A/N: I have a few new drabbles for you, all of which were written in response to a series of prompts in Bertie's awesome Bones Comment Fic Meme.

For this one, lizook12's prompt was Booth/Brennan - grass.

This first drabble is going to be a little unusual – I thought I'd just mention that.

Proud Music of the Storm


Now the great organ sounds, and she can hear it. She can really hear it, the wide gothic arches of the church echoing every note. Booth shifts next to her, a concerned look on his face, as if he expects her to make one of her trademark snarky comments about religion. She does not. He settles back into his seat.

Johann Sebastian Bach, she recites to herself, Johann Sebastian Bach.

The name is familiar. It is human. It belongs to someone long dead.

The dead cannot speak, she tells herself. When they do speak – and to her, they do sometimes – they speak of bones and traumas and uncompleted lives. Their voices are not God's thunder. Their voices cannot be God's thunder.

She feels as if she has come here to sift through the mundane – religious rituals, pomp and circumstance – and has ended up with a handful of the transcendental instead.

When the choir joins in, she gets up and runs out, stopping only when she is at a safe distance, the music coming out of the church mixing with the soothing everyday sounds of the city.

Booth finds her pacing the grass a few minutes later.

"What are you doing to me? Why did you bring me here?" she says to him, angry (distraught? she wonders).

"What?"

"How can someone do this? How can anyone do this? He's dead, he's been dead for three hundred years!"

Booth looks at her, then towards the church, then back at her.

"I'm a scientist, it's who I am. It's who I want to be," she tells him, her voice a whisper now.

He drapes an arm around her shoulders.

"I know who you are, Bones. I know."

She thinks that yes, now she knows who he is too.

Just in case anyone's wondering how grass plays into this, for some strange reason Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass (Proud Music of the Storm, to be specific) sprang to mind, instead of actual grass. So I just let it all go in that direction. Go figure. :)

And for the record, I always thought that Brennan's sensitive enough to have a flash of insight on how people experience religion (she does seem to want to connect to something greater, after all, at least recently). It's just that she needs to be caught by surprise.

Oh well, no idea where this came from. Please let me know what you think!