Disclaimer: I do not own Bones, but I am obsessed!
Author's Note: This one is nothing but sugar. I couldn't help myself. Enjoy.
Chapter Thirteen: Duende
Duende: Spanish – While originally used to describe a mythical, spritelike entity that possesses humans and creates the feeling of awe of one's surroundings in nature, its meaning has transitioned into referring to "the mysterious power that a work of art has to deeply move a person."
Angela grabbed Booth by the arm and dragged him down the corridor. When she finally let him go, he rubbed the juncture of his arm and shoulder, "Jeez, Ange, you practically ripped my arm out of its socket."
She shrugged, "At least it wasn't your shooting arm."
"Well, thanks for that." Booth took in the scenery around him. "Any reason, I'm here? This isn't usually my kind of place."
Angela sighed. "You are such a Neanderthal, Booth."
"So what did I just have to see?"
Angela pointed to a small work of art. It didn't look much larger than a sheet of ordinary computer paper, but his breath was taken away as he looked at the picture.
"Wow, Ange. It's beautiful."
"I know. Don't you think that it's totally Brennan? The moment I saw it, and I knew that it would be perfect."
Booth nodded, "She'll love the colors, look at that blue. You're right, it is perfect."
Angela smugly responded. "I know."
Booth looked around at the other masterpieces that were on display. They were also nice, whoever had arranged the room clearly had a good eye; but there was something about the piece in front of him that he couldn't resist. Booth reached out his hand, but stopped himself. He didn't want to get in trouble for touching the artist's work. He knew how temperamental artists could be about their pieces.
He looked playfully at Angela, "I don't know, Ange. You think I can afford it?"
She smirked and rolled her eyes at him. "It's a very reasonable price, and the artist is virtually undiscovered. I'm sure that I can get you a good deal. And it needs a proper frame. I can take care of that for you as well, if you want me to."
"Yeah, that would be nice. I'm no good at that kind of stuff. You think you can have it ready for her birthday?"
Angela nodded, "I'll see what I can do, it'll be a rush job, but I'll get it done in time."
"Good, now that that's settled, let's get back before Bones comes looking for us."
"Yeah, the kids must be bored by now anyway. They were promised pizza two hours ago, and we have yet to deliver."
Booth offered his arm, which Angela blithely accepted and they went in search of their partners and their children.
Booth looked around the room covertly. He rarely stepped inside Brennan's office at home, this was her space. When she needed privacy, this was her sanctuary. Usually, she only ended up there when she had a chapter to finish, or paperwork that she didn't want young eyes to discover. He had spent days deliberating where he was going to hang his freshly acquired masterpiece. He had considered their bedroom, the family room, even the kitchen, but he had settled on her office.
When she closed the door, no one disturbed her and she could spend uninterrupted hours holed up there. When it got too late, he would rap lightly on the door and go to bed. Sometimes she would join him shortly afterwards, but sometimes it would still be hours until the bed would shift beside him. She would lose herself in the office, and he thought that by having the picture there in front of her, she would remember that everyone else was outside waiting for her. And he thought that the art would inspire her on those rare occasions when writer's block kept her in the sparse room until all hours of the night.
He had found the perfect spot, on the wall just above her desk. He clenched the nail in his hand and brought it to the pencil dot that he had already measured. He had to make sure that it was set right, she would notice if it wasn't perfectly centered. He wouldn't mind rehanging it, but she would certainly mind if he poked too many extra holes in the wall.
He laughed to himself, he was obsessing over a nail and a hole that he was perfectly capable of repairing if he needed to. He brought the nail to the wall and began to gently tap the head. Once it was secure, he carefully unwrapped the package. He sighed when he saw the piece again. It really was perfect. She would love it. He brushed it lightly, the art now covered by a protective glass that Angela swore would preserve it from sun damage. Of course he left a streak on the surface and he quickly went in search of glass cleaner.
Finally, everything was ready. The painting was hung. The setting sun creeping through the windows really set it off. He glanced at his watch. She was supposed to be home by now. She had promised to leave work early so that they could properly celebrate her birthday. She was late for their plans, but it was still early by her standards.
Finally, he heard the door unlock and he heard two chattering voices as they entered the home and settled in for the evening.
He heard her call for him, "Booth?"
"I'm up here, Bones. In your office."
He heard footsteps on the stairs, one set tentative, the other one lighter and hurrying to catch up.
"What are you doing in my office, Booth? You never come in here."
"Surprise! Happy Birthday!" He gestured at the newly hung work of art.
She stared at it for a long moment, taking it in, analyzing it. Finally, she smiled. "It's wonderful, Booth. Where did you get it?"
"Angela spotted it, she insisted that I get it for you. I wasn't hard to convince. It's perfect for you, isn't it? Do you like it?"
She leaned over and quickly kissed his cheek. "Of course I like it. I love it."
"Love it? That's high praise from you."
Brennan reached up and brushed the painting, leaving her own fingerprint where Booth had removed one earlier. She frowned at the streak, but Booth was quick to supply her with cleaner and a towel. She smiled at his thoughtfulness and he grinned in response.
A small girl poked her head into the office.
"Do you like it, Mommy? Aunt Angie said it was a surprise for you."
"I love it, Baby. Thank you." The background of the picture was a swirl of blues and greys, but it was the center of the piece that was its focus. A very detailed crayon drawing of a family popped out of the picture: a blond boy nearly as tall as the man standing beside him, next to two girls with blue eyes and dark hair, clearly mother and daughter.
"I worked really hard on it. Aunt Angie let me use her studio. It took forever and ever."
"I can only imagine, you put in a lot of detail. I'm very impressed. Maybe Angela will get her wish and you will be an artist when you grow up."
The girl reached up her arms and was quickly settled on her mother's hip. She scrunched her eyebrows, "Maybe, I might still be a ballerina or a scientist, or the president, or a dinosaur hunter, or a hockey player or..."
Booth reached over to ruffle his daughter's hair, "Or a special agent at the Federal Bureau of Investigations."
"I don't know Daddy, would I get a gun?"
Booth shook his head, what was it about Brennan women and firearms? "OK, whose hungry? I've got dinner in the oven."
Now it was Brennan's turn to raise an eyebrow, "You cooked?"
He shrugged. "Sid did, I just reheated. I can't just give you grilled cheese on your birthday. Come on, I'm starvin' like Marvin."
The girl reached over to her father and the transfer was made efficiently from one partner to the other. Booth quickly left the office as Brennan took another minute to admire her daughter's work. "Daddy, whose Marvin? Did Sid send enough food for him?"
Brennan shook her head and left the office. She had a birthday dinner to eat with her family. In an hour Rebecca would stop by with Parker to share cake and for him to give her the unnecessary, but completely thoughtful present that he had picked out for her. She left the door to the office open, she would definitely show off the picture to the rest of her family.
Her cell phone vibrated and smiled at the birthday text from Angela. Brennan enthusiastically typed a response, congratulating Angela on her eye and thanking her for the perfect framing job. She heard her daughter calling for her and she quickened her step in order to join her family.
Temperance Brennan had priceless artifacts and countless works of art in her home. The few lucky people who gained entrance into her home were always impressed with the decor, but only those closest to her knew that the one piece that she cherished most of all was a crayon drawing by a five year old girl. A piece that hung in her office, perfectly drawn, framed and centered on the wall where the setting sun framed her family.