Sadness
After tossing out the last of the leftovers from the party for Hank ("A wake, Bones. It's called a wake, not a party!") and checking for stray trash with one last look around the living room, Brennan crossed to the double doors leading to the backyard. The silence of the early evening twilight made the slight creak of the door sound like a gunshot and she gave her husband an apologetic look as he glanced at her from his perch on the rocking bench that faced her garden.
Booth's posture could only be described as tense. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he rolled a tumbler of amber liquid Brennan knew to be scotch between his palms in contemplation. Brennan closed the door and moved to join him on the seat, waiting as he slid over to make room. Once settled, she leaned back and began rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back, letting him gather his thoughts.
Brennan knew Booth would want to talk about his grandfather. To the rest of the world, Seeley Booth seemed guarded, closed-off and brusque. But to the ones who knew him best, such as Cam and even Sweets, his outward coldness was only a protective wall he put up to avoid dealing with feelings and emotions he didn't want to face.
His wife knew this better than anyone because she often did the exact same thing.
At a loss as to how to start a conversation, Brennan decided to let Booth pick his moment. So she sat, offering physical comfort that spoke of her emotional comfort and she waited. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, and still she waited.
What could have been minutes or even hours later, Booth finally set his glass on the stone surface of the garden patio and leaned back into Brennan's side. She laced her hand with his and squeezed as he laid his head on her shoulder.
"I miss him."
A tear escaped the corner of her eye unexpectedly, and he felt her kiss the top of his head as she murmured, "I know. I do, too."
And as the twilight passed into darkness and the slight breeze began to turn cool, Hank Booth's family sat in the quiet and thought of the man they loved, and had recently lost, and how grateful they were that they had been lucky enough to share the world with him.
And life went on.
A/N: Rest in peace, Mr. Waite. We'll miss you…and Pops.