Disclaimer: I own nothing Bones related except my imagination. (12/5/15)
It was early.
Too early to be this wide awake, but once Brennan's mind turned on for the day, there was no shutting it down until it had exercised a full days' worth of thoughts and cognitive functions to wear it out again. She'd always been like that – alert as soon as she woke up even though sometimes she still enjoyed lounging in bed and letting her body wake much slower than her mind. Especially when she could convince her husband to lounge with her . . . although "lounge" might not be the appropriate term when her morning wake-up routine included Booth.
Brennan turned on her side, facing Booth, and propped her head up on one elbow so she could admire him in his sleep, this man who meant the world to her. It was still dark outside and the room was cast in heavy shadows, but her eyes had adjusted to the dim illumination leeching in through the window shades from the ambient light outside and she could easily make out Booth's features as he lay sprawled on his back beside her, head turned her direction.
His face was relaxed with none of the frequent tension lines around his eyes or lips that were so readily apparent when he was awake allowing her to see clearly the permanent creases that had formed around his eyes and nasolabial folds. Time was just starting to leave its mark on his skin and she was sure the same would be said for her if she bothered to look closely in the mirror. Creams and lotions only did so much.
Booth had worry lines permanently etched gently into his forehead that hadn't been there when she first met him over a decade earlier. Thankfully, those worry lines were offset by the laughter lines, or crow's feet as they were sometimes called, that radiated out from the corners of his eyes. She liked seeing the crow's feet because they reassured her that no matter what life had thrown at them over the years, he'd still found enough reasons to laugh and smile that those lines had formed so prominently. Brennan liked the idea that she had contributed some to his laughter and those creases. That maybe she was at least in part responsible for putting those lines and wrinkles which reflected a happy life on his face. She sincerely hoped that forty years from now, she could wake up one morning and lay beside him, just like this, and study the lines and creases on his face again knowing they were there more from good times than bad and that she had contributed. Nature's evidence of a happy life together.
She saw his temporal vein twitch and when she looked back at his eyes, he had cracked one open halfway and was watching her, watching him. She felt the pull of a smile tugging the sides of her mouth. They'd had this conversation multiple times before and didn't need to repeat it with the actual words. If asked, he would tell her his highly honed sniper senses woke him up as he could feel her eyes on him. She'd debate him about whether or not he could logically feel a look, simply because she could.
"What time is it?" he asked, his sleep roughened voice barely a whisper.
Brennan stretched her neck so she could see the clock beyond his shoulder and responded in a hushed tone to match his. "Not quite 5 o'clock."
Whether it was the dark room or the quiet stillness of the early morning, they both kept their voices soft and intimate.
"How come you're not sleeping?"
Brennan shrugged in response and, snuggling up to him, placed her free hand on top of his bare chest where she could lightly draw patterns with her fingertips as she spoke. "I woke up and I started thinking."
"Uuuuugggh," he groaned. "My mind doesn't work this early, Bones. Especially not without coffee."
"I know." She leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his shoulder blade before propping herself back up on her elbow. "I'll wait."
Booth closed his eyes again and they lay quietly like that for another ten to fifteen minutes or so. Brennan could tell by the cadence of his breathing that he was still awake and knew him well enough to be certain by now that he wasn't actually going to fall asleep again this morning, so she let the fingers of the hand that rested on his chest start to wander again. With just the tip of one finger, she started at the hollow of his throat, traced a line gently down his sternum, then circled around below his pectoral muscle, up the outside until she reached his collarbone again, then back towards his throat. She repeated the pattern on the opposite side of his chest as she began to speak, still keeping her voice low, watching the constant in motion of her finger drawing lazy 8s on his chest. "I used to lay awake at nights and worry that I couldn't foresee the future and what my feelings for you would be as time passed. I worried that my feelings would fade with time and I'd end up hurting you somehow once the novelty of a new relationship faded and the chemical endorphins weren't distorting my perceptions anymore."
"Bones –"
She interrupted him by placing her finger over his lips. "Shhhhh. I need to say this even if you don't want to hear it." She leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to the side of his mouth, next to her finger. "But, those thoughts don't worry me anymore, Booth." Her finger caressed his bottom lip, then slid down his throat so she could continue to draw patterns on his chest. "I know I love you. I've loved you for a decade now and the only thing that has changed about my feelings for you is that they've grown stronger and more all-encompassing with every day that passes. By the time I finally asked you to marry me a few years ago, I understood and accepted that I would love you for the rest of my life no matter what happens to us and I no longer worry about what my feelings for you may be down the line."
Booth reached up a hand, cupping her face and rubbing his thumb back and forth across her cheekbone. "I love you too, Bones. You've got to know that."
"I do." She let her fingers entwine with his against her face, then turned her head so she could place a lingering kiss in the palm of his hand. "But, in the last 24 months, I've watched an ambulance carry your bullet riddled body away from the ruins of our home not knowing whether you'd live or die. I've cried myself to sleep too many nights to count while you spent several months in jail uncertain whether you'd ever be released, if they didn't kill you first. I had to repeatedly answer Christine's questions about whether you'd ever come home and reassure her that we'd be okay, either way. I had to force you to move out when you put gambling ahead of being honest while you reconfirmed your priorities and I spent endless hours during that time wondering whether I was enough for you to fight for. And, then again, I had to confront the fact that when we found Jared's remains, I didn't know if I'd eventually find you dead or alive."
"Bones, baby, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
"I'm not looking for apologies right now, Booth. Most of it was not your fault but, regardless, time and again in the last couple years I've had to confront the fact that my future might not include you in it and it had nothing to do with how much I love you or how much you love me. I've forced myself to picture a future without you in it, Booth . . . I've had to sometimes just to be able to get from one day to the next. Over the years that I've known you, you've taught me so much about love and the pleasures and benefits of sharing a life with someone that the prospect of spending the rest of my life alone seems to stretch forward as just empty and lonely and meaningless. I decided I would owe it to myself to try and live the rest of my life as wide as possible, to honor all that you taught me, even if that means learning to share it with someone new if you are eventually taken away from me."
"Jesus, Bones. Why are you even saying this bullshit? You know I don't like the thought of you with someone else. Ever. You're mine."
"I know. And, honestly? . . . . . I can't imagine someone else ever truly claiming even a fraction of what I've allowed my heart to feel for you so I don't know if it could ever happen, but I won't close myself off to the possibility. You, on the other hand though? I know you've loved other women before me, Booth and I believe, if you allowed yourself to, you could love another after me." She took a deep breath and stared right into his eyes so he'd feel the import of her words, finally arriving at the heart of her earlier thoughts. He started to tense up before she even began speaking. "If something happens to me . . ."
"No, Bones. No, just stop. Don't even go there."
". . . if this killer that's out there comes after me and is successful in his attempt to eliminate me . . ."
"No."
"I want you to know that I'd understand if you found someone else to share the rest of your life with."
"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, Bones and there won't ever be someone else for me, okay?"
"It's not rational to assume you can always control everything, Booth. Whether it's this killer, or the next killer, or a car crash, or a poisonous snake in my suitcase, if something happens to me before we're old and gray, I need you to know that I want you to find happiness however you can. Christine and Hank deserve a father who won't stop living and enjoying his life simply because his partner died."
Booth sat up abruptly flipping Brennan onto her back as he loomed over her, caging her in between his arms. "You're not just my partner, damn it. You're my wife, my world, my everything. Got it, Bones? End of discussion. We're gonna grow old together, and bounce our grandbabies on our knees someday, and complain to each other about arthritis in our joints or gas in our bowels and I don't give a fuck who this bastard is that we're chasing now or anyone who comes after him. You're gonna catch 'em and I'm gonna protect you while you do. That's just how it works. Now, shut up and kiss me like I'm the only man you ever want in your bed again because I'm about to remind you why it is that you love me so much and why no one else will ever take my place." With that, Booth slammed his lips down onto hers in a kiss that was pure possession, a claiming of what was his, and one that left no room for her to think about anything else other than him for the next hour.
Often times, when Brennan wanted to let her mind drift aimlessly, she'd hide away down in bone storage, the area all too frequently referred to by others as "limbo". When she walked into her office earlier that morning, she hadn't been ready to face another day pouring over the files on Mosley and the others, knowing they wouldn't say much of anything different than they said the day before or the day before that. To be perfectly blunt, her brain was still luxuriating in the memories of her morning acrobatics with Booth and she was reluctant to give up that pleasantly satisfied sexual haze just to be frustrated by the inevitable lack of progress on their current case, so she'd grabbed her lab coat and headed to limbo instead.
Limbo was intellectually and emotionally easy for her. There was no pressure or expectations regarding the results required from looking at a set of remains. She could rearticulate a skeleton and make notes about any indicators she identified with only half her concentration focused on the task at hand, letting her subconscious chew gently in the background on whatever other issues were percolating in her brain.
She was still in limbo when Angela tracked her down late morning.
"Hey, Sweetie. The day's already half over. What d'ya say we go grab some lunch together? There's that new soup and salad shop over on K Street that opened up a couple months ago that we've been meaning to try and it's a beautiful day outside for a short walk as long as you wear a coat."
Brennan glanced over at Angela, one eyebrow quirked up in suspicion. "Booth sent you down here to get me, didn't he?"
"What? No. Of course not." She tried to act nonchalant but sometimes she found it really difficult to deceive her best friend, especially if those cerulean blue eyes were locked on her like now and she'd been asked a direct question. "Well, I mean, he did send me a text saying he had a meeting that was going to last through lunch so he wouldn't be able to meet you himself. And, he's made it known to everybody that he doesn't want you going anywhere alone with this killer out there that seems to have you in his sights. But, the soup and salad restaurant was totally my idea. So, you comin?"
"MmHm." Brennan cast a skeptical look Angela's way, but decided to just go along with it. She was getting hungry and she knew she'd enjoy spending her lunch with Angela so she stripped off her latex gloves, tossing them in the trash, and headed for the door. "Let me change my coat."
As they entered Brennan's office, Angela was right on her heels, filling her in on Michael-Vincent's bath time escapade the night before where he'd smuggled in close to 20 tadpoles that he'd managed to capture down by the pond near their house because he thought they'd be fun to bathe with. Angela had almost had a heart attack when she scooped up a large cup of water from beneath the bath bubbles to pour over Michael-Vincent's head and saw little slimy black things swimming around. Needless to say, Jack had to finish giving their son his bath as Angela had been a little too freaked out and spent the rest of the evening on the couch with a wine bottle. Unfortunately, despite Jack's efforts to save them, the tadpoles were all deceased now as tadpoles and Mr. Bubbles in Batman Blue didn't mix well together.
"You just wait until Hank's older, Sweetie. If that little boy of yours is anywhere near as mischievous as I expect Booth was as a kid and has even half your brains, you're going to be in for a hell of a ride and I plan to laugh my ass off from the sidelines the whole time." Angela shook her head. "Boys. I'm just saying. Boys are sooo different than girls and Christine, who is always such a perfect princess, has spoiled you. I'm counting on Hank to balance the scales a bit."
Laughing at Angela's parenting plight, Brennan hung up her lab coat on her coat tree and grabbed her outdoor jacket, pulling it on, when she felt something unexpected in her pocket. She paused and pulled a small, 2-inch square dark blue box from her pocket that was wrapped in a simple red ribbon. It looked like a box you might get from a jeweler's shop for gifting a ring or earrings. Booth, she thought warmly as she started to smile. "Is this why you lured me up here, Ange?"
Angela's brows went up as a smile broke out on her face. "Nope. Wasn't me or you'd be holding edible underwear and a bottle of strawberry massage oil instead of jewelry. So? What'd Studly get you?" She stepped up close to Brennan, watching as she opened the box to see what kind of treasure Special Agent Hotness had covertly snuck her friend, but the box had barely been opened when Brennan let go and dropped it to the ground.
Brennan stepped back a startled step and Angela, looking down at her feet, saw a small wooden figurine roll out of the box onto the carpet. An exquisitely hand carved figurine of a coiled snake, ready to strike. Both women stood frozen in place as the implications of what they were seeing sank in. Angela's eyes got huge. "Oh. My. God."
Once again, Brennan felt her heart beats accelerating and a shiver of fear slithered down her spine – a feeling that was becoming much too familiar these days. This wasn't a gift from Booth, of that she was sure. Grabbing a couple pens off her desk so she didn't touch the evidence any further, she squatted next to the box and poked it, turning it over until a small piece of paper fell out. Using the pens to pry it open, the note simply said "Back Off."
"We should get Dr. Hodgins to take a look at this." The softly spoken words had barely left Brennan's lips before Angela scooted around her, leaving as wide of a berth as possible, heading towards Brennan's office door. Brennan thought she was going to go find her husband, but there was no way Angela was going to leave her alone in there with that thing.
"Jaaacckkk!" She hollered her husband's name as loud as she could, causing every eye in the Jeffersonian to turn her direction before coming back into the room to stand by Brennan. She didn't know what to do, so simply rested her hand on Brennan's shoulder with a gentle squeeze, offering comfort the best way she knew how, through touch.
A moment later, Hodgins came ambling in, looking concerned by his wife's summons. "What's up, babe?"
Angela pointed to the 'gift' that was still at Brennan's feet while Brennan seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, staring absently towards the far side of her office.
Hodgins pulled a pair of gloves from his pockets and squatted down next to Brennan, picking up the box, the ribbon, and the note in one hand and the carving in the other before Brennan's eyes swiveled back to him and what he held.
She grabbed his hand and held it steady while she looked at the wooden snake, tilting Jack's hand this way and that since she couldn't touch the carving herself without her own gloves on. "The craftsmanship that went into carving this is quite remarkable, don't you think?"
"Yeah. It's pretty amazing."
"The artisan must be someone used to working with wood, someone who understands how to work with the grain of the material and not fight it. Look at the minute detail he added around the snake's head."
Jack looked where she pointed with her pen, his hand still grasped in hers. "He's obviously very skilled. Listen, Dr. B-"
"It's basswood, isn't it?"
Hodgins studied the figurine for just a moment, then nodded. "Yes."
"Just like my other anonymous carving." She pointed her chin towards the box on her shelf that held her Hillary token. The one her father had found so unsettling.
Hodgins took a deep breath, not liking where this was heading, but unable to deny it. "Yeah. Basswood. Tilia Americana."
"Also known as a linden tree, right?"
"Yeah. Just like the source of our drupe."
A/N: Did you like that? I'd love to hear your thoughts.