BOOTH
More than half my life I've had to be ready to go on full alert with only a split second to make a decision that could mean life or death. While in the Army, I'd often been woken from a sound sleep when someone would yell into my quarters…
"Booth, you're up. Be ready to go in five."
Or worse…
"Incoming!"
After I'd left the Army, a pager then my cellphone had made those demands of me… and still do…
Along with a long list of people who'd promised to see me dead for one reason or another.
It was this well-honed ability to wake up mentally sharp that kept me from shooting Bones last night when she'd swung open my bedroom door… and that alerted me a few minutes ago she'd left the bed. When I hear her turn on the shower, I briefly consider the idea of seducing her into some hot and steamy morning shower sex, then let the idea go in favor of rolling to my stomach and listening to the sounds of her morning routine as I let my mind wander.
I've waited a long time for this moment to come.
The dream I'd had of Bones and I married, loving each other without reserve, sharing a life together… creating a life together, had changed… everything. I'd been so happy living in the dream that I'd fought against anyone who tried to convince me it hadn't been real… or ignored them completely, choosing to retreat back into the world of night clubs, secret dealings and, of course, murder. But I didn't just return to story she'd typed and read to me. Without even realizing it, I'd started filling in parts of our story that she hadn't written…
Taking her hand and drawing her into a spontaneous, slow dance in her office at the club…
Feeling her softly press against me, when I unzip her dress without request and press my lips against a bared shoulder…
Her rich, smoky laugh when I tease her as we make love…
The warmth in her eyes and the slow smile that lights her face up when I say something exactly right…
The easy camaraderie with which we shared space as we prepared and cleaned up after meals or dressed for the day, as though it was a dance we'd practiced over and over again…
The unequivocable trust we had in one another…
"Oh. So, we're having some doubts…"
"Not about anything important."
I hadn't needed the dream to tell me that unquestioning trust was the foundation of… everything… between us: Our partnership in the club, our friendship… our marriage. That trust allowed us to share our insecurities…
"Cam says everybody thinks I'm a cold fish."
"Come on. What you are is Iceland. Cool to the touch, but underneath you're all volcano."
"I don't like people thinking that I'm a cold fish."
"Look, if you really were a cold fish, you wouldn't care."
To face head-on the people that might try to tear us apart…
"So, did the police try to convince you I was having an affair with Arastoo?"
"It's what they do, you know? Drive wedges."
"It wouldn't be irrational to think I was having an affair with him. He's very handsome."
"Yeah. I'd feel it if the energy was between the two of us was off. I'd know."
And that allowed us to say freely what was in our heart, without judgment…
"I believe you would murder someone for me. And I believe you'd lie about it so I wouldn't have to carry that burden."
Very few people will ever know that kind of trust…
That kind of connection…
That kind of love.
The kind of peace that comes with knowing, by some miracle, you have found that person…
The person…
Your person.
But Sweets, had insisted what I felt for Bones was nothing more than the brain tumor making me feel things that weren't true and it hadn't taken me long – well, at least too long – to figure he'd never sign off on me getting back on the job unless I told him what he wanted to hear.
"I do not like cats."
"Well, that's consistent with the person you were before your brain surgery."
"I don't own a nightclub. I'm not married to Bones. You are not a singing bartender. And I hate clowns. So, can I go back to work now?"
I'd been lying through my teeth. Oh, I still didn't – and don't - like cats. I mean, c'mon, they eat people once they've died and lick their chops at you when you're alive, already thinking how good you'll taste once you're dead. But I didn't see why anyone would have an issue with clowns…
And I was still in love with Bones and I wanted that life she'd created for us more than anything I'd ever wanted before. But after months of being told repeatedly it was nothing more than a dream, that my feelings weren't real, I'd begun to have my doubts and Avalon had only further complicated my confusion with her psychic stuff and tarot cards.
"You're worried you lost something."
"Look, Ms. Harmonia, I really don't need a tarot card reading right now. What I need to know is how you knew that those people were buried under the Teversham fountain."
"It's all in the cards, Agent Booth. You can't argue with what's in the cards. You never lost anything in that coma, Agent Booth. You gained something."
I don't believe in any of that tarot schmarot garbage, but for a reason I can't even begin to explain her 'vision' had given me comfort… hope… and had confused me even more. Was I too eager to buy what this psychic was selling me? Was I just being too stubborn and not listening to Sweets? I turned to the person on the team that has not only known me the longest but also most intimately – Cam – knowing she'd hold back no punches if I really was out of my mind.
"Um, that place that I went to… you know, my coma dream?"
"Mmmm-hmm."
"It was just… Bones and I… it was so real."
"You're in love with Dr. Brennan."
She'd jumped in so quickly and with such confidence, without me ever even asking her that question, that I felt… validated. It wasn't the dream or the coma or the story. What I felt for Bones was real and that truth was written all over Cam's face.
Then she'd confused me all over again.
"My advice, for what it's worth: Forget the bruised brain and go with your lion heart."
"Right. Right? Yeah. And, uh, tell Bones how I feel."
"Yes. Except… be sure about your feelings, because if you crack that shell and change your mind, she'll die of loneliness before she'll ever trust anyone ever again."
She certainly hadn't held back and that punch had held a wallop. Worse, I couldn't say she was wrong. I would know better than anyone how deeply Bones had locked herself away from the world since I was the one who'd spent the last four years drawing her out of her fortress. Then Sweets had taken another swing of his own when he'd shown me a scan of my brain.
"This is called the ventral tegmental area, and this is the dorsal caudate body. Now, these two areas have been proven to be linked to romantic love and sexual arousal."
"Hmm. Okay. If this is your version of dirty pictures, they're not working for me right now."
"Now, this, uh, this scan was taken before your operation. The green and blue colors indicate very low activity. Same scan while you were in the coma, just lit up like the forth of July. You were dreaming of being in love, of being married, right? Same scan three days ago. Before your operation, you were not in love. After your operation you were. Conclusion, you're feelings are not real and will… fade away, like every other symptom of your coma. Now I think you and I both now that Dr. Brennan's hyperrationality is really just a cover for a very vulnerable and sensitive core."
"Great, so we're talking about Bones's brain too here."
"So, if you breach those defenses and it turns out you don't really love her… I left you the hard copies."
There were days I wished for the simpler times of the brain tumor. You know what I mean: Ghosts helping me escape the, well, grave, the Gravedigger had planned for me and telling me I'm not like my Dad. Sometimes, being a little bit crazy is a good thing. Right?
Right. Especially when you love someone so much your whole body actually aches when you are near them, but you are hearing over and over… and over… again, that your feelings might not only be imagined but by sharing them you could break the very person you'd literally give your life to keep her from getting hurt.
But, Sweets was wrong. My feelings for Bones didn't go away. They just kept getting… bigger. All the assumptions people made about us…
"I guess it's not like the F.B.I. We're not allowed to sleep with someone we're working with."
"Wha— Is she talking about us?"
… and, yes, Bones' reaction to such assumptions stung even more. I knew she was just Bones being Bones – oblivious, for the most part, to the feelings to others, but it still stung.
Then she would say or do something exactly right…
"You know, Bones, um, I'm glad that, uh, you know, that we don't have any secrets between each other."
"Yeah, I like that."
"I mean, if we have something on our mind, we just… we just share it."
"Sure. Even with all the financial and intellectual contradictions, I still feel close to you."
… and for a little while, that sting went away… while making me love her even more.
Months of 'you're in love with her', 'your feelings aren't real,' 'you're in love with her,' 'it's a result of the brain tumor and will go away,' I was so confused that, as Pops likes to say, I didn't know whether to scratch my watch or wind my ass and it showed in the worse way possible: I could no longer make an accurate shot. With my annual range review quickly approaching, I'd finally turned to Gordon Gordon for help…
"Oh, I see. You've suddenly become an indiscriminate homicidal maniac. Well, that is cause for concern."
"No. What it means is I'm a lousy shot and I have to recertify next week."
"I don't know what you expect me to do about it. The only time I've ever fired a weapon, it reared up and struck me on the forehead."
"I just need you to help me fire my gun."
"That sounds desperately phallic."
He didn't know the half of it. Still, he'd agreed to hang with Bones and me for a couple of days to see if he could discover how to fix my sudden inability to hit a target. I didn't bother pretending I didn't know he'd talk to Sweets – and Bones. By then, I didn't care. If I couldn't do the job, if I couldn't partner with Bones, I didn't know what I'd do. I needed him to fix me, as he'd done after I'd taken aim at that clown on the ice cream truck.
What I'd expected was to hear the damage from the brain tumor had altered my ability to aim accurately, just as it had changed the way I walked up stairs and held a cup of coffee. What I got, I hadn't seen coming.
Doc, tomorrow morning I gotta be on the firing line at 7:00am sharp. So you have to fix my brain damage."
"You haven't got brain damage."
"Oh ho. Gordon Gordon, they took out a brain tumor the size of a melon ball out of my head. I can't shoot straight. I can't tell when people are lying. I have to get "Dummy" books just to do things. I'm at a complete loss with stuff."
"Not as a result of brain damage. When you were in the coma, you got a glimpse of another world."
"Right and how does that help me aim my gun?"
"Temperance Brennan. You're in love with her. You're building a world around her, a family. "
"We're not compatible. She sees the world one way. I see it the other way."
"No, of course. It's absolutely ludicrous the idea of you two together. But… the heart chooses what it chooses, doesn't it?"
"She doesn't love me. I would know if she loved me."
"May I counsel patience on this front? Hope and patience."
"Okay, so about my marksmanship certification. Any advice?"
"Grow a set! Be a man! Step up! She's your partner for Heaven's sake. The job you do together is highly dangerous. She counts on you for protection, so you damn well better protect her."
"So that's your big psychiatric advice. Just grow a set."
"Indeed. When it comes to a man and his gun, a woman is the natural cure. Take Dr. Brennan to this, um, this shooting event of yours. You won't fail in front of her. Trust me."
Gordon Gordon had been right, of course, I hadn't failed in front of Bones, acing my range certification with ease. He'd also done far more for me than he could have even known. He'd been the first man of – trusted – authority with years of experience under his belt, to assure me I didn't have brain damage, I never have. I was I in love and not just temporarily and not just a little.
I'm torn from my thoughts when I hear the water turn off in the bathroom and the shower door clicks open then closed. With a smile on my face, I roll off the bed and to my feet, then pad into bathroom, where Bones is slipping on her robe. She's barely finished tying the sash when I wrap her in my arms and touch a kiss to her lips. As our lips part, I can't stop smiling down at her.
Not just a little, at all. I had no idea I could love anyone so much that my body… vibrates… with its intensity. Her smile lights up the room as she embraces me in return.
"Good morning."
I just keep smiling… and staring… silently. She shifts, nervously. Yeah, I admit it. I love it when I can make her stop thinking and throw her off balance. I kick it up a notch with another kiss and a wiggle of my brows. Her mouth opens and closes several times, before she can find her tongue.
"We… we need to… to leave soon. You should shower while I… while I…" she looks away as though searching for answers, then when she returns her eyes to me, completes, "…while I do other things." I can resist stealing another kiss.
"Ahhhh," I note appreciatively as I release her. She hesitates and I swear, she is blushing a bit, as she steps backwards toward the bedroom door then turns and disappear.
Yes, it's a good morning.
A very good one.