Author's Note: In the interest of not having to bother you with anymore annoying 'I'm so sorry it took me so long to update' notes, I'll just go ahead and let you know that I will probably only be able to post once a week for a while. This is a busy time of year for me at work, and I'm in the middle of some seriously time-consuming research. On top of everything else, I am a painfully slow writer. My apologies, and I hope you'll stick with me. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review, alert, or just plain read this story. I've been having such a good time with it.
Chapter 23: Temperance Brennan & the Bedtime Redemption
Booth sat at his desk, pretending to read the latest case report that had been left for him. In reality, his mind was consumed with the details of the profile Sweets' had delivered a few hours earlier. He replayed the words over and over, arranging and rearranging them as if they were colors on a Rubik's cube...as though the puzzle could be solved if he just turned them the right way. The portrait Sweets' had painted of the killer had seemed so familiar. It left Booth feeling the way he had during those first few weeks after waking up from his coma. He could see the outline of the truth, but the details were hidden by a fog that wouldn't lift. The one thing he could see clearly was that the prostitute murders were, without a doubt, connected to the the Gravedigger kidnappings. There was still no concrete proof, but he knew it. He knew it, and he was beginning to understand that he was nearing the end of a game he hadn't realized he'd been playing. It wasn't a feeling he particularly enjoyed.
During the moments when his thoughts wandered, they tended to find their way to Bones. Bones, and her eyes. The way they'd positively sparkled on Saturday at the carnival, the way they'd gone all soft and tender this morning in her office...the way they'd hardened a few hours ago. It occurred to him then that she might be right. He'd told her once that work was no reason for them not to be together, yet here he was, in the middle of what might be the most important case of his career, thinking about her eyes. It was entirely possible that a romantic relationship would be detrimental to their professional relationship.
For a moment he faltered, all of his newfound resolve regarding his relationship with Bones slipping away...but only for a moment. He put down the case report and picked up Sweets' profile, a cocky smile sliding back onto his face. There was no way being together could be more distracting than not being together...and if it was? Well, Bones will just have to learn to love working with Agent Perotta.
oOo
Booth managed to keep his focus strictly professional for the remainder of the day. He had fallen behind on paperwork to an extent that was bound to be noticed soon. In order to ward off any unwanted attention, he closed himself up in his office and forced his way through the administrative backlog. By 5:00 PM he was completely caught up, and he left for the day as though nothing were wrong.
He didn't go home, though. By 5:15 he was walking into the lab at the Jeffersonian, hoping to see where things stood- both with the case and with his partner. This time he knocked and waited for permission before entering her office; he didn't want to push his luck. This time when she looked at him, her gaze was neither soft nor hard; her expression was the epitome of neutrality.
"It looks like you've been busy," he commented, taking in the stacks of paper that covered every surface in her office.
"Reports. Court reports, police reports, news reports- everything that I could find pertaining to the Gravedigger case." She sighed. "If Sweets is right, and our killer was somehow connected to the investigation, then he must be somewhere in these reports. I thought we could make a master list of everyone involved, then start eliminating people based on the profile. I was hoping it could help focus our investigation." She looked back up at him sternly. "What are you smiling at?"
He chuckled softly. "I was just thinking that you're becoming quite the investigator."
"I'm an intelligent person, Booth, with excellent critical thinking skills. You know this already."
"I do indeed, Bones," he said, but he didn't stop smiling. "I think that you're right that we should start on that master list. How far have you gotten?"
"Not far at all. It took a while to compile all of these records. I've only had about half an hour to go through them."
"Do I want to know how you managed to get access to some of this?" He asked, flipping through a stack of FBI witness statements.
She gave him a sheepish smile. "Probably not."
Before he could respond, the door to her office opened, and in walked Angie, clad in her miniature lab coat. Both she and Parker were participating in the Jeffersonian's summer science camp, but Parker had left to visit his grandparents in Vermont after the carnival. He greeted the little girl with a silly face, and she giggled back at him before turning to face Brennan expectantly.
Giving Angie an 'I know' smile, Brennan said, "Sorry, Booth, it's time for me to go." She began gathering up all of her paper work. "Angie gets cranky if she doesn't eat on schedule," she laughed, patting the child on the head.
"Well," Booth responded, "I'm with you there, Shadow."
Brennan placed the reports in her briefcase, then stood and stared at him for a moment, deliberating. Finally, she said, "I won't be in tomorrow morning, because Angie and I have our last home visit with the social worker before we finalize the adoption. That doesn't really leave a lot of time to get this done, and I know it's urgent. Booth, do you want to come back to my house? I could make us dinner, then we could get started on that list?"
Booth tried not to sound too victorious when he answered, "Sounds good, Bones." He reached down and lifted Angie into the air. "Shadow, I'm impressed," he said seriously. "You've managed to do in a few months what I haven't been able to accomplish in five years- convince your mama to leave this place at a decent hour. Nice job, kid."
oOo
Back at her apartment, Brennan and Booth sat in the middle of her living room floor, a stack of reports and a flip chart between them. Each time one of them ran across a new name, they'd add it to the chart. Earlier, they eaten a dinner of eggplant pasta, then Angie had gone to her room to play. Booth didn't particularly care for eggplant. It was the texture. It seemed that no matter how it was cooked, it always felt like biting into a dense sponge. Still, he hadn't complained. He was just grateful to be there.
Brennan was so caught up in her list of names, that when she happened to catch a glimpse of the time, she let out a soft curse. "Angie," she called, "It's bedtime! Put on your pj's and grab our book, okay?"
Within minutes, the little girl was standing in the doorway, sporting yellow pajamas and holding a book under her arm. She glanced back in forth between the two adults before giving a small nod, then walking over and handing her book to Booth. He looked quizzically at Brennan, who let out a little laugh.
"I think she wants you to read to her tonight."
Surprised by how honored he felt, Booth gave Angie a crooked grin. "My pleasure, kiddo." He waited while she leaned over and gave Brennan a goodnight kiss, then followed her back to her room.
oOo
When he returned after twenty minutes, Brennan was on the fourth page of the flip chart. Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, she looked up at him and said, "I know we agreed to get all of the names down on paper and edit later, but I'm starting to think we should do at least a little editing as we go. Maybe leave out the women, or something. Is she sleeping?"
"Like a baby."
"Thank you for reading to her."
"Anytime." He got a mischievous glint in eye as he looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "So, Harry Potter, huh?"
Brennan was instantly defensive. "What's wrong with Harry Potter?"
"All of that magic." Booth made a face like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It just doesn't seem like you'd approve."
Brennan raised her chin. "I've been taking Angie to an art therapist that Sweets recommended." She paused. "Don't look so surprised, Booth. You know how Angie loves to color and paint with Angela, and, well, she still isn't talking, so I did some research into art therapy." She glanced over to make sure he wasn't laughing at her. Reassured that he was still listening, she continued, "Did you know that trauma changes a child's neurological pathways? In that way, the traumatic events are stored as muscle memory. Art is active, and as a therapy, can help correct the neuro-pathways. Furthermore, you don't need words to express yourself with art...so...I put Angie in art therapy. The research I read said that stories and story telling can also help children cope with trauma. It gives them an opportunity to imagine a different outcome to their own stories, to take control of their lives. Anyway, I bought the Harry Potter series and read it over the weekend. It's about an orphan, left with abusive relatives. He's just a child, but he's able to find friends and defeat the monsters. I thought...I don't know...I thought that maybe it would help her. I thought maybe it would make her feel powerful." She glanced back up at him, and he was staring at her with an expression she couldn't read. Feeling self-conscious, she asked, "What?"
It took him a moment to answer; it was one of those times when his heart just felt so full. "I was just thinking about what a good mom you are."
She gave him a shy little smile, and he just couldn't help himself. Before he could even think about the possible consequences, he was leaning toward her, brushing away the strand of hair that had been bothering her all night. Once again, he brought his lips to hers, and this time there was no one to interrupt. For a second, she was as still as a statue, but slowly she began to melt, her lips yielding beneath his, her mouth opening just a bit. His hand snaked around to the back of her head, combing his fingers through her hair as he deepened the kiss. She made a small sound in the back of her throat that told him she was losing control. It was this sound that let him know it was time to stop. He was going to stick to his plan; he wasn't taking this too far, too quickly. He pulled slowly, painfully away.
Acting quickly, before she could decide to panic, he gave her a playful wink then nudged her shoulder and turned back to the reports in front of them. "I think you're right. It would be safe to go ahead and filter out the women."
"What are we doing, Booth?"
"We're evaluating all of the participants in the Gravedigger investigation against Sweets' profile. It was your idea, Bones...and a brilliant one at that."
She grabbed his face softly, forcing him to look at her. "Booth?"
He sighed and said simply, "We're being us."
"But what does that mean?"
He gave her the same lopsided grin he'd given Angie earlier. "Come on, Bones. Didn't you like the kiss?"
She grunted in frustration. "Of course I did, you're an excellent kisser, but that's not the point-"
Booth held a finger to her lips. "You think too much, you know that? Just let it be."
When it looked like she was gearing up to start an argument, he shook his head and interrupted. "Just let it be," he said slowly.
Seeing her calm down a bit, he decided to try a diversion. "So," he asked in a teasing tone, "Did you cry at the last book?"
"I most certainly did not," she answered haughtily...and maybe a little too quickly.
"Aw, Bones," his tone was indulgent, "it was moving stuff. It's okay that you cried."
Brennan rolled her eyes and threw a pen at him. "Just get back to your reports, Agent Booth."
TBC
