Author's Note: I should be working on updating my current story, which for anyone who cares, has nearly come to its final conclusion. Alas, we all know that sometimes an idea flits before us and it has to be captured before it is forgotten like an early morning dream. I left the time frame open to a bit of interpretation. I would love to know what you think. And before you ask, yes these are all real colors. I had a bit too much fun on a decorating website late one sleepless night.
Parker had finally worn him down. Today there were going to do something that he had been promising for nearly a year. Together the two Booth men were going to paint. They were going to paint Parker's bedroom to be specific. When he had moved into his current apartment one of the major criteria had been that it have a room for his son, unfortunately this room had been pink. In a desperate attempt to make his son feel comfortable, Booth had anxiously tossed a quick coat of Eagles Green paint over all of the walls. This was going to be a tough enough transition without "sissy walls." While the room he had created for his football loving son was something that many little boys would envy, Booth hadn't taken into account this his son had an opinion of his own, and apparently Parker preferred blue. So now after 11 months of pleading they donned their "project clothes" and headed for Home Depot.
1000 shades of blue, each one so markedly different, and somehow the same. It seemed an impossible task to choose. Each tiny swatch lined up like solders marching off to battle, in infinite shades, and tones, and saturations. Stretched before him was 1000 shades of blue; 1000 different shades of possibility. He knew blue had significance in his life, blue had held his heart for quite some time, and if he was truly honest with himself, blue, was the color of his dreams. 1000 shades, 1000 meanings.
Mindlessly he ran a hand up and down the tracks, searching, wondering what his son would choose. For a moment he looked down at his son, at the tense look on his youthful face, the constriction on his immature brow. It was clear that Parker took this decision very seriously. Knowing full well that his opinion was not requested, Booth amused himself going through the colors before him.
He had always found amusement in the names bestowed upon the tiny swatches. He distinctly remembered his mother painting a downstairs bathroom Dewdrop Meadow Green, and recalled, slightly muddled by alcohol, a night when during boot camp his small squadron had painted a drill sergeant's truck Lolita Pink. Amongst the various blues he found words that he could understand. Some were clearly derived from traditionally blue objects: Denim, Ink, and Blueberry, although if he were feeling argumentative the latter was definitely more purple then blue. He felt a surge of his typical American Pride at the chips named Patriot, Honor, and Dignity. And of course there were innumerous water words, Lakeside, Edgewater, Drizzle, even Cascade. Some he just didn't understand, what exactly was Dutch Tile, and how was blue associated with Take Five?
Admiral, was a deep navy, the shade her eyes would take when she was in a serious mood, often before she asked him a question he wasn't sure of the answer. It would be about God, or faith, or love, or maybe about his past. It was the dark color of quiet contemplation and hushed inquiry. But when she would gather the courage to burn her gaze deep into his, even those questions rarely went unanswered.
Next to it was Cosmos, a brilliant blue, associated with refreshing drinks of water. Unfortunately it was so often clouded by sadness. He found her eyes would lighten several shades whenever she allowed herself to shed tears, whether it was a single passing drop, or a cathartic flood. She even cried with elegance, and he couldn't recall a time where the perfect orbs had ever been bloodshot.
Then there was crystalline shade of Aquatint, a perfect replica of the Caribbean Sea. He had seen it every time she thought something was funny. More specifically when she believed SHE was funny. Despite the fact that she told positively horrendous jokes it was a color that, almost without fail, made him smile.
He found that Serenity was aptly nameded. It was the perfect sky blue of contentment. It was not the color of just any sky, but the kind that only shows itself after a drenching summer rain. How often had he wanted to bathe in that color, as she looked across him at the diner, or playing with his son at the park? When she laughed, when he could feel her whole body relax beneath his hand, when she was awash in joy, this was the color that he found. He wondered for a moment if there was a more delightful sight in the entire world.
His heart nearly stopped as he pulled Icy Indigo from the stand. The color was stunning, a rich shade similar to a late evening, yet it was equally heartbreaking. The number of times he had been subjected to this color could probably be counted on a single hand, and yet it was far too many. This was the color of betrayal, of hurt beyond measure. When her loved ones, himself included, had let her down. They had made her feel unworthy, or alone. It was entirely different from the façade of anger that she usually showed. He would shoulder her anger gladly, but that was displayed in the far more stony, Mountain Lake. No, Icy Indigo was a briefly fleeting color that had the power to destroy. A color he prayed with all of his heart he would be able to prevent.
Continuing to flip he came to a color that was in fact more of a grey then blue, Soar, he had seen it in nature only once, the steely color of the sky in Colorado before the snow falls. For him it more commonly was applied to stubbornness. It was a color that in his opinion he was subjected to entirely too often. Usually after he asked her to do horrible things like eat, or sleep, or stay safe. A small tight smile crossed his face. He knew he wouldn't have it any other way.
He grasped at another card, Peacock Blue. He fingered the intense shade, one that was without description, a mix of blue and grey and green. Glancing down, he decided it most definitely did not resemble the bird in anyway, though it was beautiful. He envisioned two things, the Atlantic Ocean in a storm, and her eyes when she had nearly solved a puzzle, when the pieces had nearly come together. It wasn't the shade when she finally had the answer. That was another color entirely. In those moments bright Cerulean would all but attack him from across the room, usually accompanied by the excited shout of his name "Booth I have it!"
His reverie was broken by a small hand tugging on his jacket. And a small chip of cardboard was thrust into his hand. "I like this one dad."
Booth took a moment to analyze the color that his son had selected, wondering for a moment how a child could determine what they wanted when faced with so many choices. His breath caught in his throat, and mused if preferences were genetic. In his hand Booth held the most perfect shade he had ever beheld. He had seen it for only a few fleeting seconds on a variety of occasions, each tied into perhaps his happiest memories. It was as if someone had captured "their moment "and made it into latex paint. It wasn't the color of desire, or lust, or trust, or friendship. This color was something more, deeper.
Gently he brushed a finger over the most splendid color in the world. It was definitely a blue, but no one could deny the tinges of grey. It was a deep, saturated color, yet not dark at all. It was…luminous. It made him think about still lake waters, and perfect rainstorms. Gently he flipped over the card, what was the name of this idyllic color? He laughed out loud, right there on aisle 5. Two words looked back at him Secure Blue. It was perfect, in all this time he had wondered what that look had truly meant, and here Sherwin- Williams explained it all to him, it was like getting the Rosetta Stone to one Temperance Brennan. Secure Blue, the color she had when she was perfectly confidant in herself, in him, in them.
Ten minutes later Booth was headed to the SUV, his miniature in perfect step. "You know Bub, I don't know what possessed me to paint your walls green." He ruffled his son's blonde curls as a huge smile graced his face. "Blue has always been my favorite color too."
With a nod and a trademark Booth family grin his son scrambled into the backseat a boundless ball of energy. He was more than ready for an afternoon with his dad, and just maybe if he was a really good boy, Dr. Bones…