Discalimer: I own nothing related to Bones.
A/N: So, it's been awhile. Hello to everyone! Sorry about the wait between chapters, but it was necessary for my sanity. And now I'm hoping to update every week. I know I've said that before, but this time it'll actually happen. Again, sorry about the (really really) long wait.
A/N2: To everyone who reviewed Chapter Ten and did not receive a reply - I'm sorry. I promise to reply to all reviews for this chapter.
A/N3: You may want to reread Chapter Ten, as it's been awhile.
Chapter Eleven: Remember a Day
July Twentieth
"Seriously?" Russ said. "You want to trade cars for the weekend?"
Tempe grinned at him. "You afraid I'm going to crash your precious minivan, Russ?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Think about it, Russ. I have a little two-seater sports car. There are three of us. You do the math."
"What about Booth?"
"What about Booth?" She knew Russ had heard about their 'fight,' probably from Angela. She and Booth were just barely acting civil towards each other in public, and while they'd agreed on a 'truce' for work and the kids, she wasn't sure how this weekend would go. Would they play it like they had been, or would the weekend be a time to develop their relationship while the kids were distracted?
Russ gave her a sympathetic look. "You'll make up, Tempe. I've seen the way you two gaze at one another – whatever he may have said, he didn't mean it."
She sighed. "You don't know that, Russ. Normally, when we fight, I know that he's just saying things to annoy me. But that last fight …" She sighed again. "I just don't know."
"Well, anyway," Russ said after a minute, "we'd love to borrow your car, Tempe. Thanks." He gave her a grin. "Enjoy being a soccer mom for the weekend."
"I don't know what that means," she said, and he laughed.
A knock signaled that Sarah was back with the girls. Tempe opened the door and Jordan barreled in, carrying a shopping bag that appeared to contain at least two different flavors of ice cream. Sarah came in behind her, loaded down with plastic bags containing more sugar than Tempe normally consumed in a month.
Abby lagged after them, carrying a small yellow blanket and a stuffed frog. "Hi Tempe," she said unenthusiastically, giving her a small hug before curling up on the couch.
Tempe turned to Sarah with a concerned frown. Sarah shrugged. "She's been like that all morning. She doesn't have a cough or a sore throat or a fever, and she says she's feeling fine. We think it's just the prospect of a weekend without us that's bumming her out."
"Her get-up-and-go got-up-and-went," Russ said, sticking the ice cream in the freezer and lining up the bags of candy. "My God, Sarah, you're going to give them cavities. Ooh, Twizzlers!"
Tempe and Sarah rolled their eyes at each other. "We got those for you, Russ, for the drive. The granola bars are mine." She turned back to Tempe. "Well, I think that's everything."
Tempe nodded, ignoring the strange feeling of apprehension in her gut. "We just need to trade car keys."
"Oh, okay," Sarah replied, digging them out of her purse. She pulled one off the key ring and handed it over. Tempe did the same.
"Your key ring creeps me out," Russ said, taking the key and remote. "Seriously, Tempe – who walks around with a skull attached to their keys?"
"It's not real," she said. "And it's not very accurate, either. But Angela gave him to me, and his name is Fred."
Russ just stared at her, then shook his head. "Have fun this weekend. And don't hesitate to call if something goes wrong."
"I won't," she promised, and the feeling in her gut got stronger.
Russ and Sarah said goodbye to the girls and left, and for the first time in her life, Temperance Brennan was faced with the prospect of entertaining two kids for four and a half days, mostly by herself.
She hoped she was up to the challenge.
Tempe woke up suddenly, cuddled between two warm bodies, and it took a minute before she remembered Abby and Jordan snuggling in sometime around two a.m.
Jordan was lying on her back, her arms crossed behind her head, a frown of deep concentration (the same one Sarah had, Tempe noted) on her brow. Abby was deeply asleep, curled on her side, her head burrowed into the crook of Tempe's neck. She basked for a moment in the warmth radiating from the little girl and thought back to the previous evening.
Abby had cheered up after her mother and Russ left, helping pick out movies. (Angela had loaned them her TV and DVD player for the weekend, thrilled that Russ was proposing to Sarah.) She'd only eaten one slice of the pizza they'd had delivered, and none of the candy, though she had downed almost two bowls of vanilla ice cream. She'd fallen asleep in Tempe's lap halfway through "The Emperor's New Groove," and she hadn't been quite her normal self all night, but she'd seemed all right. No fever, no sore throat, nothing.
She was warm, though. Too warm, almost.
Tempe rolled Abby away and sat up, reaching down to feel her forehead. While the little girl had seemed fine the night before, she now definitely had a fever.
Tempe hurried into the bathroom and dug through her first aid kit, knowing there was a thermometer buried in there somewhere. She finally located it beneath a roll of gauze and headed back to the bedroom.
Jordan was now awake and sitting up, but Abby was still asleep. "What's wrong with Abby, Tempe?"
"I don't know, sweetheart, but we'll find out," Tempe replied, sliding the cover on the thermometer and sticking it gently into Abby's ear. The little girl stirred but didn't wake up, and Tempe knew there was something very wrong.
A few agonizing moments later, the thermometer beeped, and she checked, apprehensive.
101°.
This was not good.
She debated between calling Booth and looking up information on her laptop. The laptop quickly won, and she retrieved it before settling back down next to the girls. She booted it up, grateful for its super fast capabilities and wireless internet connection.
A couple of minutes more, and she was plugging Abby's few symptoms into a search engine. Too many possibilities came up, and Tempe and Jordan read through them with wide eyes. "What do you think she has?" the little girl asked.
Tempe shook her head. "I don't know." She glanced down at Abby, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully, at least. "It could just be a cold." But she didn't think so, and judging by the look on Jordan's face, neither did she. Unfortunately, at this point in time, it seemed as though all they could do was wait for more symptoms to appear.
Time to call Booth.
"How's she doing?" Booth asked, cradling the phone between his head and shoulder as he washed veggies. "Any change?"
"She woke up about an hour ago, but she still has a fever, and she's just been lying on the couch."
"How does she feel?" He finished cleaning the vegetables and laid them on a paper towel to dry.
"She says her tummy hurts a little, but that's it. Her head doesn't hurt and she doesn't feel sick or anything. Just warm and tired."
Bones' worry about Abby almost distracted him from the weirdness of hearing his partner use the word 'tummy.' Almost. "And she hasn't thrown up or anything?"
"Nope. She drank a little water, though. I just …" she sighed, and he could picture the look on her face as she watched the girls. "I don't know if I should call Russ and Sarah or not. I hate to ruin their weekend if it turns out to not be serious."
"'Cause Russ is gonna propose to Mom?" He could barely hear Jordan's question.
"What? How do you know about that?"
"Russ told me. I can keep a secret, you know."
"Huh," Bones said, and he grinned and began chopping carrots. "Anyway, I also called the pediatrician Sarah has listed, but he was in the middle of a staff meeting, so it may be awhile before he calls back." She sighed again. "I just don't know what to do, Booth."
And he knew she hated that feeling of helplessness, of uncertainty. "Do you want me to come over?"
She hesitated. "Maybe a little later. I think I'll try the doctor again, see what he says."
"Okay. Good luck." He put the chopped carrots into his crock pot and set about cutting the potatoes. "If you still can't get a hold of him, though, call and I'll give you the number for Parker's pediatrician."
"Thanks, Booth." He hadn't really done much, but then, he didn't think she'd needed him to actually do anything.
"Bye, Bones. Call me later, let me know how things are going. And call if anything changes."
"I will. Bye."
He set the phone on the counter and studied the crock pot. "I give her forty-five minutes before she calls again." He told the appliance. "Maybe an hour."
"Thank you, Dr. Robertson," Tempe said. "I'll call back in an hour, or if her condition changes. Okay. Bye." She set the phone back on the receiver and peered into the living room. Abby had dozed off again ten minutes into "Babe," and Jordan was half-watching the movie and half-watching her little sister.
The pediatrician hadn't been very helpful. He'd said that Abby probably had a cold, maybe a stomach flu, and to make sure she drank plenty of fluids. If her fever went up, or if she vomited, Tempe was supposed to call back and let him know, and get further instructions.
Privately, she thought the man was an idiot.
Giving the girls another quick glance, she picked the phone up again and pressed the appropriate speed dial buttons.
"I can be there in twenty minutes," Booth said.
"What, no hello?" she teased him, and she could hear him grin.
"Hi, Bones, I can be there in twenty minutes."
She gave a silent sigh of relief. "Make it thirty, and pick up some Sprite?"
"Will do," he replied.
True to his word, he arrived a half-hour later, three bottles of Sprite in his arms. Tempe took two of the bottles and let him in. "Hi. Thanks for coming over and bringing these."
"No problem," he told her. "Hey, Jordan. Hi, Abby. How're you feeling?"
Half-awake, the little girl shrugged.
He turned back to Tempe. "Weird."
She gave him half a smile. "Scary."
"Yeah, that too." She poured a glass of the pop and put the rest into the fridge. "Did you get a hold of the doctor?"
"Yeah." She told him what Dr. Robertson had told her, and Booth nodded.
"It makes sense." She glared. "Oh, come on, Bones. I may be playing devil's advocate here, but it could be just a simple cold."
"It could be. But what if it's something worse?" She knew he could see the fear in her eyes, but she made no effort to hide it. Maternal instinct for members of her pack was hard to deny.
"She'll be fine, Bones." He pulled her into a hug. "She'll be fine. Now let's go get some fluids into her."
Abby had dozed off again, cuddled in her lap, her head against Tempe's shoulder. Laying the back of her hand on the little girl's forehead, Tempe sighed. "I think her fever's gone up again."
Booth looked over at them. "Yeah?" She nodded. "Where's your thermometer?"
"Um, on my bed." She blushed. Even though it had been almost a week, and even though she'd washed her sheets twice, she still thought her bedroom smelled like sex.
He grinned, and she knew he knew what she was thinking. "I'll be right back," he promised, getting up.
Jordan, sitting on the other side of the couch, studied Tempe, a knowing look on her face. Tempe suddenly had the disturbing thought that the eight-year-old knew exactly what was going on between her and Booth.
Before she could say anything (not that she had any idea of what she would say,) Booth was back, and they quickly performed the temperature routine.
103°.
"What was it this morning?" he asked.
"101°," she replied, giving him a worried look.
Abby chose that moment to wake up. "My tummy hurts really bad," she mumbled into Tempe's shoulder.
"It does?" She sympathetically stroked the little girl's mussed blond curls. Abby nodded and made an odd noise in the back of her throat.
Instinct made her move fast, and the trashcan that had been sitting beside the couch made it in front of Abby just in the nick of time.
"Ew," Jordan said.
Experience with Angela had Tempe holding back Abby's hair and gently rubbing her back. She met Booth's concerned gaze. "We're going to the hospital."
"Ew," Jordan said again as Abby heaved some more.
"And the trashcan is coming with us," Tempe added.
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