Title: Sorrows
Summery: Something he never thought anyone would ever leave him.
Disclaimer: I don't own'em; I'm just borrowing.
Author's Notes: This has been rattling around in my head for days. I thought maybe if I pounded it out on the keyboard, it would clear up some space in my mind.
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Doctor Temperance Brennan carefully lifted the skull belonging to the eight-hundred-and- fifty-year-old Native American skeleton that was spread out across her worktable. She was finished noting all her findings, had determined cause of death, and was now in the process of packing away the skeleton with the utmost of care.
"Hey sweetie," Brennan didn't have to turn around to know who was approaching. The soft voice and click-clack noise from high-heeled shoes on the hard floor gave it away.
"Hi Ange," Brennan finished packaging the skull before looking up.
Angela Montenegro, best friend and resident artist, flipped her shiny dark hair over her shoulder, "All finished?"
"Uh-huh," Brennan set the box containing the skull on the waiting roller cart, then turned back to pack up the rest of the skeleton. The only noise in the room was the rattle of the cart and the squeak of the wheels.
"Not as exciting around here when we don't have a case," Angela observed, not so innocently, sliding her hands into her hip pockets.
"Are you trying to insinuate something?" An eyebrow raised, Brennan looked up at Angela to find her grinning slyly.
Instead of denying anything, Angela shrugged, "When'll Booth be back? We need to spice things up around here. Start investigating again." She was trying to get something out of Brennan over why she was so mopy lately. With the prolonged absence of the hunky FBI agent, it seemed like any reason for Brennan to smile had left also. She had become as monotonous as before Booth had come blustering into the lab and dragged her into the 'real world' where her only company was no longer broken down bodies but real live people.
In a tone that was almost reprimanding, and not looking up from her bones, Brennan declared, "He's at his sister-in-law's funeral Ange. Give him some time."
"She died!" Angela exclaimed, "I only knew she was sick."
Brennan nodded, "He called yesterday, said he'll still be a day or two." She didn't bother elaborating on what else they had talked about in that particularly long conversation.
Angela clucked her tongue, "Poor guy."
Agreeing, Brennan nodded, "He sounded so tired over the phone."
"Did he?" Angela zoomed in, "You know his voice well enough to tell huh?"
"Yes," Brennan wasn't sure she liked the look on her friend's face.
"Hmmmmm…" The sly smile was back.
"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, I don't like it," Brennan's brow furrowed.
"Come on Bren!" Angela's arms flew out perpendicular to her waist, palms up, fingers widespread, "You guys would be so good together!"
"You don't know that Ange," Brennan waved off any protests, "Besides, I'm not his type. He goes for beautiful, blond lawyer types, and I'm not any of those things."
"You sell yourself short," Angela admonished, "I can tell he's interested."
"How?" Brennan asked, curious inspite of herself.
"Little things," Angela smiled, "The way he looks at you, and the way he talks to you. And you two are always touching."
"We are not!" Brennan protested, though she had to admit to herself that there was some minor tidbit of truth in that.
"Are too," Angela replied, undaunted, "A hand here, an arm there. You two can't keep your hands off each other!"
"Name one time," Brennan ordered briskly.
"You fixed his tie for him the day before he left," Angela answered promptly, "And last time we were using the holograms, he grabbed your hand," At Brennan's surprised look, "You can't deny it, I saw," She then began to tick things off on her fingers, "He's the only one you allow to put their arm over the back of the seat when you sit together, and you always do. There was that time he pushed your hair back behind your ear, and the time-"
Brennan cut her off, "Angela! I said one time!"
"Well, I have a long memory when it comes to this stuff. You two always have your hands on each other."
The way she said it made Brennan cringe, "Angela, I-"
"All I'm saying Bren," Angela paused, shrugged one shoulder, "He's interested, and I know you are too," A flick of her hand close to Brennan's face quieted Brennan's pending interrupting, "The poor guy's been dropping hints like a hail storm. You have to do something. If you don't, he'll slip right through your fingers," With a one sided smile, Angela turned and walked away, leaving Brennan to think about all she had said. Brennan listened until the click-clack of Angela's heels died away.
Slip right through your fingers.
Not exactly, Brennan thought.
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Neither of them had spoken a word in the past hour. Booth navigated his nondescript black SUV through traffic, winding his way through the lines of vehicles. He took a quick look at his passenger, who was curled up in their seat, head resting against the cool plexi-glass of the window,
"You okay?"
"Yeah," Was the quiet answer. Booth, pulling the SUV to a stop at a red light, reached across and patted their knee. Long, quiet moments ticked by before he ventured to say anything again,
"I've gotta stop by the lab for a minute," He gently depressed the accelerator pedal as the light turned green, "You can wait in the car if you want."
Again, the only answer he received was, "Yeah."
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Booth found Brennan bent over a box in her office. After darting a few covert glances around, he settled his large hands on her hips. She yelped and whirled around; fist poised, ready to attack. When she saw it was him, the fist dropped and her arms went around his neck.
"You're back," She murmured happily, brushing her face against the soft cotton of his shirt. Remembering herself, remembering where they were, she pulled away. Taking careful stock of him, she saw the dark bags under his eyes, the grimace lines in his face pulling at his down drawn mouth, his expression somber, "You look tired."
"I am," He exhaled hard, rifled a hand through his all ready tousled hair. He wished he could take her back into his arms, but he knew she wouldn't allow it. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, "How're you?"
"I'm okay," A sudden flash rippled through her, wanting to brush back the hair that had fallen errantly across his forehead. She settled for placing a hand on his wrist, lightly stroking her fingertips across his skin, "You should go home and get some sleep."
"Wanna come tuck me in?" He asked teasingly, trying to infuse their ordinary banter into an extraordinary situation. At her aggravated look, Booth laid his hand over hers and sighed, "I had to see you first."
"Is she with you?" Brennan asked curiously, glancing around him towards the door. His hand closed over hers and he pulled her with him as he sat down on the couch that was for once not cluttered with papers.
"In the car," Visions of the past weeks danced through his head. The darkness, the quiet, the sickness, the crying, the death. In all his years dealing with death, he didn't think that one had ever affected him like this. He wanted to banish it all from his memory, block it out and forget. But he couldn't. Couldn't change it, couldn't fix it, making him feel inadequate and helpless. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to push back and bury the emotional keg that was about to explode, "She's just a baby Bones, and-"
Two small, strong arms circled his neck again, gently but firmly pulling his head to hers, "It's okay Booth." His forehead rested against her collarbone. She slowly swayed back and forth, keeping her arms around him.
"She's just a baby, and everything's been taken from her," He muttered, his voice choked with grief, "That damn disease took it all away."
"She's still got you," Brennan murmured, her head bent low to his. She wanted nothing more than to soothe the man in her arms, and was completely unaware as to how. Making empty promises and muttering 'it's okay' into his ear weren't going to bring him the kind of relief he needed. She knew about losing the ones you loved, and having nobody else.
"A fine substitute I'll make," He groaned and started to back away, slightly embarrassed by his display of emotion. She only let him pull back far enough so she could see into his eyes.
"They obviously appointed you for a reason Booth," She admonished fervently, "You love her. You're a good dad."
His eyes, too brown for her own good, were liquid. They slid closed, then open again. She passed a thumb under each, rubbing away the residual moisture, "There're some people who don't think I can do this," He whispered.
"Who?" She tipped her head forward so her forehead rested against his. She hated seeing any kind of pain on his face.
"Tammy's brother and his wife, they say that they can giver her a better, more stable life than I can," Booth swallowed hard, the lump that had situated itself in his throat was showing no signs of receding, " 'Cause they're married and they don't have jobs like mine."
"You capture murderers," Brennan blurted, "You hunt them down and bring them to justice. You save lives, you rescue people."
"I put myself in danger on a daily basis Bones," Booth appreciated her blunt words; they were so fierce, so heartfelt in her belief of them. He needed that, "There could come a day where I-"
Her lips smashing onto his squelched his argument, "Don't ever say that," She commanded, her grey eyes boring into his, "Don't ever say that." Alternate endings to his sentence flew through her head; get hurt, get shot, don't come home. Those were things she never wanted to think about, never wanted to hear. They weren't allowed to live anywhere outside the irrational part of her mind that fear occupied.
He conceded for now, knowing that the subject would come up again. This wasn't the kind of topic that just went away. It would lurk in the shadows, waiting for the right time to wedge itself in, "I have to go, she's sleeping in the car," He leaned in for another kiss.
"You can do this Booth," She murmured against his lips, "They're wrong. Don't let it get to you because they're wrong."
They had barely been able to catch a dozen frenzied moments alone together in the past three weeks, the last week and a half having past with none at all. Now, in the semi-darkness of her office, they caught another one. They parted ways, not knowing when the next would come.
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Like it? Hate it? Let me know. Should I continue?
