BOOTH
We'd gotten back to my place a little before ten. I'd tried to lure Bones into sharing a bath with me but no luck. Instead, she'd taken a quick shower then had handed the bathroom over to me, while she curled up on the couch with a couple of what I was sure were mind-numbingly boring journals. No beer hat and cigar for me tonight, just water as hot as I could tolerate to relieve at least some of the daily aches and pains caused by years of sacrificing my body for my job… not to mention Bones.
I lean my head back to rest against the edge of the tub and close my eyes.
Pops had left me alone to figure things out until Christmas Eve night when he'd walked into the living room and sat two glasses, the bottle of Crown Royal and a deck of cards on the coffee table. Only once, in my memory, had he had a more uncomfortable conversation with me.
"I think it's time you and me have a talk." My first instinct was to run when I read the label of the box he sat down on the counter in front of me, wanting to be anywhere but where I was.
"Pops—"
"Now, listen here, Shrimp, having this conversation isn't exactly fun for me either, but it has to be had."
"I already know about, you know, uh—"
"Sex." Not that I'd admit it to anyone, but I'm pretty sure I blushed to the roots of my hair and squirmed uncomfortably. "In my way of thinking, if you can't say the word, you shouldn't be having it and you know what the Bible say about sex outside of the holy bonds of matrimony."
"It's a sin," I dutifully replied, then tried to protest again, "Pops—"
"Booth men don't spread their seed around willy-nilly—"
"Pops!" I looked everywhere but at him. "This isn't happening," I mumbled as though that would change anything.
"You wear one of these," he picked up the box and set it down again for emphasis, "If a girl tells you she's on that pill they're always talking about, you wear one. If you're drunk, you wear one – especially when you're drunk. If you don't have one, find a cold shower. If you need help figuring out how to put one on—"
"Oh my God. No, Pops, no!" I practically yelled in horror.
"Calm down, I wasn't volunteering to show you. I was talking about a pamphlet with pictures." That wasn't much comfort.
"Are we done now?" I pled.
"Not quite. This is important. Stop being so squeamish and listen up. You hear me?" I grimaced but nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"If you get a girl in trouble, you'll do right by her and the child and—" I swallowed hard.
"You mean marriage?"
"I do. If you think you're ready to have sex, then you're ready to take responsibility for the consequences. So, before you think about canoodling without protection, you'd better ask yourself if you'd want to spend the rest of your life with the girl. Booths don't cheat and Booths don't divorce. 'Til death do we part' aren't just words."
"I know, Pops. Are we done now?" Jesus, Mary and Joseph, please say yes, I prayed.
"Just about." He picked up the box of condoms again. "You run out of these, don't be afraid to ask for more. People might say men are the stronger sex, but in truth, men are a slave to their desires and women are the masters of theirs." He dropped the box down on the counter and left the room.
Even telling him about Rebecca's pregnancy – and her subsequent refusal to marry me – had been a walk in the park compared to the conversation we'd had on Christmas Eve.
"I'll pour, you deal," Pops told me as he sat down in a chair across from me.
I hadn't needed to ask what he wanted to play. Gin. There were only two card games he'd ever played and after my grandmother died, he'd never played spades again. I have many memories of him helping straighten out my head, giving me advice, over hands of gin and glasses of scotch. Reluctantly, I picked up the deck of cards and began to shuffle. I was as confused as when I'd arrived, the realizations I'd made about Bones since we'd been there only complicating matters even further.
He'd waited until I'd finished my second serving of whiskey before changing the topic from small talk.
"It's time to get it off your chest, Shrimp." I pour myself a third, healthy portion of liquid courage then take a sip while trying to figure out where even to begin. Then it comes to me. Sitting down my glass, I reach for my cell phone and pull up a picture of Hannah. I hand him the phone then wait.
"Pretty gal. Who is she?"
"Her name's Hannah. I met her while I was in Afghanistan. We've, uh… we've been living together the last couple of months." Pops eyes lifted up to study me over top the screen of my phone. He doesn't need to tell me how he feels about a man and woman living together outside the bonds of holy matrimony: It goes against his beliefs and the Church's teachings. He closes the phone and hands it back to me.
"Do you love her?" he asked.
"Yeah. Yeah. Of course, I do. She's great. She's really great," I smiled proudly. "She's a reporter, a foreign correspondent, actually. Gets right into the thick of things whether it's war or corrupt politicians or… or… crooked cops. She's smart, funny and likes to have a good time. She's really great."
"Gin," he announces, laying down his hand. I poured myself a little more whiskey and am taking a drink when he asked, "Have you knocked her up?" I inhaled a sharp breath nearly choking on my drink.
"What? Nooooooo," I sputter. I hadn't seen that question coming at all. "Why would you even ask that!?" I swiped up the cards to reshuffle.
"Because the last time I seen you this tied up in knots was when you knocked up that Rebecca."
"Not because she was pregnant. Because she wouldn't marry me and made it clear my role as his father would be minimal," I corrected, while dealing the cards.
"Never did like that one, looking down at her nose at you, thinking she's better than you." What could I have said? He wasn't wrong, even if it took me a while to realize it. "So, if she's not knocked up, what's on your mind. Are you thinking about marrying the girl?" Another question out of left field.
"No! Noooo," I answered emphatically. "Hannah's not the marrying kind, as she likes to say."
"What's that mean, not the marrying kind?"
"Just what it sounds like: She doesn't want to get married… ever. We both went into it with our eyes wide open, if you know what I mean: We agreed it would be nothing more than a little fun." He frowns at me as he draws a card and discards.
"That doesn't sound like you, Shrimp." I pick up then discard before answering.
"I'm tired of putting myself out there and getting shot down, Pops. Something easy and fun with no expectations for the future is exactly what I needed." Pops is a lot shrewder than people think. He reminds me of a cat hunting prey, crouched down in the grass just waiting for his target to flinch, then he pounces.
"Needed." And his prey is cornered. "And what do you need now?" I drain my glass, pour a healthy couple fingers more of the whiskey and put the bottle down when Pops waves me off his glass. Sitting my glass on the table, I pick up the cards and start shuffling.
"I don't know. I thought I did, but it's… It's complicated."
"So which is it: This casual thing isn't enough for you anymore or another woman?" The man's part fox too. A wily one. I give up any pretense of playing and drop the deck of cards onto the table.
"It's Bones, Pops." With a gleam in his eyes, he picks up his glass and leans back in his chair, waiting. "I knew. I knew." My brows draw together when he laughs.
"Tell me something I don't know." He catches the look on my face. "What?! You think I was buying all that just friends business you were trying to sell? Naw," he waves off the idea, "I told you everything you needed to know was right here," he pats his left chest. His smile fades. "The way you look at her reminds me of the way I'd look at your grandmother. God, I loved that woman."
"I know, Pops." He shakes off his mood.
"So, what's the problem? You tell Temperance how you feel—"
"I already did. Last spring. She shut me down."
"Well, did you do it right?" What kind of question is that?
"I don't know, Pops," I said, sitting back up, frustrated and reaching for my glass. "I told her I believed in giving this – us - a chance, that I wanted us to be together, that I… always… knew… we were meant to be… together."
"How long had you been courting her?" There was a head turner. Courting? I take a long drink
"Courting? There was no courting. Bones and me, we spent nearly all our time together already." Pops shakes his head in disapproval.
"Well, there's the problem. You can't just go around blurting out something like that. You probably scared her half to death. You have to lay the groundwork—"
"It doesn't matter how I did it Pops. She said no and I told her I had to move on and I did."
"With this Hannah girl."
"Woman. She's a woman. And yes, I moved on with Hannah." He leans forward and holds out his nearly empty glass.
"Top me off, Shrimp." I barely have started to pour when he scolds, "Not too much, now. All those damned medicines they have me on make me loopy if I have too much to drink." Great. I hadn't even thought about his medications.
"Should you even be drinking? I mean is it dangerous?" I stand. "Maybe I should take a look—"
"Calm down, calm down. The doctor at the home said a drink here and there is fine, I might just get a little loopy, like I said." I hesitate.
"Are you sure?"
"Sit down," he orders, waving me back to my seat. I do as I'm told. "Now, what aren't you telling me?" I stare at the amber liquid in my glass for long seconds, before answering. A sip of liquid courage and I dive in.
"A couple weeks back, Bones told me she'd made a mistake, that she wants to be with me." My voice betrays my emotions, irritating me. "A year ago, I would have been thrilled, I mean over the moon! But now…"
"There's only one thing that matters now, Seeley. Do you love Temperance?" I drop my head to stare at the glass again, finally nodding my head, slowly.
"Yeah. I do." I raise my head and look at Pops. "It's taken a while for me to admit it to myself, but I've never stopped."
"You know, Shrimp, you can love a lot of people in this world, but there's only one you love the most…"
I would share these words of wisdom with Bones six weeks later.
"…It seems to me the first thing you've got to do is figure out who that is."
"How do I do that?" He stood and looked at me.
"You already know, you just got to turn off your head and listen to your heart. Now, I'm going to bed." I stand and give him a hug.
"Thanks, Pops. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Shrimp.
The bath had provided some relief and made me a little drowsy. After pulling on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, I go in search of Bones. My place is not exactly huge, so it makes it hard to lose a person, but the bedroom I'd just left had been empty, as are the kitchen and living room. Cutting back through the living room I take note of the two, sweaty bottles of beer waiting for us. How I missed it on my first walk-thru, I have no idea, except that it would never occur to me to find her where I have: Standing in front of a bookshelf in Parker's room, staring at the picture of me and him. I relax and standing in the doorway, I lean a shoulder against the jamb.
"Parker was two-and-a-half when that picture was taken. I took him fishing and he caught his first fish. He called it a shark," I laugh. She turns to face me.
"I'm sorry," she apologizes immediately. "I should have asked." My brow lifts in surprise.
"You've been in Parker's room before," I point out.
"When Parker was here and asked me to come into his room," she reminds. "Preadolescence is often accompanied by the desire for increased privacy. I should have respected that." I can't help laughing again.
"Parker is a kid, Bones. He still can't sleep unless his door is left cracked open and he watches Saturday morning cartoons in his Avengers pajamas as he eats his chocolate chip pancakes. So, unless you were pawing through his Batman and Superman underwear or searching his pillow where he hides the picture of the little girl he likes, he'll be fine."
"That Parker is hiding the picture speaks to his need for privacy." She eases past me into the living room. My eyes on her as she takes a seat on the center cushion of the couch, I turn off the light and close the bedroom door. She hands me a beer as I join her.
"Thanks." I take a drink of my beer. "What's up, Bones? Tired? Or is it the case?"
"I was just thinking it used to be so much easier." Well, that's a broad statement. I wouldn't even know where to begin to narrow it down.
"What's that?"
"I could block it all out, the victims, the lives they lived and the people they left behind. I saw the science," she emphasizes the last word. "The bones revealed how someone died and provided evidence so justice could be served. I was objective. I could keep it all at arm's length. That's becoming increasingly more difficult to do."
"Because you're not as impervious as you used to be?" I venture.
"Yes," she answers, simply, before drinking a little of her beer, "And because of the relationships I have now." I guess there will be things she says that will keep making me a little nervous until I'm sure we're both in this relationship for keeps and this is one of those things. I have another drink then try to make light of her comment, to take her thoughts away from grounds that had turned out to have disastrous consequences the last time.
"You're not wishing you were a psychopath again, are you?" The sideways glance she gives me says I've missed the mark.
"No," she lengthens the word in disapproval. "The relationships I have now affect how I see the world around me. Russ has turned his life around so Emma and Haley can be proud of him. You've fought so hard to have as much time with Parker as you can and every day you prove what a good father you are. Russ would have given up a lung for Haley if he could have and you'd give up your life to keep Parker safe. Even Max," she shakes her head and sighs, before continuing, "He's killed to keep Russ and me safe."
"You don't understand how a parent could kill a child," I conclude.
"Anthropologically speaking, filicide – the murder of a child by a parent – is found throughout history. Between two-and-four-thousand B.C. the Greeks routinely killed children as a way of controlling the population and filicide was seen as a civic duty. In seventh century Arabia, women would dispose of female infants to spare the child from a life of being viewed as property, for men to do with as they please. Even in recent history, we see cultural acceptance of filicide. In China, for example, after the one child policy was adopted, continuity of the familial line made male children the most desirable. Female infants were commonly killed or abandoned in the countryside to make room for that male heir." She has another drink before finishing. "But, no, I don't understand. Even in civilizations where filicide was common practice, what were considered merciful means were used." She turns slightly in her seat to face me more. "She was tortured, Booth. She was in inconceivable pain, and, what's worse, she had no one to offer her comfort or to try to lessen her pain. When I examine the remains, when I touch the bones, I have a hard time letting go of how afraid and alone she must have felt." I ease an arm around her shoulders.
"Come here," I tell her, as I draw her closer. She tucks herself into my side and rests her head on my shoulder. Every time I believe I couldn't be more proud of her or more amazed by her, she tops herself. "I wish I could say it gets easier, but it never does when a kid's involved." She tips her head back to look at me.
"Well, at the very least, whoever did this to her needs to live in a tiny box for the rest of their lives," she tells me, passionately. I grin down at her.
"Then, we'll make sure Caroline has what she needs to make that happen." I finish my beer and sit the bottle on the side table, shifting slightly beneath her. "I love this." She lilts her head again.
"What?" I ease out from under her, then, standing, take one of her hands and pull her to her feet. She sits her bottle on the coffee table as she stands.
"Not having to watch you walk out my front door after a quiet night in," I lean in to drop a kiss on her lips, "And knowing you'll be next to me when we wake up in the morning." Hand still in mine, she turns and leads me towards the bedroom.
"Then maybe we should go to bed so that can happen," she suggests.
I kick the bedroom door closed behind us, then grabbing her around the waist, dive with her, in my arms, onto the bed.
Our laughter fills the room….