Well here we go guys! Just a word of warning though; my upcoming weeks will become increasingly busy as marching band starts and we head up to the first week of school. But do not worry gentle viewers…errr…readers; I will continue to write and these should not interfere with my writing.
Glad you enjoyed the reunion chapter! But like I said, we aren't out of the woods yet; I've got one more chapter planned. But yes, I have decided to write a sequel and yes, it will follow the "year" theme that I have set in this story. But, you'll have to hang tight through this story to figure out the nature of the sequel! Without further ado, enjoy!
I apologize for the number of perspective changes in this, but it is really necessary to move the story forward.
Twitter - ObjectiveMiss
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Day -1
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"Where did you say we were going again Dr. B?" Keith pushed up his rimless farther up the bridge of his nose, squinting at the miniature tourist map in his hand. He changed the orientation a few times, struggling to get his bearings. "I'm excited to start work today, but isn't the Jeffersonian that way," he pointed. "Or that way…" he pointed in a completely different direction, unsure of where they were.
"We're going out to breakfast first," Brennan said with a turn of the wheel.
"Most important meal of the day," the young anthropologist crumbled up the useless map, dropping it in to his lap.
"You'll enjoy it," she assured.
"I'm sure I will," he smiled, as they pulled up to the curb.
The diner was just as she remembered it; the exterior remained unchanged. "The Royal Diner," read the sign above the large windows. And from the curb, she could tell that the interior hadn't changed either. It was comforting to know that amidst the turmoil of a year, something could remain constant. The relationship between her and Booth had changed; and if it would not evolve, she would make it change. It had taken her a full year to figure out that she loved him; she wasn't going to allow another year to pass with relationship stagnation. But, every time she thought about saying something…she fell into a fantod that would take some time to pass.
Together, the two swung through the double doors, a bell tolling to signal there entrance. Booth and his guest had not yet arrived.
"Table for two…oh wow," the manager walked over. "Dr. Brennan! I haven't seen you in quite a while! How was that dig thing Booth said you were goin' on? And how is he doin' with that Army gig?"
"Table for four," Brennan smiled. "My dig was a success, and Booth is also back in D.C. now."
"Well that's just fine and dandy," the manager sat them down at their usual table, placing four of the well worn and well known menus on the table. "Not that you and Booth need these anyway," he winked. "Take your time, orderin'; it's a slow morning."
"Thanks," she took one of the window seats, Keith dropping to the chair beside her.
But her attention was not focused on the menu. No, her gaze continued to fall on the street, waiting for his familiar black SUV to pull up. It was not like she had anything better to do; she always ordered the same thing for breakfast when she and he would visit before work.
"What's good here Dr. B?" Keith looked up from his menu.
"Everything she is good…" she trailed off, catching a glimpse of his SUV pulling up to the curb.
She watched his confidant stride, his roommate not far behind. He was back in his usual appeal; a black, finely tailored suit, flashy tie, and an equally ostentatious belt buckle screaming his masculinity to every passerby. Brennan took a deep breath as he stepped into the dining establishment.
"Bones, this is Marcus Moore, the guy who you have apparently already met. Who do we have here?"
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"How far away is this place? Your refrigerator is out of food and I'm starving," Moore complained. "With this much time, I could have driven up to Johns Hopkins, gotten some crappy cafeteria chow, then have still had the time to be mugged and robbed by thugs."
"How about that Mr. Ungrateful," Booth hit the gas.
They had hit every red light on the way here; and that was not hyperbole. That did not even cover the non-English speaking tour bus that got lost and stopped in the middle of the road, halting traffic. The worst park was that they could not even give them directions to move out of the way. He could only clench the steering wheel as hard as possible to resist jumping from the car, waving his Glock while foaming at the mouth. At least it wasn't a touring group of clowns or something like that. It didn't seem worth it though; therapy with Gordon Gordon was one thing, therapy with Sweets was a completely different animal.
"You said this place is good right?"
"Only the best," he smiled.
"Well good. And you said that your partner," the surgeon accented his last word with sarcastic air quotes, "and some anthropologist buddy of hers is going to be there?"
"The one and only Bones and whatever squint she brought back as a present from them islands of hers."
"Do you think she will autograph one of her books?" Moore pulled a hardcover book from his bag.
"I'm sure," Booth swung the SUV around a tight corner. "She's never been a big fan of signing stuff."
"I thought celebrities loved that sort of thing," he tapped his fingers impatiently on the dashboard.
"No not Bones. She once said something like 'autographs perpetuate hero worship which exposes a lack of individual thought and self identification' blah blah blah," the FBI agent squirmed in his seat as he reached a hand around to check his back pocket. "You got any change?"
"I think so, I always keep some so I can get a Coke Zero from the vending machine between shifts," Moore pulled out a zip-loc bag of quarters. "This enough?"
"All of this for some soda?" he dropped the bag into his lap.
"Maybe a sugar-free Red Bull on occasion," the former major shrugged. "But only if things are getting really bad. Caffeine in high quantities doesn't give me hand tremors like it does to some of the other guys, but I hate to take that risk. Last think I need is to be up to my mid-forearm in intestines and guts-"
"I really don't need the imagery you Moore-on," Booth chuckled, pulling up on to the street of the Royal Diner.
His sniper-trained eyes scanned the street for one of the most important things; an open parking spot. His searched paid off quickly; a spot was open to parallel park; and an easy spot too.
"Gold…" he muttered to himself. The SUV was government-issue anyways; if it were to get a bit banged up, he could always blame it on a suspect encounter or something. All that mattered was getting into that diner as fast as possible.
"Are we here?" Moore unbuckled his seatbelt.
"Yep," he popped a few quarters into the meter before leading the way to the diner.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted Bones in the window. Looking at him. He averted his gaze, only wanting to avoid the awkwardness of catching someone's eye across the room. One never knows if it is more gawkish to lock into a stare, or break the glare.
He stepped in to the diner, accompanied by the familiar bell ring. Bones and her…companion were seated at their usual table. He wasn't jealous. Boy, he was not jealous of some glasses wearing poindexter kid.
"Bones, this is Marcus Moore, the guy who you have apparently already met. Who do we have here?"
"Oh this is Keith Merrill, the anthropology student I was telling you about," Brennan smiled.
"Good to meet you," Booth offered his hand to the young man, squeezing his hand a bit more than necessary.
"You too…" Keith pulled his hand gracelessly away.
This was going to be an interesting breakfast indeed…
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"-and so then I tell her, that Booth's letting me stay at his place for a while and not to hit me with a frying pan," Moore laughed, recounting his first meeting with the Dr. Brennan.
"I don't see why you find my use of the frying pan so outrageously humorous," Brennan took a sip of her coffee with an amused smile.
"Bones, couldn't you do better than something from my kitchen?" Booth said, a bit of bacon flying across the table, his mouth still full.
"It was the closest thing I could find," she justified. "It was easily wieldable, and had a small enough swing radius that I could use it in combat in the narrow halls of your apartment."
"The halls are not narrow!"
"Booth," Moore nudged him in the side, "when you stand so your shoulders are perpendicular to the walls, I feel like you're walking through a hobbit house."
"Oh no," the FBI agent took a sip of his coffee. "You're one of those squints, I knew it!"
"Guilty as charged," the surgeon scooped some hash browns into his mouth. "You should have come to that outdoor Star Trek showing with me. You would have loved it!"
Keith grinned widely, "You're a Trekkie?"
"A closet one," Moore pointed his fork across the table, checking his watch in the process. "Booth, I gotta run if I want to be ready for the late shift up in Baltimore tonight and I really don't want to drive during rush hour in that rental car. And, if I go up early, I might be able to swing around an apartment I was looking at because as great as it is staying with you man, your TV is really small."
"Well thanks," Booth stood with the rest of the table as Moore took his leave.
Breakfast had gone exceptionally well. Everyone had gotten along without any outward signs of aggression or hurt feelings to been seen or felt. Together, the three dropped back in to their seats, finishing up the scraps of their meals.
"I hope you guys enjoyed, come back again," the waitress stood up the check.
"I'll get it," Booth and Brennan said simultaneously.
"Consider it my treat for having you back from Indonesia," Booth grabbed the check.
"Well consider it my gift for having you back from Afghanistan," Brennan grabbed the opposite end pulling it towards her.
"Not fair Bones, I will pay."
"It would be unfair if I allowed you to pay all on your own."
"Moore and I ate more than you and Keith. Quantity wins," he tugged at the leather folio.
"But the nutritional quality of the food Keith and I consumed far outweighs what you and Moore ate," she pulled at the receipt.
"The guy always pays Bones."
"That's blatantly sexist and by that logic, either Keith, you, or Moore should be paying the check."
"I'll take care of it," Keith handed his credit card over the bickering couple to the expectant waitress. "It's the least I can do since you two have graciously played host for me."
The matter of payment finished, the dynamic duo sat back in their respective chairs.
"So what are you two doing the rest of the day?" Booth braced himself for the inevitable squinty dialogue.
"Dr. B is going to take me for my first day at the Jeffersonian. I'm quite excited to tour the facilities and meet the team. I think I'm going to look around for my own place this afternoon though."
"Oh really?"
Even though they had dined for less than an hour, the squintern was growing on him. He was the classic sort of squint; intelligent, but surprisingly not completely socially inept. Booth couldn't help but steam with jealously when he heard that a man was staying at Bones' place for a while. But meeting him, well…he could now breathe easily knowing that the kid wasn't competition…if they were even competing in anything…which they weren't.
"It should be quite the experience," Brennan gathered her things up. "Keith, I'll meet you at the car…give me a moment."
"Sure," the young anthropologist headed for the car, taking his credit card back from the waitress.
"What's up Bones?" he stepped closer out of concern, one of his hands brushing along her elbow.
"I-"
This wasn't the moment to tell him. This wasn't her moment. This wasn't his moment.
"I need to talk to you…tonight," she clarified. "And alone…preferably without potential for interruption."
Booth's mind and its often single-tracked nature couldn't help conjuring up a circumstance or two in which he and Bones wouldn't want to be interrupted. Of course, if this train of thought were to continue, he would have to leave work early to hit confessional.
"Well Moore is going to sleep at the hospital tonight, so why don't you come over to my place whenever you finish tonight?"
"Sounds acceptable," she turned to go before pausing mid stride. "I know you have to re-qualify today, and I just wanted to say…good luck."
"Well thanks Bones, I'll see you tonight," he smiled, leaving her at the door.
She was going to tell him…tonight…at his apartment…and she was not going to back down. She was an anthropologist; she studied humans throughout history and their physical development as well as the development of their corresponding societies. Tonight had the potential to be a turning point in their relationship; one that could be for the better or for the worse.
In the best scenario, Booth accepts both her apology for turning him down, and her proposal for a more intimate relationship. This could, without her objection, precede some undoubtedly good sex. Their professional partnership would grow, not suffer, and their work would proceed in a completely normal manner. It was an idealistic thought, yes, but still entirely plausible. Of course, her own fears of attachment and such would sink nicely to the bottom like sediment, never to be worried about again.
But of course, the worst case scenario was bad enough to neutralize the goodness of her first projection. Booth could reject her, shattering the level of emotional comfort it had taken her a year to achieve. He could sever their partnership, citing conflict. He could find a woman that made him happy and would bear children with pleasing physical symmetry and median intelligence, enough to get him or her into an institution of higher learning with a partial or pull athletic scholarship. That would make him happy…
For once, Brennan's day passed at a snail's pace, and not at the slow pace in which one could savor every moment of intellectual stimulation. Keith immensely enjoyed the tour of the facilities and his introduction to the staff. Of course, Hodgins said that he would teach him of the "dark side"; but she wasn't honestly sure if he was referencing to somewhere dark or something else entirely. The other interns included him immediately, but she swore that she detected some sort of jealousy or defensiveness in Ms. Wick. While she didn't understand the psychological aspect, she did understand territorial behavior.
Evening couldn't come fast enough, usually she had to be forced out; tonight, she left more than willingly. After rushing Keith out to the parking garage, she took him by a fast food establishment to get him sustenance for the evening.
"I'm going to visit Booth," she said, dropping her work gear in the usual place.
"Oh," he dropped to the couch, pulling out a novel from his bag. "I'm game for a quiet evening."
"It is not my intention to leave you here alone-"
"I get it Dr. B," he smiled, allowing his glasses to fall lower on the bridge of his nose as he opened the book to the bookmarked page.
Now, Brennan began to slow down. During the flurry of activity that the day brought, she couldn't help but eagerly await the evening. But now, as the moment drew nearer and nearer, her agitation grew exponentially with every meter that she got closer to Booth's apartment. But her resolve was strong; stronger than her flight instinct.
It felt like only a minute or two had passed when she ended up on his curb, staring up at his illuminated window.
Step by step, she walked up to his door.
She knocked twice.
"Bones, good to have you here," he stepped aside, waving an arm in a welcoming gesture.
"I need to get this off my chest…"
"Oh, okay," he leaned against the arm of his plush couch.
"Let me preface this statement by saying that this is rather difficult for me…"
"…Uh huh…"
"I-I should just say it shouldn't I? At this point I'm speaking unnecessarily with increasing tempo-"
"You can tell me anything Bones."
"I think…I have feelings for you."
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Please don't kill me! I hate leaving it as cliffhangers as much as you do undoubtedly do. But trust me, you won't have to wait long.
Reviews are uber welcomed and make writing much faster!
Twitter - ObjectiveMiss