A/N: Thank you to everyone that has reviewed this story so far, or added me on alert, or as a fave author... thank you! It means so much to know that this story has sparked at least a little bit of interest, and while we have a few more chapters to sift through before B&B get down to business, I hope the foreplay to the foreplay is stimulating enough!
The Veteran in the Day (chapter 2)
Heart palpitations arose from any number of conditions, anemia, pregnancy, hypoglycemia... Brennan was actually able to list close to twenty other reasons, alphabetically and in Latin, but she knew none of these were the cause of her irregular heartbeat.
To supplement her vegetarian diet and combat anemia, she avoided her previously preferred morning's orange juice, as the calcium blocked her iron absorption, and insisted upon a leafy green at every meal, well, every meal she remembered.
Aside from Booth's frequent assertion to the truth in the myth of divine conception, Brennan was acutely aware that, save for scientific involvement, human reproduction required two partners in intimate contact, though, what had Angela assured her, the more the happier? As Brennan had refrained from satisfying her biological urges with a partner, and, instead, had engaged in independent exploration, she acknowledged that pregnancy was not a cause for concern either.
As she washed the remnants of lemon sorbet from her spoon, she ruled out hypoglycemia, and couldn't help but furrow her brow in both confusion and frustration.
The human body's responses to tangible stimuli, spinach, sorbet, semen, these were all things Brennan understood, yet she had no external explanation for her atypical heart rhythm. As a scientist, she reasoned that if there was no external stimulus present, that there might be an internal stimulus, and, though it bordered on the assumption that psychology was more than unsubstantiated theory, she began to catalog her body's symptoms. Definite heart palpitations, a slight tremor in her hands, and, despite the chill in the November air, she was perspiring. In combination with the headache she had brushed off until that very moment, and a cursory check for swollen glands that yielded no results, Brennan's mouth fell open.
Of course, this was anxiety. Any average member of the population, having felt these odd sensations at regular intervals throughout their lives, would have immediately identified their physiological state by comparing it to their compromised psychological state, and that was all fine and handy, but Brennan was never anxious. She combated the stress others might feel from her fame and notoriety as the world's leading forensic anthropologist and being a New York Times Best Selling Author, with daily yoga and thrice weekly sparring sessions at her local gym. Whether it was crawling into bed at night, or curling up on her office couch, Brennan always rested easily knowing science would find the truth in how the corpse on her platform came to it's end. Science is truth, science is explainable, and, in that, Brennan had always found comfort, but, on this particular night, science had convinced her that her mind was working irrationally, and this only disturbed her further.
After pouring herself a glass of wine with the conscious hope of calming her body, Brennan relaxed into her sofa to reflect on the possible antecedent to her current state of anxiety. Thinking back on her day, Brennan smiled to herself. The Jeffersonian had been empty due to the holiday, and with the silence provided to her, she had identified the remains of three veterans from WWI, taking breaks only to reply to Angela's repetitious text messages. Angela had begged her to join the cabaret, and had repeatedly referred to her as a hybrid between a grapefruit and a pomelo, which she later assured her was nothing more than a term of endearment.
Brennan's day was highly productive, and she was suddenly extremely thankful for the government's insistence that today arbitrarily mark a holiday, as it kept the day's distractions to a minimum. Aside from Angela's brief interruptions, her day had been disruption free, an isolation she had cherished throughout her adult life, and one that she had sorely missed over the past seven years, but was that entirely true?
While, yes, the past seven years had been fraught with distractions from her publisher, it was her choice to enlighten the world on forensic anthropology through her articulate and very well received novels. And, while he had come back into her life rather unexpectedly, it was her who chose to reestablish and maintain a relationship with her father. Continuing, she realized she could not ignore the effective negotiating with, or blackmailing of, a Federal Agent that had allowed her to participate in the very fieldwork that often came between her and her solitary existence in the first place.
A truth that she only understood after challenging herself to consider human emotion as a viable source of information... Well, Brennan thought, that was unexpected.
Pleased with her accomplishment, but unsurprised as she was extremely intelligent, she could only think of one other person with which to share this news. Booth would be proud, she thought, after all, he was the purveyor of the heart. He would applaud her bravery at confronting her emotions head on, find her courageous for rising to the challenge by herself, and even compliment her integrity and commitment to analyzing the facts.
Knocking hastily on his door, it was almost midnight after all, Brennan couldn't help allowing a lopsided smile to grace her features as she realized she was a soldier for the truth.
A/N (part II): I hope you guys enjoyed Brennan's POV.. up next, an encounter. If you have a moment, tell me if you like how it's moving along. See you soon!