Okay, so I was studying for my Honors PreCalc final, when I got distracted. As jayne-190 said, "studying also seems to prompt stories/chapters; stress is funny at times." Tell me about it.
Shout out to Ira Flatow on Science Friday! Not like he'd ever read this…
So anyway, jumping about a month ahead; no reason to bore you. And I'll admit, I'm already getting eager to get them back together. I'll see what I can do…
Thanks for the support everyone!
Oh and I, Objective Mistress, now has a twitter account. Send me something objectivemiss.
B&B
Day 66
B&B
Temperance Brennan took a day off. Yes, this day of was completely voluntary. No, the world is not coming to a cataclysmic end.
After two months of studying Adi, the inter-hominoid remains, she needed a day or two of rest and relaxation. Luckily, Maluku Islands offered pristine beaches, and wonderful scuba diving. But for today, she settled to walking the shoreline.
Brennan wished Angela was here. She could really use some "girl talk" about now. Brennan always was an independent person, but lately, she felt lost. Like a sailor, hopelessly adrift at sea, she searched for any sign of distant shorelines or passing ships. She had no idea where she stood with Booth; much like the sailor, she felt like she was standing on a dingy being violently buffeted by wind and sea.
Were they just friends, or were they more? Did she want their relationship to be more?
She kicked the water with a frustrated grunt, sending beads of salt water into the air.
Running away to this dig hadn't allowed her to gain perspective; it had only made everything more complicated. Suddenly, an epiphany hit her like a piece of space debris falling from low earth orbit. Brennan didn't have to wait an entire year to talk to Angela; she possessed a working phone. Well not possessed, rather, had access to a working phone. Resisting the urge to call herself an idiot, she rushed back to the compound, pulling her hiking boots on as she went.
"Dr. B!" Keith Merrill walked alongside the more senior anthropologist, matching her brisk pace step for step. "I have orders from Dr. Mikel to keep you from working."
"Dr. B?" Daisy Wick pulled up to her other side. "Aren't you taking the day off?"
"I need to make a phone call," Brennan tried to wave the two off.
"Are you calling Booth?" Daisy's eyes seemed to light with anticipation.
"Who's this Booth guy?" he cut in.
"Dr. B's one and only partner."
"Wow; Dr. Mays told me you weren't in a relationship."
"I'm not," Brennan snapped, still trying to remove the interns as one would untangle a jellyfish from a limb.
"Then who are you calling?" the perky anthropologist bugged.
"Don't you two have work to do?" she asked, stopping at the communication hut door.
"Yes Dr. B…" the young anthropologists sulked off.
Finally alone, Brennan entered the darkened hut, dialing Angela's cell phone number that she knew by heart. She drummed her fingers on the cradle impatiently, mentally calculating the time difference. It was 4:13 PM local, so it must be 10:13 AM in Paris; there was an extremely good chance that Angela would be awake.
"Hello?" the artist answered with confusion evident in her voice. She most likely didn't recognize the phone number.
"Is this Angela?"
"Sweetie?"
The next thing she heard was an earsplitting squeal; any higher in pitch, and it would have been out of the human hearing range.
"I'd like to talk to you."
"Well, you already have me on the line. How is Maluku? Is it terrible? Is it horribly backwards?"
"It's quite nice actually, but I need some advice."
"On what? I've got time; Jack is out picking up breakfast."
"It's about…Booth…"
"What about him?"
"Well…" Brennan struggled for the right words. "There's something I never told you about…"
"Oh my gosh! Did you have sex? Are you pregnant with a little Booth?"
"Why would you think that? It's nothing of that sort."
"Then what? I can already tell this is going to be juicy."
"I assure you, there is no juice involved. I'll tell, but you cannot interrupt me as it can be a rather long tale."
"Does it have to do with sex?"
"We got close to coitus at one point."
"Spill sweetie. Now."
"The first case that Booth and I worked-"
"The one where he fired you?"
"Yes, but just after that, we were going to engage in tequila-driven sexual intercourse."
"Oooo, that's the best kind. Why didn't' you?"
"At the last moment, I decided to go home; I'm still unsure of what my justification for that action was…but I digress. That isn't the conflict I wish to discuss."
"What would be more conflicting than leaving Booth literally high and dry?"
"A few months ago, Booth told me that he loves me…and," Brennan couldn't help but tear up a bit as she relieved the emotional turmoil. "…That he wanted to give 'us' a try…"
"Oh my God…"
"I said no."
"So this dig…you ran away from him like you did when you broke up with Pete."
"Yes."
"So what now?"
"I-" she squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to will her thoughts out. "I-I think I l-love him."
"I knew it! But this is big; are you going to tell him?"
"I was thinking about emailing him-"
"No!" the artist yelled into the phone. "You can't tell someone that you love them through an email!"
"Why not? Email is an effective means of communication."
"No Bren, it just isn't right."
"Why?"
"Because it just isn't."
"Using a tautology in a rational argument won't get you anywhere."
"Okay, not it's my turn to say 'I don't know what that means.' It's just rude to tell someone something that…intimate"
"So then what do I do?" Brennan screamed in frustration. "What if I'm unable to tell him in ten months when I return home?"
"Look, the first step is to admit that you have a problem."
"I don't have a problem!"
"Problem meaning that you admit to yourself that you love Booth. It can only get easier from here."
Typically, when something upset Brennan, she would simply compartmentalize and attempt to forget about it. As one would treat the bunny suit that one's aunt handmade for Christmas, she would shove the thoughts to the back of her metaphorical mental closet. Eventually, she would dig it out, but by that time, the suit's fur would be matted with dust, and forgotten long enough that no more emotional triggers lingered.
With Booth though, she had tried to shove her feelings for him to the absolute back. But after five years of partnership, her closet didn't have any more room. She would have to let her feelings go, and like any spring cleaning routine.; decide what to keep, and what to dispose of.
"I trust you."
"This is awesome! Now, would you mind if Jack and I come down and visit you in a month or two?"
"How would you get here?"
"Jack has a yacht docked in Macau, ready to roll when we want."
Brennan smiled, "It would be quite enjoyable to see you."
"Oh, Jack is back with food. Call me, or I'll call you!"
She hung up feeling proud of herself. She had said to a live human being that she might love Seeley Booth. Emphasis on "live," as sometimes, down in the darkness and privacy of limbo, she had tried to practice professing her love (if love existed at all). Corpses, even with no means to hear, are figuratively good listeners.
Even if she didn't feel love, it was some sort of very strong attachment.
With a few more hours of daylight and nothing to do, Brennan walked outside to the excavation site. The team was busy mapping the site by transferring physical markers to create a computer model of the dig.
"I thought I told our interns to keep you away," Mikel stepped over a line of marking wire.
"I'm not working; I'm merely observing."
"By the way, your Science Friday interview was amazing. Sorry that…that incompetent called in."
"My partner says that I do badly in interviews because I don't connect enough."
"Don't fret Temperance," Mikel said in a fatherly tone, "I may not know the quality of your past interview, but I do know that this particular one was excellent."
"You blew their socks off!" someone called from the excavation trench.
"I'm not sure if that's possible…"
"How about this," Merrill dragged himself from the pit. "Why don't we pull out some of that alcohol that the locals gave to us and we celebrate our director's sweet interview?"
Sounds of approval came from the gaping hole in the ground.
"It's settled," Mikel said. "We're going to celebrate, and you," he pointed at Brennan, "will like it."
Just like when dealing with a determined Booth, resistance was futile.
Only 299 more days of the Maluku sun…
B&B
"You're mighty lucky Sergeant Major," Major Marcus Moore said as he stitched up his leg. "See, I'm a trauma surgeon, and it's nice to have so little to do that I can fix something as minor as this."
"Thanks doc," Booth winced.
During a live fire exercise, a blockheaded Private didn't follow proper live ammunition protocols, resulting in a very preventable friendly fire incident and ballistic trauma to the lower right leg.
"Did I say how nice it is to see a solider without hemorrhaging, compound fractures, shrapnel, and concussions?"
"You've got a sense of humor on you," Booth raised his eyebrows.
"Hey," the surgeon finished up the stitches, "in a line of work like mine, you have to keep a positive outlook somehow."
"I know what that's like…"
"Combat can be like that."
"Well, I was an FBI Agent; I saw corpses just about every day."
"Ah," the doctor remarked. "To deal in death daily…quite difficult."
"This is Science Friday, I'm Ira Flatow. This hour we are talking with Dr. Temperance Brennan, a forensic anthropologist-"
"W-What are you listening to?" Booth looked around for the source of the broadcast. He knew that he had just heard Bones' name.
"Oh, that's Science Friday, I hope you don't mind. I pick it up as a podcast and listen. I love to pick up something new."
"T-Turn it up," Booth ordered, sliding from the examination table.
"I don't see why not, I'm done with your leg by the way," Major Moore turned up the speaker.
"Welcome to Science Friday Dr. Brennan."
"Thank you Ira, it is great to be here."
"Most of my Army patients hate the NPR crap I play," the doctor chuckled. "You like this stuff?''
"No," Booth shook his head. "That woman, Dr. Brennan, is my partner."
"Not a bad girlfriend to have eh?"
"No no; work partners."
"So tell me Dr. Brennan, what have you found on this Maluku expedition?"
"Well, a nearly-complete set of inter-hominoid remains were discovered in Maluku. My team and I finished the excavation of the remains and are studying them as we speak."
"Wow, is this as big as I think it could be. In respect to the chain of human evolution, I mean."
"If you think that this could be a fairly large discovery, then you are right. It is entirely possible that the remains represent a new human ancestor. But we don't have evidence to prove this yet and I am not sure of it myself."
"Smart lady Dr. Brennan is," Moore nudged Booth. "I love all her books."
"So then Dr. Brennan, what makes these remains so remarkable?"
"Well Ira, the remains have evidence of cross-mating between Homo sapiens and Homo floresiensis."
"So mating, between humans, and another member of the homo genus?"
"That is correct."
"Now, I hate to get off topic, but it is no secret that you are a New York Times bestselling author. Do you think that your current expedition could have future inspiration on your work?"
"All of my work is complete fiction; while I don't deny that elements of reality can come into my books, but imagination and facts play the largest role?"
"You don't even gain inspiration from those that work with you?"
Booth imagined her smiling, "I admit that some more…vivid friends have inspired characters."
"Hey," the doctor tossed a bottled water to Booth. "I figured that this is practically a party, so why not have refreshments?"
"If going to the doctor was always this fun, I would have had no problem getting a bit hurt."
"So Sergeant Major, if you are so close to Dr. Brennan, do you have a character counterpart?"
Booth cracked a wide grin. "I'm Agent Andy."
"Get out."
"Why?" The one and only Captain Ella Foley stepped into the examination room.
After Herrings warning, Booth had put Foley far from his mind. She was just a pretty face and a piece of paper that said "doctor." She wasn't anything special.
"Nothing concerning you Captain," Major shrugged.
"So let's get another caller on the line. Curtis Mays from Dallas, Texas, you're on the air."
"Thank you Ira. Dr. Brennan here has no evidence whatsoever to backup anything she is saying."
"Big thing to say Mr. Mays-"
"It's Dr. Mays."
"Sorry Dr. Mays. So Dr. Brennan, anything to say?"
"Dr. Mays here is simply upset that he was removed from our dig from inappropriate conduct. We didn't publicize it against my own opinion, but we decided to spare him some professional fallout. But since he brought it up, I suppose that knowledge is now public."
"So your girlfriend here can kick guys off her island," Moore laughed.
"Not my girlfriend Major."
"I've heard that one before."
"Excuse me," Captain Foley butted in. "Sorry to stop your conversation, but we just got word that some wounded are being airlifted back to base and we will probably need you prepped for surgery."
"Alright Captain, you can leave. I'll see you in a moment or two."
The Captain hastily left.
"Look Sergeant Major Booth, I know it isn't exactly good officer-enlisted relations for you and me to pal around like this. But I'm an enlisted guy at heart."
"Oh really?"
"Combat medic first, I saw a lot of action, a purple heart too."
"Impressive doc."
"They just have me here because the most wounded come through here, and I'm the best scalpel-jockey the Army has. Not that I like to toot my own horn. Come chat sometime," Major Moore stepped out of examination room, heading down the hall to some other corner of the medical complex.
Booth's two months on base had been kind, with the exception of the friendly fire incident. He was done with his second batch of trainees, and was currently idle while waiting for a new group. The Ranger and Army Infantry mix group had been less than ideal, and his next group was all Rangers. But, he had at least a week before they arrived and were ready to go.
He limped out of the room, his leg still hurt.
"Sergeant Major Booth," a nurse in full scrubs approached him. "We have crutches for you." She pointed to a pair leaned against a desk. "I'd love to chat more, but I'm needed down in trauma shortly," she dashed off down the hall.
Stubborn as always, Booth grabbed one crutch with his right arm. He knew that he would be fine in a day or two.
He gimped across the dusty base, heading towards the recreation building.
"Hey boss!" Herring yelled as he caught up.
"Hey, don't be taunting me about running."
"No worries man. That damn Private got a big ribbing."
"Don't come down too hard on the guy."
"Boss; you're a Ranger. You know how deadly friendly fire can be. I know as well as you do that accidents happen, but this is serious business. But hey, no worries! Let's go and get you fixed up with somethin' good eh?"
Booth laughed along, "I don't feel like getting drunk."
"Well I hate to leave ya boss, but I'm headin' in that direction," the Master Sergeant walked off.
Still heading to the recreation building, Booth couldn't help but feel a bit on edge. Without a group of Rangers to train with his physical mobility impaired, he couldn't do much of anything but sit around. Usually, he would use his extra time at the shooting range, in the weight room or running. The time change wasn't right to call Parker, but they had talked just yesterday.
Although completely untrue, Booth couldn't help but feel like Parker was growing up faster with him gone. Rebecca was being great with his deployment; she took videos to share, pictures to send, and helped to schedule calls with him.
He talked with Bones around a week ago; they exchanged emails one or two times a week.
Booth settled down in a recliner in the room where some guys were watching the news, satisfied with the idea of resting and healing.
Only 299 more days of crappy Army TV channels…
B&B
Tada! I took half my Spanish 4 final today. Second half is tomorrow, then two finals on both Thursday and Friday and I'm done for the year! Yay!
Reviews increase my odds of doing well…I hope.