So... I'll just warn folks here and now - if you haven't read Killer in the Classroom, there are lots of spoilers for it in here. LOTS. Sooo... You should definitely read that first. And then read this. You have been warned. Thanks to all who've left such lovely comments on the prologue - I'll be posting a chapter every Sunday from here on out, through to the bitter end. And away we go!
Temperance Brennan was just finishing her shower, shampoo still in her hair and her mind occupied with a case, when she heard the front door to her apartment open.
"Bones!"
Booth. Clearly, since he was the only one who called her that, and the only one with keys to both the deadbolts he'd insisted be installed after a particularly harrowing case over the summer. He said her name as he was unlocking her door, announcing his presence the way he always did now – something she knew he did in order to keep from startling her. Just one more indicator of how things had changed since her abduction in Oregon four months earlier. How she had changed.
"In the shower," she shouted back, though she doubted he could hear her over the running water.
A moment later, Special Agent Seeley Booth opened the bathroom door with his shirt already off and his hands unfastening his belt – another excellent example of the drastic changes that had taken place of late. She peered at him from behind the shower curtain, silently reprimanding herself for the grin she couldn't seem to squelch and the fact that her body was already responding to his presence. Wet at the center and weak at the knees – that's what Angela called it. Before she began having sex with Booth, Brennan never really understood what that meant.
"You're early – I thought you weren't getting here until eleven. Where's Parker?"
"Jeez, Bones, nice to see you, too. We got back early – Parker's downstairs getting a tour with Manny."
She looked at him blankly, trying to place the name.
"Your security guy, Bones - the guy you pass every morning on your way to work? He's got a kid Parker's age, said he wouldn't mind showing him around a little. Which means we've got five minutes before I lose Father of the Year and become just another poor sap tryin' to get laid," he said, as he dropped his jeans and boxers to the bathroom floor.
He pulled the shower curtain back and drank her in, his eyes sparking on hers until she very nearly blushed. Not quite, but very nearly.
"Booth," she protested, as he pulled off his striped socks and practically tripped over himself in his frantic race to join her in the shower.
"Bo-ones," he mocked her, stealing her breath when she caught a glimpse of his firm abdominal muscles, his already impressive erection, his brown eyes steady on her own. He pushed her back against the wall of the shower, his mouth falling to her neck to drink the water beaded on her skin.
"Did you miss me?" he asked, his voice rough in her ear. She reached for him instinctually, moisture pooling at her center and an undeniable carnal need urging her closer.
"It's only been – " her breathing had quickened already, her hands moving over his body, her fingers wrapping around his shaft so that he caught his breath, almost hissed against her skin at the sensation.
"Ten days, Bones," he told her. He captured her hands, pinning them above her head as he continued ministering to her with his mouth. "Ten days without a syllable of squint speak, without fighting with you over who's gonna drive or whose turn it is to make the coffee." He paused, leaning in with a kiss that was at once passionate and still markedly tender – a balance her partner seemed to strike with ease. When they parted, he backed away just enough to look into her eyes, his body firm and wet and utterly maddening, against her own.
"Ten days without those blue eyes. Without these lips," he kissed her again, more deeply. "Without these," he bent and flicked a bead of moisture from her nipple with his tongue, taunting her by pressing himself more fully against her. She managed to get her hands free and pulled him up, their mouths crashing together this time, her hand at the nape of his neck to keep him close.
"We have five minutes," she gasped, feeling unmistakably desperate. "No more talking."
He nodded his agreement, then reached down and lifted her left leg, which she obligingly wrapped around his thigh. His fingers sought her and she moaned when he ran his thumb over the swollen bundle of nerves at her apex, before curling two fingers inside her.
"Booth," she whispered breathlessly, as he ran his mouth over her collarbone and sped the rhythm of his hand.
"Yeah, Bones," he whispered back, sounding more than slightly out of control himself.
"You," she gasped. "I want you inside me, not your hand. We have five minutes – now's not the time for foreplay."
He moaned against her neck, removing his hand after another few seconds. "God, I missed you," he said again.
He positioned himself at her entrance. Their eyes met, and for a moment he stopped – almost as though he had a question he wanted to ask. Or perhaps was waiting for something.
"I missed you, too," she finally admitted, smiling despite herself. Ten days gone, and it really did feel like much longer – she couldn't deny that.
He kissed her again, more gently this time, before the desperation returned and she was grinding against him. "Good," he whispered in her ear, just before he filled her. And all conversation ceased.
A scant ten minutes later, Brennan was on her way downstairs to the lobby with Booth. Showered and dressed, though far from sated. She wore jeans and a thick cable-knit sweater to protect herself from the chill of D.C. December, a wool cap drawn over her auburn hair and a large – and fairly heavy – box wrapped in green paper in her arms.
"Y'know, I can carry that for you, Bones," Booth said for at least the third time since they'd left her apartment. "What the hell's the point of dating a big, burly Fed if you won't let him carry your stuff for you?"
"I don't need you to carry my stuff for me – we're just going to the car."
She shifted the box in her arms, making an admirable attempt not to appear to struggle with its bulk. Booth rolled his eyes, but wisely made no move to take the package from her.
"What the hell'd you get her, Bones? Hodgins owns half the western hemisphere, it's not like they can't afford to outfit this kid themselves."
They were bound for a baby shower for Brennan's co-worker and best friend, Angela Montenegro, who – in typical Angela fashion – was thumbing her nose at tradition by throwing herself a baby shower in the middle of the second trimester of her very-unplanned pregnancy. Before Brennan could answer Booth's question, their conversation was interrupted when his son Parker spotted them coming out of the elevator.
"Bones!" the boy shouted, paying no heed whatsoever to the security guard who was watching the trio with a curiously amused expression on his face. Brennan had just enough time to hand Angela's gift to Booth before Parker launched himself at her and hugged her enthusiastically around the middle.
His apparent fondness for her was still somewhat disconcerting – unquestionably welcome, of course, but it still struck her as… odd, somehow, that this miniature Booth had attached himself so completely to her. She hugged him back, then surprised herself by ducking down to drop a kiss on his tousled blonde head.
"Hi, Parker. Did you have fun?"
Father and son had just returned from a three-day Boy Scout camping excursion, before which Booth had been leading a week-long field training for the FBI. While Parker looked flushed and invigorated from his adventure, she couldn't help but notice that Booth looked slightly less so.
The little boy nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it was great. Dad and me won everything."
"I, Parker," Booth corrected him, standing back to watch the reunion. "Dad and I."
Parker rolled his eyes. "Dad and I won everything, Bones. There was a tracking contest and an archery contest and our team won in basketball, and First Aid, and – "
He laughed. "Okay, bub, I think Bones gets the picture. Now, what's say we hit the road - I'm starved." Before they could leave the building, however, Booth went over and said something Brennan couldn't hear to the security guard, who continued to look fairly amused. When he returned to her side, she eyed him suspiciously.
"What did you tell him?"
"Nothin', Bones," he said, though the grin on his face and the spark in his eye suggested otherwise. "Just that I wanted to surprise you, 'cause I'd been gone a while. Y'know... In the woods. With a bunch of guys. He was in the Corps, Bones. Believe me, he gets it."
Which, she supposed, should annoy her, but instead she found she was too happy to see both Booths to be terribly annoyed by the elder of the two. She frowned at him, but more out of obligation than anything else. "Anthropologically speaking, boasting about your se - "
Booth managed to hang onto the gift with one hand, and virtually drag her out of the lobby with the other, nodding significantly at Parker at the same time. "Bones! C'mon now, no anthropology speak in front of my kid, huh? All the anthropology speak gets left in the lab - it's Sunday. Now... Time to carb load for the big shindig at Hodgins' house. Right, Parks?"
Parker nodded eagerly, and the trio left the warmth of Brennan's building for the chill of December.
Once everyone was safely buckled into the car and they were on the highway, Booth turned to her.
"So, Bones, how was your week? Any interesting cases?" he kept his attention on the road, glancing at her briefly. He had one hand resting on her knee and a light in his eyes that Angela insisted only appeared when Brennan was near.
She hesitated. "Actually, yes," she said, her thoughts returning to the skeletal remains she'd been working to identify for the past several days. There were other things she should be telling him now – she knew that. But she still wasn't entirely certain how to begin that particular story, so she decided perhaps it could wait until after breakfast. Instead, she opted for a much safer topic: work.
"Human remains were found in the Bright Angel delta a week ago, and I believe they may belong to a native Puebloan who'd been living there with his tribe."
"Cool!" Parker said enthusiastically. Booth nodded, looking faintly amused at his son's reaction.
"Yeah, Bones. Cool," he said, his tone conveying quite clearly that he didn't think it was cool – or faintly interesting – in the least. "And did you play nice with Perotta while I was gone?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm glad you're back. Agent Perotta and I don't have the most complimentary working styles."
"You mean because she doesn't just go along with everything you say?"
"Booth, when have you ever just gone along with anything I say? Agent Perotta and I simply don't… gel. Our chemistry isn't conducive to a symbiotic working relationship."
He ran a fingertip along her knee, giving her a sideways glance and a slow, half-smile that made her feel as though her body temperature had risen at least ten degrees.
"Give her time, Bones. She just hasn't figured out how you work yet."
Brennan wasn't certain how to respond to this. Instead, she remained silent – focusing on the week she'd spent without Booth and the one to come, the story she wasn't telling… and, of course, on his fingertip moving lightly across her denim-clad leg.
"So," he said abruptly, clearly moving onto a new subject. "How long do we have to stay at this thing today, anyway? I don't even know why Parks and I have to go – isn't the baby shower supposed to be, you know, a girl thing? Can't Angela do one thing the way normal people do?"
"She believes the division between men and women during pregnancy is archaic and detrimental to the father's ability to bond with the child after birth," Brennan responded, to which Booth merely grunted. "It's not as though you'll be the only male there, anyway – Sweets will be there, and Jack."
He rolled his eyes. "Great."
"I believe Cam said Tripp was coming, as well."
At mention of the Outward Bound instructor Cam had been dating since the previous summer, Booth perked up immediately. The FBI agent had arranged to have Tripp assist him during the survival phase of the field training over the previous week; in addition, the two men frequently attended sporting events together and, it seemed to Brennan, spent at least some time each day on the telephone gossiping like old women. Despite this, the friendship that had developed between the two men was something that pleased Brennan a great deal. Though Booth was gregarious and infinitely likeable in social situations, he didn't actually make close friends easily; Brennan was certainly no expert in such matters, but the bond between he and Tripp seemed a very healthy step for her partner.
"Yeah?" Booth smiled. "God, Tripp'll probably love it – he's all about family bonding and woman power and all that – " he stopped himself, glancing in the backseat as though just remembering his son's presence. "Uh, anyway… Maybe it won't be so bad after all." He nodded his head at the package resting on the seat beside Parker. "So, Bones, spill – what'd we get for baby Hodgela, anyway?"
She looked at him blankly. "How would I know what you got?"
He furrowed his brow, giving her that look that implied she was being purposely dense. "Come on, Bones – we. I haven't exactly been in Baby Country for the past week and a half… I figured, you know, we could just go in on the thing together."
"That's what Mom and Brent always do," Parker informed her from the backseat. Booth quickly looked back at him, then at Brennan, before returning his attention to the road.
"What'd I tell you about that, Parks?" he asked.
Brennan looked back over her shoulder curiously. Parker rolled his eyes at her, as though they were somehow similarly afflicted with Booth's occasional wisdoms.
"I know, Dad – Brent and Mom are two different people from you and Bones, and you guys aren't always gonna do things the same way. That's why I can't say anything about the hou – "
"House of Pancakes," Booth interrupted quickly, looking slightly flushed. "That's great, Parks, now that surprise is ruined."
"But we always go to the House of Pancakes on Sunday mornings when you have Parker," Brennan said skeptically, well aware that there was something more going on between the two. "How would that have been a surprise?"
"Dad, puh-leeeeeze can I tell her? It's not like you already bought the – "
"Hey, hey, hey," Booth said quickly. "What about top secret do you not understand, Parker? Jeez." He gave Parker a reassuring smile as he said this, but Brennan could tell he was shaken – which only served to pique her curiosity that much more. "Okay – look, Bones, it's no big deal. We were just talking, and now it's gonna sound like this huge thing, and it's not a huge thing. At all. It's not even a little thing. It's just, you know…"
"Dad wants me and him to build you a house!" Parker exclaimed excitedly.
"I just said I wanted us to build a house, pal – I didn't say I wanted to build it for Bones," Booth amended, looking quite alarmed.
"You did too, Dad," Parker argued. "Mr. Stevens was talking about building a house with Toby and Alex – those are his kids, Bones – and how Mrs. Stevens was crazy about it but she hadn't even hammered in a single nail, and you said, 'I bet if we built a house, Bones would be there working everyday,' and you said she'd watch you like a hawk to make sure you got everything just right. And then Mr. Stevens said Bones sounds like a real ball bus – "
"PARKER!" Booth cut him off. Despite his somewhat alarming revelation, Brennan couldn't help but laugh at Booth's reaction. Which made Parker laugh, though Booth didn't appear to see the humor in the conversation.
Her partner grimaced. "So, does this mean you're not freaked out about building a house?"
She considered the question. "I suppose it depends on when you wanted to build the house. And where. And – it is a hypothetical house at this point, correct?"
"It's getting more hypothetical by the minute, Bones."
A hypothetical house, built by her and Booth and Parker. In her experience, Booth's hypotheticals had an alarming tendency to come true rather quickly once she'd acknowledged that she was willing to take them into consideration. For example, her agreement that a hypothetical weekend in Costa Rica would not be unwelcome had resulted in a mad dash to the airport less than six hours later, just a month ago. When she'd said that she wouldn't hypothetically be opposed to him leaving a few things at her apartment to make the morning routine simpler, the next day she'd found half her vanity filled with his hair products and shaving accessories, and an odd assortment of ties and dress shirts hanging in her closet.
Hypothetically, he could be breaking ground within the week.
"At some point, in the future," she said carefully. "I may not be opposed to us considering building a house together. In the future."
"Well yeah, Bones – I wasn't actually looking at acreage just yet. We were just talkin'. You know how it goes."
She actually didn't have the slightest idea how it went, but she didn't say that.
They rode the rest of the way to the International House of Pancakes with Parker chattering enthusiastically about his adventures over the weekend. Brennan tried to focus on what he was saying, but instead found herself considering Booth's words. A house? It seemed as though they'd just started dating – Angela called this the honeymoon phase, despite the fact that she and Booth clearly were not married. Nevertheless, she acknowledged that she was enjoying this stage of the relationship; she just wished Booth didn't seem intent on moving beyond it quite so quickly.
She was quiet through much of breakfast, and still quiet on the way to Hodgins's house, her gaze fixed on the festive Christmas lights and a thin blanket of snow that had fallen over the city the day before. It was early December, and she felt unprepared for the holiday season; for whatever expectations came along with having a partner like Booth and a child like Parker in her life, both of whom loved Christmas and everything associated with it. She considered once more how to relate her own activities over the past week, and found herself at a loss.
Several times, she caught Booth watching her with what seemed very much like anxiety. When she was finally pulled out of her reverie, however, it was by Parker rather than her partner. As they got closer to the Hodgins estate, she noticed that the little boy had become increasingly quiet himself – though apparently for very different reasons than her.
"Hey, Bones?" he said, just as they were passing through security at Jack's front gate.
She turned and looked at him, seated in the back with a pensive expression similar to one Booth wore whenever something was bothering him.
"Yes, Parker?" she asked.
He hesitated for a moment, bit his lip, and finally asked his question. "Is Angela really gonna name her baby Blue?"
She couldn't hide her smile. The name was one Angela had chosen apparently as soon as she realized she was pregnant, based on an abstract image that had come to mind the night that she and Jack conceived.
"She may change her mind before the baby comes, but right now, yes. I believe that's the name she's considering."
Booth rolled his eyes – she'd been having the same argument with him for months now.
"There's nothing wrong with having a unique name," she told them both. "In ancient civilizations, an unusual name was considered a sign of distinguishment."
Father and son made identical faces conveying their skepticism on this point.
"Parks, it'll be fine," Booth said over his shoulder. "With Angela and Hodgins as his parents, I'm sure the kid'll have bigger things to worry about than a weird name."
Parker remained silent. They were just pulling up in the circular driveway in front of the sizable main house when the little boy spoke again.
"It's just – kids can tease about stuff. Especially names. And Dad, you said you and Bones will be his god-Mom and god-Dad. So… I'll be like his god-brother, right?"
Booth gave Brennan a smile – an oddly intimate smile, a combination of amusement and understanding and familiarity that unbalanced her, somehow. She was part of this family, she realized – whether she was ready or not. These were the discussions she'd somehow become part of, in only three months' time.
"Yeah, Parks," Booth told his son. "I guess that sounds about right."
"And brothers look out for each other," Parker continued with his line of reasoning, "like you and Uncle Jared, right?"
Booth nodded again. He parked the SUV at the curb, one of a dozen vehicles that had already arrived. Brennan scanned the license plates, her stomach tightening uncomfortably when she noted that three were from local rental agencies. Eventually, she really was going to need to tell Booth how she'd spent the past week – and clearly, it would need to be sooner rather than later.
"So, what's your point, bub? Out with it, before your baby god-brother's ready for college."
Parker didn't smile at all, despite his father's light tone. "I just don't know if I'm tough enough to be big brother to somebody named Blue," he said seriously. "It's gonna be a lot of work, keeping kids from teasing a little boy like that."
Booth broke into a grin, but Brennan found herself more touched than amused. She wondered if Booth understood what an incredible impression he made on his son; how much like his father Parker was becoming as he got older.
"Don't worry about it, bub," Booth reassured him. "We've still got four months to talk Angela out of Blue. I'm sure if we work really hard, we can do it."
Parker looked relieved. "That's good, Dad. I just don't think I can handle that kind of pressure."
On the way in, Booth insisted on carrying Angela's gift, staggering exaggeratedly under the weight.
"Jeez, Bones, what the heck did you get, anyway?"
She felt her face go warm. The entire process of selecting a gift for her godchild-to-be had been singularly disconcerting. She'd done research, gone to countless baby stores, spoken with experts and read essays, and at the end of it all, had still found herself completely at a loss as to what she could possibly purchase to adequately commemorate the birth of her best friend's first child.
"You'll see," she said. She chewed on her lip for a moment. "Though I did want to talk to you about it. I went…"
Booth looked at her curiously, his eyebrows raised.
She took a deep breath, switching directions abruptly. Chickening out – wasn't that what Booth would call it? "I wasn't certain what to get. I wish you'd been here," she said honestly. "You would have been better at choosing something. I'm not good at these types of rituals."
He smiled at her – a genuine smile, devoid of the anxiety or deeper meanings she'd sensed over the course of the morning. He tucked the gift under one arm and draped the other around her shoulders, pulling her to him and kissing her temple before he said quietly,
"I'm sure you did fine, Bones. You're better at this stuff than you think."
Inside Jack's estate, the doorman met them and offered to take their coats. Parker's eyes widened as he took in the vast entryway, the marble staircase, the fountain in the expansive foyer.
"This is where Angela and Dr. Hodgins live?" he whispered, slipping his hand into Brennan's.
She shook her head. "I think this is where Hodgins's parents live. He and Angela moved into a smaller house at the other side of the property."
Parker nodded. She was running out of time, she realized – they followed the doorman down a high-ceilinged, wide corridor with shining floors and crystal chandeliers. The sound of laughter echoed through the home as they approached the parlor where the party was being held. Booth's hand was at the small of her back, Parker's hand still in her own.
If she was going to tell Booth before they got there – and he found out on his own, which would inevitably be worse – she needed to do it now.
She stopped walking. Booth and Parker stopped short beside her, father and son looking at her with similar expressions of confusion.
"Something wrong, Bones?"
She shook her head. "No – I just… Someone's going to be at the party, who you're probably not expecting."
He grimaced. "Is it Angela's father? Because that guy – I know he's a rock n' roller and I'm sure he's a stand-up guy, but… He gives me the creeps."
"No. I mean – he may be there, I'm not certain. But…"
Parker was looking at her with wide eyes, as was the doorman they were supposed to be following. As was Booth. She hesitated once more, shifting uncomfortably.
"Hey, Parks," Booth said smoothly, "why don't you follow Jeeves here on over to the party. We'll catch up to you in a second."
Parker looked unhappy, but he didn't argue. Booth handed Angela's gift to the doorman, and they didn't speak until both Parker and the gentleman were out of sight. Once they were alone again, Booth crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head.
"All right, Bones – you've been trying to figure a way to tell me all morning, so out with it. Who's the mystery guest?"
"TJ," she finally said.
Booth looked at her blankly.
"TJ Wright," she elaborated.
This got more of a response. "The same TJ Wright who would've run away with you in a heartbeat back in Oregon, if I hadn't been standing in his way? The one who showed up at your place at seven am and ogled you while I made him and all his degenerate friends breakfast? What the hell's he doing here?" His body had tensed immediately upon receiving the news, his jawline tight.
"I invited him. I ran into him last week, and I – he… We were talking, and then last night he called. He's working on a book…"
Booth groaned. "Please don't tell me he's using that whole bogus research angle."
She bristled at his tone. "It's not bogus – I write, Booth, I know research is necessary. He asked if he could spend a week observing my work at the Jeffersonian. It seemed a harmless request."
"Yeah, sure it did." A moment of confusion crossed his face. "Wait – where the hell did you run into him? He's not living around here, is he?" Clearly, the thought was not a welcome one.
"In Portland," she said, refusing to allow anymore trepidation into her voice. She was a grown woman – she could travel wherever she wanted, whenever she pleased.
Booth's eyebrows rose. "You went to Oregon while I was gone? And you're just now mentioning it? Why the hell did you go to Oregon?"
"It's a long story – it won't make sense until after you see the gift, anyway. Just… I went to Oregon. While I was there, I spent a night in Portland, at Jamie's apartment," she explained, the story coming out in a jumble now that she was finally telling him.
There wasn't enough time to tell him everything – to tell him what it had been like returning to Portland three months later, seeing the aftermath of the havoc that had been wrought during her last visit there. To describe meeting up with Jamie, the writer she'd befriended during the Portland workshops… How the woman had installed a security system after everything that had transpired, and was now guardian to the two bulldogs orphaned by the serial murderers who nearly killed Brennan one cold, rainy night on a mountaintop in Washington.
She took a breath. "I went out to dinner with Jamie and Caleb and TJ," she explained. "We started talking. He called last night, as a result of that conversation."
There was more that she'd meant to explain to him when she told him this: how strange it had felt walking Portland without him, what it was like to return to the park by the river and think of that weekend she'd spent with he and Parker. But she couldn't seem to get any of that out – just the facts. A trip to Portland, a conversation with TJ.
"And he'll be here? At Angela's baby shower?"
She bit her lip. "I invited him. He seems to be… going through something. I'm not entirely sure if that's accurate," she admitted. "But he seems agitated."
"He's agitated because he's in love with you!" Booth exploded, speaking loudly enough for his words to carry easily to the party down the corridor.
Brennan's eyes widened, her own body tightening in response to his reaction. Now, she remembered why she'd been so reluctant to bring this up. While in Oregon, they'd already had one argument about her relationship with TJ, a former foster child himself who'd had similar experiences to her own while in the system. Booth had always seemed fine when she'd been around men in the past – even the ones she'd been dating – but for some reason, he was completely illogical when it came to TJ.
"I didn't tell you so we could fight about it – I told you so you wouldn't be taken by surprise when we arrived and he was here," she told him, speaking in a loud whisper.
Booth nodded, turning away from her for a moment as he seemingly worked to get his temper back under control.
"And he's here for a week?" he asked, sounding calmer now.
"Until next Sunday - he'll be traveling over the holidays, so he needs to get back to Oregon before then to prepare."
Another nod. "He's not staying with you, right? I mean – the guy just sold a book, he should be able to afford a hotel."
She crossed her arms over her chest and said coolly, "He's not staying with me."
Booth imitated her posture, quirking an eyebrow. "Well… Good."
"Good."
He uncrossed his arms and took a step closer to her, his eyes studying her own. "Anything else happen while I was gone that I should know about?" He looked insecure, uncharacteristically vulnerable for a moment. "I mean, you didn't run off to Bolivia and get married or anything. You're not pregnant with Brad Pitt's love child, no out-of-control dance parties while I was out in the woods for a week…"
She hesitated, her eyes skating from his for just a moment. He caught the look – she could tell by the way his posture straightened slightly, a combination of surprise and concern crossing his face.
"No, Booth. No marriages, pregnancies, or dance parties," she said. It didn't sound true to her; she suspected it sounded even less so to Booth. She nodded toward the parlor. "We should probably go in, they'll be waiting."
He nodded. His entire bearing was different now, the mood between them suddenly tense and uncertain. She wished they didn't have to go in – wished she'd said no to TJ; that she had enough common sense to just be able to go into a damned baby store and pick out a stuffed bear like anyone else on the planet and be done with it. Wished she could just tell Booth what was on her mind without feeling as though by doing so she was putting everything in jeopardy.
She wished she didn't think so much.
Of course, she said none of these things. Instead, she walked beside Booth down the wide corridors, past priceless works of art and giant potted palms, to the parlor where their friends waited. Brennan was not looking forward to the party.
The parlor where the shower was being held was a large, sunny, modern room with high ceilings and shining black floors, filled with so much plant life that it seemed more botanical garden than sitting room. Angela had decorated with a Native American theme, using rich, earthy colored tapestries, paintings, and a smattering of tasteful, baby-specific decorations. Considering the theme, Brennan felt slightly more at ease about her gift – though certainly not entirely.
Since returning from Portland at the beginning of September, she and Booth had made a conscious decision to be open with their co-workers about the shifting nature of their relationship. Brennan had initially been concerned that interacting with their friends outside of work would feel awkward, but Booth was surprisingly reserved in social settings. He seemed to look to her for cues as to what she found acceptable; more often than not, she was the one who initiated contact, taking his hand or occasionally leaning in to kiss him when no one seemed to be paying attention. He never failed to respond with a surprised smile – almost as though he still couldn't quite believe they were together.
Today, however, he made a point of draping his arm across her shoulders just before they went into the room. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans she thought fit him particularly well, with a black jersey and, of course, his absurd belt buckle. Though he did look fatigued, Brennan still thought he was the best looking man in the room by a very wide margin.
About a dozen guests were scattered in plush, comfortable-looking chairs throughout the room. Brennan spotted Cam and Tripp, and immediately felt more relaxed. Sweets and Daisy were also in attendance, as were several of the other interns rotating their time in the Medico-Legal lab. It took a moment before Brennan found TJ, seated next to two women discussing something with apparent enthusiasm. His blonde hair was stylishly unkempt, his jeans tattered and his lean frame flatteringly accentuated by a charcoal gray sweater.
He smiled when he caught Brennan's eye, and Booth's arm tightened around her shoulders.
Parker was having an animated conversation with Jack, but stopped abruptly as soon as Booth entered the room.
"Hey!" Jack said, greeting them at the entrance with a warm hug. Since learning of Angela's pregnancy, he'd become more… open, Brennan thought. Slightly more effusive, certainly more emotional.
"Glad you guys could make it. I was just telling Parker here that we've got a pool out at the back of the house, and he says you guys remembered his trunks. So… If it's okay with you, there are already a few kids out there."
Parker grinned, his eyes raised toward Booth. "Can I go, Dad?"
Booth hesitated, until Jack seemed to understand his concern. "There's a lifeguard on duty – CPR certified and everything. He'll be fine."
After another moment's hesitation, Booth shrugged. "Yeah, Parks – sure, go ahead. But you listen to what the lifeguard says, right? No horsing around, no running, no peeing in the pool."
Parker rolled his eyes, blushing slightly. Brennan had noticed that the boy seemed to be asserting his independence more recently, a natural step in the growth process of any adolescent. Booth, however, seemed less willing to accept this step.
"I know, Dad," he said, whispering loudly. "I'll be okay."
They watched the doorman lead Parker away, then returned their attention to the party. Booth had dropped his arm from Brennan's shoulders during the exchange, but kept his hand at the small of her back as he led them inside. Angela came over and greeted them both with a hug and kiss. She gave Booth a sweet smile, nudging his hip with her own.
"Hey, stranger – good to have you back. We missed you around the office." She looked at Brennan significantly, a devilish glint in her eye. "Right, Bren?"
Booth barely acknowledged the comment, instead nodding toward Angela's barely-swollen stomach. "What's the deal with this kid anyway, Angela? This is what, goin' on five months? You're supposed to be packing it on by now. What've I gotta do, come out here and cook for you myself?"
Jack came over and put an arm around Angela's shoulders. "That first trimester was a bitch, man. Now that we've got the nausea behind us, though, it should be easy to start putting some weight on."
Angela gave him a long-suffering look. "Y'know, this whole 'we' crap is really getting old. I didn't see you puking in garbage cans in between cases at the lab, and I definitely don't think it'll be your ankles swollen to bursting or your twa – "
"Okay!" Jack said quickly, clapping his hands as he flashed a concerned glance at his girlfriend. "Enough small talk, let's say we get on with the party."
Booth looked at them both in amusement, seemingly enjoying Jack's discomfort. The amusement faded, however, when TJ came over to join them. Angela and Jack seemed only too happy to flee, while Booth merely stood watching as Brennan awkwardly returned the other man's welcoming embrace. Once they'd parted, TJ extended his hand toward Booth, who shook it with a notable lack of warmth.
"Seeley, it's good to see you again. I really appreciate you letting me tag along this week – it'll be huge for the book."
"Yeah, I'll bet," Booth said dryly.
Thankfully, there was little time for small talk between the three of them once the festivities began. Upbeat music played while guests made their way through an elaborate buffet, before taking part in a few absurd baby shower games that seemed to be conspicuously centered around an open bar at the far end of the room.
After an hour of mingling and laughter and general revelry, Parker returned for food and gifts. His hair was wet and a towel was draped around his shoulders, three giggling girls approximately his age following close behind him. Brennan noted that TJ was mingling with apparent ease with everyone he met, while Booth and Brennan had barely had time to speak with one another between games and small talk with other guests. Once Parker returned, however, the trio filled their plates and took seats away from all the activity to talk. Parker sat down next to Booth, occasionally looking over his shoulder at the girls who were still clearly watching his every move.
"Make a few friends there, Parks?" Booth whispered to him.
Parker blushed furiously. "Ssh, Dad," he whispered back. "Don't say anything, okay? Please?"
Booth caught Brennan's eye with another of those intimate smiles he'd given her earlier, and she couldn't help but return it this time. There was no denying it – somewhere along the lines, this had indeed become her life.
When it came time to open the gifts, Brennan began to doubt the wisdom of her choice all over again. Lingerie, baby clothes, a book on sex during pregnancy, enough stuffed animals to fill a wildlife habitat, and a surprisingly large stack of packages that were to be opened when children weren't present… It seemed to Brennan that everyone in the room had some unique gene that made rituals like shopping for baby showers come naturally. As a result, their gifts were fun and whimsical, thoughtful without being overdone.
There was a ripple of laughter when Angela opened a gift card from Sweets for a year of complimentary psychotherapy, once the baby reached adolescence.
"I figure with a name like Blue…" Sweets joked, grinning sheepishly.
Brennan didn't miss the significant glance exchanged between Booth and Parker, though father and son remained surprisingly silent.
Cam and Tripp had stuffed bears specially made in the likenesses of Jack and Angela, complete with microscope and artist's palette, a newborn bear in Angela-bear's arms. When it was finally time to open Brennan's gift, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Booth's arm was draped casually around the back of her chair – he gave her an encouraging smile as Jack placed the bulky package on Angela's lap.
"Okay, I've been dying to open this," Angela said. She shook it experimentally, examining the rectangular package from every angle. "Hmm. Let me guess: tricycle for the big guy's third birthday?"
Brennan bit her lip, aware that this was a joke. "If you don't like it – " she hesitated. "Well, it's not possible for me to return it, but I could get you something else."
Angela waved her off. "Relax, sweetie, I'll love it. I just have to…" She turned it upside down again, apparently searching for the best way to open it.
"For Pete's sake, Angela, just open it already," Booth said impatiently. "Some of us want to know what the hell we got you."
More laughter followed the comment. Brennan noticed the mother of one of Parker's admirer's studying her partner with clear predatory appraisal; she resisted the urge to take Booth's hand or move in closer. Or go over and kick the woman in the tibia.
When Angela had finally managed to unwrap her gift and open the box inside, there was a long moment of silence. Brennan grew even more anxious, the anxiety subsiding only when Angela looked up.
"Oh my god," her friend said softly, her dark eyes shining with tears. "Bren."
Brennan stood awkwardly, gesturing toward the gift. "It's a cradleboard. There's a craftsman from the Umatilla reservation who makes them – I worked on a case for him several years ago. He agreed to make this one for you."
Angela lifted the piece from its box, studying the intricate beadwork. The room was still, everyone seemingly fixated on the gift.
"It's… Bren, there are no words. It's perfect."
"I told him about your… vision – the colors, the marigold and the blue and the way it swirled. I don't know that I did the story justice, but he seemed to understand." She fell silent for a moment, remembering the three days she'd spent at the Umatilla reservation in western Oregon the previous week. "I told him about you and Jack, and then he spent an entire night meditating on the information I'd given him. To ensure a lucky life for the child, the project must be completed in a single day – he began at dawn, and wasn't finished until nearly midnight."
Both Jack and Angela embraced her tightly, crushing her so that she could barely breathe.
"Thanks, Dr. Brennan," Jack whispered in her ear. "It's…" He stepped back, looking at her with his blue eyes bright. "Wow. Seriously, this is phenomenal."
Brennan sat back down, feeling both triumphant and slightly uncomfortable at the attention she was receiving as a result of the gift. After a moment or two, she realized Booth was watching her. She turned.
"What?" she asked, feeling suddenly defensive.
He smiled and took her hand. "Nothin', Bones." He shook his head. "You just... Every so often, you kind of stop my heart." He lowered his eyes quickly, as though embarrassed by his words.
Brennan studied him for a moment before she kissed him gently on the cheek, laying her head on his shoulder as the party continued. He leaned in and whispered in her ear.
"So – you know this morning wasn't the real welcome home, right?" he asked softly. Intellectually, Brennan knew there were two dozen guests just a few feet away and Parker just two seats down, but the rough timbre of Booth's voice elicited an unmistakable physical response. She struggled to keep her thoughts in line.
"I assumed not," she whispered back. "Five minutes in the shower hardly compensates for ten days' absence."
He grinned wolfishly, keeping his voice low. "So, how long do we have to stay at this thing?"
She glanced around. Everyone seemed to have settled in for a long day, and Angela wasn't even halfway through her gifts. Parker, likewise, seemed to sense that the end was still quite far off. The boy cleared his throat, and she quickly removed her head from Booth's shoulder.
"Dad, do you think it'd be okay if I went back to the pool?"
Brennan noticed that the three girls from before were standing at the parlor entrance, apparently waiting for him. Naturally, the fact didn't escape Booth's attention, either. He smiled, but said nothing.
"Sure, Parks. Just take it easy – we'll probably head out in about an hour."
Once Parker left, his smile widened to a proud grin. "Didja see that?" he asked Brennan. "The kid's a chip off the old block."
While Angela took a break from the gifts a short time later, Cam and Tripp came to sit beside them, followed shortly thereafter by Sweets. Before long, Brennan had almost completely forgotten about the baby shower, the five co-workers intently discussing the details of a case. All discussion ceased, however, when the guest of honor stalked over to interrupt the conversation.
"Okay, what the hell are you doing?" Angela demanded. She was definitely unhappy – Brennan had seen that glower many times before, and there was no mistaking it.
"What do you mean?" Booth asked innocently. "We're just sitting here talking – mingling. It's a party, right? We're partying."
"No," Angela said quickly. "You most definitely are not partying – the five of you are just sitting here like anti-social freaks. What are you talking about?"
She looked directly at Brennan, who hesitated only a moment. Somehow, she was certain that whatever she said would be the wrong answer.
"We were discussing a set of remains found near Lake Woebegone last week – "
"That's right," Angela pounced. "Remains. Do you know what your pal TJ over there is talking about?" she asked, nodding toward the writer. He was standing amidst a group of people likely in their early twenties, all of whom seemed to be listening attentively.
"What?" Brennan asked, genuinely curious.
"I don't know, but I can damned well tell you it ain't human remains," Angela said. "Hell, Sweets, even Daisy's managed to come up with a couple of topics outside of moral degenerates and blood and guts. I expected this from some of you – " this directed quite plainly at Brennan – "but, Seeley, didn't you used to be normal? Have normal conversations, about normal, non blood-and-guts related things?"
"Hey," Booth said defensively. "I'm still normal. I've just been in the woods for the past week and a half, and I thought it'd be nice to get caught up on everything that happened while I was gone."
Angela softened, albeit slightly. "Well… Okay, that's actually a valid excuse – I forgot you've been out in the boondocks playing GI Joe with Tripp. So, you're excused. And Tripp, you get a pass. But the rest of you…"
Booth stared morosely at a group of strangers clustered around the buffet. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to talk to someone outside the squint squad or the Feds," he admitted. "All right, I'm goin' in." He took a breath, then turned to Tripp. "Got my back?"
Tripp smiled, looking apologetically at Cam. "Sorry, hon – duty calls."
The two men stood, Angela promptly taking Booth's place as they walked away.
"They really are too cute," she said, directing the comment to Cam. Her good humor had apparently returned.
Cam nodded her agreement. "They are. Seeley's teetering just a little too close to pathetic for comfort, but… at least he's got good taste."
"Seriously, right?" Angela agreed enthusiastically. "God, he's got it bad. I haven't seen a case like this since Zack met Booth."
Brennan listened cluelessly before breaking in. "Who has what bad? I have no idea what you're talking about."
Cam lowered her voice conspiratorially. Sweets leaned in, clearly enjoying being part of the circle, until Angela glanced witheringly at him.
"I'll just – uh, I guess I'll just join the guys. You know, with the mingling."
Once the women were alone, Cam shrugged. "There's no reason to make it some huge thing – Seeley's just got a little bit of a man crush on my boyfriend."
"I'd hardly call it little," Angela argued.
"What? No, he does not," Brennan said uncertainly, then hesitated. "Wait – I don't think I know what that means."
"Relax, sweetie," Angela said. "It's totally harmless. Jack gets them constantly. It's just… Seeley wants to be Tripp when he grows up. It's really pretty cute."
"Booth actually reached physical maturity several years ago, and intellectually speaking, the brain – " She stopped at a glance from both Angela and Cam. "But, clearly you're speaking metaphorically."
"Seeley just sees some admirable traits in Tripp that he'd like to emulate," Cam said helpfully.
"Ah," Brennan nodded. "That would seem an accurate assessment." She lowered her voice, smirking slightly. "He actually does talk about Tripp quite a bit. And you'd think after spending an entire week together, they wouldn't have quite so much to discuss now."
Angela and Cam looked at each other as though this were to be expected, and shrugged. "Man crush," they said simultaneously.
The men in question returned a moment later, with refilled plates and Sweets close on their heels.
"You happy now?" Booth asked. "I got a recipe for crab dip, a stock tip I don't even understand, and some lady's phone number."
Brennan looked up, her brow furrowed in irritation. "Wait – what lady?"
He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Why? Jealous?"
"Of course not," she said immediately – though she had to admit to an uncomfortable tightening in her stomach at the idea. "Jealousy is merely an – "
"Yeah, Bones," Booth said exasperatedly. "I know – I've heard all your squinty theories on jealousy, okay? You don't get jealous – I get it."
He sat back down beside her, sliding his plate onto her knee. "Now – I got way too much food, help me eat something, huh? I got some of that veggie chili you like." He handed her an extra fork, which she took wordlessly.
These were the things that struck her about dating Seeley Booth – the simple, unexpected gestures that seemed to come so naturally to him: a spare fork and an extra helping of a vegetarian dish he wouldn't dream of touching himself; how, when she commented in passing that she liked a particular song, it would mysteriously appear on her playlist the next time she used her ipod. How, despite arguing about it almost nightly, he was invariably the one to make sure the coffee would be ready when she got up in the morning. He'd told her before that being in love was about the little moments, the details, and she thought she was beginning to understand what he'd meant by that.
She took the fork, keeping her eyes on her food as she admitted quietly, "Occasionally, I may experience feelings akin to those traditionally designated as jealousy."
He tried to pretend he wasn't pleased, but failed miserably. Their eyes caught for a long moment; she wished, suddenly, that they could abandon everything they were supposed to do for the rest of the day, and just return home to spend the afternoon in bed.
Since that clearly wasn't logical, however, she contented herself with a helping of vegetarian chili con carne, Booth's shoulder solidly against her own.
It was nearly three o'clock when guests began departing the premises, Angela's gifts opened and the buffet decimated. Tripp was telling an amusing anecdote about Booth's performance at the field training when Sweets reappeared at their side looking somewhat uncomfortable.
"Daisy and I are gonna get going. I know this isn't the most opportune time to bring this up, but since Booth was gone all of last week there was little time for – "
Booth gave him a look. "Spit it out, Sweets. What's the problem?"
The psychologist looked at Cam as though for salvation. She gave him a sympathetic smile, but merely shrugged.
"Don't look at me – this is your deal."
Brennan felt a slight twinge of uneasiness.
"It's not a big deal," Sweets said hurriedly. "And it wasn't even my idea – this is all on the Bureau. So far, they've been content to work around the clause against partners engaging in a non-professional relationship where the two of you are concerned, given that Dr. Brennan isn't strictly under the FBI's employ."
"Which makes perfect sense," Brennan said. "Besides which, our relationship outside work has no bearing on how we conduct ourselves professionally."
Sweets hesitated. "Well – and, again, I'd like to stress that this was most definitely not my idea – they'd actually like something a little more formal than just the two of you saying it has no bearing on your work."
"So, take a look at our record," Booth said quickly. "It's only gotten better over the past five years – and right now it's the best it's ever been."
The psychologist nodded. "Which is exactly why the Bureau's let this go so long. But now – well, they, uh… They'd like someone to conduct a formal review."
"Someone meaning you," Booth said shortly. "When?" His humor had darkened considerably since the revelation.
"Well, uh… Starting tomorrow, for two weeks, I'm to shadow you on any cases. Then, I'm to provide the Bureau with a complete analysis of how you're… uh, shifting personal relationship, is impacting your work."
"But I already have TJ following me at the Jeffersonian this week," Brennan protested.
Cam looked up at this. "I'm sorry? Your writer friend? I don't recall signing off on that, Dr. Brennan."
She despised it when Cam took that tone – it felt as though she was being called to task by the principal. Not that that had ever happened during her school career, but she could imagine that this would be how it felt.
"He just asked me yesterday – he won't be assisting, merely observing."
"Well, that's just great," Booth grumbled. "So, we've got Hemingway and Freud riding shotgun all week? I wish I'd just stayed in the woods."
Brennan was still trying to come up with a persuasive reason as to why Sweets should simply abandon the review, when Booth's cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID, grimaced, and excused himself. She watched curiously as he took the call at the far side of the room. It was clear from his body posture that it was a fellow agent – there was always a perceptible shift in his attitude when he was speaking with someone from work.
A moment later, he returned having lapsed fully into Working Booth mode, and attempted to pull her up by the arms. "C'mon, Bones – time to go."
She pushed his hands away. "Booth, I can actually stand on my own, you know. What is it?"
"I'll tell you on the way. C'mon."
Cam looked at him. "You guys need a hand?"
He hesitated. "All we've got is bones so far, but I'm gonna need you guys in the lab pretty quick."
"Before tomorrow morning?" Tripp wanted to know. He didn't seem particularly surprised, but Brennan also didn't think he looked that pleased.
"Nah," Booth said quickly. "It looks like the remains are kind of old, so a few hours won't make much difference."
Angela and Jack came over, with TJ following behind. "Let me guess," Angela said. "There's a dead body that can't possibly wait 'til after the party."
Booth looked genuinely sorry, if only fleetingly. "Sorry, Ange – it was a great party." He kissed her cheek, then patted her stomach. "I'm bringin' your kid donuts tomorrow – there's no way vegetarian chili and crab dip's gonna do the trick. See you in the morning?"
Angela nodded. Sweets had rushed off a few moments earlier, but now reappeared pulling his jacket on.
"All right, I'm ready."
"Ready for what?" Booth asked darkly.
"The sooner this whole review process starts," Sweets said, "the sooner it'll be over. Why put off tomorrow what you can – "
"Fine," Booth interrupted. "But you sit in the back, and you keep quiet."
TJ came to stand beside Brennan. "What's going on?" he asked. There were shadows under his eyes that she hadn't noticed before, and a certain listlessness in his body posture – as though it required some effort to stand still.
"We've gotta get going, there's a body," Booth said, in response to the other man's question. "Sorry about that – you can catch up with Bones at the lab tomorrow."
Brennan started to protest, when Parker reappeared. This time, he was traveling alone – his pack of adolescent girls nowhere to be seen. For a moment, Booth looked as though he'd forgotten that his son was with them.
"We could take him home for you," Angela offered, seeming to sense his dilemma.
Booth shook his head. "Nah – Rebecca'd have my head if somebody else dropped him off. It's not far out of the way – I'll just drop him off, then head to the scene."
Brennan hesitated. In her experience, the longer local law enforcement had to plunder her crime scene, the more precious evidence was lost. "I could get there first to secure the scene," she said. "I just – perhaps I could borrow one of Jack's cars?" She directed the question to Angela, who nodded immediately.
"I could give you a ride," TJ jumped in quickly. "It's no problem."
Booth considered the issue for a moment, seemingly torn between preserving evidence and allowing TJ an entrance into the case.
"Yeah, fine," he finally relented. "But he stays back," he said to Brennan, indicating TJ with a nod of his head. "Behind the tape, right? I don't want him anywhere near the body."
She looked at him seriously. "Really? I thought he could stand in for you, perhaps gather some evidence or document the scene."
Booth started to say something, then clamped his mouth shut when he realized she was being sarcastic.
"You're funny, Bones," he said. He dropped a kiss on her lips, then glanced at TJ. It was clear to Brennan that he was unhappy with the arrangement. "I'll give you guys the specs at the car. Let's go."
Booth briefed her on the case at his truck while she retrieved her coveralls and kit from the back. Once she had everything, she stood beside him at the passenger side door and awaited his instructions.
"You have your gun?"
She rolled her eyes. "Booth, I'll be fine. Not everyone is bent on destroying me, you know."
He didn't look convinced. "I'll probably be about forty-five minutes behind you. Maybe less, if I can make up some time on the highway. Give me a call when you get there."
She nodded. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but she wasn't certain what.
"I should go," she finally said, when it appeared he would say nothing more.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Right. I'll just meet you there."
She leaned in and kissed him with perhaps more fervor than was strictly necessary - though he did look more relaxed after the kiss. He pulled her tight, whispering in her ear.
"Make sure Writer Boy knows he's driving home alone tonight. I've got plans for us."
She felt her heart rate increase incrementally, catalogued her body's predictable reaction to the words: a rush of chemicals, increased body temperature, a feeling that was half-languor, half-desire.
"I'll let him know," she promised.
"Good," Booth said shortly. Then, more loudly, "All right, Parks, you buckled in? Sweets, stop fooling around with the radio. Let's get this show on the road."
He kissed her again, quickly this time, and got into the truck. The week and a half apart and all the questions it had inspired were forgotten for the moment: it was time to get to work.
She found TJ standing at the passenger's side door of a shiny red rental car at the end of the driveway. Without hesitation, he handed her the keys and got in.
"You want me to drive?" she asked doubtfully.
He shrugged. "I don't know where the hell we're going – doesn't make a lot of sense for me to be behind the wheel."
"Oh." It was hardly logic with which she could argue; secretly pleased, she got in the driver's seat, started the engine, programmed the GPS with the coordinates Booth had provided, and they were off.
The details Booth had provided of the scene they were bound for were sketchy at best. Booth knew only that a human skeleton wrapped in a sheet was found at Lake Anna State Park roughly an hour before. Though it would be up to Brennan to confirm, preliminary reports were that the skeleton was small – potentially indicating that it belonged to a child. Adding to this suspicion was the presence of a laminated Missing Persons poster attached to the body. The assumption, then, was that the remains belonged to the child pictured.
Brennan didn't work with assumptions, however; she was anxious to get to the scene in order to ensure that it was viewed with objectivity and a level head. She had found in the past that people approached cases involving children too emotionally, leading to shoddy investigations and tainted evidence. It was up to her to ensure that that didn't happen in this instance.
She and TJ rode in silence for a short time, TJ staring out the window as though he wasn't completly present. He'd been like this when she'd seen him in Portland the week before, as well – distant, distracted… strained, somehow. It was a cold afternoon, the sky thick with clouds and snow in the forecast. As they were weaving through a festively lit neighborhood on the way to I-95, he finally spoke.
"Do you like Christmas?"
A simple enough question, really. She considered it for a moment; she'd actually had arguments about this with Booth before. If he had been the one asking the question, she realized that her response would be different – laced with defensiveness, a need to explain herself. With TJ, she could simply be honest.
"No," she admitted quietly.
He glanced at her quickly, with eyes that seemed to see something deeper than what someone else would have in similar circumstances.
"Me neither. They weren't good before my father died; they were a lot worse after. I can't seem to shake that."
They merged onto the highway just as the first flakes of snow began to fall. A worn pickup in front of them had an "Obama/Biden" bumper sticker on one side and another that said "Republicans for Voldemort," though Brennan didn't recall hearing that name during the elections. She suspected it was a joke, though clearly one she didn't get. She considered TJ's words.
"I had good Christmases as a child," she told him. "My father loved it, especially – we always had a tree and decorations. Gifts and traditions."
"That probably would've been worse," TJ said thoughtfully. "Knowing what you were missing, every year your parents were gone."
"I can't really answer that – I can't speak for other people's experiences, only my own. It made it difficult, however." She paused. Rephrased. "It makes it difficult, still. At times."
There was another brief silence, before TJ spoke again. "You have a nice life here – good friends, a good job." He sighed. "Plus you're dating an superhero, so… y'know, you've got that going for you."
"He's not a superhero," she said, rolling her eyes. "Booth has his flaws, just like anyone."
TJ seemed to lighten at this. "Oh yeah? What's say we go over each and every one of 'em – then I can tell you all the ways I'm better."
She frowned at the remark. "TJ."
"I know – sorry, over the line. It won't happen again." He paused. "Seriously, though… You do have a nice life here. I'm glad."
They continued on in silence until Brennan said hesitantly, "It is a good life." She should stop at that – she knew she should stop at that. And yet, she continued.
"But…" TJ prompted.
She bit her lip. The crime scene was still forty-five minutes away, and they had to talk about something, didn't they? "Booth wants us to build a house," she told him. Even though she knew, intellectually, that Booth hadn't meant he wanted to build a house now. Or even soon.
"Wow," TJ said. "That's a big step. Couldn't you just… you know, buy a house?"
She shook her head. "I don't think it would be the same, for him."
"Buying's cheaper, especially right now," TJ said reasonably. "Though I guess you probably don't need to worry about that."
The issue of expense hadn't even occurred to her. Now that it had, she considered the prospect for a moment.
"I don't think he'd let me pay," she finally decided, speaking half to herself. "At least, not for all of it. And in all likelihood, he'd feel badly that he couldn't take care of all of it himself."
"Old fashioned," TJ said. It didn't sound like a judgment.
"Very." Brennan smiled, thinking of the myriad of ways Booth belonged in another era entirely.
"That can't be easy on a government salary. Does he have any other income?"
She shook her head. They spent the next several minutes discussing house payments and mortgages, building options and Booth's difficulty accepting that his partner made more money than him. After they'd delved into the subject for some time, Brennan suddenly had the feeling she was crossing some line – criticizing Booth behind his back, when that certainly hadn't been her intention. She fell silent.
They drove on.
The sky was darkening, the snow falling more heavily the farther into Virginia they drove. After another lengthy silence, TJ finally sighed. He'd gotten quiet again – his gaze fixed on the world outside, his mood perceptibly darker.
"You know, I'm not actually here just for research."
She tensed. "TJ, I – "
"Relax," he held up a hand to stop her, before she could continue. "You know how I feel about you – I'd swim the Seven Seas for a shot at us together. And I'm a terrible swimmer, so… But, you're happy. I'm not here to screw with that. I've got bigger fish to fry."
His story came out quickly after that. He started with the dreams he'd been having from the time it was discovered that Dr. Philip Taylor – a longtime family friend of TJ's – had been leading a double life as a sadistic serial killer for more than thirty years.
Brennan already knew the facts of TJ's father's murder: how his mother had shot the man one night when TJ was eight, before taking her son and going on the run for five years. When she was finally caught, she was sentenced to life in prison, and TJ was put in foster care. As far as Brennan knew, the case was fairly clear cut.
TJ, however, seemed to think differently.
"I know the case has been closed – that everyone's got their verdict, my mother's dead now… The story's over, right? But there are these little inconsistencies that I can't shake."
"There are always inconsistencies in a case," she informed him. "The facts don't always align as neatly as we would hope."
He didn't respond to this. After a few moments, curiosity got the better of her.
"What kind of inconsistencies?"
"Well," he began eagerly. "Like, for the five years that we were on the run, my mother always said she didn't do it – she wasn't the one who killed my father. Then, the cops caught up to us just south of Daytona, brought us back to Oregon, and she kept right on saying she didn't do it. Until this one day that I remember, because Dr. Taylor brought me to visit her – she was in jail then, waiting for the trial to start."
Brennan thought of the times she'd visited her father in prison, and tried to imagine being a child going through that experience. Then, that image was quickly replaced by that of Philip Taylor – the way he'd first appeared to her, as a harmless intellectual overseeing a writing program in Portland; and then, stalking her through a day and night of driving rain and unseasonable cold while she clung to the hope that Booth would come for her because she, seemingly, had lost the ability to save herself. And finally… Philip Taylor, his throat cut, his blood seeping into the rich mountain soil.
This shift in focus had become increasingly common since her return from Oregon: the unexpected flashbacks to that night, the corresponding increase in her heart rate and physical reactivity. Though safe in her car twenty-five hundred miles and several months later, her body was still preparing for the same fight.
"Were you with Dr. Taylor when he saw your mother?" she asked, keeping her voice even and her gaze steady on the road ahead.
She was becoming better at this part, she realized – pretending everything was fine; she was still in control and her body wasn't surging with misdirected adrenaline. Booth could always tell, though – he never said anything, but she knew he could. If he were here, he'd reach over and take her hand, eyes still on the road (because, of course he'd be driving) and say quietly, "Just breathe, Bones." That was all. No more acknowledgment than that, but it would work. It always did. It occasionally drove her crazy that a simple change in her breathing could elicit a response from him… More often than not, though, she was simply grateful he was there.
TJ, of course, noticed nothing. He took a breath, shook his head in response to her question.
"No – I saw her for a few seconds, almost like he wanted her to see us together. Then they made me wait outside the room while they talked."
"And you believe that's when she changed to a guilty plea," she surmised.
More silence. The GPS directed them to make a series of turns, before she began simply following the signs for Lake Anna State Park. Brightly lit houses gradually gave way to an unplowed public road lined with snow-trimmed evergreens beneath a sky boiled dark gray. Far ahead, she could see the blue lights of a police cruiser, the red of emergency vehicles. Against the backdrop of white snow and approaching night, someone who didn't know better might even say the scene was pretty.
Brennan knew better.
Finally, TJ cleared his throat. She suspected he'd been lost in the events he was relating – what had happened, where he'd been, all the events that followed. She could understand that.
"I'm not sure – I don't have the timeline right, I don't think. I was pretty young… There's a lot I don't remember."
She hesitated, but only for a moment. "In my experience working with Booth over the years, I've found that the simplest explanation truly is most frequently correct. If your mother was there the night your father was killed, and you heard them fighting, heard the shot and then she came to get you… I'm sorry, but it sounds fairly simple to me."
"I know," TJ agreed. "That's what I keep telling myself. But I can't stop thinking about the look on her face the day she saw me and Phil Taylor together."
She pulled the car to the curb just behind a cruiser with its lights flashing, and turned off the engine. The brief moment of anxiety she'd experienced before had passed – now, she had a case to ponder and a crime scene to investigate, two surefire ways to regain her focus. There was work to do.
And considering the chaos just outside her car window, that work would be considerably more difficult if she didn't begin immediately.
"If you'd like, I could speak with Booth," she told TJ. "He might be able to check into something for you."
He hesitated. She expected him to argue – to ask that she not involve her partner, though such a request would be illogical given Booth's area of expertise. Instead, TJ nodded gratefully.
"That's all I'm asking – you're probably right and it's nothing. But if the two of you could maybe look into it… Just read the file, see if you spot anything."
Brennan nodded: she could certainly do that much. Once she'd agreed to help, she got out of the car and quickly changed, pulling her coveralls on over her clothes. Her dress shoes were discarded in favor of work boots, her hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail.
"You!" she called to a sheriff's deputy who was standing beside another cruiser, talking to another cop. "I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan – Special Agent Booth should have called ahead, to tell you I was coming."
"Wow," TJ whispered to her. "It's like I just watched you morph from Diana Prince right before my eyes."
She grinned, pleased that she understood the reference. "Wonder Woman – that's good. I got that one."
When the deputy didn't respond, however, her good humor vanished. "Stay behind the tape, like Booth said," she told TJ. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
She stalked over to the two deputies, who looked at her with a mix of curiosity and disdain.
"Did you speak with Agent Booth? I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan, with the Jeffersonian Institute. Where are the remains?"
"I thought you were coming with Booth," the taller of the two men said.
"He'll be here shortly. The remains?" she repeated impatiently.
The shorter man straightened. "Here, I'll take you."
He walked to a well-marked trail and led the way a scant fifty yards along a level path before she saw the bright yellow police tape and orange flags marking the scene. Snow was still falling, and at least a dozen different sets of footprints were visible around the body. Booth would be furious.
"We're pretty sure it's that girl that went missing a few years back – the daughter of that cop down in Tennessee. I mean… That's who's on the poster, anyway."
Brennan ignored him. "That doesn't concern me – has anyone touched the body?"
"A couple hikers found it this afternoon – they're the ones who called it in. With the missing persons poster, we figured we'd better bring in the Feds."
She frowned, growing impatient. It seemed useless to waste anymore time questioning the man – instead, she stepped over the police tape and walked toward a bundle wrapped in a pale pink, cotton sheet. Being careful to watch where she stepped, she crouched down and pulled the sheet back.
The remains did indeed belong to a child, the sacrum still in development and the size and density of the bones suggesting a female between the ages of eight and ten years. A laminated poster was attached by a string tied around the radius and ulna; in it, a little girl with dark hair and glasses smiled into the camera. The word "Missing" was typed in a large, bold font, the vital statistics of the child listed to the left of the photo. For the moment, she ignored the document, focusing instead on the skeleton.
Booth arrived a short time later, while she was still studying what she'd found. Brennan noted that Sweets was with him, following a discreet distance behind.
"I thought you were gonna call when you got here?"
She looked up from where she was still crouching. Her knees ached from remaining in the position too long, and a dusting of snow had formed on her head and shoulders. It was dark now, the scene illuminated with flashlights and a few spotlights. More police had gathered, though they'd wisely stayed clear of Brennan and the body.
"Was I? Sorry, I forgot."
She knew him well enough to sense his eye roll, even if she couldn't see it. "Yeah, right. So, what've you got for me?"
She straightened. "A child – eight to ten years old, female. It's difficult to gauge time of death exactly this long after the fact without further analysis of the remains, but I'm confident saying she's been dead for at least a year. Possibly several."
"So, is it the kid in the poster?" one of the policeman on the sidelines wanted to know.
She shook her head. "I won't know with any certainty until we get the remains back to the lab. It's consistent with the photo and the information provided on the poster, however."
Booth didn't look happy about this, but said nothing.
"So, we'll want the remains boxed up and sent to the Jeffersonian," he instructed two officers standing by. "Evidence bagged and tagged, and…" he made a face, clearly annoyed. "I'm gonna need boot prints of the fifty or so deputies who've been wandering around here, before I can even start making sense of what we've got."
They set to work, Booth overseeing while Brennan continued a rudimentary analysis and then set up her laptop to research some possible scenarios for cause of death. After two hours and at least another two to come, Brennan instructed TJ to take Sweets home, and told him she would see him in the morning.
She continued working.
It was nine o'clock by the time she and Booth left the scene and headed for home. Once they were on the road, Brennan wasn't certain precisely when the tone of the conversation changed; she wasn't even entirely certain why. She knew only that they'd been discussing the case, and suddenly Booth said casually,
"So, did you and TJ have a good ride out here?"
She hesitated. "You were right," she said reluctantly. "He's not here solely to observe my work." He glanced in her direction, but it was impossible to read his expression in the darkness.
"Oh, yeah?" his tone was cautious, even. Waiting. "So, why is he here?"
"He wants us to investigate his father's murder. After discovering the deaths Philip Taylor was responsible for, he believes the man may have had some involvement in his father's death, as well."
There was silence, for several seconds. Then: "I could look into it, if you want. Pull the files, ask a few questions."
She smiled, relieved. She reached for his hand, her fingers entwined with his – enjoying the strength in his grip, the solidity of his presence.
"Thank you – I know he'll appreciate that."
They rode on in silence, Brennan caught between fatigue after several hours spent crouched over a body in the cold, and the desire Booth's proximity inspired after his time away. The snowfall was heavier now, though it was still too warm to accumulate very much once they'd reached the highway. Booth's hand stilled in her own, and she felt the weight of a question he wasn't asking – something she'd never thought possible before him. But four months in a romantic relationship and four years in a partnership with Seeley Booth had taught her to read his silences.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked, brow furrowed.
He shook his head quickly. "Nah – everything's fine. I just…" he paused. "That thing Parker was talking about earlier – "
She knew what he was talking about, of course, but remained silent. Waiting for him to continue.
"About, you know, building the house."
There was a slight tightening in her stomach; her mouth went dry. Her hand remained in his, trapped. She said nothing.
"It was just talk, Bones. I mean – I'm happy the way things are right now, you know? This is okay."
She looked at him doubtfully. He flashed her a half-smile, concern evident on his face. She nodded.
"I know – it's all right. I was discussing it with TJ, actually… He just bought a house, because the market's good at the moment. He thought perhaps, if you really want a house, it might be more economical to buy rather than build."
He said nothing, his hand releasing hers. She studied him: the tic in his jaw, the tension in his shoulders as his hands returned to the ten and two positions on the steering wheel.
"It's just – I told him about your financial situation, and he thought perhaps buying would be a more realistic goal. If you were intent on the two of us shouldering an equal financial burden… Which I assume you are, because that typically seems important to you."
He turned on the radio.
"What's wrong?" she asked uncertainly.
"Nothin', Bones," he told her. He wasn't looking at her. "Just listen to the music."
"I don't want to listen to the music – tell me what I said. I know you dislike discussing money, but the reality is that we have very different – "
He turned up the volume. Didn't discuss anything, didn't tell her he was angry or why he was angry or… anything. Simply turned up the volume, to drown her out. Brennan's concern transformed to frustration and, finally, abject rage by the time they reached her apartment. She got out of his truck and slammed the door, seething just as much as he was now.
And that, it seemed, was when things took a turn.
TBC
I know - what a mean place to leave things! Don't worry, though, I'm sure it'll all get sorted out in the end. ;-) Be sure to let me know your thoughts, 'cause I LOVE to hear them - theories on the case(s), OOC moments, reactions to the B/B relationship... Random thoughts as they occur. Next week's from Booth's POV, so we'll see what he has to say about all this TJ nonsense. See you then! - Jen