The Pen
A/N: The summer holiday this story celebrates is July 15: National Give Something Away Day
Christine carefully lifted the box down from the top corner shelf of her mother's closet where it had set for several years. She placed it on the floor and sat down on the footstool she'd previously balanced on. Temperance Brennan had guarded it assiduously ever since Booth's passing eight years earlier. Now that she too was gone, Christine had the sad task of sorting out her parents' belongings. Parker and Hank had both come in to help, but she lived closest and was able to spend more time going through their things.
Her mother had assiduously given away most of her beloved husband's clothes and belongings to charities she knew would distribute them wisely. But a couple of her favorite dress suits remained in the master bedroom closet and several items she couldn't bear to part with. This particular box held keepsakes dear to Brennan's heart muscle; items which Booth had used on a daily basis. Some of them, Christine remembered without even looking inside… His AA coin, the lighter his grandfather had used, a leather wallet that had seen better days but was her dad's favorite.
The box held a barely used small flip-top notebook, several rubber-banded sets of 3x5" index cards, and a plethora of older worn leather notepads filled with notations about cases the couple had solved together, in her dad's familiar handwriting. A smile spread across Christine's face as she spotted the top of a black ballpoint pen amid the numerous records of her parents' crime-fighting past. A ballpoint pen she'd once curiously pulled from her father's shirt pocket when he held her as a toddler. Brennan had immediately protested and Booth gently removed it from Christine's chubby fingers. She grinned, remembering.
That occurred several more times before she entered elementary school. When clicked to expose the writing tip, this pen also revealed something else. Its barrel rotated to expose a naked lady lounging along its length. Parker told her the same thing had happened a few times when he'd reached for his father's favorite pen, with Rebecca protesting even more than Bones had.
By the time baby Hank came along, Booth had decided to retire his favorite crime scene pen due to its age and his having left it on Charlie Burns' desk one too many times. His long-time associate had hidden the pen in his drawer and pretended not to have seen it when Booth inquired. However his boss's evident distress was not what Charlie had expected and quickly restored the risqué pen to its owner.
Christine remembered finally working up the nerve to ask her father where the pen had come from. He had picked her up from third grade one day when Brennan was handling the remains of a high-profile victim. Tall for her age and finally allowed to ride in the front seat, she had pivoted so that she was facing her dad as he started his car.
"Daddy, where did you get the naked lady pen?"
Booth blanched and turned off the engine. "What makes you ask that question, Monkey?" he asked, buying himself some time to think of an answer Bones wouldn't thoroughly dislike. Was his daughter asking what bar it had come from, who had given it to him, or in what city he had obtained the pen? he thought to himself.
"Well, you're really careful with it, so it must mean a lot to you," Christine had answered.
"You're right, kiddo; it does. You know that your great-grandfather Pops had a brother, right?"
"He did?"
"Yeah, honey, I've told you about Uncle Jackson, but maybe you don't remember that story," Booth replied. You remember Uncle Gibbs, who lives in here in D.C.?"
"Hmmm, I think so; he showed us all the ships at the Navy Yard, right?"
"Yup, that's him. Well, he grew up in Pennsylvania, in a little town called Stillwater, where Jackson still lives."
"Okay….what does Pennsylvania have to do with your naked lady pen?"
"Great-Uncle Jackson is the person who gave me that pen, Sweet Pea. The day I went off to join the Army, Jackson told me if I finished basic training in one piece, he'd have a surprise for me. He was joking in a way, knowing I wouldn't quit any more than Pops would, but I think he knew it would give me something to look forward to when all the PT got tiresome."
"What's PT?"
"Those letters stand for 'Physical Training'. In order to get people in good physical shape for military service quickly, they make you run a lot, lift weights, and do a ton of exercises over and over again."
"Like gym class?"
"Yeah, like gym class that lasts for several weeks!"
"Ugh! I wouldn't like that."
"Nope, I don't think anyone enjoys it, but it's necessary to be able to defend our country, honey. But we've gotten way off track for my story," Booth continued.
"When I came home on my first leave, Uncle Jackson came up to Philly to stay with Pops for a few days. The morning after I got back, he made chocolate chip pancakes for Pops, and me after Jared left for school. I guess he didn't want a teenager seeing his pen. Anyway, while Pops brewed a fresh pot of coffee, Jackson flipped enough pancakes for the three of us, even though we'd already had cereal and milk earlier. Once we'd drenched the hotcakes in maple syrup and butter, he pulled a small package out of his pocket and handed it to me. It was just wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, long and skinny."
"Pop started chuckling as he watched me pull off the paper. Inside I found a plain black ballpoint pen, and kinda wondered what was up. What's so funny about an ordinary black writing pen?"
Jackson grinned at me and said, "Click it, Seeley."
"Well, I did what he said and the pen was now different, with a naked lady decorating its side! Jackson and Pops were both laughing as I turned it over and over in my hand."
"You know Margaret would have a fit, don't you?" Pops asked his brother.
"For sure, Ann would too," Jackson replied.
"Our VFW Hall in Stillwater sold those as a fundraiser for Veterans' Day a few years back, Seeley, and I bought a few extras to give away when the time seemed right. I figured you could use one and remember your first military leave after basic."
"I know it wasn't an expensive gift, but Jackson's thinking of me meant a lot and I've always treasured that pen, even if your mom and my granma both hated it."
"Did you take it to the Army?" Christine asked.
"No, I was too afraid I might lose it in Iraq or some other place overseas, so I put it in my chest of drawers at home until I got out of the army and joined the FBI. Once I finished training at Quantico, I started using it to take notes on the cases I investigated. Your Aunt Cam got a good laugh out of that pen when we were in New York together, long before I ever met your momma. Bones liked it too, until you kids came along. After all, a naked lady isn't suitable for children to see."
"I think it's nice you have something like that from your uncle, Daddy," Christine told Booth.
"Me too, honey. Even if your mom scolded me anytime you or Parker tried to look at it. Aunt Rebecca didn't like it either when your brother was little."
Christine sniffed a bit and swiped at her eyes, remembering. "That pen is not going anywhere. I need to find something in this closet to give away today, but it's not going to be Dad's naked lady pen. I think there's some of his t-shirts Mom kept in the box next to this one. Surely I can manage to part with one o those," she thought.
Later that afternoon, Christine gathered up several pairs of Andrew's lightly-worn tennis shoes (the man was a shoe addict), several pairs of her jeans, and a bag of outgrown baby clothes from Michael-Vincent's little son William; placed them in a box, and carried them to her car for donating. She hadn't been able to part with Booth's faded gray or black FBI t-shirts or the naked lady pen any more than her mother had been.