"My life might be little and boring, but at least it's mine - not some assembly-line, secondhand,
hand-me-down life." ~Chuck Palahniuk (Rant)

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Please Go Home

Angela stood in the doorway to her daughter's room and watched quietly while Clementine shared morning tea with her father. Jack had tried to convince Clem that the English actually indulged in afternoon tea, but once the girl explained that tea time cut into her nap time, which she actually enjoyed, concessions were made and morning tea became a ritual between father and daughter, one that both had been missing the last week.

The sweetness of the scene in front of her never failed to make Angela happy, and a little nostalgic. She had shared a similar game with her own father when she was little, but because of her dad's job it wasn't a regular occurrence. And after her mother was gone, it became even rarer. Angela suspected that she reminded Billy too much of her mother when his pain from losing her was still so very raw, and while the child in Angela couldn't understand that, adult Angela did.

And now…she was blessed enough to be able to take a moment and watch as the daughter she loved so much played an old familiar game with the man who had given her everything she had ever wanted. A family, home, security…peace.

Suddenly, Clementine looked up and caught her mother's eye. "Mama! Come have tea!"

Jack nodded and pulled the tiny chair next to him out, gesturing for her to sit down.

Smiling, Angela crossed to sit with her family. "I would be delighted, Miss Clementine."

B&B

Cam woke to muted sunlight on her face and the rhythmic breathing of the man next to her in bed. Turning slightly, she took in Gus's face, slack in repose, and considered the turns her life had taken in the last week. The pain and worry, the work and the play and the inevitable happy ending…the latter point something she had never stopped to contemplate before this morning. No matter what she and her little adopted family went through, they always seemed to come out stronger and more unified in the end. Previous to her move to DC, Cam would have simply waited for the other shoe to drop, for something so devastating to happen that none of them would ever be the same. But after eight years and countless examples of the indestructibility of their team and its members, she decided that real inevitability was that everything would work out…as long as they always stuck together.

And now she had another wrinkle to contend with. The man next to her, so peaceful, strong and solid…a perfect match for her high-heeled alpha female lifestyle whether she was willing to admit that right now or not. Her feelings for him were more intense than simply visceral attraction, deeper than casual dating would allow and more satisfying than simply another one night stand. Gus was someone she was going to have to consider a part of her life for a very long time.

And as she watched the thin slivers of light from the closed blinds play across his strong, dark face she realized that she was very much okay with that.

B&B

"Bones, once we get Alexandra home I am going to climb into our bed and sleep for a week. Just a friendly warning." Booth grinned at his wife and chose to ignore her eye roll.

"You act as though you're the one who was kidnapped by the crazy man. I do not wish to compete with you for the title of 'Who Should Be More Exhausted' in this relationship, but I believe I have a compelling argument in my favor."

Turning into their driveway for the first time in almost a week, Booth slid the car into park and then turned to look at Brennan. "But Bones, you never have to contend with you. I have all this stress on top of dealing with the most frustrating, hardheaded, gorgeous woman on the planet. That should really count for something, right?"

Brennan regarded Booth for a moment before a slow, sexy grin settled on her face. "No." She ignored his sputtering and climbed out of the car and opened the back door to gently pull her sleeping daughter from her car seat. Straightening with Alexandra tucked securely in her arms; Brennan gave Booth one of her patented eyebrow quirks. "You knew what you were getting into when you married me. Don't expect me to give you points for your lack of hindsight." And with that parting shot, she headed for the front door, leaving Booth to stare after her in frustrated adoration, and to collect the luggage on his own.

Once Booth had managed to get all the suitcases in the house, Brennan was coming down the stairs. "She should sleep for awhile longer." She crossed to the sofa where Booth had thrown himself and perched on the arm next to him. "You might want to go lay down yourself, if you're really that tired, Booth."

Nodding, Booth laid his head against his wife's shoulder and allowed her to run her long, elegant fingers through his hair. "I am more weary than tired, if you know what I mean."

"I do. It's been a long week." Brennan stood and grabbed Booth's hand, pulling him with her towards the stairs. "Come on, we can go lay down together. Family nap time."

Booth nodded tiredly. "You're a genius, Bones."

B&B

Sweets stood in the doorway to the kitchen he shared with Penelope, watching in amusement as she danced from one end of the counter to the other, spatula in hand and song on her lips. She shook her bottom in time to whatever hip hop song was playing on the iPod securely fastened to her arm and attempted a spin move that was ungraceful at best and almost fell over. Laughing in self-deprecation, Pen finally looked up to see her boyfriend grinning from ear to ear.

"Lance, don't sneak up on me like that. It's creepy." Her smile belied her words.

Sweets moved from his perch on the doorway and walked behind Penelope, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. "So, when were you going to tell me?"

He felt her whole body tense against him, for just a split second, and then relax. She tilted her head and looked over her shoulder at his smiling face, suddenly feeling shy.

"I-well, I wasn't sure at first…then we were wrapped up in this case, and it never seemed the right time and…" She paused, uncomfortable.

"And what?"

Despite what it cost her, Penelope knew that Lance deserved only her complete honesty. "I was…am scared." She chuffed a harsh laugh. "Terrified, actually. You know how I feel about my family history, all the mental health issues…I just, I didn't know how you would feel when I told you. And I was going to tell you, I swear…"

"I know." He leaned his chin on her shoulder. "But we can't let fear of something that most likely won't happen stop us from being happy. You're it for me, Penelope. You're my family, now. We're in this together."

Nodding, she relented. "I should have trusted you more. As soon as I suspected, I should have told you."

"So…" He leaned forward and captured her lips with his. "Tell me now."

Penelope turned in Sweets arms and wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning back to look him in the eye. "We're having a baby, Lance."

The face-splitting grin that crossed his face began to settle her nerves, but his words were exactly what she'd needed to hear to know that everything was finally going to be alright.

"That is so completely awesome."

B&B

"It feels like I've been away for years." Clay sighed as he walked through the front door of his house the following evening.

Charlie set their bags down and wrapped her arms around her husband's waist, "I'm so…," She sniffled back a few tears, "you're home."

He rested his chin on her head and rubbed soothing circles on her back, "Yes, I am."

They stood, wrapped up in each other for several minutes. Once they parted, Clay followed her into the kitchen. She looked around and was amazed that everything looked exactly as it had looked a week ago, before this whole nightmare had begun. The countertops were spotless, the furniture dusted, the floors swept and polished...everything perfectly in place. A year ago, the journalist in Charlie would have bristled at the obvious attempt to sanitize the reality of the situation, to try and make it appear as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, but now...now, she could only be grateful that the only thing she had to get rid of was her residual guilt and quickly-healing pain. As Charlotte turned to follow Clay upstairs, the stack of worn leather journals on the kitchen table caught her eye. She paused and for a split second she thought to turn around and leaf through them. The sadistic, guilt-ridden part of her felt the need to expose herself to the horrors that Booth and Sweets had tried so hard to shield her from.

"Baby?" Clayton gestured toward the stairs, "I really want to go to bed, with you. Come on."

Charlotte squared her shoulders and turned her attention back to her husband, "I really want that too."

She slipped her hand into his outreached one and slowly climbed the stairs one step behind him.

After blissfully falling asleep in the arms of the man she thought she'd lost forever, Charlotte woke up in a near panic. She tried to calm her anxiety by snuggling closer to Clay, spooning against his back. Even the warmth and safety she felt with him couldn't quiet the call of the journals that she knew were waiting for her downstairs.

Quietly, she slipped out of their bed, grabbed her robe and went downstairs. She sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the books. She knew that they documented the last four years of her life – years she had once considered to the best she'd ever had but now…

Charlotte swallowed hard and picked up the third journal and flipped to a random page. The words leapt off the page and made her tremble.

February 22, 2012 11:20AM: St. Mary's Cemetery, Berkeley, CA

Her parents have been gone for well over a decade and during my time with her she has never been here before.

I however, have come here often. These people are important to me.

It bothers me to no end that she has brought Arcilla here. This bizarre 'meet the parents' situation is wrong – how can she not see this? Has this façade of love made her so blind?

They stood in front of the matching gravestones for several minutes, laying flowers down in front of both before moving to a stone bench a few feet away. He held her hands in his while she talked, occasionally wiping tears off her cheeks.

I feel her pain. There are times that I think I feel it more deeply than she. This pain of mourning her parents, these amazing people who created her, is at times all consuming.

Arcilla brushes her hair away from her face and kisses her gently. She falls into him, resting her cheek on his chest. He looks out across the cemetery and for a brief moment I though he saw me but I dropped my head and kept moving, blending in with the other mourners.

Mourner. That is the perfect description for me since she met him.