. Booth? For all the thoughts that had been assaulting her mind just moments before, her brain was numbingly quiet as she caught her breath, gathering her surroundings once again.
"Bones? What are you doing here?" he asked, sounding slightly out of breath. She wondered if it was out of exertion from running to save her or out of relief that she was no longer in immediate danger.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"I don't know, following you to a bad part of town and saving your life. You know, the usual. Your turn!" he responded and she thought he was probably being sarcastic.
"Lauren came to Woodland to beg the family of a brain dead boy to give his heart to Sam Dworsky," she explained.
"Oh." Booth turned slightly, looking like he always did when he was struggling to understand and failing utterly. "So, what? They—they were the ones that killed her?"
"No, Booth," she replied, almost laughing at the lost expression on his face and the way that he pretended like he knew just what was going on. "No. When Lauren was really disappointed or upset, it's like Sweets said, she couldn't handle the intense emotions so she'd do something dangerous."
"Right, like coming here in the middle of the night," answered Booth, staring at her.
She shifted self-consciously from one foot to the other, realizing what Booth might be getting at. "I'm—not her," she stated, shaking her head, trying to assure herself as well as him. "We're—we're not the same person at all. It's just, the universe turned upside down for three days," she finished, becoming increasingly confident with each word she spoke. She wasn't her.
Booth gazed at her bemusedly for a moment before continuing. "What happened to her?"
"She bought the heroin. For the danger of it. To feel something. She put it in her pocket. She got hit by a car. Just like I almost did. The impact explains the defensive wounds. She struck her head over there." She waved in the direction of the broken-off piece as she spoke and Booth glanced toward it but almost immediately back at her.
"So it was the driver that buried her in the park." It wasn't a question but she responded anyway.
"I can't prove any of this," she admitted, shaking her head slightly, gazing beseechingly up at him.
"I know."
"But you still believe me?" she asked hopefully.
"Yeah," he chuckled, as if it were a silly question. "Of course I do. Alright, let me take you home. Come on." He took her by the arm and led her to his car.
She took her seat quietly, organizing her thoughts. She had an idea in her head, but she wasn't sure whether to act on it or not.
"Maybe you just need a couple days off," suggested Booth, his voice interrupting her musing, and she noticed that they were well on their way home already.
"I'm alright now," she said, nervousness prickling at her skin as she laughed humorlessly. "Except I—I made a mistake."
Booth looked to her and back to the road a few times, clearly not knowing what to think. "No, I—I told you my opinion, I mean, you got it right."
"Not everything."
She leveled her gaze at him and his expression conveyed his puzzlement.
"She died with regrets."
"Come on. Bones, everybody has regrets."
She laughed humorlessly again. "I heard her, you know? Micah says that all we get are these—" she chuckled "—dim, staticky messages from the universe."
"Ri—we—whose this Micah guy?"
"The night watchman. But he attends a lot of lectures. Anyway, the point is…she never…gave him a chance."
"Micah."
"No—no the helicopter pilot. He offered himself to her, but she never gave him a chance. That was her regret," she clarified, fear and excitement bubbling in her chest.
Booth looked over at her, perplexed.
"I got the signal, Booth. I don't want to have any regrets." Her voice was overflowing with trust and hope and she waited with bated breath for his answer. He looked away and she swallowed, the fear making her dizzy. She looked at him pleadingly, wishing she believed in crossing her fingers and wishing on stars and praying to God.
"You know, I'm—I'm with someone," he began, glancing over at her as her eyes began to fill, "Bones, and, uh, Hannah—she's not a consolation prize. I love her."
She nodded, trying desperately, valiantly to keep it together, to stay composed, but she could feel the heat in her eyes as the tears blurred her vision. Almost immediately, she gave up, embracing the chance to feel, even if it hurt more than anything she had experienced in a long time. Her face scrunched up and her chin crinkled as she bowed her head and allowed the tears to fall, soft, heartbroken noises escaping her lips, her breath hissing between her teeth.
"You know, the last thing I want to do is hurt you, but those are the facts."
The facts. The words repeated over and over in her head like a mantra. The facts. Facts, which you adore so much, which you base your life around, which are killing you right now. The facts. It was almost cruel, his response. She felt her stomach twist and closed her eyes against the pain. She nodded, whimpering slightly, and looked up again, staring out the windshield. "I understand," she managed to say, a fat tear rolling down her cheek. "I missed my chance." Her voice broke and she laughed sadly, shaking her head slightly. "My whole world turned upside down. I can adjust."
"I did."
If she hadn't been feeling so anguished, anger would have exploded in her at that moment. As if she needed reminding that he had adjusted. It was the reason she was sitting bawling in the seat next to him, embarrassing herself.
"Yes, you did," she agreed, sniffling slightly, laughing bitterly.
"Do you want me to uh call someone to be with you, or…?" he asked, and she felt her heart drop as a small chuckle escaped her lips. Who could she call? The person she would normally call was the one who had hurt her. All of her other friends were busy with their own lives and didn't have the time for her drama.
"No, I'm fine. Alone." She paused for a moment. "Thanks."
Booth nodded and turned his eyes to the road, silence settling upon them like a thick blanket as tears continued to stream down her face.
"Hello? Earth to Brennan…how do you feel?" Angela waved her hand in front of her best friend's face, bemused at the way she abruptly froze mid-pace, staring blindly into the corner.
"Oh!" started Brennan, flinching as she came back to reality. "S-sorry."
"I thought I'd lost you for a second there," joked Angela, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Where'd you go?"
"Angela, I was standing right here the whole time. I didn't actually go anywhere," explained Brennan in confusion.
"No—I meant…never mind," mumbled Angela, shaking her head.
"Angela, I don't want to have regrets," whispered Brennan suddenly, slumping onto the couch again.
"What do you mean, sweetie?" asked Angela.
"Lauren had regrets. That helicopter pilot—he loved her! And she just—she never gave him a chance. She was too scared or—or too stubborn. And now she'll never know what could have happened with him, how happy she could have been! I don't…want to die with the regrets that Lauren had. I told Booth…I got the signal. I finally—I understand."
"Oh my God," murmured Angela, covering her mouth with one hand. "What did he say?"
"He's with someone. And Hannah, she's not a consolation prize. He loves her."
She said it in such a way that Angela knew it was a direct quote. Suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to smack something, Angela plopped down on the couch beside Brennan, pulling her feet up under her, resting her cheek on her hand. Her own anger didn't matter at that moment, it was Brennan's feelings that were important.
"Okay. I—can't believe he said that. I'm pretty mad about that right now, but I'm here for you, to listen to what you have to say. So I'll freak out about that later, okay?" said Angela gently, nudging Brennan with her elbow.
"Yeah," agreed Brennan, trying a smile and failing.
"Oh, sweetie," frowned Angela, pulling her best friend in for a hug. "I just love you so much. And I am so proud of you for telling Booth how you feel. I really am. And I could just kill Booth for not being proud of you too. I think I'm going to cry," Angela sniffled.
"Don't cry, Ange," chuckled Brennan, eyes bright. "I will be fine, I promise. It will just take three days, until the world turns right side up again."
Angela had no idea what Brennan could possibly be talking about, but she just nodded as if she understood. "Well good. I'm glad you're going to be okay. Do you want me to—"
Angela's sentence was abruptly cut off by the sound of Brennan's ringing cell phone.
"Oh, God," moaned Brennan, sinking lower into the couch and covering her face with her arms. "It's him."
"No, no, this is good!" insisted Angela, grabbing the phone and pushing it towards her friend. "He's probably calling to apologize or something. Take it!" she urged, continuing to press the phone into Brennan's slack hand. "Answer the call!"
When she refused to even accept the phone into her hand, Angela flipped it open and pressed it to Brennan's ear. Brennan's jaw dropped and she glared furiously over at her best friend.
"Umm." She cleared her throat. "Hello?"
"Bones. We have a case."
"W-what?" stuttered Brennan, clutching the phone harder to her ear, clearly panicking.
"I'll pick you up in twenty. Be ready." Click.
Brennan lifted wide eyes to her best friend. "We have a case."
"Now? You have a case now? Oh, God."
"I don't know if I can do this, Angela," whispered Brennan, a heartbreaking expression claiming her features. "I'm not sure if I can do this right now. I mean, I just humiliated myself not three hours ago…" She took a deep, shuddering breath and covered her face again.
"I know that it is maybe a little…early to feel entirely comfortable working with him again, but he is your partner. You are going to have to work with him eventually," said Angela.
"I know," mumbled Brennan, her voice muffled by her hands.
"Do you think you are going to be able to handle that? Are you going to be able to remain partners?"
Brennan's fingers parted and her azure eyes peeked through looking frightened.
"Of—of course," answered Brennan in a falsely convincing way. "I can maintain my partnership with him—right?"
B&B
That's it for the first chapter! This is kind of nerve-wracking, huh? Putting your work up for everyone in the world to see? I would love to get reviews from you guys. It is always good to hear how I did. Criticism is welcomed as long as it is constructive. Guesses on who Moth is? Suggestions for later chapters? Ideas for the elimination of Blondie?