(The Dwarf in the Dirt)
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I don't own Bones.
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She was standing on the platform watching the band warm up while he stood behind the bar and watched her. When she moved to face away from the band, his breath caught in his throat as he saw the signs of her pregnancy. Six months pregnant. He had never dreamed that he would be a father and yet here he was, married to the woman he loved the most in this world and she was carrying his child, their child.
Sometimes he felt like his life was a dream. How could a man born in such a dysfunctional family end up living the life he had always wanted? His father was a drunk, his mother had run away when he was small and the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his father should have scarred his future, but he had fought against that fate. His temper was volatile, but he did what he could to control it. He never raised his voice or a hand towards children and if he found himself in an argument with his wife, he walked away to cool off. He dared not let it escalate and she allowed him that space to regain his composure. He would never hit her, never hurt her. He would die first.
Life wasn't perfect by any measure you could think of, but it was his life and he was happy. He had friends and loyal employees. He had been able to give his brother a job after he had been tossed out of the police department. Jared had killed a man to save Bren and he owed his brother more than he could pay. Jared was now one of the floor bouncers and he was part of their security team. He worked long hours and Booth couldn't complain. Bren felt more secure at work knowing that Jared was there to protect them.
Booth ran his club successfully. Twice someone had tried to force him to sell and twice he had stood up to the pressure being exerted and kept his business. He was proud of his accomplishments and he wasn't going to let bad elements take over what he had built.
She moved across the platform and over to where he was standing. "Booth, our delivery is late today."
"Yeah, I know. Don't worry about it. I called Mack and he said the truck is on the way. They had a problem with the truck this morning but it's fixed now." Booth wiped the glass he was holding with a clean rag and placed it on the shelf behind him. "How are you feeling this morning?"
Her feet hurting her a little, Brennan sat down and pointed at the empty bowl in front of her. "I'm fine, but I would like some pretzels and a glass of club soda."
"You got it." Booth filled the bowl and moved it closer to his wife. Next he poured a glass of club soda and placed a wedge of lime on top. "There you go . . . Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes, I was nauseous for about an hour, but my stomach has settled down." Bren popped a pretzel in her mouth and chewed it until it was gone. "I think I'll eat a light lunch before I start working on our taxes. I have most of the work done, but I need to check the new tax codes to make sure we're in compliance."
Proud of how intelligent his wife was, Booth nodded his head and continued to dry the glasses that were sitting in the dish washer. He knew that he wasn't as smart as Bren was and that was why she handled their accounting. The tax codes just made his head hurt. "If you need any help let me know . . . we can always hire a temp if you need it . . . We're going to have to do that when you have the baby anyway . . . Did you contact that temp agency that Mack told you about?"
"Yes, I called them yesterday, but I've decided to use Bud Winter's accounting agency while I'm on maternity leave instead of hiring a temp. We've known Bud for along time and he was a big help when we first started the night club. We would still be using his service if I hadn't got my degree in Accounting."
"Number one in your class." Booth closed the dishwasher and leaned on the bar. "Damn I was lucky when I met you . . . It was love at first sight, you know."
A light blush feathered her cheeks as she drank some of her club soda. "Yes, you have told me that before . . . I believe you said it was Fate."
"Yeah, Fate. We were meant to be together and now . . . now we're a family. You and me and the little baby inside of you. I love you, Bren."
"I love you, Booth." She placed her hand over his hand. "I will always love you."
The alarm rang in its usual obnoxious manner and Booth slapped his hand on the off button to silence it. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and stared at the empty space next to him. He knew that it was supposed to be empty, but he still felt a stab of loneliness, seeing that he was alone.
"Okay, get it together. You're Seeley Booth a special agent of the FBI. You don't own a night club. You're not . . ." His throat seemed to catch and he had to force himself to say the next part. "You're not married to Bones. You've never been married to anyone. Bones is your partner and your friend and that's all she is. She doesn't love you. She doesn't believe in marriage and that life . . . and that life is never going to be yours . . . never." He felt a tear escape his lashes and he dashed his hand across his cheek. "Stop that . . . just stop it. This is your life. Good or bad . . . this is your life."
It had become a ritual whenever he had 'that' dream. He loved that dream, but it made him sad with he woke up and reality set in. Sometimes he wished that he was still in that coma. His real life wasn't a happy one and the only thing that kept him fighting to stay in the real world was his son. If it wasn't for Parker, he would close his eyes and never leave his dream world.
He rolled out of bed and sat on the edge of the mattress flexing his toes and then his feet. Once he was prepared, he stood up and hissed when the weight of his body was held up with feet that had seen better days. Slowly, he walked over to his bathroom and prepared for the day. He shaved, brushed his teeth and took a shower. He reentered his bedroom and rummaged through his socks trying to decide what wild colors he was in the mood for. While he dressed, he thought about the cool clothes that he wore in his dream world and felt a little drab a little robotic when he saw himself in the mirror . . . black suit, a white shirt and a light blue tie . . . how he loved the blue suit he owned in his dream. The dark navy tie that went with it. It just made him sad to see the man he was in the real world . . . a drone . . . she had called him a drone once. A drab worker bee. He knew he wasn't a drone, but that was how she saw him. Pulling the light blue tie from his neck, he checked his tie rack and pulled out a rich burgundy tie with a dark purple stripe placed horizontally across the middle of the tie. "Drone my ass." He knotted his tie and smiled. "I am a rebel. No one owns me. I wear what I want." He lifted his pants leg and stared at the dark red socks with the little black corvettes printed on his socks. "I'm a rebel and I'm cool."
He had a choice in how he lived and he chose to live in the real world. The dream world was nice and he missed it, but this was his life. He was an FBI Agent and you couldn't be cooler than that. He was the father of a bright and intelligent boy who adored him. He was the partner of the best forensic anthropologist in the world and he was a rising star in the FBI because of her. Their solve rate was phenomenal and because of them, murderers were in jail where they belonged. His life wasn't perfect, but who needed perfection? Someday he might get the things he wanted, a wife that loved him, a family of his own, but for now, he had the life he deserved and he would try to be happy. "Yeah, happy . . . maybe."
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