A/N: We're going to take a side trip and join Brennan on part of her trip. It may seem as if it has nothing to do with the previous chapters, but things will come together shortly. If you have time to review, I'd appreciate it. Laura.
Brennan quietly sat in the airport terminal, waiting to take the flight that would take her far away from Booth and all the confusing emotions he'd caused her to feel over the past few weeks. She'd been to Costa Rica many times, and had always enjoyed being a part of Dr. Pak's team as they excavated Pre-Columbian ruins. The interplay between the ancient Nicoyan, Chorotegan, and Diquis cultures had led to many fascinating finds over the past decade. Now that Dr. Pak had discovered a previously unknown site in the depths of the Costa Rican jungle, the potential for more discoveries was tremendous, and the knowledge that was gained would influence the study of the area's diverse cultural anthropology for many years to come. At any other time in her life, she wouldn't have hesitated to participate in this project, even though it would have taken her away from her work at the Jeffersonian...and from Booth...for an extended period of time.
But now things were very different. As she boarded the plane and settled into her seat in the first class section, she was slightly annoyed at herself for being surprised about Booth's condition. Of course, she certainly hadn't expected him to have a brain tumor, but, realistically, she should've been prepared for the fact that he could be severely injured somehow on the job, especially since he worked as the Special Agent in Charge of the FBI's Major Crimes division. Recovery from any sort of serious on the job injury would naturally take quite a bit of time as well.
However, she had to admit to herself that her surprise wasn't the real reason she was annoyed. The fact that her life was now so closely entwined in his was no longer something she could ignore. Like it or not, she felt a sense of responsibility for him at the moment, whether she wanted to or not. Being his partner, and his friend, meant that she should be there for him when he needed something.
Sipping her drink as the flight attendants got the plane ready for take off, she sighed. She would've gladly taken on the responsibility for helping Booth with his recovery...except that, for some reason she couldn't fathom, he didn't want her around right now. Glancing out the plane's window as it rose above the clouds, she once again wondered why he'd been so anxious for her to leave...practically pushing her out the hospital door, with Sweets' help. Was he worried that she'd be uncomfortable with his weakened state as he recovered? Surely he knew better…surely he knew she wouldn't care about that...
Suddenly she had a flash of realization. Her partner, being the consummate alpha male, wasn't worried about whether or not she'd be uncomfortable. It was all about Booth...he'd be the one who'd be uncomfortable. He didn't want her to see him that way...forgetful and unsure of himself...perhaps even somewhat feeble and unsteady on his feet. He was proud of his masculinity, and he wanted to present himself to her when he was at his best...in the peak of health...instead of weakened by illness or injury. It was simple anthropology...he was insecure about what she'd think of him.
Men like Booth equate their physical strength and their excellent stamina with their sexual prowess, so most likely he's afraid that being weak in front of me would make him appear to be somewhat impotent...as ridiculous as that sounds. He just needs time to recover, and then his strength...and his self confidence...will return. Of course, he's impatient, wanting to prove that he can handle anything life throws at him...typical of the pack leader.
She sat back in her seat and closed her eyes, considering how that trait affected their relationship. I know he feels that way because he thinks he's sexually attracted to me, but that's merely the result of his reaction to the anesthetic and his 'coma dream'. The memories of his coma experience are causing the rush of endorphins associated with romantic love, and those feelings will pass since I'll be away from him...just like the nightmares.
However, when I return, I'm sure he'll still feel the need to prove his worth...possibly by showing off at the gun range or in some similar fashion. We know that Darwin's theory about sexual selection explains a lot of our mating behavior. Most females normally prefer strong, well structured men when considering a mate, as they appear to be more virile...and therefore, better, more successful breeders. Males respond by trying to hide their flaws and their weaknesses and emphasizing their strengths, thereby promoting themselves as being better candidates for mating.
And that's exactly what Booth is doing now...he's trying to hide his weaknesses, because he has mistaken me for his mate. However, I imagine that once we have reestablished more reasonable emotional boundaries, he'll also want to keep his weaknesses hidden from me, his work partner, as well, since I'm female.
Darwin was right...the behavior of the male of a species is quite predictable...
Chuckling softly as she settled back in her seat, Brennan smiled wistfully to herself. Having used anthropology to finally dissect Booth's motives for wanting her to leave, she suddenly felt better about her trip. She'd humor him this time, and let him recover on his own terms, so that his male ego could remain intact. In fact, she wouldn't even try to call him to check on him. He had assured her he could handle things on his own, so she'd let him do just that, knowing that he'd probably fail...and if he eventually realized he actually could've used her help, so much the better.
As she opened her tablet to read her notes about the dig, she sighed. Six weeks was a long time...and it would be interesting to see what effect this separation had on their partnership. I just want to go back to how things were...to be normal again...whatever that may be...
Oooooooooo
Booth was alone, sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to remember who was going to pick him up from the hospital that morning. He didn't think it was Bones...or was it? After all, she was his wife, right? I'm such a lucky guy…I have a beautiful wife...she's gonna take good care of me.
Then a sudden realization flooded over him again, and he sadly shook off his dream world. I'm not really married to Bones, okay? As much as I may want that to happen some time in the future, it hasn't happened yet, and at the rate we're going with this brain tumor and coma dream fiasco, it may never happen, right? I mean, why would she want a broken down guy like me? I'm practically a goddamn cripple, and I don't want to saddle her with taking care of me for the rest of my life. She deserves so much more than that...she could have any guy she wanted...she doesn't have to settle for a invalid.
He hadn't realized how much he'd looked forward to seeing her everyday until she'd left him alone, even if that was at his request. She had become his light in the darkness...practically his reason for living...and now he wasn't sure when...or if...he'd see her again.
Maybe it's better this way...maybe I can forget about her for awhile. I'm way too attached to her for us to be work partners, right? And Sweets says I don't really love her, but then, he doesn't know how I felt about her before all the brain tumor shit took over my life. I've loved her for a long time, but I couldn't tell her because I was afraid she'd run away...and now I've deliberately pushed her away, and I may never get the chance to say it...and things may never be normal between us again. Anyway, after being on that dig for a few weeks, she may remember how much she likes that sort of thing. She may decide she's had enough FBI work...she may want to go back to studying ancient civilizations.
Rolling his eyes at how lame his thoughts were, he groaned in disgust, trying to ward off his self pity. He didn't have time for that shit right now. Closing his eyes, he decided to concentrate on the FBI's plan for him to stay out of Vorstenbach's way. Bones was out of town, digging up some old remains somewhere….he knew it was somewhere fairly safe, with government protection being offered for the scientists who were working the dig, although at that moment he couldn't remember the name of the country where she was. God, how he hated that! In the past, when she was gone on an expedition out of the country, it was nice to be able to think about where she was working, imagining what she was doing that day...and now he couldn't even do that, because of his faulty memory.
Being forgetful was more than inconvenient...it was upsetting, but at least he'd gotten to a point where he could finally remember his own name, address and date of birth without having to check his cheat sheet, and he'd managed to figure out which shoe went on which foot the first time through that morning. His shirt was buttoned correctly, his fly was up, and his belt was buckled, so that was good news, too. He had successfully managed to get up, go to the bathroom, dress himself and have breakfast without spilling it everywhere. "Great…," he grumbled to himself. "I guess I'm finally ready to go to kindergarten…"
Dr. Jursik had said it might take a few weeks for his brain to recover from the trauma of surgery, claiming that his confusion was normal, but that didn't make Booth feel any better.
How was I gonna be able to go back to being the man I used to be if I can't always remember how to dress myself? Will I be able to remember how to drive, or how to shoot a gun, or how even to read someone their rights? Jesus...this whole thing is so fucked up…
He rose from the bed and went into the bathroom to check himself out in the mirror one more time. Reaching up to the back of his head, he rubbed the spot where they'd shaved his hair away from his scalp to get into his brain. It felt like maybe some hair might have already grown back, so at least that was one point in his favor. He fervently hoped the hair growth would cover the scar in time. Dr. Jursik seemed hopeful that he wouldn't have a big bald spot on his scalp, but with the way things were going, he wouldn't have been surprised if all of his hair fell out and left him looking like a cue ball.
Anyway, he figured he didn't look half bad considering what he'd been through. However, when he looked in the mirror again, he saw a man who was unsure of himself...a nervous man who seemed scared of every little thing that might happen in the future. It wasn't the brash, confident Seeley Booth looking back at him in his reflection...that man seemed to have fled weeks ago...he'd moved far away, and who knew if anyone would ever see him again? I'm so anxious...scared of my own shadow. How can I ever arrest anyone if I feel this way? How can I lead my division? I'm so fucked...
"Agent Booth? Are you ready to go?" Sweets poked his head into the room cautiously, and Booth couldn't say that he blamed him.
I've been a really nasty guy to be around here lately, haven't I? "Yeah, I'm in the can." He walked out of the bathroom and shrugged at the psychologist. "Did the doc sign my discharge papers yet?"
"I've got all the paperwork right here." He held up a huge stack of papers. "The nurse said she'll bring up a wheelchair for you in a few minutes, and we'll be ready to go."
"Yeah, okay." Opening the tiny closet, Booth pulled out the bag that held his belongings. "So what did Dr. Jursik say about me going to the rehab hospital? Last night he made it sound like I could go straight to the safe house instead if someone stayed with me."
"Oh...about that." Sweets stood looking at the agent sheepishly, biting his lip. Booth sighed audibly when he noticed, knowing that it meant something he didn't want to happen was going to happen.
"Oh...about what? C'mon, Sweets. What's going on?" Booth sat on the bed and waited for the bad news. "Spill it."
"Well, there's been a small problem. Director Cullen is concerned that the location of the safe house has been compromised. He got a tip that Vorstenbach knows where it is, and so, in the interest of your safety, we've decided to assign you to a different location while you recover." Sweets grimaced slightly, "It's not really a problem...just a minor detail. No worries…'
"No worries, huh?" Booth knew something was off, but his brain was still foggy. "I guess the location's not a big deal, is it?" He was confused about what Sweets was saying, not really sure of the problem with the safe house nor caring about where he was going, other than the fact that he couldn't go home yet. "I'm going somewhere and you'll keep an eye on me...and on Dickie, too, right? That's all I care about…you know, other than having a bed and some food...and maybe a TV and a laptop."
"As it happens, you might not be as comfortable as you would've been in the original location we'd chosen. We're going to put you in the burn unit at Walter Reed hospital instead." Sweets held up his hand to stop the agent's angry protest. "I know you hate hospitals, Booth, but we feel confident that no one would think to look for you there. We'll also be able to put bandages on your face, further obscuring your identity, and therefore allowing you another level of protection. You'll have a private room with secure computer access so you'll be able to be in touch with your family."
"And with Bones, right? I want to get emails from her...and maybe let her know how I'm doing..."
Sweets shrugged nonchalantly as a funny look passed over his face. "I suppose…"
At that point Booth was too tired to argue about it anymore. He just wanted to be somewhere different...somewhere besides that particular hospital room. "Sure, what the hell. I guess it doesn't make any difference to me." He paused, glaring at Sweets as the nurse brought in the wheelchair. "You're gonna tell Bones the truth, right, Sweets? About why I'm there?"
"Of course." The young man rolled his eyes at Booth as if the agent was some sort of idiot. "I'll tell her everything she needs to know."
"Okay. That's okay." Sighing as he got himself settled in the wheelchair, Booth pointed towards the door. "Let's go."
oooooooooo
It was late in the day the Pre-Columbian dig, and all the other scientists had left the work site already in order to get cleaned up for dinner. Brennan, however, had worked to complete her excavation until the sun was just setting over the Costa Rican jungle. Tired and sweaty, she stood with her hands on her hips in grim satisfaction as she assessed her day's work. With just a few hours of labor tomorrow morning, the stone artifact would be free from the surrounding matrix, ready for processing by Dr. Pak and his assistants.
"Con permiso," she called out softly. "Estoy listo. Ayudame, por favor." She smiled as a sturdy young man appeared at the rim of the deep ditch. "Gracias."
"De nada. No hay problema." The soldier on guard offered her a hand, and she clasped it gratefully. Placing one foot against the dirt walls of the pit, she hauled herself out of the ancient midden. She nodded her thanks, and the soldier smiled at her, tipping his helmet.
His name was David, and he was being paid by the country's government to watch over the scientists during the dig. Each scientist had a guard assigned to them as they worked because the site being excavated had a shady past, and that part of the country was notorious for having multiple layers of political corruption. Because there was a chance that thieves would attempt to desecrate the site, it had been decided that extra security would be prudent.
A simple handgun was nestled snugly in David's holster, and an expandable baton hung from his belt. He normally worked as a plumber in San Jose', but he was also a member of the Army's reserves, on temporary assignment for the summer.
As they walked to the campsite, Brennan watched as he unbuckled the holster, checked it at the utility tent, and then they walked towards the soldiers' quarters. A smiling woman emerged from a large tent, and a laughing young girl came running out to meet them. David hunkered down and drew the small child into his arms, kissing her cheek. "Hola, chiquita…"
He pulled away when she began to squirm, and she held up a gleaming white object for him to see. He smiled widely and gestured towards his companion. The girl ran over, her long dark hair flying behind her. Brennan smiled and knelt down to receive her hug. Nearly knocking the anthropologist over in her excitement, the child wrapped her arms around Brennan's neck and squeezed. When she pulled away, she held up the object for her to see. Nestled in her hands was a fragile white bone.
Hello, Lidia., Brennan spelled out in sign language. The child's parents had learned American Sign Language from American missionaries when their daughter was born deaf. Slowly but surely, David was teaching the anthropologist some sign language as well so she could communicate more easily with Lidia. In return, Lidia was practicing lip reading as Brennan spoke to her in Spanish.
Bone!, the child signed excitedly. Look how shiny it is! Let's go see how it fits.
"Si. Un hueso." Laughing, Brennan signed as she gestured towards the tent. Don't forget your gloves. "No olvides tus guantes."
Nodding, Lidia ran in and placed the bone on the little light table Brennan had set up for her. As the little girl pulled on a pair of child sized latex gloves, candles were lit by her father and placed beneath the translucent glass. A picture of concentration, the girl wrapped a rubber band around her thick dark hair and slid into her coveted lab coat. A woman at the site had sewn it for her using some blue chambray from an old work shirt, and Lidia treasured it. She stood across from Brennan at the table, and rearranged the bones into a shape resembling a skeleton. As Brennan watched, Lidia's brown eyes focused intently on the bones. She had been carefully excavating the animal skeleton near the edge of the dig site under her father's watchful eye, and slowly but surely had been cleaning the bones and taking them to Brennan to get her approval.
Smiling indulgently, the anthropologist watched as the girl inspected the small femur she had recently found. It had only been three weeks, but Lidia had already stolen her focus away from the dig. For some reason, old pot shards and broken stone implements were no longer as interesting as what the child had found during the day.
Lidia stood over the light table as the sun set outside. Her parents had already made dinner and would be expecting her soon, but she was still fascinated with her latest find...too involved with her project to go home for something as mundane as food.
I know exactly how she feels. I feel that way when Booth and I are working on a case. I get so involved I forget to eat unless he reminds me. Lost in thought, Brennan was staring out at the sunset when Lidia began to frantically sign her name. The girl crossed her arms over her chest and curled her pointer and middle fingers, the sign for bone, then immediately opened her hand and placed her thumb on her chin, the sign for mom. Instead of spelling Brennan's name every time, she had taken to calling her 'Bone Mom' instead.
Grinning at the girl, Brennan leaned over to study the bones, nodding in satisfaction. The girl had quite the talent for anthropology. The majority of the bones had been arranged in correct anatomical position as she pieced together an animal.
The child waited impatiently as her new friend studied at her work. Finally looking up at her, Brennan clumsily signed a question.
What is it? "Que es?"
Cat! Lidia gestured excitedly. I think it's a cat!
Yes! You are correct! It's definitely a cat! "Estas en lo correcto. Un gato!" Brennan offered her hand for a high five. Lidia slapped her hand hard and made a series of complicated gestures before running out of the tent, leaving her mentor to blink in confusion before she laughed at herself. Sometimes she forgets I'm still learning her language. Blowing out the candles, Brennan left the tent and joined Lidia's family for dinner.
"David, can you help me?", she asked out loud, pointing to the child. He looked up and nodded, signaling for Lidia's attention.
Repeat. Slower. I don't understand what you're saying. Brennan signed to her. "Por favor, repitelo. Ve mas despacio. No entiendo lo que quieres decir."
The child smiled and repeated the gestures at a slower pace.
"Thank you. Go on...tell me more. Oh, Lo siento...Gracias...dime' mas." After watching intently, Brennan was able to gradually translate what was being said. David grinned at his pupil, proud of her progress. "Wait, did she say 'sunrise'?," the anthropologist asked in surprise.
"Nope. She said 'I'm coming over way too early for normal people but I know you'll be awake.'"
David's deadpan voice made Brennan hesitate. "Then I didn't get all of what she's trying to tell me."
His wife chuckled as she ladled some beans onto a plate. . "Don't tease Dr. Brennan, David. Yes, she said sunrise. She knows you're up with the birds, and she wants to see you tomorrow. She wants to help you."
Brennan signed back to Lidia, pleased to see the girl's grin. After a few more lessons on sign language, the friends finished dinner and cleaned up before she headed back to her tent for the evening.
Even though she was exhausted, sleep evaded her as she lay on the narrow cot. After tossing and turning for an hour, she gave up and wandered outside, spreading out a blanket under the dark, star filled sky. Tracing constellations in her mind as she listened to the sounds of the night, she thought about Lidia. She knew she would miss the child terribly when she left for home, but the aspiring young anthropologist lived in Costa Rica's capital city...a place where she would be able to get a good education even though she was hearing impaired. They were only living on the dig site on a temporary basis because her father was a guard for the duration of the expedition. Slowly, Brennan's thoughts drifted to Booth and the child they'd almost had.
If only circumstances had been different…I could've had a child of my own. She had to be truthful with herself...she still wanted a baby. In fact, Lidia had made her crave a child even more. I could teach my offspring so much...
She rolled onto her side and huffed out a quick breath, somewhat exasperated with her flights of fancy. Those thoughts had been invading her mind for weeks. She missed Booth terribly, and desperately wanted an update on his condition. However, dig rules specified that the satellite phone was only for emergencies, and the single computer was for work only, in order to conserve the battery, since charging at such a remote site was difficult, even with the expedition's large solar charger. So just as he requested...he gets to work on his recovery by himself. No phone calls...no email...
Booth's words kept running through her mind. If I don't make it, I want you to have my stuff. You know, for a kid. You're gonna be a good mom, Bones. If he had died during the surgery, would she have used his donation for her insemination? She bit her lip, considering the idea, and found that she really didn't know. On one hand, he had given her permission...she did want the child and he was an exceptional donor. On the other hand, he would never get to meet his child, and the child would never know the kind, compassionate man who was its father. Booth would've hated that, and, Brennan had to admit...she would've hated it, too. Booth has excellent parenting skills...I could learn so much from him...
Turning over onto her back, she scolded herself. "You're being irrational, Brennan. You're tired...you're too emotional to make any sort of decision right now...let alone one of that magnitude. When you get home, you can evaluate your desires for offspring in a far more logical manner than you can out here in the Costa Rican jungle."
She shook her head in disgust, appalled with the notion that she had been thinking about Booth as if he really were dead. It was ridiculous. He was home in D.C., recovering from his surgery. Given the amount of time that had passed, he might already be back to work...and probably had already been re-certified at the gun range. He was a strong, healthy man, well able to bounce back from surgery, even a surgery as difficult as removal of a brain tumor.
Besides, she decided she needed to clarify his position on her use of his donation. What exactly would he expect from her if she used his donation? How much input would he want in the way the child was raised? There were so many questions...so many details...so many feelings to work out...
Rolling her eyes at her own silliness, she stood up and went back inside the tent. Lying on the rickety cot, she rolled over and began reciting the human bones in order from smaller to largest and then in reverse alphabetical order.
Anything to keep her mind off Booth's recovery, having a baby of her own, and the little deaf girl who had stolen her heart.