Author's Note: Well here it is, Week 9. I'm sorry for the delay! But, expect much of the same as over the next week I prep for Nanowrimo and then, during the month of November, prove my insanity by attempting to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. While I'm doing that I'll continue to write Forty Weeks, it'll just take longer to produce each chapter (I'd imagine, considering I work full time, also own a business, go to school and lead a girl scout troop). So, please be patient. I promise not to forget I'm writing the story! I might be doing Nano but this is what I'm truly enjoying writing right now. (Ask the people who are hounding me for other things I'm supposed to be writing!)
And, for what it's worth, so far this is one of my favorite chapters.
~Amara
Re-uploaded May 27, 2010 (sorry if you got alerted for it...) - FF has been killing section breaks. Several readers noticed they were now missing an it impeded the flow of the story so I'm going back through to fix the missing breaks. Sorry if readers end up with a stack of alerts for old chapters! ~A
"Chances are you've never felt so tired in your life."
"Bren?" A pause. "Bren, are you sleeping?" Brennan struggled through the last vestiges of sleep and pried her eyes open. Her bedroom looked like her office. Why? "Brennan, are you okay?" Angela?
"Of course, I'm fine," Brennan said automatically while still trying to figure out why her bedroom looked like her office and why Angela would be there.
"Uh-huh," Angela said sounding wholly unconvinced. "I just woke you up. At ten-thirty in the morning. At your desk. What's going on with you lately?"
Finally her head cleared. Oh no, she'd fallen asleep at work. She'd been so tired lately but she'd done a good job of shaking it off and hadn't felt the need to mention it. Just another symptom. "I'm tired," she said simply and stood up.
"Clearly. But I'm not just talking about right now. You've been irritable and emotional, Cam said you threw up on the platform Friday night. You practically fainted at a crime scene," she paused when Brennan opened her mouth to interrupt but silenced her friend with a look, "yes, I heard about that." Her voice softened, "Sweetie, are you sick?"
"I said I'm fine, Angela," Brennan said brusquely. "I'm just tired. I haven't been sleeping well."
"You're not "fine", Bren. This has been going on for weeks. You seem to be getting worse, not better."
Finally Brennan warmed. "Honestly Angela, I'm fine. I promise I'm not lying to you."
"I'd believe you but Booth's been hovering more than usual these days, something's going on." She gasped and her eyes widened. "Oh my God. I get it."
Brennan panicked. "What? You get what?"
"I know what's going on with you!"
"Angela, look—" Brennan figured at that point, honesty was the best policy but her friend cut her off.
"You and Booth are sleeping together! Keeping it a secret has just been too much for you, hasn't it?" She grinned slyly, "And that's why you're so tired."
Brennan sighed with relief. "I can assure you Booth and I have not started a sexual relationship." She cursed the slight hint of annoyance in her voice.
"Yeah, because I'm totally buying that. What made you think you could keep something like that from me."
"Angela, really—"
"Not listening to you try to deny it, it's written all over you," she said as she started to back out of the room.
"But I—" Brennan called, but Angela had already left the room. She plopped back down into her chair. Well, she figured, better Angela thought she was sleeping with Booth than Angela realized she was pregnant. Brennan had really never understood the phrase "lesser of the two evils" until that very moment.
That night over dinner, as Brennan recounted the story, Booth laughed. He'd prepared a wonderful vegetarian dinner before she'd even arrived home. When she walked in he'd been dancing around her kitchen to oldies he'd turned way up on her stereo singing Blue Moon at the top of his lungs. He'd looked good there, she decided, barefooted and in faded jeans and a T-Shirt that hugged his well defined body. She'd stood in the doorway wearing a huge smile as he sang, "Bom-ma-bom, a-bom-bom-a-bom, ba-ba-bom-bom-a-bomp, b-dang-a-dang-dang, b-ding-a-dong-ding, blue moon."
She was instantly transported to a long forgotten memory from her childhood: her father spinning her mother around the kitchen while he sang an equally silly old Doo-Wop song. There was a lot of laughter in that memory and she wondered where it had been hiding all those years. She laughed aloud, both at the picture Booth presented and the mental image of her father singing.
He'd turned around, surprised, with a sheepish smile on his face, "Oh, you're home."
They ate the dinner he'd prepared and cleaned the kitchen. "Why don't you go relax, take a bath or something," he'd asked once she'd put the last glass back in the cabinet.
It sounded like a wonderful idea to her and she told him so, leaving him happily ensconced on the couch with the remote control. She drew her bath and sunk into the deliciously hot water. In all her years dating she'd only cohabitated with one man. She'd never come home to find him dancing barefooted around her kitchen cooking her dinner. No, but she'd come home to find him up to his elbows in work tossing a take-out menu and the phone her direction the moment she walked through the door. She'd come home to find he'd left the country for research or a speaking engagement – not because he'd told her but because he left a note on the refrigerator door telling her what time his return flight arrived. She'd never been special to him. Never had she been important. But she knew she was to Booth. And in her kitchen that night she'd realized something: She'd never again settle for being unimportant to someone.
She must have fallen asleep in the tub because the next thing she was aware of was a none-to-gentle pounding on her bathroom door. "Bones? Answer me or I'm coming in there!"
"I'm fine," she called. "I think I fell asleep."
"You've been in there for an hour and a half."
"Then I definitely fell asleep. Give me a few minutes and I'll be out, okay?" The water had cooled around her so she stepped carefully out of the tub. On the other side of the door she could hear him muttering but his voice faded away as he evidently exited back to his post on the couch. As she dried herself she thought about him. Aside from being tired she felt pretty good for the first time in a couple of weeks. No nausea, no lightheadedness. She could tell him it was okay to go home. Not that she really wanted him to go. And he'd probably be hurt if she asked him to go, especially after everything he'd done for her that night.
He'd be going home in a few days anyway. She wasn't feeling especially amorous. Surely she could just sit and enjoy his company for a while. She smoothed lotion over her legs, across her belly and up her chest. She hissed with pain when she swiped her hands over her breasts. When had that happened? She'd not experienced any breast tenderness since she'd been pregnant. She stood in front of the mirror. Were they...? They were bigger. Noticeably bigger. Was that supposed to happen already? She turned sideways in the mirror. Yes, definitely bigger. And sore. She sighed and slipped into her favorite lavender satin pajama set. On her way through her bedroom she grabbed her robe off its hook in the closet and slipped into it, and tied the sash around her waist.
In the living room Booth was drinking coffee and watching a history channel biography on Winston Churchill. "That's going to keep you up all night," she said as she sat down next to him, liberated the cup from his hands and took a sip.
He snatched the cup back from her. "Caffeine, Bones."
"You know, you're almost maniacal in your efforts to keep me away from caffeine. One sip of coffee has less caffeine than the hot chocolate I drink."
"Well then no more hot chocolate for you, either."
She sighed, "Booth, seriously, there are conflicting reports on the effect of caffeine on a fetus."
"A baby," he said, his eyes dark. "Our baby. Who's going to have every possible advantage to grow healthy and strong."
She couldn't do anything more than swallow the lump that rose in her throat at the reverential tone of his voice. Their eyes locked and they shared a look that lasted three or four breaths longer than it would have before she'd gotten pregnant. Finally she glanced over at the television and cleared her throat. "It's Tuesday night, isn't there something on?"
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He knew she'd been tired. She'd fallen asleep ten minutes into their primetime television viewing the night before. Which in all actuality was a good thing. She'd come out of her bedroom in another one of those slinky sleep sets but at least it was mostly hidden beneath a robe as silky as the pajamas were slinky. He'd had a tough time focusing on anything but her and once her eyes fell closed he didn't have to be as covert with his watching as he'd been trying to be.
Her body was changing in the most alluring of ways. Her belly hadn't rounded yet, though he was looking forward to being able to see the evidence of what they'd done. But in the mean time he'd settle for the gentle rounding and swelling of her breasts. She now had to strategically button her blouses but he's not sure she'd really noticed the change.
He noticed it as she slept in the car on the way to the diner for lunch on Wednesday. He'd certainly noticed as her shirt puckered slightly at the fastening at her bust teasing him with a tantalizing peek of her cream-colored skin.
When he'd woken her to go to bed the night before her robe had pulled a little loose from its sash and he'd realized how much she'd changed already. Her cleavage was deeper, more magnetic to him than it usually was. Her hormones may have been raging, trying to convince her she wanted him, but there was nothing as sexy, to him, as knowing she was carrying his child and that he'd caused those fascinating changes in her. But she wouldn't understand that. And, he though again, she'd probably not noticed. It would be like her not to. Or to have mentioned it if she had.
He shook her awake when he parked outside the diner. She grumbled a little but eventually followed him inside. She rested her head in her hand at the table, eyes at half mast as she struggled to remain awake. "Are you sleeping at night?"
"Yes. But I feel like I can't get enough sleep no matter what I do. I've never been a big sleeper. I'd be lucky if I got five hours a night. But now eight's not enough."
"The book said you'd be tired."
"I know, I just hadn't expected to be this tired. I almost fell asleep in a meeting this morning," she confessed.
"And you did fall asleep at your desk yesterday," he pointed out. "Should we make a bet on whether or not you'll be able to keep your secret as long as you'd like?"
"Booth," she admonished though she didn't continue.
"I know, I know." He grinned at her. "I guess we're just going to need to make it a point to make sure you're in bed earlier."
"If I go to bed any earlier than I have been I'll never be able to get anything done. I've got three chapters due next week."
"You'll get them written," he said off handedly.
"Why do you do that?" He looked up at her indignant tone with confusion. She continued, "You minimize my commitment to my responsibilities."
"That's not what I meant and you know it," he said a little sharply.
"Then you were just placating me?"
"Are you spoiling for a fight, Bones? What? You'd gone more than a few days without going off on somebody and I'm the lucky guy this time around? Well," he mused, "better me than Hodgins. I'm not sure how much more he'll take."
She looked at him aghast. "Spoiling for a fight?" She stood up sputtering, "spoiling for a fight? You think I like feeling like this?"
"Bones," he sighed dramatically, "sit back down." When she just looked at him he implored, "Please?"
"Why should I," she snapped, "since all I'm doing is spoiling for a fight."
"Look, we both sort of blew that out of proportion in a hurry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply your work wasn't important and that certainly wasn't how I meant what I said." She finally sat back down but she didn't look especially happy. "What I meant," he went on, "was despite the extra hours you need to be sleeping I have complete confidence you'll still get all your work done. Just tell me how I can help."
"You can't," she said belligerently, "unless you've suddenly become a writer or forensic anthropologist."
"If you're going to be this sour regularly we ought to come up with a "white-flag" word we can wave to stop the whole thing."
"What do you mean?"
"A way to stop a fight, any fight no matter what, no questions. You have been a little hard to predict lately and more on edge than usual. I'd like a way to preserve my life."
She just looked at him then finally said, "Aardvark."
"What?"
"Our white flag word. Aardvark. It's not like it would naturally come up in a conversation, right?"
He barked out a laugh, "It's not a safe-word, Bones."
"But the same principles apply, right?"
"I guess so."
"Okay. Then aardvark it is."
"You just get more and more interesting everyday," he said with a chuckle and a befuddled shake of his head. "Way to keep me on my toes."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
If she thought she was embarrassed the day she ran off the platform crying after her altercation with Hodgins, well, that moment had nothing on her more recent predicament. She'd been identifying bodies in Limbo. She'd gotten plenty of rest the night before since Booth had made it his personal mission to make sure she slept nine hours and took a nap in the evening when she got home from work. But Thursday night he had a previous engagement with Rebecca and Parker and she was left to her own devices. Left to her own devices she, of course, decided to stay and work.
She was shaken awake by an amused looking Dr. Saroyan. "Dr. Brennan, is there some reason you're asleep in Limbo at eight thirty on a Thursday night. Have you been evicted?"
Brennan colored a tomato-y shade of red; she could feel the heat burning in her cheeks. "No. I...uh...don't know...I'm sorry," she finally managed.
Cam pulled up a stool to sit next to Brennan. "Look," she said in her long perfected no-nonsense tone, "I'm a pretty smart lady. I can put two and two together. Or, in this case I can put one and one together and get to three."
"I don't know what that means."
Cam sighed. "I suspect, and feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, that you're pregnant Dr. Brennan."
Brennan felt her flush deepen and spread down her neck and across her chest. But she didn't deny Cam's statement.
Cam reached out and covered Brennan's hand with her own in an uncharacteristic display of affection. "Congratulations," she said softly, "and please tell Booth I said so."
"We're not telling anyone. Not yet," Brennan said quietly. Cam raised her eyebrows. "I wanted to be in my second trimester before I said anything. Just in case..."
Cam nodded. "I understand. Your secret's safe with me. And if you need anything, even if it's just to talk, well you know where my office is."
Brennan smiled a little. "Thank you." Cam had started up the stairs when Brennan stopped her. "Why were you in Limbo this late on a Thursday," she called.
Cam turned and grinned at her. "Ricky from security called me to tell me you were down here and not moving."
"Oh, God," she groaned.
Cam tapped the side of her nose and turned to continue up the stairs. Brennan didn't know what that meant but she was sure Cam would keep her confidence.
She walked through the front door that night about five minutes before Booth. When he arrived she was sitting at the dining room table staring into a cup of hot tea, trying to figure out how she was going to tell him she'd told someone she was pregnant after she'd practically sworn him to secrecy.
"Hey," he said when he walked through the door and dropped his keys in the basket on the table there, "I thought you might have gone to bed already." She didn't look up at him so he crossed over to the table and sat down in the chair just around the corner of the table from her. "Bones? What's the matter?" She looked up at him but wasn't able to contain tears. He looked panicked, "God, Bones, what's wrong? Did something happen with the baby?"
She shook her head vigorously. "No." But she sobbed anyway.
He got up out of his chair and pulled her up out of hers and into his arms. She burrowed into him as if she could crawl inside him to avoid telling him her news. "You're scaring me, Babe, what's the matter?"
She pulled back from him at his use of the endearment, unsure what to make of it. Unable to deal with that directly she confessed, "Cam knows I'm pregnant."
He deflated with relief and pulled her back tight into him. "Shit, Bones, you scared me half to death. Is that all that's got you upset?"
"But I told you we couldn't tell anybody until I—"
He cut her off, "I know. But it's not important, okay?" He rubbed her back while she cried. "Would it make you feel better if I told you someone else knew too?"
She stepped quickly out of his arms. "You told someone?"
"Hey," he said defensively, "you told someone too!"
"I didn't tell her, she guessed!" She looked down at the floor. "I just didn't deny it."
"Well, Rebecca guessed to."
"What," she screeched. "You said she didn't suspect."
"Well I lied," he said throwing his hands up in the air.
"Why would you lie to me when you knew how I felt about it?"
"Because I was trying to avoid this conversation," he hollered. "And," he went on, though with considerably less volume, "since I'm already in trouble, Hodgins knows too."
"Great. Just great," she said with fire. "Is there anyone who doesn't know?"
He appeared to think for a moment then said, "Um, I'm going to start with "aardvark" because we have a bigger issue here."
"What?" The fire had left her voice and eyes at his use of their white-flag word.
"Well, Angela's your best friend and she's the last to know."
"Oh no," Brennan said with a groan and sat back down. "She's going to be pretty mad, don't you think?"
"Well, you know, I still think she's going to start with screaming and dancing around. But after that I'm not sure "pretty mad" is going to cover it."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
On Friday afternoon he picked Parker up from school. He wasn't sure about taking him to spend the weekend at Bones' but he wasn't ready to leave her alone yet, either. The bouts of lightheadedness seemed to be less frequent, but just that morning he'd grabbed her arm just a moment before she went ass over teacup when she tried to catch herself after she thought she was falling. So before he could really think better of it he'd loaded his son up and headed toward Brennan's apartment.
They arrived before she did and Parker asked his father, "Why are we at Bones' house?"
"We're going to stay here this weekend."
"Why," the curious child asked.
"Well, Son, Bones' hasn't been feeling so hot lately so I've been keeping her company to make sure she's doing okay."
"Because she doesn't have anybody to take care of her," the younger Booth deduced.
"She's got us. We can take care of her, right?"
"Sure," he said with a shrug. "Does she have anything good to eat? I'm starving."
Booth ruffled his son's hair. "Let's see what we can rustle up."
They were both sitting at the dining room table eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when she walked through the door. She stopped short with a surprised look on her face. "Hi, Parker," she said once she'd collected herself. Then, to Booth, "I thought you'd take Parker to your place tonight."
He looked unsure of himself and got up to stand closer to her and loop Parker out of the conversation. He stroked her forearm with the backs of his fingers. "I would have, but I don't want to leave you alone. Not while you're still getting lightheaded."
She nodded, "Okay. But we're going to be short a bedroom."
He was surprised by her quick acceptance of his and Parker's presence. "Parker and I can bunk together. Isn't that right, Parks," he called over his shoulder.
"I get to sleep with you," the little boy said with light in his eyes.
"Yep."
"Cool," he shrugged and went back to his sandwich.
"See," Booth asked. "Cool."
The three spent what turned out to be a rainy Saturday curled up on her couch watching movies. Somehow Bones had even got Parker to sit through My Fair Lady. Later that night, after Booth had made hot cocoa and tea for them, Bones and Parker waltzed around her living room like Eliza and Professor Higgins. He'd never seen her be so playful and carefree and certainly never with his son. It gave him hope that perhaps she'd be less inclined to hold him to a tightly regimented baby Einstein routine.
After their impromptu cotillion, the two of them had curled up together on the couch and fallen asleep while watching old Wile E. Coyote cartoons. Booth was so taken by the sight he rummaged around in her desk until he found her digital camera and snapped a shot. Bones, carrying his next son or daughter, and his son with his head in her lap and his small hand curled over her knee. He felt full then, to bursting, in a way he hadn't in years. He thought, then, he'd forever after associate the feeling with that moment and hopefully, he admitted to himself, many other similar moments to come.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Monday morning the nausea was back in full force and effect. She'd barely made it to the bathroom and had to clamp a hand tightly over her mouth as an insurance policy. Booth wandered into the bathroom. Once he'd realized the vomiting wasn't a sign of her own personal apocalypse he'd stopped rushing to her as if her very life depended on it. But he still always found her when he heard the tell tale din of her feet as she sprinted to the bathroom.
She wasn't sure how he did it. Despite the things she could see and smell, the sight or sound of someone vomiting always gave her the sympathy gags. But he would stand or sit beside her, hold her hair and stroke her back. And when she was done he'd hand her a cool, wet washcloth to wipe her neck and face. Then he'd stand by, looking apologetic, while she brushed her teeth.
She was feeling marginally better since the previous day she'd been able to complete all three chapters her publisher wanted while Booth and Parker attended church then a basketball game. They'd come in afterwards, Parker sticky with cotton candy, and made her a late lunch.
She'd declined to go with them to take Parker home as she wasn't yet ready to face Rebecca since the woman knew she was pregnant. Brennan wasn't ready to answer questions. Especially not ones from people who would have something to say or questions to ask about the status of her relationship with Booth. She started her next chapter while Booth was gone. And when he'd returned she cleaned the kitchen and he did some laundry. It wasn't until after she'd gone to bed that night she realized he'd been there almost a week and hadn't said a word about going home.
She didn't want to bring it up. Part of her was glad he was there and wanted him to stay. Part of that part she couldn't explain – the part of her that was irrationally happy to have him with her as much as possible. But part of her wanted him to go home, too. Not because he was hovering or driving her crazy, like she'd thought he would, but because she was afraid she'd grow to closer to him. That she'd come to rely on his presence. But they weren't in a relationship and eventually he would go. And she knew, now that she was being honest with herself, it would hurt. She figured the sooner he went the less it would hurt. But still, she didn't say anything.
And she was glad she hadn't as he passed her the cool washcloth for her face. "I hate this," she said as she sat back, already exhausted though she'd just woken up.
"It'll pass. Only a few more weeks of feeling this way."
"Some women have it their entire pregnancy."
He seemed as if he hadn't considered that. "Let's just hope you aren't one of them." He leaned over to help her up off the floor. "Go ahead and brush, I'll make you some of that chamomile tea that seemed to help last week."
She couldn't help but smile at him. "Thanks."
No, she wasn't ready for him to go. Not at all.