Title: Outside Looking In
Author: Unknownsoldier42
Rating: M (language)
Disclaimer: Own not. Profit not. Sue not.
Summary: "Man in the Morgue" He looked down at her and as Anne watched traced his finger across her cheek. The famous author's nose wrinkled at the ticklish sensation and her protector smiled.
Anne sighed and tried once again to settle into her 'comfortable' airport bench-chair-thing. The well worn gray leather offered very little for back support, the slender teen could feel metal components of her seat digging into her spine. Resigned to her fate she rolled Irish hills green eyes and shoved her ear buds deep. A look at the clock confirmed that her grandmother had indeed dropped her off nearly three hours too early. She loved her Nana dearly but the old woman was senile at best and the Arkansas airport was hardly a spectacular place to be stranded. Rubbing her temples against the encroaching headache she swallowed a groan and let her head fall back against the seat. Three. Fucking. Hours.
The sound of a body thumping into the seat across from her managed to get passed the music blaring in her ears. Anne blew a lock of dark brown hair out of her face and took in the couple that had plunked down within spitting distance. People watching is always an interesting way to pass the time, she thought.
And what perfect specimens to watch, the couple in front of her could have stepped off the cover of a magazine. Adonis, eat your heart out. He was tall, dark haired, broad shouldered and gorgeous. Smoldering brown eyes slipped over Anne's slight frame and made her freeze momentarily before he smiled. Wow, was all her mind had to offer as it turned to jelly at that ridiculous grin. The man absolutely oozed charm. How incredibly not fair to the entire female population.
And on his arm? No less than Aphrodite herself. Her face was bruised and cut, and even that couldn't diminish her heart-stopping beauty. Brown hair with a touch of red to it, pale, flawless skin, she was an achingly perfect complement to the Mr. Right she was leaning on. Her frank blue eyes did their own assessment of the suddenly small feeling Anne, but her focus was different, it felt more clinical and Anne had the fleeting thought of psychic powers as the woman's intense gaze covered every inch of her. Or maybe x-ray vision. He, Anne was sure, had been checking her for threat level, but the woman had just stripped her to the bone with one look. So this is what it feels like to be studied under a fucking microscope, she thought and resisted the temptation to cower.
Her cell-phone started buzzing in her pocket, saving her from the scrutiny of the dazzling duo. Digging her phone free from her jeans she yanked out the still screaming head phones and slapped it to her ear without bothering to see who it was, it could only be one person.
"Hey sis," Rachel chirped.
"Hi," Anne replied, genuinely happy to hear her sister's voice.
"Oh, Ducky, you sound exhausted!" She could feel the worry radiating off Rachel's tone even across the phone.
"I'm okay Spooky, I promise, Nana just dropped me off way too early so I've been sitting her for for-fucking-ever."
Rachel laughed and Anne pressed the phone closer, "don't worry babe, you'll be here in no time and we'll go get some Hawaiian pizza, a case of Heineken, and grab a movie. You'll be curled up on the sofa happy as a clam and half asleep very soon."
"You're the best," she said, blinking slowly as she tried to translate some of what Rachel had said. The accent wasn't as thick as it had been but sometimes she still had a hard time with the Brit-English when her sibling spoke too fast.
"Yes, thank you, I'm very aware of that. Did you draw me any interesting pictures?"
Anne looked down at the sketch book in her lap and the charcoal pencils resting at her side. "I did a couple, nothing too exciting."
"Awesome," she could almost picture the smile on Rachel's face.
"You're picking me up right?" Oh god, please say yes and don't tell me it's Mom.
"Fuck yes, who'd you think was going to? Mum? I love you too much to torture you."
Anne sighed again, she loved their mother, they both did, but the woman could kill you with her constant questions. Across from her the man stood up and spoke lowly to his companion who nodded once. They stared at each other for a moment longer than necessary and she felt heat creep up her neck. Sweet Jesus on toast!
"Annie? Hello?" Her sister's voice had that worried pitch to it that Anne both adored and loathed but she couldn't pull her eyes away from the woman and then their eyes caught. It struck her, as she struggled not to drown in the endless blue depths, that she knew her from somewhere.
"Yeah, Rach, sorry, I spaced," she murmured into the phone, refusing to drop her attention. "Hey, my phone's dying; I'm going to plug it in. I'll see you in a few hours. Love ya."
The woman smiled, pink lips pulling up at the corners and revealing gleaming white teeth. Maybe I saw her on a Crest commercial, Anne thought with an answering smirk. These people were just unreal.
"Hi," she said, feeling brave, and waved pale fingers at the older woman.
"Hello, are you an artist?"
Anne blinked at the husky tone and nodded her response, unable to get her vocal chords to un-clog.
"My best friend is an artist," blue eyes continued, "I wish I could see the world the way she does. Artists seem to see the beauty in everything."
I'll say. By the time she'd figured out how to get her mouth to work again tall, dark, and muscular returned with two cups of coffee. They disappeared back into their world almost immediately and Anne watched them with an ache in her chest. Someday she wanted someone to look at her like that.
The sudden urge to move gripped her so she stood and wandered off in the direction of the shops, aimlessly drifting about the airport until she caught sight of a bookstore and with a shrug of her backpacked shoulder stepped into the warmly lit shop. Rachel loved books, all sorts of books; she had bookshelf upon bookshelf of them. Anne let her fingers drift along the spines and decided she would buy one for her sister. What to get, however, was a daunting decision. Turning in a tight circle she ambled towards the front of the store and the bestsellers rack.
The title 'Bred in the Bone' struck her, as did the name 'Temperance Brennan'. She knew that one, Temperance Brennan, Rachel had hoarded the TV to watch an interview with the authoress, calling the woman brilliant. Picking the book off the shelf she held it for a moment, wondering what was so special about this particular novel that had her picky sister gushing like a thirteen year old at a Britney Spears concert, then flipped it over to read the summary. Instead of a small paragraph describing the novel inside she came face to face with the image of the woman who'd been sitting across from her. Anne nearly dropped the book. That was Temperance Brennan?
"No way," she breathed aloud. Buying the book was an easy decision now.
Trying to look casual she walked back to her seat, pleased and relieved to find it wasn't filled. The couple was still across from her. Temperance Brennan, her sister's hero, was still across from her.
While she'd been gone they'd shifted. The author was asleep on the man's shoulder, bruised face tucked against his shoulder, mouth slack, her forehead clear of worry, completely and totally unconscious. The man was scowling about something or at someone, Anne couldn't tell for sure, but it quickly melted away to a smile as Temperance sighed. He looked down at her and as Anne watched traced his finger across her cheek. The famous author's nose wrinkled at the ticklish sensation and her protector smiled. The intimacy of the tender movement struck a chord with Anne, who could barely breathe watching the two of them. Reaching into her backpack she pulled free her sketchbook and set to work, scratching a pencil across the blank page with practiced ease. Looking up every now and then she started to wonder about their story, the man had to be her husband or boyfriend. The short bio on the inside of the book had only raised more questions. What had happened to the author's face? A case like the one's she wrote about? The man curled in on Temperance, his face against her hair and arms clasping her tightly, protectively to his side. Anne couldn't wait to show the shaping sketch to Rachel, maybe her sister could write a story to go with it. So taken with her work the passage of time completely alluded her. When the flight attendant spoke over the loudspeaker Anne yelped and jumped in her seat.
"Ladies and Gentleman we will now begin our initial boarding for Delta flight 1978 with service to Reagan National Airport."
The man twitched and lifted his head, keeping wife or girlfriend ensconced in his arms as he glanced around the airport dazedly. He caught her staring and smiled that knee-weakening grin of his again. Anne 'eeped', blushed, and bowed her head back to her pad. Bending his head slightly, studly set his mouth almost directly against Temperance's ear and Anne's stomach performed sympathetic flip flops for the slumbering woman.
"Bones," he said and wrapped his fingers around one of her biceps.
Bones? She frowned and paused mid-stroke, that isn't very romantic. 'Bones' jerked awake, head lifting briefly before sinking back to the well muscled shoulder.
"What Booth?" She lifted a pale hand and gripped his wrist.
Thrilled to catch hunk-a-licious' name Anne quickly scrawled it on the back of the page and continued to eavesdrop as nonchalantly as possible, pretending to be completely focused on her lines and shading.
"Time to go," his mouth barely brushed her forehead, almost like it was an accident.
"M'kay," came the tired reply. Anne was staring, she knew, but she couldn't help herself. They were so damn beautiful. The woman's eyes were cloudy with sleep but her smile was just as bright as before as she grinned at 'Booth'.
The book! Anne's mind screamed. She jerked her backpack open and snatched out the hardcover novel with trembling fingers.
"Um, Dr. Brennan?" She managed, standing to approach the couple. The woman turned, face cradled in a palm as she tried to pop her neck.
"Yes?"
"I – do you think I could have your autograph?" Anne squeaked.
Temperance seemed amused, Booth as well, his lips pursed as he stared from Anne back to his 'Bones'. The author reached out with her left hand and Anne noticed now that her right was in a cast. Booth had been shielding the injury and she had to wonder now if it had been on purpose. Temperance didn't fumble much though, and scribbled her name on the inside cover with a well rehearsed flourish.
"Thank you, very much," Anne said, finally finding her feet it felt. Brennan smiled and Booth helped her to her feet with a hand on her elbow, keeping it there as he guided her to the ticketing line. Anne returned to her seat with a accomplished smile lighting her ghostly features. She packed up her gear and hopped into line, even more excited to see her sister now. As she took her seat she was surprised to see the couple sitting next to her. Booth folded against the window, Dr. Brennan sitting in close against him.
If her mother was with her she would have been scolded for staring. She really tried to stop, honest.
Brennan's head was drooping and bobbing back up as they taxied and eventually left the ground. Booth reached over and cupped her cheek, pulling her head to rest against his shoulder again. The author offered no resistance and soon appeared to be effectively molded to her guardians' side. He cuddled her deeper against him and smoothed his hand over her hair as her hand crept up over his chest and slipped under his jacket. He smiled down at her, and set his head against hers. That's how they stayed throughout the entire flight, tucked close to each other looking content and secure in the other's presence.
Anne watched with a familiar pang in her chest and settled into her seat, ear buds cooing softly until she fell asleep with an image of them branded into her subconscious.
END