A/N: Walks in quietly...it's been awhile. Here's something short for Veterans Day. Thanks for reading.
Synposis: Booth is in Afghanistan and Brennan in Maluku. Hannah does not exist and it's almost Veterans Day. Only Booth makes an appearance.
The package, while unexpected, wasn't really a surprise. With Veterans Day just around the corner, various gifts were showing up at the base. Letters from home and homemade cards from students were appreciated every day, but there was something a little bit more special about getting a package this time of year.
It was nice to be remembered by those who cared and appreciated the dangerous job he was doing.
Nodding his thanks as his box was handed over the counter, Booth tucked it under an arm and headed toward one of the quieter areas of the base. He assumed the shipment was from either Pops or Parker and he preferred to open it alone. He missed home too much to be around other people when new photos of his son or notes from his grandfather arrived. It reminded him of everything and everyone he'd left behind.
Including Bones. But he'd given up on hearing from her weeks ago. When she'd said she wanted a break, she'd clearly meant it. Despite the letters he'd sent to her, nothing had come in return. During his worst moments of frustration and sadness, Booth pretended there was no mail off the island she'd isolated herself on. Which he knew made no sense, considering his letters hadn't been returned to him as undeliverable. But the simple lie was better than the truth; she'd cut him off and had no intention of speaking to him in any form until they returned to DC.
Chasing away the bleak thoughts, Booth focused on the setting sun as he walked slowly toward his destination. The minutes and hours would turn into days and weeks. Eventually those weeks would turn into months and he'd be meeting her in front of the coffee cart again. Then, he would demand to know why she'd not even taken the time to send him a letter. A simple note telling him about how her dig was going and how many celebratory banquets he was going to be escorting her to.
Her discoveries were going to change the world and he was going to share that with her, no matter what their relationship was when they returned. He'd let her go, done some of his own running, but he wasn't quite ready to give up on her yet. And he wasn't sure he ever would be.
Finding a quiet spot, he brushed at some sand before taking a seat. It was a futile effort, there was sand in everything no matter what he did, but Booth still made the attempt. Finally taking the time to look at the box, he noted the lack of a return address or any identifying marks. The postmark was too smeared to read, so Booth couldn't use that as a clue either. Knowing the easiest way to find the answer was to open it, he pulled a knife from his belt and slit the tape.
The first thing he saw was a white envelope, his name written in script he immediately recognized. Slowly, Booth closed the box again before blowing out a breath. Months of nothing. Now this. Staring down, Booth tapped his fingers against the cardboard before rising to his feet and placing the box where he'd been sitting. Agitated, he started to pace, his feet kicking up little clouds of sand as he moved back and forth.
There'd been nothing he wanted more than a single letter. Now there was an entire box waiting for him and he was almost afraid to open it.
"She's shot me," Booth muttered as he kept moving. "Challenged everything I've ever believed and broken my heart. Nothing in this box could possibly be worse than those things."
Except that letter could tell him she was never coming back. She could break their partnership and what was left of their friendship. Destroy any dream he'd ever had of the two of them finding their way to each other.
As long as he didn't open it, Booth was able to pretend there was still a chance. And he wasn't sure he could let that hope go. He needed it to make it through the rest of his time in this lonely sea filled with sand.
On his next pass, he shot a glance in that direction but didn't stop until the turn. He could leave it there, let someone else find it. Of course, they'd just see his name on the outside and deliver it directly to his tent, assuming the package was misplaced.
There wasn't any escaping this unless he tossed the entire thing in the garbage.
As soon as the thought entered his mind, it was discarded. "You're being ridiculous," he chastised himself. "She's not that cruel. Bones would never tell me something like that in a letter. Never." Moving again, he picked up the box and sat back down. "Whatever she wrote, no matter what it says, is better than nothing at all. At least you'll know she's okay."
If his hand was shaking slightly as he removed the envelope, Booth pretended not to notice. Fear, hope, desire and anguish was a potent cocktail in his blood, making him lose a little of the control he was famous for.
What he pulled out of the envelope surprised him. A folded sheet of paper that he placed to the side and pictures. Not one but several.
"Oh, Bones," he said softly, looking around to make sure he was still alone. At first all his eyes could see were the bright colors, a reminder of just how much brown he was surrounded by. "So much green," he said, his chuckle a mix of amusement and jealousy.
A couple of hard blinks and he was able to focus on the details. The bangs were new along with the tan. Her muscles more clearly defined from what he assumed were hours spent digging in the dirt.
A couple of her alone. One of her laughing with the group. And the last a profile shot. Bones looked toward something in the distance, chin resting in the palm of her hand. In that look, Booth saw a woman at peace. It tugged at his heart in a way he'd never felt before.
What was she thinking? Who'd taken the photo and why would she include something so haunting in this surprise box?
Leaving the folded envelope where he'd placed it, Booth reached into the box to pull out various items, each with a small card attached explaining what it was or where it came from. A smooth colorful rock, small enough to tuck into a pocket. A shell from the beach near her camp. He clutched it and the rock in his fist, knowing she had done the same a short time ago, before tucking them carefully away.
There were generous packages of spices the Maluku islands were famous for and Booth knew she'd done it so he'd have enough to share. "But you don't have a big heart," he mumbled, shaking his head.
At the bottom was a book, one he immediately recognized. He rested a palm on the top, then flipped it to look at the professional photo on the back. As he did so, something fluttered from beneath the pages and fell to his feet.
It was a flower, faded from being pressed between the pages, but with more than enough color remaining for Booth to picture it growing on the island. Bending over to retrieve it, he carefully opened the book and turned more pages, finding leaves and flowers pressed between many of them.
A piece of her temporary home.
To anyone else, the gifts would have raised eyebrows and questions he wouldn't or couldn't answer. To him, they were everything. She hadn't forgotten him.
The relief in that knowledge was overwhelming and he closed his eyes to fight back the rush of emotion. It wasn't a traditional Veterans Day remembrance. But it would be the best one he ever received.
Having more faith that the included note wouldn't be anything bad, he placed the remaining items back into the box. He'd find a safe place to store them away from prying eyes. Rubbing both hands across his face, Booth reached for the letter next to him.
Three folds. It took too long to flatten the page so he could read it.
Hey, Booth.
It's almost Veterans Day and I wanted you to know I was remembering you even if we are far apart this year.
I also remember our conversation about us. And I still don't know if I will ever be able to picture fifty years.
But I want you to know I'm trying.
Bones