Thank you for reviewing my story. I really appreciate it and it is an incentive to keep writing.
I don't own Bones.
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The storm abated and the power had come back on sometime during the early morning hours. Booth had enjoyed a deep sleep until a small hand forcefully shook his arm. "Daddy, Santa came."
His eyes popping open, Booth turned on to his side and smiled at his daughter. "How do you know, Sweetheart? Didn't we agree that you would stay in bed until me and Mommy got up?"
Twisting the hem of her pajama top in her hands, Christine moved her gaze to her bare toes and assured her father, "I didn't go in to the living room Daddy. I just peeked around the corner and looked at the tree. I can see presents. He came Daddy."
Reaching out, Booth placed his hand on his daughter's arm and pulled her closer to the bed. "It's alright, Honey. I just wanted to know how you knew." Leaning over he kissed the end of her nose. "Go wait for me in the hallway."
Excited, Christine nodded her head and ran from the room.
Turning to lie on his back, Booth sighed and rubbed his eyes. Patting his wife's hip, he tried to wake her. "Up and at 'em Bones. It's present time. Santa came."
Brennan opened one eye and peered into the still dark room. "What time is it?"
Sitting up, Booth glanced at the clock and saw the bold green numbers, 5:48. "Um, it's best to just get up and not worry about the time . . . Come on, Bones. Our little girl wants her presents and so do I."
Irritated with her husband, Brennan rolled over, looked at the clock and voiced her outrage. "It's 5:48, Booth . . . 5:48. I thought we agree to open presents at a decent hour this year."
Torn between appeasing his wife and pleasing his daughter, Booth realized that he would have to side with his baby girl. "It's Christmas Bones . . . all bets are off on Christmas. The clock doesn't matter . . . You can go back to bed after we open presents."
Resigned, she realized that Booth's love of Christmas and their child's need to see what Santa Claus had brought was just going to mean that there was going to be a little sleep deprivation. Brennan exhaled deeply and reluctantly sat up. "This is not my idea of a holiday, Booth. I should be able to sleep late on a holiday. You agreed that we would stay in bed until at least seven this year."
Unconcerned about promises he couldn't keep, Booth left their bed, grabbed his robe, placed his slippers on and walked over to the bedroom door. "Don't be a Grinch. It's just once a year."
Glaring at her husband, Brennan whipped her covers aside and stood up. "I am not a Grinch. I am not green and I do not steal presents from unsuspecting children. I am merely irritated that you broke your word to me."
Booth realized he couldn't win, so he shrugged his shoulders and turned towards the door. "It's Christmas, Bones. Our daughter comes first. She has to come first." Striding out of the room, Booth swooped down and picked up his daughter. Laughing he strode down the hallway with her in his arms. "You're getting pretty big, Sweetheart. I may not be able to carry you pretty soon."
Squealing in delight, Christine hung on to her father's neck. "I'm a big girl, Daddy."
His heart almost melting at the sound of his daughter's laughter, Booth grinned as he carried her into the living room and placed her down next to the tree. "Okay Munchkin, you know the drill. Save the bows and ribbons, because we can reuse those. Don't shake presents because we don't want a repeat of last year's broken glass ornament fiasco. Mommy was pissed . . . Mommy was upset with me all day, so, no shaking presents."
Giggling, Christine searched under the tree for presents for her. "Mommy told you not to shake it Daddy."
"Yeah, well I should have listened to her." Sitting down on the couch, Booth watched his daughter pile her presents over near the TV. "It was a collector's NHL ornament too. I won't shake any more presents, believe me."
Still irritated with her husband, Brennan entered the room. "I've told you not to shake presents before." Moving over to the tree, Brennan searched for her and husband's presents, making two piles near the coffee table. "It's too bad I couldn't replace it. It was a limited edition item."
The past being the past, Booth shrugged his shoulders. "Oh well. Win some lose some. It was the thought that counted and it was a great present, Bones. I loved it even though I didn't get to keep it."
Oooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The coldness penetrating through his coat, Booth woke up shivering. Feeling weak, he looked around the cab of his SUV and remembered his gym bag in the back seat. Tired and in pain, he pulled the bag to the front seat, opened it and found a dirty pair of sweats and four towels. He also located two bottles of water in the bottom of the bag.
Booth wrapped the sweat pants around his boots and the sweat shirt and one of the towels across his knees and lap. He unzipped his coat, placed one of the towels inside across his chest and around to his back and then re-zipped his coat. Thirsty, he drank half of one of the bottles of water and carefully twisted the cap back on the bottle. Placing both bottles on the seat next to him, he took the final two towels and draped them across his shoulders and arms. A little warmer, he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and was reminded that he had a phone.
Removing the phone from his coat pocket, he turned it on and found one bar. Weary, he made a phone call.
Booth where are you?
His voice slurred, Booth closed his eyes, trying to overcome the pounding inside his head. "I don't know . . . I'm hurt, Bones . . . I . . ." Losing consciousness, Booth didn't hear his wife's words.
Booth, help is on the way. Angela used the GPS on your phone and in your truck. She was able to pinpoint where you are up to a twenty mile radius. That's the nearest tower near you. The Virginia State police are looking for you right now . . . Booth . . . Booth answer me . . . Booth. Booth I love you. You don't have permission to die . . . Remember? You are not allowed to die . . . Booth?
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