A/N: Okay, so I've come to realize (thanks to my insightful reviewers) that I may have a little itty bitty bias against Booth. But it's not really against him - he's a great guy - a truly good man (which I hope I've also been able to show). But he's definitely not perfect and I've been longing for recognition of that fact for a while. He gets to be a jerk some times; he gets to screw up. Doesn't make him any less. Just like Brennan's cool calculation and rudeness doesn't make her any less either. But the message I was getting on my screen a year ago was saying that only Brennan had to change and it frustrated me. I wanted to see a better balance, so, enter fic...
Anyways, on to the second 'arc' of this story - a few issues have been resolved, but it's never as easy as kissing & making up for these two, is it?
(.xxx.)
"No matter how much you love someone, you still want to have you own way." - Chuck Palahniuk, Lullaby
5.
"I have something to discuss with you." She came to him after a month of living together with a look of trepidation on her face that set his instincts on high alert.
They had reconciled over two months previously and had decided soon after to put an offer in on a house they'd stumbled upon during the course of an investigation. It was neither his nor hers, perhaps a little too expensive for his tastes and a little too remote for hers, but somewhere they could see themselves building a life together. Unfortunately, buying the house was the only thing they'd agreed upon so far. They'd begun bickering almost the moment they signed the papers.
Before, they'd thought themselves the expert on everything about the other. Now, living and working together without remit, they found out how little they knew. For Booth, it was the little things, like the slow realization that the reason Brennan did not watch movies or television was not that she didn't enjoy them, but that she couldn't stay awake for them. For him, she tried, but it soon became obvious that short of standing for the entire duration, her eyes would not cooperate. Some nights he'd leave her to work and go to the movies alone.
For Brennan, it was the discovery that Booth's impatience did not just extend to hustling her to crime scenes, but seemingly for everything else as well. Unless it was one of his planned activities, like a hockey game or a trip to the diner, he'd fidget and pace and sigh until it was time to leave. To her dismay it was a trait he'd encouraged in his son as well. Sometimes she wished that they were similarly equipped as a digital versatile disc player: complete with a mute and pause button.
It was things like the sound of the TV the living room and the kitchen and the den blaring constantly, all at once; or jumping at shadows of creepy knick-knacks at 3 in the morning. It was different exercise cycles: he late at night, she in the morning, the squeak of the treadmill dragging both from valued sleep. He pouted when she worked at home. She hated the socks rolled up under the covers at the end of the bed. They didn't talk about it. Instead the frustrations would build until they would burst forth with petty rebellions and cold silences. They were terrified of failing. The stakes were too high: personally and professionally. But, as difficult as it was to adjust, it was also the happiest they'd ever been, being together. There were unasked for foot rubs and co-mingled CD's and books. There were afternoons filled with laughter outside in the park and early morning drives to hockey practice and a soothing voice in the darkness when dreams became too real.
On the day one month and three days after moving in together they were still learning about each other, and Brennan's stomach was upset, roiling with nerves at the thought of displeasing him. "I have something to discuss with you," she said and he paled. A wave of dread washed over him.
"I'm not running," she assured him quickly, somehow picking up on his insecurity.
"No, you're sitting," he joked and she pushed him in the shoulder.
"Not funny, Booth, don't…" There was a warning in her tone. They needed to have this conversation.
"What are you so nervous about, Bones?" He asked warily, noting her half-bitten lip and worried eyes.
"I need to tell you something, but I'm afraid you will take it the wrong way."
"You can tell me anything," he responded almost by rote.
"No jumping to conclusions?" She clarified.
"No."
She tried to assess his sincerity. She still doubted that this would go well, but he seemed genuine. "I have been asked to participate in a dig."
The panic rose in his chest; he forced it down. "What kind of dig?" He had his suspicions. She'd been talking about a discovery down in South America for weeks now.
"The one in Peru? I mentioned it to you earlier. They found those mummified remains that…"
He cut in, his suspicions confirmed. "When?"
"Over the holidays," she admitted quietly.
"How long?"
"Three weeks. I would fly down the 25th and be back on the 14th."
"Oh." He didn't know what to say. It wasn't like he could tell her not to go. What he wanted didn't matter when it came to her career.
"I want you to come with me."
She said it quietly and he almost thought he misheard until he saw the hopeful glimmer in her eyes.
"What?"
"I would like you to come with me. I would like to show you what I love about my work. The part that doesn't involve murder."
"But."
"We would not leave until the evening of the 25th. You would still have Christmas Eve and morning with Parker."
"But I."
"You told me that Rebecca would be taking Parker away on vacation after spending the night with you, and you have more than enough vacation time accrued."
"What would I..."
"I would like to teach you some of the more basic excavation skills so that you could participate in the dig. Your investigative background may give us unique perspective on the site. And I thought we could take some time to see the sights as well. We will be very close in proximity to Machu Picchu, which I believe you have expressed interest in visiting." She spoke quickly, hoping to allay his concerns before he could voice them.
"Bones, I don't…."
"Booth, please think about this. You don't have to give me an answer this evening. I just wanted to feel you up on the matter. I have not confirmed anything with the organizers yet. Although I would very much like us both to participate, I will not if you do not wish it as well."
"Bones, I appreciate the invite, but I don't think so. I've said it before: Christmas and skeletons just don't mix."
He could see the flash of disappointment in her eyes at his response despite how quickly she buried it. "Oh." It was all she said but she moved away from him a fraction of an inch. "I see."
He was honest with her, but he still felt guilty. "I'm sorry Bones."
She nodded at him and gave him a sad smile. "So am I Booth." A few minutes later, she rose and headed to the kitchen where he heard the rush of water pouring out of the tap and the rattle of silverware. His feeling of guilt intensified; he'd come to discover that she only did dishes when she was upset. He felt stuck, unsure of how to make things better without spending another Christmas with a corpse.
(.xxx.)
"I have never yet figured out what to do about good advice that you get, and that you know right away would help you, but that you cannot follow." - Holly Lisle, The Silver Door
(.xxx.)
"You're an idiot, Booth." Those were first words Hodgins spoke when they met up with Jack and Angela at the Founding Fathers a few nights later. Bones had been more quiet than normal, but otherwise didn't seem to begrudge him his decision about their holiday plans. The night before she had tentatively asked him what he would like to do with their time off. He saw that as a positive development, even if her eyes did glaze over a bit when he started talking skiing and skating and snowmen.
"Nice to see you too," he returned sarcastically, trying to get a glimpse Bones in the crowd. Angela had grabbed her moments after they entered the door and neither had reappeared since.
"Hey, I've only got a few minutes to say this before Ang and Dr. B gets back. I figured you'd appreciate brevity."
"I'd appreciate not being called an idiot."
"Well, stop acting like one," Jack grinned.
Booth took a slug of beer and sighed. "What have I done now?"
"You turned down a tropical vacation with your live in girlfriend." He explained in a 'well duh' voice.
"Digging up dead people is not a vacation."
"To Brennan it is." The man reminded him.
"It's not normal to spend your Christmas vacation with corpses."
Hodgins grinned and repeated, "To Brennan it is."
Booth protested, "But…"
"Look man, I get you, I do. You're all about the family, tradition, and religious stuff. You like your job, but you'd rather not live and breathe it 24/7. Dr. B., she's different. Up until recently, Christmas was just a crappy reminder of everything she'd lost. But instead of moping or dwelling on it, she decided to spend it in a warm climate with like-minded people, doing the thing that made her feel happy. That became her tradition." He noticed that Booth was about to protest again and cut him off, "Yeah, I know, she has you, us now. But this is her way of sharing her life with you. You gotta play it her way sometimes man; it comes with the whole shiny and bow wrapped package."
"Jack, I don't…."
"Hey guys!" Angela's sultry purr interrupted his train of thought. "You haven't drunk nearly enough yet to be having a conversation that looks this serious in a bar."
He looked up and met the eyes of his partner who was trailing slightly behind her friend. She gave him a small smile and sidled up to the stool next to him. "So nice of you two to finally deign us with your presence," he joked. He didn't miss the brief flash of confusion in her eyes before she understood the joke.
"Angela informs me that males typically discuss 'booze and babes' in social situations while women engage in 'girl talk'. However, I fail to see the difference as both bonding rituals generally seem to include alcohol consumption and leering at attractive members of the opposite sex."
He grinned. "The only babe I'm leering at is you, Bones. You better not be leering at anyone else either."
Angela mock gasped, "Bren! You can't reveal the secrets of girl talk to a guy! It's against the rules!"
"There are rules to girl talk?" Brennan raised her eyebrows in question. "I would very much like to read them if they are written down."
"Unwritten Bren, unwritten." Angela corrected quickly.
"Oh." Leaving her disappointment aside, she looked between the two men. "What were you discussing? Angela is correct in that it appeared serious."
Booth looked away. Hodgins shrugged. "Holiday plans."
"It seems to be a common theme at this time of year. Angela mentioned skiing in Quebec?"
"Yeah, my family has a cabin out there. I figure we'll go up after Boxing Day and stay through New Years. There's this night ski thing and fireworks, the whole works, très romantique."
"It sounds enjoyable, if cold." Brennan commented. "Booth also enjoys outdoor themed sports over the holidays. Perhaps we should also consider skiing during the leave of absence Cam is enforcing at the lab." She turned back to Booth. "What do you think?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. We'll think of something."
She frowned. "Christmas is less than three weeks away Booth. If travel is involved, we should finalize the details this week to guarantee our flights and accommodations."
"We'll figure it out." Dismissing her concern, he held up his beer bottle to Hodgins and asked, "Another?"
As the man nodded, he turned to the woman beside him. "Bones?"
She stared at him in frustration. "I have a sufficient quantity of wine remaining."
"Ang?" She shook her head in reply. "Okay, two beers it is." He rose and left the table.
Angela reached across the table and laid her hand on her friend's tightly clenched fist. "Bren?"
Taking a few moments to collect her whirling thoughts and blink back the sting of tears, she shook it off. "I'm fine Ang."
Off her friend's look, she added, "Really."
"Okay, but if you need me…"
Brennan smiled. "I know. I will tell you if I ever need assistance. I promise."
Hodgin's cut in, "The same goes for me too Dr. B, okay?"
She smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you Jack. Although I am quite self sufficient and doubt I will ever require it, I appreciate your offer." She cleared her throat and took a sip of her wine.
By the time Booth made it back to the table, the conversation had shifted to less touchy subjects. Gradually, she let herself relax until their knees touched, drawing comfort from his presence. She hadn't lied to her friends. She was fine, she just wasn't sure they were fine.