Chapter Two: Not Today
Monday morning and I have never been on particularly good terms, but usually the two of us can get through our weekly encounters without too much trouble. It's just matter of grinning and bearing it, for the most part, with the help of a cup of coffee or two, and before you know it it's all over for another seven days. However, when I awoke on that particular Monday morning in November, I found it difficult to muster the strength to even show my face. It wasn't because I'd slowly drunk myself to sleep the previous night; I hadn't even the slightest hint of a headache and woke up about an hour and a half before my alarm was set to summon me. No, I had a feeling it might have something to do with the reason why I'd found myself drinking last night in the first place. Not that anyone ever had to know about that, though.
Reluctant to get up and face the world, I lay there in my bed staring at the ceiling, unable to get back to sleep. I wished that my mind could be as lethargic as my body; it was all I could do to keep from thinking about the day before me. Unfortunately that early in the morning my mind wasn't up for much of a battle, and I found my thoughts straying to that forbidden area. I tried to distract myself, but I couldn't think of anything less painful to think about. That was how miserable my life had become. Eventually I decided to give up the ghost and tried to pull myself out of the bed. It wasn't easy, but I desperately needed a distraction.
I placed my iPod on my stereo and set it to shuffle. With an extra hour to get myself out of the apartment to work, I took my time with every detail of my appearance. I spent extra time in the shower and took care tying my tie correctly, placing my 'Cocky' buckle on my belt and gelling my hair. It was a routine I followed every single day without fail, just slowed down slightly this morning. It was like clockwork, a well-oiled machine. A machine powered by coffee, that is. I'd started drinking it again once my doctor had said it was safe to do so again, and I now I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone a few hours without drinking it. It helped keep me sane these past couple of years; my sanity was all I seemed to have left. And as it stood, it was holding on by a thread. Recent events weren't exactly helping, either.
I was pouring the first cup of coffee of the day when it happened: the opening strains of 'Hot Blooded' reached my ears. I threw the pot down on the counter, coming close to breaking it. I felt the same wave of emotion wash over me that I felt every time I saw her novels topping the bestseller lists. It was indescribable, bubbling up within me and taking me over. It wasn't just anger, it was a mixture of hurt, frustration, pain, loneliness…all the feelings that I felt any time I thought of her. That song reminded me of the good times long gone – gone because she took away from me. I didn't waste any time shutting it off - I didn't need this, not this morning, not today, not ever. I tried to put it out of my mind as I left the apartment early. I didn't bother getting any coffee, I'd have to do without it. I had a temper and was acutely aware of it, and I needed to cool down. This had happened many times before, and I knew by this stage that nothing good ever came from it.
It wasn't long until I found myself in my office at the FBI, leafing through paperwork, wanting to be anywhere but there. I longed to be with her, for this not to be the life she'd thrown me into, but to no avail. What difference would it make, anyway? I'd clearly misread the situation, so going back two and a half years to before all this happened wouldn't change anything. She'd just be here rather than there. She still wouldn't care about me, not the way I still do about her. She could never understand how she gave me butterflies whenever she smiled at me, how much it killed me not to kiss her like I did when we first met every time I laid eyes on her, how I could never tell her my feelings for fear they'd never be reciprocated, that they would destroy what we already had. Instead they destroyed me while she was blissfully oblivious. Maybe it was for the better that she didn't know. I wouldn't have wanted her to have felt like she owed me something she didn't have. There was a big difference between one drunken kiss in the rain and love.
I sighed, looking around the office. I needed a distraction from my inner turmoil, the useless feelings that would never amount to anything more than a storm inside me, desperate to get out but never to make their escape. A single day was yet to go past when they didn't wage war on my guts, making me feel physically sick. Usually the pain was dulled by the events of the outside world, a world that seemed a little less bright than it once did, but not this morning. I'd wrapped up a case the previous Friday, and in any other context I'd be grateful that I had nothing to do – I dealt in homicide, after all – but in that moment I actually found myself wishing I had a case. I felt awful about that, but that was the way she made me feel these days: awful.
Then something caught my eye: the London Bobby on my desk. I couldn't help feeling that same wave of emotion rise within me again, that irrational hatred of an inanimate object which held no significance to anyone else in the world but me. Before I knew it, I'd chucked the thing across the room. I looked up to see Sweets standing in the doorway.
"Woah, dude, what the hell was that?!" He asked, a mixture of shock and fear apparent on his face. "Did I do something?" He asked, incredulously.
"Oh, God no, Sweets. I didn't even see you there." I apologised, embarrassed all of a sudden. I hadn't intended on letting him, or anyone for that matter, see me like this. "I threw it before I knew you were there." I said, shaking my head. I felt so damn stupid for letting my emotions take hold of me like that. And yet I couldn't help but think, 'she wouldn't have approved of that'. Of course she wouldn't – she could never understand how one's feelings could have such a powerful effect on their behaviour, because she had the uncanny ability to just put all hers into a little box. While at the moment I envied that, I couldn't say in all honesty that it was an admirable trait. "I'm sorry." I avoided his eyes, but my tone was sincere.
"It's okay, it's okay." He said, walking in and rubbing his forehead a little. He sat down opposite me. "Is there...something you want to talk about, Agent Booth?" He asked, clearly concerned. I looked up. It wasn't as if that question caught me off guard or anything, him being a psychologist who seemed to have a particular interest in what made me tick, but I really didn't feel up to answering it.
"No." I lied. Yeah, as if he'd buy that.
"Are you sure?" He asked. "This wouldn't have anything to do with today's date, would it?" There was a knowing smirk upon his child-like face. It was annoying, to say the least.
"Why would that have anything to do with it?" I feigned ignorance. It was futile - I was up against a human lie detector after all.
"I think you know." I avoided his eyes. I really didn't want to talk about this.
"I don't even know what date it is, Sweets."
"22nd of November." He pointed to the day-to-day calendar sitting on my desk.
"What, so you think I'm mourning the loss of JFK?" I asked flippantly. I didn't need to look at the calendar to know that it was the anniversary of his death, but we both knew well that that wasn't what made today significant.
"Of course not, Agent Booth. You know very well what I'm getting at." Sweets said, a slight hint of exasperation in his voice. He was used to my deflections when it came to this very touchy subject. He should have been expecting them by this stage.
"No I don't."
"I'm not gonna say it. You have to." Sweets looked right into my eyes. They were piercing, much more than you'd expect coming from a kid like him. I finally gave in, surprising even myself with my tone.
"Fine. Fine, you know what Sweets? I'm sick of these games. You trying to get me to face this, I'm sick to the teeth of it. So you think getting me to say it aloud will be healing or something? Fine then - it's Dr. Brennan's birthday! You want me to shout it from the rooftops? Cos I will! You just watch me!"
"That won't be necessary, Agent Booth." He said calmly, that smirk still upon his boyish face. He seemed satisfied, proud of his 'achievement'. He'd better be careful - I was extremely annoyed and he was already walking on thin ice.
"You happy now, Sweets?" I asked bitterly. I was disappointed with myself over that outburst. I'd been so determined to just deflect until he left. That was what I usually managed to do. I guess I wasn't on form today. Not surprising.
"Define 'happy'. I mean, I'm pleased you managed to do what I wanted you too, but I'm by no means 'happy' about the situation in which you currently find yourself."
"And that would be?" I didn't like where he was going with this.
"Well that you're so wound up about Dr. Brennan that you're throwing bobble-heads at people - hard, by the way."
"I didn't throw that at you, Sweets. You just got in the way."
"Not really the point, Booth."
"Then what is your point?"
"That you were throwing the bobble-head in the first place. It's been two and a half years since Brennan left. You need to do something about this."
"Why do you assume I was angry because of her? I mean yeah, it's her birthday, but there's a hell of a lot of other things going on in my life right now." And there were. "I also have, you know, the fact that Rebecca thinks that just because she's married now she can just decide to move hundreds of miles away and take my son with her. What makes you think this is about Temperance Brennan?"
"The fact that it's her birthday, and that that bobble-head was a souvenir from your trip to London with her." Sweets sighed. "Look, I know that things aren't exactly going well for you right now, but do you think that these feelings are making life any easier for you?"
"What feelings? Who says I even have any feelings for Dr. Brennan?" Ha, as if I could ever get rid of these feelings. They were practically etched into my very being.
"Says me, and everyone who cares about you, Booth. Me, Angela, Hodgins, Cam - we all hate seeing you like this." Sweets looked at me, and for the first time this morning I saw a friend and not just a meddling psychologist. There was real concern in those eyes, as if they were trying to tell me that he honestly cared about the fact that I felt like shit. I believed them.
"How much d'you figure I like feeling like this, Sweets? You think I enjoy feeling like complete crap every time I'm reminded of her? And that's pretty damn often, you know." I sighed. "But what the hell am I supposed to do about it? She left me, she's the one who cut me out of her life. I'm not exactly in a position to fix things, am I? She obviously doesn't want anything to do with me."
"That's not necessarily true."
"And you would know that how?"
"Well, apart from the fact that I maintained contact with Dr. Brennan after she moved to Dublin, anyone who has read her latest novel would be able work it out."
"So what? You're saying I should read it?"
"Well, not quite, but that would certainly be a good idea." He smiled. "You have a copy?"
"You kidding me? I freak out everytime I hear 'Hot Blooded', and you think I own a copy of any of her books anymore?" I did in fact still have every single one of them, including the latest one, in a box - even if my heart was crushed now, I knew I'd regret throwing them out in the future. Sweets didn't need to know that. He'd probably read far too much into it, as per usual.
"I understand. I have mine in my bag, actually - I just finished reading it." I could tell that wasn't true. The book had been released a few weeks ago, and I knew he'd been first in line to get a copy. Chances were he'd finished it within days of buying it. He had known that I'd be agitated today and that this conversation would lead to Dr. Brennan – he had guided it there, after all. Typical Sweets. Just because he'd written a book about our relationship - one he never published, probably because Brennan up and abandoned me - he thought he knew everything there was to know about us. He hadn't the first clue.
He pulled out a copy of 'Bone of Contention' from his bag and handed it to me. I opened the first page, and was immediately confused.
"What the hell is this dedication supposed to mean?"
"What?"
"'To my dearest Olwyn, you make my world brighter with every smile'." I read out. I was confused. Firstly, this just didn't sound like something Brennan would say, and secondly who the hell was this Olwyn she seemed to love so much? I think, in the back of my mind, I knew exactly who she was, but I couldn't admit it to myself. No, that would be too painful. "Who's Olwyn?"
"It's not my place to tell you, Booth." Sweets said, with a slight sense of panic about him. Hmm, something he hadn't been anticipating, then? I looked directly into his eyes - who had the killer stare now?
"I'll repeat the question: who is Olwyn?" I said it more forcefully this time.
"I...I can't tell you, Booth." I bet he was regretting trying to pick my brain, now.
"Look, you want me to start 'healing'? Then you need to answer this question."
"I really don't think knowing who Olwyn is is going to help matters in anyway."
"Well I can always find out, you know, Sweets. Something tells me you're not the only one who knows who she is." Sweets sighed. I knew well that if this was something important, he'd want someone who understood the situation to be the one to tell me. I wasn't sure if it was reassuring or not that he appeared to be relenting. "If she is who I think she is, I think it'll definitely affect matters, anyway." 'Help' seemed optimistic, as if who she was would make me feel in any way better.
"Fine, but you didn't hear this from me, okay? I'm telling you this strictly as your friend, so you need to promise me you won't jeopardise my friendship with Dr. Brennan." He warned me.
"I promise." I said, a little nervously.
"Okay." He said, reaching into his bag again. He pulled out his phone, and tapped it a few times, before presenting it to me. I looked down at the photo on the screen, and the breath caught in my throat. I couldn't believe what I was seeing; my brain was telling my eyes that they were lying. I was looking at a photo of Dr. Brennan holding a little girl, maybe two years old at most. She had big brown eyes, gorgeous dark brown curls and a smile that would certainly brighten anyone's world everytime they saw it. There was something unmistakeably like Brennan about her, I couldn't put my finger on it, but I could tell from this exactly who she was. Even though I'd already had an inkling, seeing this photograph still crushed me.
"No, Sweets. That can't be..."
"Booth, you said you wanted to know who Olwyn was, well that's her. Olwyn Christine Brennan." I could tell that this wasn't easy for him to do. This was something he'd kept from me for two and a half years, though probably not because he honestly wanted to himself. I could see that he felt as if he was letting Brennan down. She didn't deserve his shame. This wasn't just a lie of omission, it was a secret. I couldn't get my head around how she could hide something as amazing as a child from me. I mean, I suppose Olwyn was none of my business, as there was no way she could be mine, but I still thought that she was above this. If it had been me, I would have at least let our mutual friends tell her, even if it was too awkward for me to tell her myself. I wouldn't have sworn them to secrecy. Why was it so damn important to her that I not know about that beautiful little girl?
"I can't believe she would want to keep her from me."
"Why is that?" He asked curiously.
"Because...because having a baby, that's just too big a secret. We were close back then – I thought I would have been one of the first people she'd tell. I mean, she's what, two?" He nodded. "Well I'm no Math whiz, but for that kid to be two years old Brennan had to have pregnant before she moved to Dublin, before I got sick. If she had been leaving me because I got sick, if that's why she distanced herself, then why wouldn't she have told me about the baby before any of it happened? I mean, she had to have been an accident, right? She never wanted kids, never." A look of slight confusion appeared on Sweets' face, but it faded quickly, so I ignored it.
"I don't know the ins and outs of it, Booth. All I know is she didn't tell anyone before she moved."
"Typical Brennan." I said, bitterly. "We could have helped her - she didn't have to run away. I don't understand how moving to a foreign country could have ever seemed like a good idea to her, not when she had all of us here to support her. Raising a kid is tough enough even when you have someone else to share the load, in case you didn't know."
"I know. I do have a child of my own, Booth." He reminded me. "Look, maybe she didn't want to burden you. You were very sick the last time she saw you. You had a lot to deal with."
"Not so much that I wouldn't have wanted her around. She didn't need to have to bring a child into the world without the love and support of her family and friends around her." I could have killed her now, for being so stupid. Did she not understand that it takes a village to raise a child? That sometimes you don't have to do things on your own, that looking for help isn't always a sign of weakness?
"I saw how Dr. Brennan was after you woke up - she was terrified. She's lost pretty much everyone she ever lo-... cared about. I think she was just so shaken by the um, accidental pregnancy that she acted irrationally. She may be ashamed of it, of abandoning you, so to speak. She also doesn't know you're the same guy you were before you got sick. For all you know she desperately wants to see you again."
"Ha, I doubt that." I did. Two years was enough time to get your act together, to make contact. She'd clearly decided that she didn't want to.
"Well you're going to have to face this sometime."
"Says who?"
"She's the Maid of Honour, Booth." I sunk back in my chair. Oh. So that's why Angela and Hodgins were staying so quiet on the matter of the wedding party.
"I…I didn't know."
"Well you didn't honestly didn't think Angela and Hodgins would get married without her there, did you?"
"I doubted she'd want to come."
"No you didn't. Brennan and Angela are best friends, Booth. You know that."
"Well, it's been a long time. Things change."
"Not as often as you'd think, Booth. Some relationships are made to last, despite the circumstances." Sweets looked at me. There was a double meaning to it that I picked up immediately. Why did he have to do that? What did he know? He was happy. He had this optimistic buzz about him. I hated that. I hated that he was so content with his life. But he had every right to be, with a loving wife and a perfect little girl. That could have been me, if she'd just let me in for once. But no, she just ran from her feelings, from everything that was just that little bit out of her comfort zone.
"Not this time." I sighed, not referring to Brennan and Angela's friendship, of course. "So she'll be at the wedding, so what?"
"Olwyn will be with her. She's the flower-girl."
"And? I don't necessarily have to talk to either of them."
"But you will." Sweets gave me a knowing look. "You will because you love her."
"Okay, you can leave now Sweets. Right now." I managed to keep my cool. Just about. I definitely could have cracked at any moment. That word, concept…it was forbidden territory. Love left my vocabulary two and a half years ago, just vanished. I hadn't loved anyone since she broke my heart. I don't think I'm capable of it anymore. No one could fill the Brennan-shaped hole she left in my life, because she was so incredibly unique that it could only fit her. Only she could patch it up. Well, only the woman I knew two and a half years ago could. The woman I thought I knew.
"You see, this is exactly the problem, Booth!"
"Get out, Sweets!" I looked directly at him, glaring. He'd crossed a line. I just didn't need this today. He nodded, seeming to finally realise that there was no way I was going to discuss this with him. Why was he so surprised? He'd been trying and failing to get me to open up about my feelings for two years now. What made him think that today would be any different? Today was possibly the worst day for him to come in and to try and analyse me, even though I knew that he'd come today of all days with that specific intention. I acted like I didn't care that it was her birthday – it wasn't as if she ever would – but deep down it killed me that she wasn't here.
Eventually Sweets got the message and stood up.
"I'm sorry Booth." I remained silent for a few moments.
"It's okay, Sweets." I forgave him. "I know that it's just what you do." He smiled.
"Sometimes I can't help it." He sighed. "But that's not what I was apologizing for. I let this go on way too long, this separation."
"You let it go on too long? Sweets, you were just following her orders."
"But I'm not her subordinate, Booth. I didn't have to follow her orders. You're as much my friend as hers. I should have told you sooner, about Olwyn."
"It's not your fault, Sweets."
"Just promise me you'll talk to her at the wedding, okay? You know what Dr. Brennan's like; it's not like she's going to make the first move."
"Fine, I'll talk to her."
"And read the book. It'll be an eye-opener for you."
"Yeah, whatever, maybe." I said as he walked out of the room.
I sighed, sitting back in my chair. This was a lot to take in. I thought about that little girl. Olwyn Christine Brennan. It was a pretty name, it suited her. It was the kind of name Brennan would choose for her daughter. Her daughter. God, how the hell had that happened? How was Temperance Brennan suddenly a…mommy? It just didn't seem right. I wondered whether her father knew about her. While I could see Brennan hiding her kid from me, there was no way she could be so heartless as to conceal Olwyn from her dad. Even if she didn't love him, if she loved her daughter she would have been compelled to tell him. I knew deep down that she wasn't capable of that kind of selfishness. She was a good person, despite her many flaws. We may not have parted on good terms, but beneath that tough exterior lay a woman with good intentions. I had faith in the goodness that was somewhere in her heart. She may not have been able to access it when she abandoned me in my hour of need, but when it came to her child I knew that it would have been in overdrive. It didn't matter how emotionally-scarred you were, when it came to your child you'd move mountains to keep them happy. I know I would for Parker, even though I saw so little of him now. Chicago seemed so far from here, but comparatively speaking it was very close; I don't know how I'd be able to cope with having my child living on another continent.
Thank God there's no way Olwyn is mine.
A/N – Okay, I just want to clarify something for people. Booth's tumour wasn't detected until a couple of weeks later than in the original canon, so the damage was a lot more profound. He made a full recovery, but as you'll see, when he first woke up his amnesia was a lot worse… Also, what happened when Brennan first realised he was sick is the same – that was when he told her he didn't want her to go ahead with it… take from that what you may, I'm not going to elaborate just yet.
Anyway, thanks for all the wonderful feedback – it aided the writing of this and the next few chapters greatly and it also made me feel good about writing so much instead of doing study for the Junior Cert… We all know what's more important, right? Yeah, I knew you'd agree with me.
