Episode-Pilot
Pairing-Brengela
Yes, I kind of wrote the pilot yesterday, but I wanted to explore a different aspect. Thanks to everyone and I don't own Bones!
"What if I'm only good with bones and lousy with people?"
"People like you!"
"I don't care if men like me!"
I want you to like me…
"Well that was a jump, people to men…"
"I HATE psychology,"
That much was true. Angela had found that out early, when she'd attempted to make Brennan see how her actions might have been because of her younger upbringing. She'd freaked. Not that Angela blamed her. Closing her eyes and grabbing Brennan's hand, she sat them both down.
"Did you ever think the reason that you come off so distant is because you care too much?"
This, too, Angela had learned. When Brennan had admitted that whenever she saw cops handling the dead, she wanted to pounce on them, protect those who had no chance of protecting themselves. She could feel the passion coming off of Brennan when she saw those bones, even if she tried to hide it as scientific inquiry.
"Want a piece of advice? Give up a piece of yourself, something you're not sure if you want anyone to know,"
It was as much for Booth and Brennan as it was for Angela. She'd managed to get past part of Brennan's core, had managed to get her to trust her, but still she held firm. She wasn't cold…Angela knew this. Sometimes, however, she felt as though she was unsure why exactly she was still here.
Why was she putting so much energy into Brennan? Why did she care?
Brennan was beautiful, and not in the traditional sense. Sure, she was physically very beautiful. That much was obvious. She hadn't been kidding when she said that men liked her. Men did like her. As did women. Still, very few had managed to see that other beauty, that beauty that so entranced and bothered Angela on lonely nights. What was it? She couldn't capture it with her art, she couldn't tell it to the press. It was a beauty that was…Incomprehensible.
It wasn't confidence, or cocky gesture, though these things Angela admired very much.
It wasn't the way she moved, though she moved very well. It wasn't the way her lips touched Angela's. These things, while beautiful, were not the thing that kept Angela at bay.
It was the core, the center of Brennan. If she wrote a whole novel, Angela didn't think she could explain exactly what it was. It was too confusing, too complicated, and mostly, too great for the average human to comprehend.
How could she tell anyone these things and have them understand? They wouldn't listen without judging. This much Angela had learned.
They went home together after drinks, and once more they lay in bed. Brennan mumbled those words again, and Angela's heart broke.
"My most meaningful relationships are with the dead,"
"Am I dead, Sweetie?"
"No. Your heart is still beating,"
"Then listen to it. Because it's yours for tonight,"
That's all Angela could ever promise. A night, that night, that night that they held each other. She couldn't promise forever, because neither believed in eternal and transcendent love. They only believed in the night. This suited both just fine.
Brennan lay next to her, her breath coming in and out silently.
"And tomorrow?"
"We're best friends again. No strings, Bren. I told you from the beginning,"
She nodded, happy for the arrangement.
"Good."