I have no claim to the characters. I am content to know they are in much better hands and owned by Fox and Hart Hanson.

Chapter 7 – The Process

Booth and Parker hit the jogging path at 6:30 a.m. Surprisingly Parker was already up and anxious to run with his dad. He needed to ask advice and this might be the best time to speak to his dad. Alone in the cool morning air, yeah that would be the best time to speak with his dad.

On the way to Sunrise Cabin on Saturday morning, Parker had regaled his father with his take on England, its customs and people. He didn't think it particularly cool to moon the passengers on the trains that clacked along the rails past his school. He didn't like the pretentions air of many of his acquaintances. More often than not, he was the butt of jokes intended to belittle Americans as a whole, not just the silly ones that made it to the news. American politics were often lunch time fodder for jokes, but always second hand from their parent's nightly conversation. He really wondered if these acquaintances or their parents ever watch BBC news for their own brand of exported silliness.

He had a small group of friends, but by-and-large he was finding it hard to make friends outside his study group. He had taken up soccer, playing on the school team, and enjoyed watching Manchester United during season. Friendships built around soccer, were still elusive.

Parker was really more interested in listening to his dad during those few precious hours in the car, as he spoke about the changes in their family life since his dad and step-mom had left the Hoover and the Jeffersonian. Booth was aware the conversation seemed to be headed in a direction, just not quite sure which direction.

Booth and Parker started the jog with warm up stretches, then a slow steady pace for the first 10 minutes or so. Booth broke to a sprint and Parker met his sprint with equal energy and held the pace for about 10 minutes, before they fell back to a slower pace to reduce their heart rate.

It was during the cool down pace, Parker started to speak, "Dad, do you think it would be good idea for me to come home for the next school year? I mean do you think it would be okay with Bones? Would you have room with Christine and my baby brother?"

"Hey bud, we can talk to her about it, but I know her answer. She misses you so much and having you home would be about the best thing she could imagine. She misses you and I am not sure if you noticed, but she will not miss a single opportunity to work with you during the internet study time each week. She misses you and loves you. Of course we have room; your room is always waiting for you." Booth pauses, "I have to ask, have you spoken to your mom about staying in the states?"

"Well, I started to, ya know, but she was busy and I was getting ready to leave. Then I thought maybe I better make sure I would be welcome and you wouldn't mind me staying." Booth stopped running and pulled his boy in for a hug, "Parker, you always have a home with me and Bones, always, ya hear. You never have to wonder about being welcome. You are one of the most important people in my life and you have been since you were born. Actually before you were born, waiting for you was one of the happiest times of my life. Listen; let's talk to Bones together this evening after supper, then we will decide together how to approach your mom. We'll work this out, I promise, okay?"

Booth kept the sprint and recovery pace going for about an hour then decided it was time to head back for showers and breakfast.

At 8:00 a.m. the Booth kitchen was full of hungry mouths. Max was up from the guest cottage, Pops had emerged with a grin and calling out, "whadcha got to eat, I'm hungry. Hey, I can make pancakes Martha, if you will let me near the stove." Of course Martha had already cut up the fruit, poured the juice and fried up bacon and was waiting on egg orders from the group. But pancakes would be nice too.

Parker, Christine and Baby Booth all indicated a preference for Pops pancakes, so Martha helped Pops get everything mixed and ready for the griddle. Booth and Bones, standing with arms around each other's waist, took in their brood. Bones smiled and leaned in a little closer to Booths shoulder with a sigh.

"Booth we need to start on the book today." Booth groaned, "So soon, I thought we might have a few more days to decompress, before jumping in." Booth was pretty anxious; he minored in English in college, but Bones mastery of the English language, her expert and successful writing style was to say the least, intimidating. He wanted this to work; he did not want her to regret her decision to coauthor her next novel.

So with that Bones said, "We need to jump in with both feet Booth, we have a schedule to deliver 2 chapters per month and Beth will be breathing down my neck if we miss our deadlines." Booth noticed an increase in Bones use of colloquial phases and not one he needed to correct. She was holding out on him, with that steep learning curve of hers.

Bones continued, "We should have core hours of 10 – 3 every week day, except Friday. Friday would be two hours from 9 – 11. I have filled the mini fridge in the Tree House with refreshments and Frank has prepared a 'do not disturb sign' to leave on a chain across the stairs when we are writing." Booth nodded and said, "Meet you in the Tree House at 10." Just then his phone rang and he stepped a few feet away as he answered, "Booth."

Explaining to the family how they would schedule their days, Max agreed he was in charge of our prince and princess. Parker and Pops offered to help and Martha offered up the menu options for lunch each day.

Booth and Bones sat comfortably in the Tree House and started talking about story ideas. Of course Temperance Brennan-Booth had not stopped thinking about this endeavor since the publisher had accepted the compromise to include Booth. She had a couple of working titles and a basic outline to begin. She had a process, and the first order of business was to share that process with Booth.

Booth was still feeling really nervous and looked at His Bones with more than a little fear in his eyes. He was way out of his comfort zone. Even tho' on many occasions he had offered to read and share insights on Bones manuscripts, this was different, way different.

Stalling, Booth said, "Hey, by-the-way the phone call before was Sam. He asked me to drop by the Hoover on Friday and meet with him and Caroline. I will take Pops back to the retirement center, drop in to the Friday GA meeting and then head over to meet with Sam and Caroline. I should be back by 9ish on Friday evening."

"Oh, I thought Pops would stay with us longer Booth, I like having him here." "Nah, he needs to check in with his doctor next week. I can pick him when I go in next Friday for the GA meeting and bring him back with me. Besides he said something about cribbage or crocheting with Edna."

Bones started again, "What do you think of 'Eidetic Bone' or 'Bone Uncorrupted' for working titles? The idea is a man is in prison for life with no possibility of parole. The FBI has been investigating new deaths with the same MO and now they are not sure if they have a copy cat or the wrong man in jail. Some details of the murders across a number of states were not in the news or in the court transcripts." "Another twist is all the murders were committed in states without the death penalty."

Booth, humming and hawing, said, "That sounds interesting, but hasn't it been done?" Stalling again, Booth says, "Oh and Parker needs to speak with us after dinner tonight. He is thinking of asking his mom if he can stay with us, instead of going back to England after summer break."

"I very much like the sound of that. I would like Parker with us." with a twinkle in her eye, "but Booth we have to get started."

"Now what about the working title, which do you like? Both suggest the idea, the Bone will record evidence that could potentially free an innocent man and catch a killer. Next we will outline the story with the end in mind and fill in with the back story for each character." Bones continues, "You will offer you insights for the convicted prisoner. He is a man that maintains he is innocent, but all the evidence would suggest he is guilty." Booth still looking very uncomfortable and not at all sure he can pull this off.

"I have something for you Booth. It is a voice to text application and it will allow you to speak your story without worrying about grammar, punctuation or formatting. Booth, no one I know can tell a story, weave a plot, and explore motive with possible plausible scenarios better than you. This will work, I have faith in you."

"Well," said Booth, "I certainly know what it is like to be innocent, and jailed without hope, but how would I put that into words that could possibly build a back story for the character?"

"Booth, I know writing can be extremely difficult and intimidating. Mark Twain said: 'Write what you know.' You are a great story teller Booth and your stories will be rich, compelling, and full of honesty and truth. Finding your characters center, understanding their feelings, fears, hopes, dreams is a lot of work. Everyone has their own process; I had a character that had lost everything she cared about in this world. She felt she had caused the death of someone so close, so special to her she truly did not think she would survive. No hope at all of ever finding something that would fill the awful terrible void. She was empty to her core, alone, hopeless without anyone to save her from being swallowed by the blackness she felt. I reflected on a dark experience from my past, to help me understand the depth of her despair."

"First, I write the words out, so I can see the words and hear them in my head. Sometimes I speak them aloud, then I begin to write my characters story. Would you like to read my character study?" Brennan pulls her character notes from her messenger bag and hands the notes to her partner. "I recreate the event, and then observe…"

Seeley's Death – 2 weeks

"Booth, No, No, Come on Booth, Come on, No…"

Seeley lay bleeding, his breathing labored and shallow on the floor of the club from a bullet to the chest. EMTs arrive, Brennan demands to ride in the ambulance, the police tell her no, she is not family. There are questions to be asked, statements to be gathered, an investigation into the shooting death of Pam Nunan and the attempted murder of FBI Agent Seeley Booth.

"What hospital?! Where are you taking him!? I'll meet you there Booth!" The ambulance drives away, sirens blaring as they carry her partner, her friend, HER Booth away.

This cannot be happening, not here, not like this. Disbelief, sadness, overwhelming fear for her partner threatens to swallow her. Now she is a spectator, switching from 1st to 3rd person, splitting in two, watching from outside. She is moving, speaking, but now from outside. It's as if she has separated from herself. She watches as the EMT's work on HER Booth, put him in the ambulance and drive away.

"Dr Brennan" says the officer, "We understand that you fired the fatal shot from Agents Booth's service weapon, is that correct?" "That woman shot my partner! She was aiming at me, he stood up to shield me, to take the bullet for me?!" "Why, why did she do it?" screams Brennan. "I need to go to my partner, now! I will answer all of your questions, make a statement, but I need to go to my partner, now!" Angela wrapping her arms around Brennan, Sweets looking dumbstruck; Cam, Jack and Zack speaking with the officers as eye witnesses, giving statements to the horror that took place before them.

Brennan breaks free, waving her arms as a warning to stay back, getting in her car and driving to the hospital, as tears threaten to blind her.

Angela, Jack, Cam, Zack and Sweets arrive. "They won't tell me how he is, they just say critical condition, CRITICAL Condition," Brennan's voice is full of pain. Sweets offers to speak to the FBI agent in charge and report back as soon as possible. He is gone for an extended amount of time, an insufferable amount of time and when he returns his head low, voice soft and tells the group, he didn't make it; Booth did not survive surgery.

Gasps from the team, Angela and Cam begin to cry, sobbing into their hands. Angela turns to Jack, Cam slumps to a chair and poor Zack a look of detachment, no comprehension of the loss they had just suffered.

Brennan squared her shoulders, dries her eyes, focuses her eyes straight ahead and asks if she can see her partner. Sweets advises family members will be notified, but no, she will not be allowed to see Agent Booth. Sweets adds, Cam will not be doing the autopsy. The FBI is handling this.

Brennan leaves the hospital, alone. She drives to Booth's apartment, knocking quietly, please answer, please answer the door, nothing, no noise behind the door, no music, no quick steps from his sock clad feet to the door, silence.

My partner is gone, I am alone.

Work, work, yes, I will work. That's what I do; I put names to those who have been left unidentified, lost to their families, friends and their communities. I will work to tell their story. I will miss my partner, but everyone leaves, don't they? I will stay and tell the story for those who cannot speak, who have been silenced and left forgotten.

Booth left his emergency clothes bag in my office. It has a shirt, jeans, socks, boxers, runners and gym clothes, sweat pants, t-shirt and his hoodie. He must have gone to the gym; I smell his scent in the bag. It smells of his laundry soap, his cologne, but a musky smell from his last workout. It's his hoodie that has his distinctive aroma. I take the bag and leave for home. But maybe, just a quick swing by Booth's apartment; he would want his bag for laundry day.

I should call before I drop by, maybe text? I arrive at his apartment, knocking gently, listening for him to answer, will he call out, "I'm coming, keep your shirt on." Silence is the answer, only silence.

I drive to the reflecting pool; I will get Booth's favorite coffee. I sit, wait and want the last awful days to never have happened. Make it like one of my nightmares that I wake up from. I need to breathe, this awful nightmare needs to stop, I can't make it stop, I can't make it go away, I can't take a breath, I can't breathe.

Routine, I do well with routine. Up at 6, in the office by 7, email, review papers, go to bone storage, work, work to identify, catalog, record, move to the next set of unidentified remains.

Working late again, I do not want to go home. Booth's bag, it's at my apartment. It's the only thing I have of him. Home now, I open the bag to His smell, His unique scent. I pull his hoodie over my head, over my shoulders and sit in a corner of the laundry room and cry. My insides hurt, my throat is raw and I am alone. I know this feeling, I am 15, my parents are gone, my brother is gone, I am locked inside a car trunk, I am alone, hopelessly alone. I am not sure how long I was in that corner, but when I hear my alarm clock I get ready for another day.

I didn't know, I couldn't know I would care for someone so much again. I had let him in, closer than anyone since before, you know, before I was 15. This hurts so badly and I am alone, again.

Routine, I do well with routine. Up at 6, in the office by 7, email, review papers, go to bone storage, work, work to identify, catalog, record, move to the next set of unidentified remains.

I try to call Hank, he is away, not available, said the nurse at the home. I try to call Rebecca, she is away, not available, said her voice mail.

Sweets that most annoying Dr 12 year old kid, constantly following, watching, trying to engage in stupid, meaningless conversation, trying to get me to speak about my feelings. Booth was warming to him, I think. He only got angry when Sweets tried to dig into our personal lives. Moving away from the partnership to focus on childhood experiences, feelings, love interests, none of his damned business. An FBI entitled voyeur, peeking, prying into our lives and our pasts. This prying is certainly not work related, no matter how he tries to justify his adolescent fueled curiosity. Well, this is personal, Booth was MY partner and he is gone. Everyone I care about leaves.

Routine, I do well with routine. Up at 6, in the office by 7, email, review papers, go to bone storage, work, work to identify, catalog, record, move to the next set of unidentified remains.

Damn, will I ever be able to leave this stupid laundry room!? Every night I come home and start to wash Booth's clothes and as soon as I open the bag, it hits me, that wonderful smell, Booth's scent, MY partner's scent. I pull the hoodie on and sit in the laundry room and cry until I hear the alarm clock and start all over again.

He took that bullet for me. Now all the people who knew him, loved him, will never see him again, because of me. Parker will never know his wonderful father, how much he loved him, what he wanted for him. Booth was planning their next camping trip. Maybe when Parker is older, Rebecca will let me take him camping. I can tell him about his father; his wise, kind, moral, honest, brave, heroic and brilliant father. That bullet was meant for me. I would have just left behind old bones. No one would have missed me, grieved me or felt my loss. It should have been me.

Routine, I do well with routine. Up at 6, in the office by 7, email, review papers, go to bone storage, work, work to identify, catalog, record, move to the next set of unidentified remains.

"Sweets, get the hell away from me," I am screaming now from the bone room. "I am working and you need to leave me the hell alone." "Dr Brennan," Sweets begins, "When we lose a loved one…" " I lost a partner Sweets, a partner. Now go away!" Cam comes to shoo him back upstairs and away from bone storage. "Dr Brennan, its time…"

Routine, I do well with routine. Up at 6, in the office by 7, email, review papers, go to bone storage, work, work to identify, catalog, record, move to the next set of unidentified remains. Everyone leaves.

It should have been me.

B&B

Bones says, "With every word, we reveal more of ourselves. The characters, the story is fiction, but what we reveal…"

Booth setting the pages aside, takes His Bones in his arms, cradles her and mourns for the hurt and pain this event caused. Bones looks into his warm brown eyes and said, "Make love to me." Booths breath catches in his throat, he feels the pull from his chest, through his stomach, and he feels the pinch in his lower abdomen. He denies her nothing, she is his everything, he will give her all he has without reservation, everything.