fic: Just As When You Were Living (excerpt)
This represents the tentative progress I made once upon a time, on the long-promised follow up to Flaps Its Wings, posted as part of my contribution for bones_ga Love Month here. It's still very much a rough draft and there are many things I would love to be able to fix if I knew how, so please bear that in mind while reading. I had originally planned on cutting a couple of segments out, but in the name of flow and continuity, I lay it all bare here for you to enjoy.
There are no spoilers beyond season 6 and it's rated T.
Just As When You Were Living.
.
It's a strange feeling, hovering over this man who for all intents and purposes is a shadow. A shell.
There is a part of him that reacts viscerally to this sight, some segment of his brain he's barely responsible for that catalogues and matches a whole string of familiar features, no cognizant thought needed for him to reach the obvious conclusion that he knows this man.
More surprising however is the fact that he fears this man, unthinkingly. Even now. Even like this.
He hovers there for a few minutes, waiting and not waiting for that flicker of recognition that he knows probably isn't going to come. He still isn't quite sure why he's here. It never really seemed like a good idea, and yet he came, drove for miles - more compulsion than anything.
He's vaguely aware of the nurse, hovering near the door of the shared living room. There are other people flitting around in the space, but most of them are as... unfocussed as the man before him now. A last few moments hovering awkwardly on the balls of his feet and Booth decides to duck out of the room, tacitly avoiding the eyes of the nurse whose presence has itched at the back of his mind for the length of his visit.
He's seen what he came to see. And he can't say that it helped.
.
Part 1.
.
For the first four months of Bones' pregnancy, things go remarkably... well. They seem to manage the together thing with a little more finesse than they ever managed to be apart, which is both pleasant and surprising to say the least.
Their friends not knowing and then knowing about their relationship seems to have gone by in that first trimester blur - they haven't really had time to stop and reflect on how it's all played out and so to Booth at least, there's still a vague surreal feeling hovering about it all. Though he can admit also that there's still that vaguely surreal feeling hovering around most aspects of his life from the last few months, right down to the part where his shoes spend most of their nights tucked under Bones' couch while he's curled up with the woman herself in between her million thread count sheets.
He's happy. And they're happy. And eventually, in a kind of Bones-y blunt and to the point way, their friends are happy for them too.
("You can't leave your shoes there."
"What? Why?"
"You should put them by the door."
"You've never made me do that before. What happened to the days when I could just kick 'em off right here?"
"You weren't staying overnight on those occasions."
...
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I'm... not. It's fine. Can't I just leave them here?"
"No, put them by the door - otherwise you'll be complaining to me in the morning that you can't find them and you'll make us late again like-"
"Hey, hey, hey. The reason we were late this morning was as much your fault as it was mine."
"I am pregnant. You're the one that's meant to stop me when I get a bit too... amorous."
"That's just..."
"What?"
"That's just a tiny bit irrational Bones."
"It's not."
"Whatever you say. And thanks to this little... exchange right here, there's no way I'm forgetting where my shoes are tomorrow morning. So really, they gotta stay right where they are."
.
When she's done ignoring him - just for a little while - she has to concede that she does sort of know why he was looking at her like that. When she mentioned that he was staying the night his eyes went kind of wide and his mouth kind of blurred around all the edges into a half smile that she can't help but associate with really good things because he's still quite happily surprised by the most recent twists and turns of their relationship.
She knows this because he takes every opportunity he can to tell her. An also, because she can't help but feel that way a little bit too.)
.
For the first four months of Bones' pregnancy, his biggest problems are Angela and Max and their individual forms of... overzealous inquiry. He and Bones seem to have reached a quiet agreement about using the months that they have before the baby to take things relatively easy and to feel their way through the whole experience with a little caution, which leaves only Bones' father and best friend to poke and prod around their rough edges.
He likes to think they handle them both pretty well.
("Bren, my sex life right now is about as exciting as the time I was celibate for over six months - which is to say, not at all. It's your duty as my best friend to provide me vicarious thrills in the form of a well detailed account of your own carnal adventures."
"Ang."
"Oh don't give me those eyes. I have a three month old baby at home, my boobs are leaky and you spend most of your time these days with a sexed up glow hovering all around you. You owe me this much."
"There is no evidence that satisfying sex causes a person to achieve any degree of luminescence. I can assure you I am not glowing."
"Ha! But you admit it's satisfying?"
"Of course it is."
"See? I need in on this Bren, I'm imagining only good things."
"While I understand that in the past that we have engaged in this particular social ritual, I feel... uncomfortable sharing this information with you now."
"Oh..." A pause. "Oh, wow."
"What?"
"It's okay sweetie, I… guess we don't have to talk about it."
"Just like that?"
"Well not just like that. But I guess I can maybe back off for a little while, you know?"
"…No, I don't. I'm completely confused."
"That's okay too."
.
She asks him about it later, relaying most of their conversation to him, right down to the part where she all but rolled her eyes and admitted to Angela that of course they were amazing together. He has to smile just a little bit as she ardently assures him she was careful to err on the side of privacy and after the few obligatory minutes of kissing her senseless tucked up together on the sofa, he's mostly able to account for Angela's more confusing comments.
"It's... different this time, Bones. I think Angela got that."
"...Because I wouldn't tell her about our relationship?"
"Because you wanted to be private about our relationship."
"Oh."
She nods, weighing this suggestion in her mind for a moment and from there it's not all too long before he's got her from the couch to her bed and he makes a point of giving her something to be private about.
They might not talk about this thing enough and they might not parade it around for everyone to see or to have some part in, but they've struck a balance and it works.
Until it doesn't.)
.
.
It's a Tuesday, Bones is four months pregnant and Caroline Julian has just left his office after a naturally sassy reminder regarding the terms of an agreement he'd brokered just a matter of weeks before.
("You keep outta trouble Cherie, understand? I don't need to remind you that the Bureau doesn't look too kindly on SAICs impregnating their partners. Especially when there is the suggestion that said Special Agent concealed a relationship with said partner from his superiors for a significant period of time."
"It didn't happen like that!"
"I know that. But they're a bunch of stuffy old men who think that ten years behind a desk has finally done funny things to their investigative mojo - enough that you and the Good Doctor we able to run around and all but make a little family for yourselves before they were any the wiser. You've got them worried Cherie. And they don't like being worried."
"I've got it, I've got it. No trouble."
"No trouble. 'Cause if they so much as hear a whisper about some clown getting his poor head shot off, or your partner assaulting some innocent bystander-"
"I'd hardly call any of the guys Bones goes after innocent!"
"Not the point. You two better be on your best behavior!"
"I really think I got it the first time."
"Good. But don't think I won't be back to remind you of that - you two are too good for any bureaucratic nonsense to be gettin' in the way. I don't have time for some of these other agents and their idea of due process, you hear me?")
He waits til the door closes and slides down into his seat. As easy as it is to banter about with Caroline, he finds it hard to avoid the nervous feeling that hangs over his head at the thought of the arrangement. Every move he makes now has to be considered for that second longer and it doesn't help that Bones probably wouldn't care to have her actions more closely scrutinized by a man like Andrew Hacker or another, equally hopeless and ill-principled paper-pusher (his words not hers).
For this reason, among others, he hasn't actually mentioned the agreement to her just yet. And while this decision feels like the most logical thing to do, it's as though he's got to carry this extra caution all on his own, like he's got to compensate twice as much while she continues with her usual amount of gusto, pregnant or not. He likes to think it will be easier when she stops going out into the field but that's just another issue he's yet to discuss with her, and another on which he can't help but think they won't agree.
But it's worth it - he's already decided that much. If it's what it takes for him and Bones to be partners and parents and everything else that they are now, then he knows he'll just have to slog along a little bit longer.
From his desk, his phone flashing and ringing grabs his attention. He doesn't recognize the number which suggests it's likely to be about a case and he takes just a moment to steel himself before diving back in head first to the world of murder, mayhem and newly installed red tape.
And so it begins.
"Booth."
"Seeley?"
First name basis. Probably not about a case then.
"Uh... yeah?"
"Seeley, it's Tom."
There is a slightly awkward pause as Booth reaches, trying to establish why this name might mean something to him.
"...Tom Mather," the caller finished, with a slight wobble and Booth can't quite tell if he's uncertain or mildly offended.
It's less than a second before it finally clicks into place: former school-mate, awkward cop and once upon a time the token local law enforcement officer sent to 'help out' on a particularly grueling case with Bones out in New Jersey. As soon as Officer Mather made the connection that he and Booth had spent a couple of awkward years of middle school together so long ago, the whole case had succumbed to entirely unfunny in jokes and misplaced nostalgia.
Oh lord.
"Hey! Tom, what can I do for you?"
"I uh… I just wanted to call, y'know, keep you in the loop and everything. I just ah… had your dad in custody over here. The guys from his home already came to get him but they seemed pretty cagey about contacting his family so..."
He trails off, and Booth recognizes it as that moment where he's meant jump in with thanks and reassurances.
He doesn't.
He's not even sure where he'd start.
"You had my father in custody? Why?"
"He was... confused. We found him out in the streets, he was wandering around, pretty distressed. When we tried to talk to him he became violent so we had to bring him in."
He's heard the story before - he hasn't worked in law enforcement as long as he has without coming across the occasional elderly person having some trouble getting home. It's one of the less satisfying parts of the job - dealing with people whose minds have been wasted by age and disease.
He gets that, he's used to that - and yet he seems to have some trouble... processing.
"Wait. Whoah, how do you know you had my father in custody?"
"He ah, talked about you. Quite a lot really - he kept saying your name and I guess I don't know all that many people called Seeley. When we ID-ed him and I saw his name, well I suppose I just put two and two together."
Tom could never have known. The whole case a couple of years ago had been an exercise in how little Tom Mather actually knew about him from middle school with every unfunny joke that he'd tried to make. He had no way of knowing that Booth hadn't spoken to his father in close enough to thirty years.
"Oh. Right." Booth's words sail coldly across the line, as the already awkward air to their conversation thickens.
They are both silent - uncomfortably so - until Mather half-mumbles, "I just wanted to help you out with this one, y'know? One cop to another. The people from Fouracre came by a little while ago to take him home and like I said, they were a bit off when I asked them about contacting family."
"Yeah. Well I'll have to... look into that. Thanks for letting me know."
"You're welcome. And hey, Seeley, I know you're out in DC, but if you need someone here in Jersey to look out for your dad-"
He interrupts, the words rushing together a little as he explains, "Hey, I gotta go Tom. Urgent meeting about a big case, you know how it is yeah? I'll ah, get onto the retirement home about my dad when I have the chance. Thanks for your call,"
He hangs up before Mather even has time to respond.
.
It's almost strange, the way it happens.
He spends the rest of the afternoon trying to pretend it isn't there, simmering in the back of his mind and for the most part he does a pretty good job. Sure, he's much quicker to snap at all of the idiots who poke their heads into his office to ask stupid questions, and sure at regular intervals his throat just gets that little bit tighter and his fingers curl until his knuckles are almost white - but all in all he thinks he's doing a pretty good job at appearing calm. He thinks he's handling it.
And then four o'clock rolls around and that brain-snapping impulsive part of him that once shot an ice cream truck seems to take over and before he knows it he's in his car with Fouracre Nursing Home, New Jersey programmed into his GPS.
He knows that Bones would say it's ridiculous but the decision to drive out and actually visit the retirement home really doesn't seem like an entirely cognizant process - he too easily compartmentalizes so many of the feelings associated with his father and with this new information, and he's able to drive a large part of the more than three hour journey largely disassociated from the implications of what is about to unfold. It's just another car trip. It's just another retirement home. It's just another receptionist he has to flash his badge at and smile at as he mentions the name of the person he wants to see - yes he knows it's after normal visiting hours but maybe she can help him out?
This is how he comes to be standing before his less than lucid father.
There are no spoilers beyond season 6 and it's rated T.
Just As When You Were Living.
.
It's a strange feeling, hovering over this man who for all intents and purposes is a shadow. A shell.
There is a part of him that reacts viscerally to this sight, some segment of his brain he's barely responsible for that catalogues and matches a whole string of familiar features, no cognizant thought needed for him to reach the obvious conclusion that he knows this man.
More surprising however is the fact that he fears this man, unthinkingly. Even now. Even like this.
He hovers there for a few minutes, waiting and not waiting for that flicker of recognition that he knows probably isn't going to come. He still isn't quite sure why he's here. It never really seemed like a good idea, and yet he came, drove for miles - more compulsion than anything.
He's vaguely aware of the nurse, hovering near the door of the shared living room. There are other people flitting around in the space, but most of them are as... unfocussed as the man before him now. A last few moments hovering awkwardly on the balls of his feet and Booth decides to duck out of the room, tacitly avoiding the eyes of the nurse whose presence has itched at the back of his mind for the length of his visit.
He's seen what he came to see. And he can't say that it helped.
.
Part 1.
.
For the first four months of Bones' pregnancy, things go remarkably... well. They seem to manage the together thing with a little more finesse than they ever managed to be apart, which is both pleasant and surprising to say the least.
Their friends not knowing and then knowing about their relationship seems to have gone by in that first trimester blur - they haven't really had time to stop and reflect on how it's all played out and so to Booth at least, there's still a vague surreal feeling hovering about it all. Though he can admit also that there's still that vaguely surreal feeling hovering around most aspects of his life from the last few months, right down to the part where his shoes spend most of their nights tucked under Bones' couch while he's curled up with the woman herself in between her million thread count sheets.
He's happy. And they're happy. And eventually, in a kind of Bones-y blunt and to the point way, their friends are happy for them too.
("You can't leave your shoes there."
"What? Why?"
"You should put them by the door."
"You've never made me do that before. What happened to the days when I could just kick 'em off right here?"
"You weren't staying overnight on those occasions."
...
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I'm... not. It's fine. Can't I just leave them here?"
"No, put them by the door - otherwise you'll be complaining to me in the morning that you can't find them and you'll make us late again like-"
"Hey, hey, hey. The reason we were late this morning was as much your fault as it was mine."
"I am pregnant. You're the one that's meant to stop me when I get a bit too... amorous."
"That's just..."
"What?"
"That's just a tiny bit irrational Bones."
"It's not."
"Whatever you say. And thanks to this little... exchange right here, there's no way I'm forgetting where my shoes are tomorrow morning. So really, they gotta stay right where they are."
.
When she's done ignoring him - just for a little while - she has to concede that she does sort of know why he was looking at her like that. When she mentioned that he was staying the night his eyes went kind of wide and his mouth kind of blurred around all the edges into a half smile that she can't help but associate with really good things because he's still quite happily surprised by the most recent twists and turns of their relationship.
She knows this because he takes every opportunity he can to tell her. An also, because she can't help but feel that way a little bit too.)
.
For the first four months of Bones' pregnancy, his biggest problems are Angela and Max and their individual forms of... overzealous inquiry. He and Bones seem to have reached a quiet agreement about using the months that they have before the baby to take things relatively easy and to feel their way through the whole experience with a little caution, which leaves only Bones' father and best friend to poke and prod around their rough edges.
He likes to think they handle them both pretty well.
("Bren, my sex life right now is about as exciting as the time I was celibate for over six months - which is to say, not at all. It's your duty as my best friend to provide me vicarious thrills in the form of a well detailed account of your own carnal adventures."
"Ang."
"Oh don't give me those eyes. I have a three month old baby at home, my boobs are leaky and you spend most of your time these days with a sexed up glow hovering all around you. You owe me this much."
"There is no evidence that satisfying sex causes a person to achieve any degree of luminescence. I can assure you I am not glowing."
"Ha! But you admit it's satisfying?"
"Of course it is."
"See? I need in on this Bren, I'm imagining only good things."
"While I understand that in the past that we have engaged in this particular social ritual, I feel... uncomfortable sharing this information with you now."
"Oh..." A pause. "Oh, wow."
"What?"
"It's okay sweetie, I… guess we don't have to talk about it."
"Just like that?"
"Well not just like that. But I guess I can maybe back off for a little while, you know?"
"…No, I don't. I'm completely confused."
"That's okay too."
.
She asks him about it later, relaying most of their conversation to him, right down to the part where she all but rolled her eyes and admitted to Angela that of course they were amazing together. He has to smile just a little bit as she ardently assures him she was careful to err on the side of privacy and after the few obligatory minutes of kissing her senseless tucked up together on the sofa, he's mostly able to account for Angela's more confusing comments.
"It's... different this time, Bones. I think Angela got that."
"...Because I wouldn't tell her about our relationship?"
"Because you wanted to be private about our relationship."
"Oh."
She nods, weighing this suggestion in her mind for a moment and from there it's not all too long before he's got her from the couch to her bed and he makes a point of giving her something to be private about.
They might not talk about this thing enough and they might not parade it around for everyone to see or to have some part in, but they've struck a balance and it works.
Until it doesn't.)
.
.
It's a Tuesday, Bones is four months pregnant and Caroline Julian has just left his office after a naturally sassy reminder regarding the terms of an agreement he'd brokered just a matter of weeks before.
("You keep outta trouble Cherie, understand? I don't need to remind you that the Bureau doesn't look too kindly on SAICs impregnating their partners. Especially when there is the suggestion that said Special Agent concealed a relationship with said partner from his superiors for a significant period of time."
"It didn't happen like that!"
"I know that. But they're a bunch of stuffy old men who think that ten years behind a desk has finally done funny things to their investigative mojo - enough that you and the Good Doctor we able to run around and all but make a little family for yourselves before they were any the wiser. You've got them worried Cherie. And they don't like being worried."
"I've got it, I've got it. No trouble."
"No trouble. 'Cause if they so much as hear a whisper about some clown getting his poor head shot off, or your partner assaulting some innocent bystander-"
"I'd hardly call any of the guys Bones goes after innocent!"
"Not the point. You two better be on your best behavior!"
"I really think I got it the first time."
"Good. But don't think I won't be back to remind you of that - you two are too good for any bureaucratic nonsense to be gettin' in the way. I don't have time for some of these other agents and their idea of due process, you hear me?")
He waits til the door closes and slides down into his seat. As easy as it is to banter about with Caroline, he finds it hard to avoid the nervous feeling that hangs over his head at the thought of the arrangement. Every move he makes now has to be considered for that second longer and it doesn't help that Bones probably wouldn't care to have her actions more closely scrutinized by a man like Andrew Hacker or another, equally hopeless and ill-principled paper-pusher (his words not hers).
For this reason, among others, he hasn't actually mentioned the agreement to her just yet. And while this decision feels like the most logical thing to do, it's as though he's got to carry this extra caution all on his own, like he's got to compensate twice as much while she continues with her usual amount of gusto, pregnant or not. He likes to think it will be easier when she stops going out into the field but that's just another issue he's yet to discuss with her, and another on which he can't help but think they won't agree.
But it's worth it - he's already decided that much. If it's what it takes for him and Bones to be partners and parents and everything else that they are now, then he knows he'll just have to slog along a little bit longer.
From his desk, his phone flashing and ringing grabs his attention. He doesn't recognize the number which suggests it's likely to be about a case and he takes just a moment to steel himself before diving back in head first to the world of murder, mayhem and newly installed red tape.
And so it begins.
"Booth."
"Seeley?"
First name basis. Probably not about a case then.
"Uh... yeah?"
"Seeley, it's Tom."
There is a slightly awkward pause as Booth reaches, trying to establish why this name might mean something to him.
"...Tom Mather," the caller finished, with a slight wobble and Booth can't quite tell if he's uncertain or mildly offended.
It's less than a second before it finally clicks into place: former school-mate, awkward cop and once upon a time the token local law enforcement officer sent to 'help out' on a particularly grueling case with Bones out in New Jersey. As soon as Officer Mather made the connection that he and Booth had spent a couple of awkward years of middle school together so long ago, the whole case had succumbed to entirely unfunny in jokes and misplaced nostalgia.
Oh lord.
"Hey! Tom, what can I do for you?"
"I uh… I just wanted to call, y'know, keep you in the loop and everything. I just ah… had your dad in custody over here. The guys from his home already came to get him but they seemed pretty cagey about contacting his family so..."
He trails off, and Booth recognizes it as that moment where he's meant jump in with thanks and reassurances.
He doesn't.
He's not even sure where he'd start.
"You had my father in custody? Why?"
"He was... confused. We found him out in the streets, he was wandering around, pretty distressed. When we tried to talk to him he became violent so we had to bring him in."
He's heard the story before - he hasn't worked in law enforcement as long as he has without coming across the occasional elderly person having some trouble getting home. It's one of the less satisfying parts of the job - dealing with people whose minds have been wasted by age and disease.
He gets that, he's used to that - and yet he seems to have some trouble... processing.
"Wait. Whoah, how do you know you had my father in custody?"
"He ah, talked about you. Quite a lot really - he kept saying your name and I guess I don't know all that many people called Seeley. When we ID-ed him and I saw his name, well I suppose I just put two and two together."
Tom could never have known. The whole case a couple of years ago had been an exercise in how little Tom Mather actually knew about him from middle school with every unfunny joke that he'd tried to make. He had no way of knowing that Booth hadn't spoken to his father in close enough to thirty years.
"Oh. Right." Booth's words sail coldly across the line, as the already awkward air to their conversation thickens.
They are both silent - uncomfortably so - until Mather half-mumbles, "I just wanted to help you out with this one, y'know? One cop to another. The people from Fouracre came by a little while ago to take him home and like I said, they were a bit off when I asked them about contacting family."
"Yeah. Well I'll have to... look into that. Thanks for letting me know."
"You're welcome. And hey, Seeley, I know you're out in DC, but if you need someone here in Jersey to look out for your dad-"
He interrupts, the words rushing together a little as he explains, "Hey, I gotta go Tom. Urgent meeting about a big case, you know how it is yeah? I'll ah, get onto the retirement home about my dad when I have the chance. Thanks for your call,"
He hangs up before Mather even has time to respond.
.
It's almost strange, the way it happens.
He spends the rest of the afternoon trying to pretend it isn't there, simmering in the back of his mind and for the most part he does a pretty good job. Sure, he's much quicker to snap at all of the idiots who poke their heads into his office to ask stupid questions, and sure at regular intervals his throat just gets that little bit tighter and his fingers curl until his knuckles are almost white - but all in all he thinks he's doing a pretty good job at appearing calm. He thinks he's handling it.
And then four o'clock rolls around and that brain-snapping impulsive part of him that once shot an ice cream truck seems to take over and before he knows it he's in his car with Fouracre Nursing Home, New Jersey programmed into his GPS.
He knows that Bones would say it's ridiculous but the decision to drive out and actually visit the retirement home really doesn't seem like an entirely cognizant process - he too easily compartmentalizes so many of the feelings associated with his father and with this new information, and he's able to drive a large part of the more than three hour journey largely disassociated from the implications of what is about to unfold. It's just another car trip. It's just another retirement home. It's just another receptionist he has to flash his badge at and smile at as he mentions the name of the person he wants to see - yes he knows it's after normal visiting hours but maybe she can help him out?
This is how he comes to be standing before his less than lucid father.