Author's Note: This chapter came about in the way it did because I heard a song. It was John Mayer's Slow Dancing in a Burning Room. I'd been IMing with Kerrison and told her I wanted to do a section of this chapter inspired by that song (even though it doesn't fit our heroes at all). So, in a way that only makes sense to the two of us, probably, she said "FIGHT!". Well, readers, I didn't quite end up with a fight (though that's what I initially set out to write), but we did end up with some interesting revelations. I'm sure you'll be able to pick out which section I wrote while listening to the song.
I think I did better responding to the reviews this time. I sure hope I got everybody. But, if I missed you, blame the fact that I'm overly fatigued here lately and sometimes my brain isn't all that reliable.
Hope you all enjoy this chapter. I'm still looking forward to the next one...
Oh, and one last little thing: Out of character vs. In Character. Prepare for a little (okay, okay, a lot!) OoC this time around. But I promise, it all works out in the end.
~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
"Hungry? Good."
"I can't believe you didn't tell me you were pregnant," Angela admonished over dinner Tuesday night. She tossed a piece of bread, torn off a dinner roll, at her friend. "If you tell me it's not Booth's I'm going to bean you with the rest of the roll," she said with a wicked grin.
"Of course he's Booth's," Brennan said as if any other thought was just ludicrous.
"He? How far along are you?"
Brennan couldn't help the bloom of a smile or the becoming pink blush that swept across her cheeks. "Eleven weeks today."
"You bitch!" Angela's brilliant smile took any possible sting out of her words. "You're a quarter of the way through and you didn't say anything!"
"I wanted to wait until I'd reached the second trimester. That's still a few weeks away," Brennan said reasonably.
"So what's the deal with "he"? You can't possibly know yet."
"No, we don't know. But Booth seems convinced we're having a girl."
"And you have to challenge him," Angela said knowingly. "This whole "we" thing is adorable, by the way. I knew you two wouldn't be able to sleep together without acknowledging how you feel."
Brennan cleared her throat then took a sip of her iced herbal tea. "Angela, honestly, Booth and I aren't sleeping together. I was artificially inseminated."
Angela arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her. "You can't tell me Daddy Booth's playing this one cool."
"I don't know what you mean by that."
"He's got to be champing at the bit for you right now."
Brennan sighed wondering how much to reveal to her friend. "I'll admit things are…changing."
"Honey, you couldn't possibly have thought they wouldn't."
"No," Brennan agreed, "I think I knew, deep down, pregnancy would change our relationship. How could it not? We're going to parent together. Now we'll have to regard each other in ways we never imagined."
"That's definitely not what I meant."
"I'm not sure what you expect me to say."
"That you realized you're madly in love with him, can't live without him and want to have oodles more babies with him!" Angela threw frustrated hands into the air.
"That's neither rational nor practical."
"Honestly, Bren, at this point I don't think rational or practical should be real high on your list."
"I'm having a baby. I'm supposed to be exactly that."
"So what did you mean when you said things were changing?" Angela sat back in her chair, food long forgotten amidst the fodder-y gossip.
Brennan sighed and drew patterns on the table cloth with the tip of her index finger. "It's just not at all like I thought it would be."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, first I made this giant leap and decided I wanted a baby. There are a lot of rational reasons for it. I made a list." Across from her Angela's eyes sparkled with amusement. "But there were irrational reasons as well. I just wanted to, you know? And then I decided to ask Booth for his help. That part was less sufficiently planned. I'd known I wanted a baby for a couple of weeks before I said anything to him about it. I'd only been thinking about asking him to donate for a couple of days before I did.
"Then he was diagnosed with the tumor and had the surgery and subsequent coma, I went to Guatemala and by the time I came back it was like we'd never discussed procreating."
"Except that in your book and in his coma-dream you were pregnant," Angela interrupted. She appeared to be hung on her friend's words as if she were watching a summertime blockbuster.
"Right," Brennan nodded. "Six months ago we talked about it again and decided we'd try. And we did, almost right away, but the insemination didn't take. Nor did it a second time." Even though she knew the outcome of the story, Brennan couldn't help tearing up a little over the memory of how it had felt during that incredibly tumultuous time. She dabbed at her eyes with her linen napkin and continued. "We knew there was only enough of the sample to try one more time. He offered to give another sample so we could keep trying but I couldn't do it, Ange. I've never done anything as difficult in my life as try to get pregnant."
Angela reached across the table and covered Brennan's hand with her own. "Sweetie, I'm so sorry. I could have been there for you."
Brennan nodded. "I know. And I knew you'd probably be upset I'd gone through that without saying anything to you. But I couldn't talk about it. Especially not after the second time I found out I wasn't pregnant."
"But you went in for the third insemination."
"Yes. And, obviously, it worked."
"And the getting-pregnant-process changed your relationship with Booth?"
Brennan considered that. "Yes and no. He was..." she couldn't think of the right words and finally settled on, "very supportive. It was a very emotional time."
"And you've never been exactly comfortable with emotions."
Brennan ducked her head and grinned. "No. And then, of course, came the first month of the pregnancy when I seemed to be so short tempered."
"Short tempered," her friend asked with a smirk, "is that what we're calling it?"
"It's not like I have any control over it! And worse for me was the swing from incredibly angry to crying. I've never cried as much in my life as I have since I've been pregnant."
"Well," Angela shrugged helplessly, "hormones. And what about now that you actually are pregnant?"
Brennan sighed heavily. "I can say with complete and total honesty that I'm very confused. We've been," Brennan paused while she considered how much to divulge, "spending a great deal of time together."
"You say that as if it was unexpected."
"It was. To a point, anyway. I knew, we'd talked about it, he wanted to be involved. He couldn't father a child he couldn't raise. I understood that. But he seems to have meant he wanted to be involved in the pregnancy as well."
"You're surprised that a he-man like Booth would want to be around to revel in the fact he was making babies? For most guys that's the most impressive thing they'll ever do. And as much stock as he puts in family, and the way he feels about Parker, you couldn't have thought he'd have allowed you to call him up after you gave birth and ask him to come down and sign the birth certificate."
"I'm not entirely sure I followed that," Brennan said.
"I'm saying, of course he would want to be involved. He'll be as underfoot as you'll allow." She grinned. "I'm betting he's one of those guys who get all turned on by the fact they've impregnated a woman."
"For crying out loud, Angela," Brennan exclaimed, "I told you we're not sleeping together! We're having a baby, that's all."
"I'd be willing to be a year's salary that's not all you two are doing at all. I think you think that's the end of it. But I'm serious, Sweetie, Booth's got big-man-family genes. The way you two felt about each other before, well, I'm expecting fireworks as the pregnancy progresses."
"The way we felt about each other," Brennan scoffed but she sounded unconvincing even to herself. "We're friends. Yes, there's a certain amount of... affection...between us. And yes, we're having a child together." She began to lose the chase of her argument. "Which is going to change everything. And he buys things like animal crackers and gives me washcloths."
Angela's eyebrows raised in amusement as she watched her friend spiral off the beaten path in front of her.
"And just because we kissed when we found out we were pregnant doesn't mean there's anything between us."
Angela's eyebrows shot the rest of the way towards her hairline as Brennan continued but seemed not to realize she was still at their dinner table.
"The things I think I've been feeling are hormonal. That's all. He's always around. I can't get any time to think."
Angela cut Brennan off before she was able to talk herself into a really good crazy. "You've got to slow down. You went in about eighteen different directions in fifteen seconds. Just tell me one thing, one thing – it could be anything, that's real about your relationship with Booth right now. Don't hold back, don't sensor, just one thing."
Brennan's near tirade stopped and she focused wide, surprised eyes on her friend. "I don't know what that means."
"Yes you do," Angela pushed. "Tell me something real. So real even you can feel it."
A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "He cares for me." She turned her focus to her pasta for which she was suddenly ravenous. Angela took the hint and let the Booth situation lie and before too long took back up on the baby train of thought. Brennan relaxed then. It was much easier to deal with the uncertainly of a child than it was to deal with the uncertainty of the changes in her relationship with Booth.
She and Angela stood outside in the parking lot talking for fifteen minutes when they were through with dinner. They parted with a hug and as Brennan got in her car her cell phone chimed with a text message. "Going with SA Krantz to round up one of his snitches. Be back late. I'll call." She looked at the clock on her dash, it was just after nine.
The city lights lulled her into thought as she drove and she felt a definite shift in demeanor as a spring rain forced her to turn on her windshield wipers. She went back to her conversation with Angela and all the things she didn't say. Like how she was confused by the feelings that were taking root inside her. She didn't want to talk to the evocative artist about them. Not when she couldn't speak on them in any intelligent terms.
She'd long ago written off most emotions as a waste of time. They were impractical and a waste of energy. She remembered what feeling felt like, though, and she knew she'd been treading that water for some time. She wasn't naïve enough to believe that being pregnant wouldn't evoke some serious emotions. But she hadn't counted on Booth. Not the way he'd been since they embarked on this journey. He was so present and had a way of crawling inside her head even when she didn't want him there.
She'd be hard-pressed to name another man who'd known her even half as well as he did. And he stirred things within her she'd long ago decided were things she didn't need to deal with nor identify. She'd never wanted anyone around before. People had come into her life and left. Far too many times. Some people had come into her life and stayed – despite the fact she did little to encourage their loyalty. But Booth came into her life and changed it.
She arrived back at her apartment building and pulled into her designated spot. She sat there, engine running, studying the empty space next to hers. She thought of the parking decals in her bedside drawer. All that did was remind her that she wanted him to stay. It reminded her that all she really wanted to was to curl up in the recesses of the socially acceptable and depend on somebody. But she'd done that before and it had never turned out well.
She had no reason to believe she couldn't trust Booth but people had a way of changing when you put your faith in them. As if, once you had, they no longer had to live up to it. No, she couldn't lose herself that way. And that meant she couldn't fall for him. Not really fall for him. So instead she kept trying to shore up the cracks in the mortar of her he'd been lining into place. With disgust she yanked the keys out the ignition and stalked into her building and up the stairs bypassing the elevator in favor of exercise.
By the time she walked in the front door she'd worked herself into a near panic. There was evidence of him everywhere. On the dining room table was the newspaper he'd read that morning before leaving for work. Some mail he'd collected, at some point, from his apartment lay on the kitchen counter, waiting for his follow up.
She wandered down to the hall to the open door of the guest room he'd been occupying. There, on the dresser in a holster, was the weapon he carried on his belt when his shoulder holstered weapon wouldn't do. Next to that, change and some lint that had been in the bottom of his pants pocket. On the neatly made bed was a tie he'd apparently discarded. Running shoes sat in front of the chair in the corner.
Back in the kitchen she found a coffee mug she didn't recognize in the sink. In the fridge, a few remaining bottles of her preferred international beer sat forgotten behind his more popular imported favorite. In the laundry room she found some of his crazy striped socks tangled amongst her more sensible white, brown and black ones.
It hit her, all of a sudden, that he'd moved in. Without either really realizing it he'd crossed over from just staying because she felt bad to living in her apartment. It had only been a few weeks. But, as she thought back, she realized he'd slept in her guest room every night since her lightheadedness had begun.
She kicked her shoes off flinging them in opposite directions to lie in angry, pointy heaps up against a wall and a bookcase. The rational part of her started to go and pick them up but a part of her deep inside, a part of her she could only define as female told her to "fuck it, leave the shoes."
She felt scattered. The low grade panic, because by then she realized what she'd felt when she walked in the door was only a fraction of what she was capable of feeling, had mushroomed into something akin to terror. And where there lived terror, she'd learned in her life, lived dread. And that was never a feeling she'd wanted to associate with Booth.
She poured herself a glass of red wine knowing she was going to have to explain herself to him. But what she was feeling needed tempering and she knew a glass of wine was safe. She grabbed the prohibited and allowed foods list Dr. Ashbacher gave her along with a copy of the 2008 study published in the International Journal of Epidemiology. And the knowledge she'd need those items on hand served to add "anger" to the list of emotions she was feeling. She'd always been a strong, independent woman. Since when did she let any man, anyone really, have an opinion on her lifestyle?
She didn't let herself reason he was allowed to have an opinion because it was his baby too. Or that he was allowed to have an opinion because she trusted and respected him. No, she didn't think those things at all. She sat, she paced, she sat, she paced, she sat. She sipped at her wine and stared at the clock that ticked minutes closer to the moment he'd walk, whistling, through her front door.
And whistle himself right in he did at eleven thirty. He stopped in his tracks and his whistled died on his lips when he saw her shoes uncharacteristically scattered and her sitting stiffly on the couch, legs crossed, and the remnants of a glass of wine in her hand. "Are you drinking?" His voice held a note of disbelief.
"What does it look like?" She'd snapped her voice harder than she likely ever had before. She hadn't really intended to snap but it was her own personal defense against bursting into tears of fear and frustration.
"Alcohol's bad for the baby. What are you doing?" He crossed to her and reached for the glass which she'd childishly held away from him.
"Studies show—" she started but wasn't allowed to continue.
There was softness in his eyes she didn't want to see, it made not feeling for him exceptionally difficult, as he interrupted, "Bones, is something wrong?"
She rotated her head on her shoulders while she thought about how, exactly, to answer him. "No," she finally said. "Something's not wrong. But things aren't right either, are they? Everything's changing."
He chucked nervously and sat down on the couch a cushion and a half away from her. "You're not making any sense."
Somewhere deep down in side she knew he was right. She wasn't making any sense. She wasn't focusing on any one particular subject. She was in turmoil and it tarnished the usual fluid thought processes she was more familiar with. "I've spent my entire adult life putting things in order. My education, my career, my finances...bones… It's taken just six months to completely blow everything all apart."
"Did something happen today?"
"God," she exhaled the word with force, "no, nothing happened. I'm not talking about today. I'm talking about life. Nothing is fitting together the way it usually does." Her free hand flailed around in front of her as if trying to gain purchase on her thoughts while she appeared to use the glass as a weapon against her inner ghosts. "You're here all the time and I can't think straight."
To her he looked slightly shocked. "Do you want me to go?"
"No," she gasped. She didn't want him to go. She wanted him to stay. That was the problem. Especially considering he already appeared as if he were planning to do so. Without consulting her. Then, "yes." Her eyes locked on his. "I don't know what I want. I'm not used to feeling like this." She laughed derisively. "I'm not used to feeling at all. Do you know how hard I've worked on that?"
He spoke slowly, as if to a child. "On not feeling?"
"Nothing good comes from making decisions when in an emotional state. Emotions cloud logic. All decisions should be made logically without regard to the interpretation of your choices by others." She took several deep breaths. "You didn't call on your way back. You said you'd call. Why didn't you?"
"I'm gonna stop you because you're not even sounding like yourself right now." He slid from his seat and crouched down in front of her. "Are you feeling bad? Scared?" He slid his hands up over her knees to rest on her lower thighs.
She tingled under his touch. She didn't want to tingle for him but she couldn't seem to help it. She couldn't seem to help, either, the way she felt full when he was with her. Or how he made her feel safe. Or how he'd reminded her what being part of a family felt like. Or how he'd made her realize how important it was to be cared for. Or even, though she couldn't assimilate the thought, how she wanted nothing more than to push him backwards and over until he was lying on her living room floor, remove his clothing, impale herself on him and forget anything that wasn't physical and visceral.
"Don't you understand?" Tears of frustration thickened her voice and shimmered in her eyes. "I only feel right when you're right in front of me."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
She looked mortified by her admission but the flood gates had opened. The tears that had been threatening spilled down her face and words just bubbled up out of her as if she'd somehow been possessed by demons she didn't believe in. He stroked his hands up her thighs to her hips, up her sides to her shoulders then back down to her wrists. He divested her of the wine glass and pulled her to him until she had no choice but to tumble into his lap.
Her legs fell open to accommodate his and he wrapped her up tight in his arms. He was afraid he was crushing her, but damnit she was scaring him. He didn't know the woman in his arms. The Brennan he knew was strong, salient, logical, commanding and focused. Who she'd become that evening was someone he'd never met and the only thing he knew how to do was to hang on to her, show her he was with her and not going anywhere.
She grappled for purchase on his body, her hands everywhere they could reach. She babbled into his neck as her tears transferred from her cheek to his. He whispered to her, nonsense things that couldn't give her reassurance but lent a little credibility, he imagined, to his new party line: with you and not going anywhere.
Finally her words began to string together in a way that made sense to him again. "This is scary. There are emotions. And parking decals. And macaroni. And it's too much!"
He held on to her tighter when she trembled against him. But part of him, a part that was deeply relieved that she'd resumed speaking coherent English, bubbled up through his lips as a laugh. "Bones, as usual, I have no idea what you're talking about." He loosened his grip on her a little so he could run his hands up and down her back. "I think you're underestimating the power the hormones have over you. This has been one hell of a mood swing."
"It's not a mood swing," she mumbled into his shoulder.
He quirked an eyebrow she couldn't see. "Okay," he said in a more modulated tone than he'd thought he was capable of in response. He shifted them around until they were comfortably arranged on the floor, he on his back with an arm curled around her, drawing her into his side and easing her head to his shoulder. To his surprise she nestled into him so he wrapped his other arm around her as well keeping her tight to him.
"Let's just talk. You and me. Like we always do. You can explain things to me and everything." He smiled though she couldn't see it.
"I can't talk about this. If I don't know what I'm thinking, how could I possibly tell you?"
"That's why people talk, sometimes, to work through things. Not all of us have the capacity to figure things out in our heads all by ourselves." He stroked the back of her incredibly smart head as he said that. He knew she relied on it incredibly and that night it had let her down.
"Where do I start?"
"Let's start somewhere easy," he suggested. "How was dinner with Angela?"
"It was fine. We ate at that new Mediterranean place on L Street."
"Mmm," he rumbled in acknowledgement. "What did you have?"
"Spinach linguini in a caper sauce."
"And how mad was Angela that you hadn't told her you were pregnant?" He shifted when her hand started making light circles on his chest. He was supposed to be distracting her not the other way around.
"I think she was more excited than angry."
He exhaled when he realized she was sounding like herself again. Her voice had taken on its more usual, modulated tone. Her speech was more conversational and less maniacal than it had been only minutes before. "Yeah?"
She nodded and he could feel her cheek slip across the material of his dress shirt. "Though she was surprised when I told her we really weren't in a sexual relationship."
He tensed. Lying with her on the floor, her body tucked snugly up against his, her head in the crook of his shoulder and her hand sweeping arcs across his chest while she said the word "sexual" caused a tightness to develop that started in his chest and snaked down into his groin. He took a handful of deep, cleansing breaths before he continued. "But you've set her straight now?"
"I think so."
She was keeping something from him, he could tell. Angela was probably probing for all sorts of details about the nature of his and Bones' relationship. That's likely what prompted her meltdown.
He'd felt a shift in their relationship since she'd started trying to get pregnant. They'd always been close but they seemed...closer. She seemed more open to him. Less guarded around him. Part of that, he knew, was due to the hormones that had turned her into an emotional mess and also the hormones that had kicked her sex drive into high gear. As far as he knew she'd done nothing to satisfy those particular urges which suited him just fine.
But if he'd felt the shift she probably had too and was far less equipped than he to assimilate the information. No wonder she'd taken a leap into the abyss that night. He cleared his throat. "I'm not going to say I know what you're feeling but I can understand if you're confused about things right now."
She propped herself up on an elbow to look down at him. It would be so easy to lean up into her and kiss her until she couldn't think anymore. To take it further and give her what she'd been subtly, and sometimes not so subtly, asking for. He'd discovered, in his many years with women, that a lot could be solved through sex – even if they complained that men put too much stock in the physical. But Bones, well, she thought about sex differently than most women did. Would it be a way for him to connect with her? Or, would she merely write it off as the resolution of biological urges? He couldn't take that chance with the state of mind he was in. So he'd pressed himself down deeper into the carpet rather than stretching his neck up and tasting the quizzical look right off her face.
Finally, she spoke. "I am confused about things right now. I can honestly say, for the first time in years, I don't know what I want. I don't even know what I need. I just know that I'm feeling things I don't usually allow myself to feel."
"Like what?" If he sounded breathless it's because he was. He didn't know what she was going to say.
"Anger," she started. "Fear, maybe. Pressure to do something or be something, although I'm not sure what. I feel...something...about you that's different than normal."
What could she mean by that, he wondered. He decided not to delve too deep lest she spook and his chance to find out what was really going on her head vanished. "We're having a baby together. Things are going to change, feel different."
"I never wanted that," she said sadly.
He reigned in a gasp before he gave too much away and asked instead, "What do you want?"
"You're one of my best friends. You're my partner. I don't want to lose that."
"You're not going to lose that."
"But with everything else—"
He cut her off, "No matter what else there is, you've got that. I'm with you," he finally said aloud, "and I'm not going anywhere."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
It was hard to avoid someone when you lived with them. She determined that Thursday after she'd spent much of Wednesday hiding out in various little know areas of the Jeffersonian. If she went home he'd be there. Wednesday night was uncomfortable enough when he'd tried to talk to her over a quick take-out dinner.
She'd escaped to her office Thursday morning before he'd even been awake. It was the first time she'd completely beaten him up and out of the house since he'd been there. She'd tried to work, but she found she had too much on her mind. But it was lunchtime, she was ravenous and his cheerful whistle rung out through the cavernous space of the platform area. He was there to take her to lunch. He'd told her the night before he'd be picking her up.
The whistling stopped and she imagined he'd been waylaid by Hodgins or Cam. Perhaps even Angela. She sighed with relief. She'd never understood before what Angela meant by being "on an emotional rollercoaster" but she's pretty sure that's what she'd encountered. She took what little alone time she had left to collect herself. She was exhausted. She'd not been sleeping well the past couple of nights and she knew her body was working overtime as it was.
Before too long, and before she was ready, he appeared in her office doorway. He gave her a brilliant smile that didn't let on at all whether or not he'd noticed she'd done a brilliant job of avoiding him since their impromptu heart to heart on her living room floor. But she knew he'd noticed. She knew because she'd seen the flash of hurt in his eyes the night before when she'd fled to her bedroom only moments after she'd finished her last bite of dinner.
"Ready for lunch, Bones?"
She gave him a smile she hoped reached her eyes. She could do lunch, she knew she could. She just needed to push away those feelings of intense embarrassment she'd been carrying around. "Yes," she forced brightness into her voice. "I'm very hungry."
He chuckled. "I gathered by the remnants of breakfast I found in the kitchen this morning."
She hoped that would be his last reference to her conspicuous absence that morning, but she'd be lucky if it were. "I'm growing a baby and a placenta. It tends to make women tired and hungry. Plus, no nausea when I woke up this morning."
He grinned at her again. "That's great!"
"I agree." She'd slipped into a light coat and followed him out to his SUV. They made polite conversation and both of them seemed to be making a concerted effort to keep their interaction light.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Once they were seated she'd ordered a salad and French fries and he'd ordered an open-faced roast beef sandwich with brown gravy that sounded absolutely disgusting to her. But when their food arrived hers did little to pique her interest. The beef across the table from her, however, smelled phenomenal. She shook her head, disgusted with herself. She was a vegetarian and had been for many years. It was a political statement on her part as well as an opinion on how to keep in the best health.
But before she realized what she was doing she'd reached across the table to snag an errant piece of meat off his plate. His eyes widened as she popped it into her mouth and groaned with pleasure. "Uh, Bones, you know that's not Tofu, right?"
"I know, I know," she said guiltily while eyeing another piece of the beef, "but it tastes fantastic."
"I know," he said and swatted the hand that had wandered back across the table toward his plate, "that's why I ordered it. You've got your rabbit food. Have at it."
"I haven't eaten meat in years, Booth," she said and when he looked up at her distractedly she struck – and scored another piece of his sandwich filling.
"I'm aware. And," he said smacking the back of her hand again lightly, "you're not eating it today. Get out of my food."
Finally convinced she wasn't going to get to steal near enough of what she'd discovered to be quite a treat she flagged their waitress down and ordered a sandwich of her own. He just stared at her, gob smacked. He ate his meal while she ate the salad she'd ordered. He laughed when she'd taken a bite of a French fry only to discover the taste had become completely unpleasing to her and she spit it back out into her napkin. Then, as he ate his slice of Apple Pie he watched in fascination as she devoured an open faced roast beef sandwich with brown gravy.
When she sat back full and, if the smile on her face was anything to go by, happy he said, "That's the best you've looked in two days. I didn't realize meat would be the key. I could have done meat." He held his breath for her reaction.
She laughed, a beautiful carefree sort of sound he hadn't heard from her in a long while. "I'd never have dreamed meat, either. I guess we've got a new reason to call him a zoo-keeper."
"Yep," he'd said with pride, "beef and animal crackers. That's definitely my kid."
She seemed to relax after that and settle back into his presence. She'd been engaging when they'd both been home Thursday night and by Friday evening he'd felt better about having Parker with them for dinner than he'd thought he would earlier in the week. That night he packed the SUV and he and Parker left out for their first camping trip of the year.
He hadn't wanted to leave her, but she seemed to be feeling better. And, he and Parker took that trip every year – the boy looked forward to it and had been talking about it all week. Two nights out under the stars, roughing it in a tent and sleeping bags. So despite the slight ache he had when he realized he'd be leaving her alone for two nights, he pasted a smile on his face. He'd enjoy himself and his son.
That night, after he and Parker had set up camp, he wondered if, in five or six years time, he'd be taking two sons on the camping trip. He itched to tell his boy about the new baby, but it wasn't yet time. And if he told Parker without clearing the details with Rebecca first, well, he probably wouldn't live to see either of his kids grow up. It was coming. In just a couple weeks Bones would clear them for spreading the news.
He'd have to tell Rebecca. She'd have to tell her father. He was going to have to tell Cullen. And it wouldn't be long before people were going to be able to tell she was pregnant. After that the news would be all over the Bureau and there wouldn't be any speculation about who the father was. Try as he might he'd never been able to quell the rumors he was sleeping with her.
Honestly, he hadn't tried all that hard to quell the rumors. It made it easier to keep hound-dog agents away from her if they thought she was spoken for. And he'd long had interest in keeping men away from her. He'd not always had a lot of luck, but he'd certainly had interest.
When he and Parker returned to D.C. on Sunday they'd stopped at her apartment first then the Jeffersonian before finally finding her at the diner. Parker happily plopped down into the seat next to her and started chattering away while Booth flagged down the waitress.
Bones was back at the meat – that time she was demolishing a mean looking hamburger and looking incredibly pleased with herself. Whatever distance that had been lingering in her eyes before he'd left was completely gone. Evidently a couple of days with him away had renewed her good will toward him. In a way he was happy but it also worried him that his absence, rather than his presence, was the required prescription for her peace of mind.
They'd all shared a happy lunch and she'd suitably ooh'd and ah'd over Parker's bug bites. She'd even gone with him to drop Parker back at Rebecca's.
"You look like you're feeling better, Dr. Brennan," Rebecca had said with a smile.
Brennan smiled back at her and Booth sighed with relief. Part of him still thought she was going to be mad Rebecca knew about the pregnancy. "I am, thank you. The morning sickness seems to have passed."
"How far along are you?"
Booth felt a clenching in his stomach. The longer the conversation continued the more time Bones had to drop the bomb that the baby was his. And Bones didn't know he'd withheld that little detail. "Eleven weeks, nearly twelve now, I guess." She covered her belly with her hand in that endearing way pregnant women had and he looked over at her and grinned.
Rebecca glanced between the two of them and her eyes narrowed slightly. She must not have been sure, though, because miraculously the investigatory look disappeared from her face.
The two women exchanged pleasantries for a couple more excruciating minutes and then finally they were ready to leave. When they were safely back in his SUV he gave an exaggerated sigh of relief.
"What?"
He shot her a sheepish grin, "I thought you were going to out me, for sure. Rebecca figured out you were pregnant, but I didn't tell her I was the father."
"Oh," she said thoughtfully. "I didn't realize."
"It's okay. I just...I want to tell her in the right way. I'm not sure how she's going to feel about it. I think Parker will be okay. He's young but he gets the step-family thing. It's pretty common with his friends."
"You're waiting until we've reached the second trimester, then?"
"It seemed important to you."
She nodded, "It is. So far very little of this has gone to plan, though."
He laughed. "I know. But, as long as we try, things'll probably work out more or less like we'd originally thought they would."
In a stunning display of understanding she reached across the console and placed a hand on his forearm. "You're a good father, Booth. I think Rebecca will understand why I asked you."
He couldn't help but smile at her. That wasn't the answer, not by a long shot, but it made him happy to know that's what she thought of him.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
By Monday morning she'd regained her sense of equilibrium. Whatever it was that had seized her at the beginning of the week had released her. Her day and a half separation from Booth had done wonders for her frame of mind. She'd had a chance to think about him without his presence filling her up with things she couldn't name. And, when he was gone, she realized how much she liked having him around.
Balance. It was a wonderful thing.
She'd had dinner with Angela Saturday night and that conversation hadn't prompted a meltdown. As a matter of fact, they hadn't spoke about Booth or the baby, much, and had focused primarily on Angela who was, to her great relief, no longer celibate. It had been fun to engage in some old-fashioned girl-talk with her friend. More balance, she thought, as she'd spent very little time during the beginning of her pregnancy focused on anything other than the pregnancy itself or its side-effects on her life.
Yes, by Monday she was feeling better. She'd confirmed her sonogram appointment for the following day and called Booth to make sure it was on his schedule as well. She was excited.
The next day they would see their baby for the very first time.