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Chapter Four: Sunshine and Rainbows
Saturday had long ago refrained from being Booth's day off–or Temperance's, for that matter. It did not matter if the FBI and the Jeffersonian, respectively, said they had the time off. Kids got in the way of all that–they were involved; they had friends, hockey practice and play rehearsals to attend to.
"Hanley, stop that right now," Booth said, swatting his son's hand away from the back of his head, where he was being poked through the headrest. "I'm trying to drive and it would go a lot better if you weren't doing that."
The boy continued the charade, his father's slight warning having no effect. But Booth was no pushover–he could adopt a certain seriousness and tone that his kids never failed to respond to.
Traffic was heavy for a Saturday morning, and as he weaved through it in his FBI-issued SUV, Booth picked up his cell phone, seeing Bones' name flash across the caller ID.
A long sigh dragged out of his mouth–he did not mind hearing from his wife, but they better not have a case today. He seriously doubted that Parker wanted to spend his Saturday carting his younger siblings around.
"Hiya, Bones. What's wrong? Someone die?"
He rubbed at his forehead at his wife's answer. "Of course someone died. According to the last census report I read, 1.8 people die every second on this planet. Hundreds of humans will die just during this conversation."
"What? 1.8? Why can't they just round up?"
From the backseat, Hanley scrapped for the phone. "I wanna say hi to Mom! Tell her about that move I made at practice! Justin wouldn't stop talking about it. Can I have him over so you can teach it to him?"
"Because, Booth, that would significantly alter the overall statistic–"
"Hanley says hi. What's going on on your end?"
Booth cursed as someone pulled in front of him and braked hard, causing him to stop the SUV with a jolt. "What the hell are you doing, you moth–"
"Booth! Stop it!" Bones warned him through the phone. "When I get home I'll expect to find some extra money in that swear jar..."
Hanley was wide-eyed in the backseat. "Sorry, bud," he apologized. "Promise me you'll never drive like that."
"I wanted to make sure you two were still coming to meet us at Tullia's practice. Parker said he'd be here in a bit."
Booth grumbled, realizing that Bones had probably already called Parker. He remembered being that age and how much he hated to have his sleep interrupted on a weekend. "Aww Bones, you didn't wake him up, did you?"
She made a groan of protest. "He sounded perfectly alert when I spoke with him. Besides, it's almost 11. No one should need to sleep that late."
What is done is done, Booth decided, and left the subject alone. "We'll be there in about 20, Bones. Traffic's a bitch."
Chides came simultaneously from his wife and son. "Might as well empty out that wallet, Seeley. I'll see you soon. I love you."
"Love you too," he said, snapping his phone closed.
"Why don't you tell me some more about hockey practice?" Booth knew very well how it had gone–as well it could with a bunch of six-year-olds with sticks on ice. Maybe he was biased, but Booth had assessed the other boys on the team and decided Hanley was much better than them. If he did not want to follow in his father's footsteps and become an FBI agent, Booth mused, maybe he could be a professional hockey player.
When they arrived at the small theater 30 minutes later, Booth took Hanley's hand and pushed the doors to the auditorium open quietly. After a particularly mouthy day from Tullia, he and Bones had decided that theater might fit her just perfectly. She was a drama queen. Booth chuckled when he saw her on stage with other kids around her age. They were putting on a production of Shakespeare's The Comedy of Errors, and there was something so amusing to him about watching kids who were obsessed with iPods and cell phones dressed in 1500s-style clothing.
Bones waved him over and he saw Parker sitting next to her. How he had made it there before them, Booth had no idea.
They sat quietly, only hushing Hanley a few times, until the group finished the scene. Booth could say with certainty that it was the only Shakespeare production that had ever managed to capture his attention.
Afterward, Tullia ran off the stage to meet them. "M'lady," Booth greeted her, kissing her hand and watching her stretch out into a bow. He surveyed her structured dress and how carefully her hair had been pinned back, even though this was only rehearsal. "That was a fine performance."
The auditorium cleared out around them. Bones suggested they leave, but Tullia had pulled Parker up on stage with her, and he was begrudgingly following her orders. He held a script in his hands and mumbled lines in his very best 16th-century parlance.
Booth headed toward the stage to get a closer look. He would never grow tired of seeing the dynamic between Parker and his younger siblings. They may only be half siblings, but they had never thought of their relationship that way. Plain and simple, Parker was their brother.
Squirming in his seat, Hanley pouted, "I'm bored. This is stupid and they're talking funny."
"Why don't you tell me about hockey practice? Anything cool happen?" Bones asked, taking a seat next to her son and ruffling his hair playfully. "Dad says you're getting pretty good."
"He promised we could go to the rink sometime this week so he could show me some puck handling."
"He did, did he? That sounds like fun. You're going to be better than him before you know it."
A few minutes later, Bones had been successfully trapped into continuing the case story, right where Booth had left off the night before.
"You keep telling Dad that you could tell the story better..."
Hodgins finally had his chance at the two skeletons. He peered over them eagerly, tweezers in hand. He was somewhat let down when nothing obvious jumped out at him. Never one to give up, he pulled over his state of the art microscope, thanking God that he worked at a well-funded institution such as the Jeffersonian.
"Anything?" Hodgins shot off of the stool.
"Sneaking up on me, Dr. Brennan?"
Brennan snapped on a pair of gloves and examined the remains. "So what can you tell me that I didn't know already? Which isn't much, I'll admit."
Hodgins furrowed his brow in confusion before returning his stare to the microscope. "Have you talked to Dr. Saroyan lately?"
Bones shook her head. "No, I haven't. Not since before I went with Booth to the FBI building for the questioning. Did she find something?"
"She thinks she may have found another contributor to the younger female's death. She wants to run it by you first, though."
"You have no idea what it is?"
Reluctant to spill Dr. Saroyan's find, Hodgins felt Brennan's icy stare before he gave in. "Leukemia, possibly. It took her more than an hour of poring over the microscope to come to that conclusion, though. I'm sure you would've found the same thing."
Sure enough, as Bones peered through the lenses of the microscope, she came to the same verdict. The damage to the bones was easily masked to the naked eye by the damage caused by malnutrition. "I would've deduced that the child had treatments for leukemia in less than 10 minutes. It's fairly obvious under the microscope."
Bones called Daisy over to the platform and instructed her to take samples for verification, then left Hodgins to his particulate work. After a run in with Dr. Saroyan in which she tried, as gracefully as Bones could, to thank her for her work, she made her way to her office, sinking tiredly onto the couch. She was ready for the day to be over.
"Thought you might need a little boost." It was Brennan's turn to jump. In her haste to bury herself in the comforts of her couch, she failed to notice Booth in the corner of her office, looking over a selection of books on Ethiopian tribal chants.
Booth laughed; he rarely caught Bones off guard. The shock etched on her face was strangely cute. She accepted the coffee gratefully as he sat next to her, and she was strangely aware of his proximity and the crispness of his aftershave. When he slung his arm around her, as he often did, her body buzzed. She must be tired.
"What's wrong, Bones? You're looking a little... unenthusiastic, considering we have a new case on our hands."
"What makes you think something's wrong? Does it look like something's wrong?"
Booth let out an exasperated sigh. "Even if it didn't, it sounds like something's wrong. Spill."
She was getting better at admitting how comforting Booth could be, how he usually knew just what to say and how to act and if he should push her for answers, but sometimes it was overwhelming how well her knew her.
Suddenly that fact irritated her, and she switched topics. "What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be busy interrogating people and looking all strong and intimidating?"
Oh God, that cocky smile. The belt buckle fit him perfectly. "Strong, huh?" He squeezed his arm around her. "Well, you're right about that of course, but it's kind of hard to interrogate when you don't have any suspects."
"So you're here for no reason..."
He punched her lightly on the arm. "I'm here to see my friend Bones, who apparently needs some cheering up."
"I do not," she said moodily. "Not every day can be sunshine and rainbows, Booth."
"Noted." He glared at her. Trained sniper, former heartbroken man–he was the last person she needed to tell. "However, I'm also here to remind you of our appointment with Sweets." Booth lifted Brennan's wrist toward his chest to check the time. "It's in half an hour, you know, if you wanted to join me."
"But we have a case!"
Unconsciously he still had Brennan's wrist gripped in his hand. They both realized it, but he thought it might become more awkward if he suddenly dropped it. "Yeah," he recovered. "A case with no suspects and from what I hear, no further evidence. I don't wanna go either..."
"Is Sweets a person?" Tullia interrupted. She had let Parker off the hook and joined her mother and brother for the story. Booth stood with his arms crossed, keeping Bones in check, should she decide to embellish anything.
"You've met him before. Dr. Sweets, remember him? He's a shrink."
"Why did you need to see him? You and mom are both very stable."
A glint in her eye, Bones let Booth explain. "The FBI made us, Tul. It was supposed to keep us in good communication in our partnership. They still make us go in once a month."
Parker rolled his eyes, thinking of the neurotic Dr. Sweets and the few times Booth had begged him to babysit. He had memories of having long, uncomfortable chats with the psychologist when all Parker wanted to do was ride his bike.
To be continued...